"Hmm? How come the little devil sleeps with his mother?"

When the half-asleep Misha heard the mocking voice, he dashed out of his bed at lightning speed, suddenly wide awake, and jumped on the teenager girl standing in the door frame. He koala hugged her, both arms and legs tightly wrapped around her thin body.

"Did you miss me that much?" chuckled his sister, raking both of her hands through his hair until his head looked like a bird nest. "It's only been a night!"

Misha didn't say anything; if he were to open his mouth right now, he would surely bawl his eyes out again. Thus, he only nodded his head and strengthened his embrace, sniffing.

"He had a bad dream," said Mrs. Brown as she got up and made the bed.

"Oh, I see. So even devil can have a bad dream, hm," gently teased Masha, poking her brother's cheek with a faint smile on her lips. "You learn something every day!"

"Hn," confirmed Misha with a slight nod.

"But you will have to get off of me and take a bath quickly. We have quite a busy day today, so hop, hop, hop!"

Without much success, Masha tried to pull him off. No matter what, the brat didn't budge.

"But I don't want to take a bath!"

"Why?" asked his mother, raising her eyebrows. "You love taking a bath!"

His son was the kind of child that could stay in the bathtub for hours, happily playing with the foam, the water, or the rubber ducks until he turned into a prune, his tiny fingers and feet all wrinkly and sickly white. Getting him out of the tub had always been an ordeal! And now that mermaid boy didn't want to take a bath? Why?

"I don't like it anymore," murmured the child, his voice so small that his sister almost didn't hear him, even though he was still glued to her.

"Why?"

The boy had this pitiful expression plastered on his cute doll face as if both of them were bullying him. Misha didn't want to throw a tantrum right off the bat, but he absolutely couldn't take a bath, or else, the moment he slid into the water, he would panic, hyperventilate, and puke all the contents of his stomach all over the floor. After such a scene, his family would worry to death, and several questions would also arise, questions that he, of course, couldn't answer.

No matter how many years flew by, Misha couldn't forget the horrible sight of his sister's corpse floating in a blood bath. The rotten scent, the eerie silence, and the intense, oppressive heat from the radiator that hadn't been turned off; he remembered it all, and the simple view of a tub tended to bring up the memories.

Thus, the bath was out of the question.

"Can I take a shower instead?"

"Yes, sure, why not; as long as you wash yourself clean," sighed his sister before sticking out her tongue, "It's gonna be faster anyway, but you'd better hurry up, or we're going to leave without you! It's my birthday after all, and I don't want to lose too much time waiting for you, little princess!"

Misha froze at the 'birthday' part, everything else going in one ear and out the other.

If he was nine years old, then his sister turned sixteen today, which also meant that they were going out to celebrate it with her best friend and her boyfriend, boyfriend that they would also meet for the very first time in an hour or so. At this point in time, his sister and Gabriel started dating not too long ago. Maybe a week or two if his memory served him well.

Silently, Misha swore and cursed Santa Claus for choosing such a date; he was not ready to confront the big bad guy! He wasn't even used to this kid body, and didn't even know how to act like a child in the first place, and neither did he remember how he was behaving when he was a brat! It was so long ago!

In this useless state, how was he supposed to drive away the bastard without giving himself away in the process?

At least, that date wasn't the worse one he could have traveled back to. For the whole month of June, he remembered that his father was on a business trip in Russia, far away from Canada, and couldn't come to his sister's birthday. It shouldn't be any different this time. Therefore, Misha had some weeks left before meeting that despicable man again. Perhaps, with a suitable brainwashing method, he would be able to prepare himself mentally and keep his body from trembling like a leaf at his mere view.

After all, for now, his father was still a decent human being that dotted on his family, not a drunkard that used his very own son as a punching bag to vent his pent-up frustration.

While Misha was thinking about this, he washed his small body quickly, although he would have loved to take a nice, long shower – in his run-down apartment, he didn't even have access to a proper bathroom, even less hot water, and he realized how much he had missed the feeling of warm water pouring down on his b.a.r.e skin.

When the boy got out of the shower, there were folded clothes on the white counter, near the sink. He tiptoed over, and his face darkened almost instantly.

"…"

The get-up of the day was composed of a black denim short dungarees, a cute white shirt with long sleeves, and socks with cartoon printed on it.

Misha winced. Suddenly, he missed his old leather jacket and ripped jeans. 'I will have to get used to wearing child clothes, shit,' thought Misha with deep sorrow, 'especially since mom always loved to dress me up like a freaking doll.'

With great reluctance, the boy put on the clothing, and when he saw his reflection in the mirrored closet doors, his mouth twitched.

Because he was unusually short and delicate, he didn't look his age, and the unis.e.x clothes made it difficult, if not impossible, to figure out his gender. Thus, people generally thought he was around six or seven years old when he was almost ten. They also frequently mistaken him for a girl, which was quite infuriating when he wanted to go to the bathroom, especially at school. The clueless a.d.u.l.ts often told him that he was in the wrong place, and when Misha tried to correct them, they wouldn't believe him, insisting that they were right and he was wrong. It was an everyday occurrence, even in his adolescence.

Satisfied with his new resolution, Misha nodded and left the bathroom. He still had to think of a way to deal with Gabriel without antagonizing his sister and mother, although there was only half an hour left to think about it. In the worst-case scenario, he could improvise as he always did, even though his 'improvisation' rarely had a successful ending.

Misha wittingly disregarded that fact and trotted the stairs down to the first floor.

"Come here, sweetie, I will dry your hair," offered his mother when she saw him, a soft smile on her pink lips.

"Hn," the little boy climbed on the couch near the stairs. He had missed his mother's pampering – both his sister and his mother always spoiled him rotten, treasuring the little boy as if he was worth the entire world.

As the hair dryer blew hot air over his damp head and his mother's fingers ran through his hair, Misha thought of Gabriel. Before his mother's death, he had given him the cold shoulder treatment and the mean gazes, and also threw tantrums now and then, letting everyone knows that he didn't like the man. When he was a kid, he felt like Gabriel was threatening his place in his sister's heart, hence acted childishly.

However, that didn't have any effect back then. The bastard kept a warm smile plastered on his face, patiently enduring every single outburst. Gabriel never complained, even when his sister gave him all of her attention, and he ended up watching their sibling love on the side. It happened quite a lot since Misha always came first, and the boyfriend, second.

Nevertheless, his sister didn't comply with his wishes, saying that he would get used to Gabriel in no time, repeating over and over again that he was a good guy.

As for his mother, she was also particularly fond of Gabriel, and like everyone else, bore with Misha's fits of temper without getting angry.

In short, no matter what he did back then, and how much he protested, pouted, or even screamed, Masha didn't break up with the bastard. He was only a child, after all. Who would take his tantrum seriously? His words weren't worth much in the end. It wouldn't be any different this time.

So.

How could Misha get rid of Gabriel without committing any crimes, antagonizing his sister and his mother, and giving himself away?

Misha's brain shut down on him. Again.

_______________

Author's note

MC: "manly (not really) man"… AUTHOR! Why the f.u.c.k did you add that 'not really' part!? It's unnecessary! (ノ｀Д´)ノ彡┻━┻

Author: Well… It's okay if you want to deceive yourself, but you shouldn't mislead the readers.

MC: But! But! As an a.d.u.l.t, I'm manly! And very, very masculine! QAQ

ML: Say the guys with teary eyes...

ML: Yes, yes.　┐(´ー｀)┌