A splitting headache woke Misha up. It felt like his skull was trying to crush his brain into a paste, whereas thousands of sharp needles were pricking his temples. That odd but agonizing feeling pulsed like a heartbeat, sending waves of cold shivers down his spine.
Soon, muffled whimpers resonated within the room.
'Gosh, my voice sounds like a kid's,' Misha silently winced, not knowing whether to laugh or cry—in the end, he cried.
The pain was too much to bear, enough to make Misha wish he'd faint on the spot. He had hangovers before, but none were as bad. Honestly, there were no words to describe how terrible he felt.
In the back of his mind, he warned himself never to drink again. Gulping down half a bottle of vodka in less than twenty minutes was not his brightest idea; well, wandering in the middle of a snowstorm wasn't exactly any better. Not only did he hallucinate talking with Santa Claus, but his whole body was now screaming in agony!
Nausea suddenly turned his stomach upside down, making Misha curse as he tried to crawl out of his bed. He wanted to at least reach the toilets before throwing up! However, all his muscles were sore, as if a car had run over his body multiple times. Goodness, even moving his pinkies was akin to torture! For the second time, he told himself that he was done drinking. He'd never touch a bottle of alcohol again in this lifetime!
His nausea grew stronger, and Misha dragged his body out of bed only to land on his butt with a loud thud. His head spun, and stars flashed in front of his eyes.
Goddammit, where was the toilet?! He couldn't see a thing! And he wasn't familiar with this room! Wait. Where was he?
Anyway, first thing first: he had to calm down his nausea. Misha put his hand on his mouth, waiting for the dizziness to subside. It took a moment for it to happen, and another for his eyes to grow accustomed to the dim light. The first thing he then saw was a tall mirror fixed on the wall beside the bed. A mushroom-shaped night light brightened the floor near the mirror, allowing him to peek at his reflection.
But what Misha saw wasn't an adult in his prime; it was a young child. A delicate boy that looked like a life-sized doll, with a tiny upturned nose and pink, soft lips. His snow-white cheeks looked incredibly tender, and his short messy blonde hair gave him a naïve but fresh look. Green dinosaur pajamas draped his small body, adding another childish touch to his overall appearance.
Misha blinked. Then the boy inside the mirror also blinked.
"What the…," Misha muttered, a frown creasing his face. And again, the child mirrored the action.
A foreboding feeling rose in the pit of his stomach. Misha hesitated but ultimately decided to poke his cheeks before pulling both of his ears. Whatever he did, the boy did it too. There was no mistaking. That tiny little kid was him! And now that he thought about it, he also looked somewhat familiar.
Perhaps the emotional shock was too strong, but the pain suddenly lessened, becoming bearable. Misha then forgot everything about the headache, cramps, and nausea, and he examined his body, trying to understand why he had shrunk. It didn't make sense!
The gears moved in his head, and his discussion with Santa Claus popped up in his mind. Right. They talked about going back in time, didn't they? But he didn't have the leisure to delve into the matter further, for his bedroom door slowly opened with a squeak.
A soft voice asked, "Are you ok, sweetie? I heard a loud noise…."
Misha instinctively turned his head toward the door and then froze, his body stiffening from head to toes. It couldn't be…?
And yet, the petite woman who had entered the room had the same crystal clear blue eyes, snow-white skin, and strawberry blonde hair as him. She looked just like an older version of the boy, with longer hair and fairer features.
"Mom," Misha heard himself say. The next instant, tears welled up in his eyes. "Mom!"
"Hey, what's wrong, sweetheart?" Gulnas asked. Concerns flashed across her face as she kneeled before her boy. "Are you alright? You look pale."
Misha didn't answer. He couldn't. The lump of emotions in his throat seemed to have rendered him voiceless, and all he could do was stare at his mother. Soon, tears poured out of his eyes, rolling down his cheeks like rivers. He cried without realizing it and didn't move an inch, not knowing what to say, not knowing what to do. He felt like even his mind had regressed to a kid's.
"Sweetheart, tell me what's wrong, ok?" Gulnas said, gently stroking his arms to soothe him.
"I… I…" Misha stuttered, "I had a n-nightmare. I dreamt that mom, that y-you..." He paused, unsure what he could and could not say. Did he even know what death meant at this age? Misha had no idea. Better be safe than sorry. "I dreamt that you and Masha were gone! And that you'd never… never come back."
"Oh, sweetie." Gulnas took him in her arms, hugging him gently. "Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere, Masha won't either."
Misha's tiny fingers gripped his mother's nightgown, and he snuggled against her, his tears dripping and wetting the white gown. Since long ago, he didn't like physical contact as it stirred up disgust and fear inside him, but it was different with his mother. He deeply craved her warmth, for he had been deprived of it for far too long.
Accepting that his mother was genuinely alive took a moment, and it shook Misha to the core. But everything felt too real to be fake, and the lingering pain told him he wasn't dreaming. No, he was wide-awake, and his mother was right before him.
After crying his heart out, the overflowing emotions finally calmed down, and Misha could think with a more or less clear mind. He was drained from bawling his eyes out, but he had never felt more spirited.
'Gosh, the grampa wasn't senile!' At the sudden thought, Misha let out a discreet chuckle. But however faint it was, it didn't escape his mother's sharp ears.
"Now! Why are you laughing, hm?" she asked, gently stroking his back.
"Your hair tickles," Misha laughed, even blowing a strand of hair that fell on his nose to emphasize his point. Then, he added in a smaller voice, "Don't go anywhere, mom. Stay with me."
"Of course I'll stay with you! I won't leave your side, sweetie, but it's already midnight, and you need to sleep if you want to grow up."
"Then sleep with me tonight!"
"Oh my! Misha, you're already nine years old. You can't keep on sleeping with your mother. What will the other kids say?"
"I don't care about them! I won't be able to sleep if you don't stay with me anyway," Misha said with a firm tone. He lifted his head a little to look into her eyes, shamelessly adopting a pitiful stance. He knew his mother was weak to this, so Misha disregarded all of his pride as a grown-up man, even happily throwing it into the trash bin.
Honestly, he couldn't bear to part with her so soon. If his mother were to leave his side right now, Misha feared he'd wake up in his run-down apartment the next instant, with nothing but his old memories. That would crush what little was left of his heart.
Sleeping in the same bed with his mother at the age of twenty-five was certainly weird, and he was well aware of this, but so what? After fifteen years, he wouldn't let go of his mother no matter what! Not even for a second! Thankfully, he was in the body of a nine-year-old kid, so this kind of shameless behavior didn't seem that odd. Probably.
"Alright," Gulnas let out a helpless sigh. "But just this time!"
A dazzling smile bloomed on Misha's face at these words, curving his eyes into crescent moon-like shapes. He then jumped off her knees, took her hand, and dragged her to the bed. He clumsily climbed onto it since his muscles were still sore and uncooperative, then sprawled onto the mattress, patting it excitedly as if telling his mom to hurry up.
"Don't be in such a hurry!" Gulnas chuckled. "I won't run away, you know."
Just as Misha was about to answer, the discreet glint of the golden wristwatch, which lay on the blankets, reminded him of its existence. With swift movements, he rolled on it, hiding it with his body, before pushing it underneath his pillow. While he did so, he stretched like a lazy cat and yawned.
The watch was adult-size and seemed pricey. It didn't look like something a child would have in his room, and Misha would rather avoid his mother's questions, especially since he couldn't come up with a good lie. Where the hell could he have found such a thing? Under a park bench, maybe? Or under his desk at school?
Yeah, probably not the best lies.
Anyway, Misha didn't intend to put the watch on display, so he stopped thinking about it. Instead, he snuggled against his mother, who then pulled the blanket over their shoulders. She tucked his hair behind his ears and kissed his forehead. "Sleep well, sweetie."
"You too, mom," Misha said in a soft voice.
Despite the roller coaster of emotions that he had just gone through, Misha fell asleep almost instantly. He was thrown into a deep slumber the moment he closed his eyes, and no nightmares plagued his night. It was a night without dreams, something he'd rarely experienced these past years but welcomed with open arms.
______________
Mini Theater
ML: Misha, you have a mother complex, don't you?
MC: No, I don't!
Author: Yes, you do.
MC: SHUT UP! (╯ರ ~ ರ)╯︵ ┻━┻
Chapter revised on 2022-04-17
Edited by Clozed! ♥
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