Sebastian mulls over the matter. Should he tell Atlas that he has developed a crush on him?
Besides, it makes sense in some way. He saved Atlas's life and gave him a place to live after being abused by his father.
Or is he misunderstanding the matter? What if he doesn't have a crush but develops a dependency on him after a while?
It makes sense. Atlas probably feels insecure about seeing Sebastian being nice to someone else because he is used to Sebastian taking care of him.
He lets out a quiet sigh. Why is this whole matter so complicated? Sebastian watches the people who seem to have it easy. Children give out a broad grin at their parents, couples give a flirty look at each other, and an old man with black curly hair at the corner stabs the steak off the plate with the fork.
He looked like the world had done him great injustice.
Sebastian raised an eyebrow at the old man. I wonder what that's about?
As Sebastian was deep in his thoughts. He was startled by a loud crashing sound behind him.
Sebastian turned around with a frown. What the hell was that?
People also turned around at the sound. People would look at each other in confusion. One woman across from Sebastian whispered next to her company, "What's that?"
Some people at her table shrug. "Who knows?"
Sebastian tilts his nose in the air and smells something tantalizing. It's blood. The scent is extremely familiar. It's Atlas's blood.
Sebastian's black eyes slightly narrowed, wondering if Atlas was injured.
He rose to his feet suddenly, and his sudden movement caught some of the nearest people's attention.
Regardless, he didn't let any of that distract him and followed the scent to Atlas' location.
—---A few minutes ago —-----
Atlas strode into the bathroom with his emotions mixed in a hazy way.
Everything in his heart felt so heavy and confusing. Why did he act like that? It wasn't like the waitress did anything wrong. She was just doing her job, despite staring at Sebastian in an ogling way.
He just hated the way she looked at him.
Atlas looked around and saw the bathroom stall on his left side. His face scrunched at the awful smell, which was foul, like sewage.
His hands ran through his tousled black hair, pulling the strands of his hair frustratedly. His nose scrunched from the pain, so he released his strands.
He needs a moment to collect his emotions. Afterward, he'll go back to the table and apologize to Sebastian for lashing out like that.
He walks closer to the mirror next to the bathroom stall. He could hear the sound of someone using the bathroom and flushing the toilet.
In the mirror, he could see his pale face, thick eyelashes, red lips, and pale skin. He was surprised; his face looked fuller and not daunted in a way he looked back at home.
At home, he looked so thin and bony. His father wouldn't let the servants feed him, hoping to reduce his strength.
For as long as he could remember, his father would tell him that he was useless and shouldn't have been born. That he was an abomination of nature.
He looked at the corner of the mirror at the sound of approaching footsteps. He was startled at the person behind him but didn't let it show on his face. It was the waitress with blue hair he lashed out at.
The waitress frowned at him, her eyes darkening like raven's fur. She lets out a light sneer, "It's you."
She walks closer with confidence and stands near his ear. She whispered, "You're nothing at all. You don't think I see the way you look at him. I can see you want him to look at you. Look at you, but let's be honest with each other."
Each word from her mouth cut his heart like a knife, but he didn't let his feelings show on his face. She looks at him like he was beneath her feet, worse than a dog.
"Why would he want to be with you? You are nothing but a boy. You look gaunt and like a tiny little runt." She hissed out next to his ears, and her lips curled in disgust like she smelled something foul.
She walks backward as if she wants to avoid his scent. All of a sudden, her eyes widen like saucers, fear flashing across her eyes. Her lips trembled. "What the hell?"
Atlas was confused by the look on her face and turned around to look at the mirror. His eyes widened in a panic. His eyes had turned purple with double pupils.
The whole scene was eerie. He looked familiar, yet not familiar at all. He feels the same, yet not the same.
Then the waitress behind him whispered in shock and horror. "I know what you are. You're the half-breed. You are wanted for murdering your father, the leader of the Barbaros clan."
The words that were spoken from her mouth brought a wave of terror, and he felt dizzy that he couldn't continue to stand. He had to lean to grip the edge of the sink with tight knuckles.
His heart dropped like the bottom rock. His eyes became furious, and his mind turned ravening mad.
There are many whispers in his mind telling him to kill the woman behind him, to silence her so no one can find him, to take him back to that clan who despised him for being different.
He whispered hoarsely, "W—Who are you?"
A sneer curled on her lips. "You don't deserve to know my name, but I'm taking you back."
His eyes widened in shock. In the mirror, her eyes turned a dark yellow, and her face had lines all over it like a layer of cracks beneath her skin.
He watched her fingernails become longer and sharper until they became razor sharp.
Then she moved forward with great speed, and her arms reached to grab him.
At the same time, his mind became sharp with clarity and moved sideways to avoid her hands. He rolled to the side as he stumbled to the ground as he cursed out loud; pain bloomed beneath his palm. "Fuck. A werewolf."