Chapter 127: How can you claim you don’t love me?
After a long, exhausting day, Augustine finally pulled into the garage of his mansion, the engine’s hum fading into silence.
Earlier, he had dismissed his driver, knowing he would be home late.
Keeping him waiting would have been unnecessary and, in Augustine’s eyes, an abuse of power—something he refused to tolerate. He valued efficiency, not exploitation.
With a tired sigh, Augustine leaned back against the car steering for a moment, letting the quiet of the night settle over him.
Augustine exhaled heavily, the weight of the day pressing down on his shoulders.
Grabbing his briefcase from the passenger seat, he stepped out of the car and shut the door with a quiet thud.
For a moment, he remained still, his eyes closed as he inhaled deeply, trying to shake off the exhaustion clinging to him.
The cool night air did little to ease the tension in his muscles, but at least it was a brief moment of solitude before stepping inside.
’Gush, what a stressful day.’ He thought to himself before deciding to walk over to the entrance of the mansion.
As Augustine pushed open the entrance door, he stepped inside, only for his gaze to land on Charles Donald, curled up on the couch like a cat seeking warmth.
His chest rose and fell in steady breaths, completely at ease.
Augustine’s brows furrowed as he shut the door behind him. ’Why did you have to sleep here?’ he inwardly questioned.
Charles looked so peaceful, his features free of the usual teasing smirk.
Augustine stepped closer, the soft glow of the room casting shadows over Charles’s relaxed face.
Standing before the couch, he drew in a slow, steady breath, his gaze tracing the familiar features of the Charles face.
"I... I have missed you so much, Pookie," he murmured, his voice barely audible, as if afraid the words would shatter the fragile moment.
Augustine swallowed hard, his grip tightening around the handle of his briefcase as he carefully placed one hand beneath Charles’s legs and the other behind his head.
His movements were swift yet deliberate, his strength effortless as he lifted Charles into his arms, cradling him with a firm but gentle hold.
For a moment, he simply stood there, gazing down at the sleeping man in his arms.
The warmth of Charles’s body against his own sent an unfamiliar ache through his chest—one he refused to name.
Then, without another thought, Augustine carried Charles toward the bedroom, his footsteps steady and sure.
Augustine ascended the stairs with measured steps, careful not to disturb the man in his arms.
When he reached the bedroom, he nudged the door open with his foot and stepped inside, the dim glow of the bedside lamp casting long shadows across the room.
With deliberate care, Augustine carried Charles to the bed, lowering him onto the mattress with a gentleness that felt foreign even to himself.
He adjusted the pillow beneath Charles’s head, letting his fingers linger for just a moment before pulling away as he also took his seat on the bed.
Augustine watched as Charles stirred, his movements slow and drowsy.
The way he nestled into the pillow made something tighten in Augustine’s chest—an unfamiliar warmth creeping through him.
When Charles’s eyes finally fluttered open, still heavy with sleep, his gaze locked onto Augustine.
"Aug... Augustine," he murmured, his voice laced with exhaustion and something softer—something almost fond.
Augustine swallowed hard as Charles pushed himself up, his tousled hair falling over his forehead.
Their eyes met in the dim light, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.
Augustine’s smile softened as he gently pushed Charles back onto the bed. "Pookie, you’re exhausted. Get some rest," he murmured, his voice a soothing lull.
Charles let out a sleepy sigh, his lashes fluttering as he sank deeper into the pillow. "I... I was waiting for you to come home," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why did you come so late? Was your day stressful?"
Augustine’s heart clenched at the sight of Charles fighting to stay awake just to talk to him.
He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from Charles’s forehead. "Yeah... It was a long day," he admitted, his tone quieter now. "But seeing you here makes it better."
Charles scoffed, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. "Did you find the models for your clothing designs?" He paused for a moment before adding, "Besides... have you ever considered making me your model? I wouldn’t mind."
Charles voice was laced with exhaustion, sleep tugging at the edges, yet he still fought to stay awake, his concern for Augustine outweighing his fatigue.
Augustine’s heart warmed at the offer. He reached out, brushing his thumb lightly against Charles’s cheek. "You? As my model?" He smirked. "That would be dangerous. You’d steal all the attention."
Augustine leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Charles’s forehead before tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear.
His fingers lingered for a moment, brushing against Charles’s skin as he watched his tired eyes flutter shut.
’How can you claim you don’t like me, yet care so much about me?’ Augustine wondered, his gaze locked onto Charles’s peaceful face.
A quiet sigh escaped his lips as he shook his head slightly. No matter how much Charles denied it, his actions spoke louder than words.
"Pookie, you don’t have to think too much, okay? I’ve already secured the models for tomorrow," Augustine whispered softly, his voice filled with warmth and reassurance.
Charles, his eyes still heavy with sleep, let out a contented sigh and a small smile curved across his lips. "Thank goodness!" he purred, pulling the blanket up to his chest. "I was so worried... but now I’m relieved."
Augustine’s heart skipped a beat at Charles’s words.
He bit his lower lip, his heart swelling with an emotion he couldn’t quite place.
A soft blush crept across Augustine’s cheeks as he whispered, "You are the most wonderful and amazing person I have ever come across... and seeing how much you care for me—it’s enough to lift my spirit."
Charles, already lost in slumber, furrowed his brows slightly, his voice a soft murmur. "H-huh?" he mumbled, unaware of the depth in Augustine’s words.
Augustine chuckled quietly, his gaze tender as it lingered on Charles. "Sleep tight, Pookie," he whispered, the affection in his voice clear as he rose from the bed, not wanting to disturb Charles any further.
"I hope someday you accept my love for you," Augustine murmured softly, his words barely more than a breath, meant only for his own ears.