Chapter 59: Pinky promise.
As the bandages around Charles’s stomach and chest came into view, Augustine gasped in shock, holding his breath for a full minute.
He hadn’t expected Charles to be this badly injured.
Deep down, he had intended to tease and seduce Charles, but now, seeing the extent of his wounds, guilt gnawed at him instead.
Augustine felt devastated, confused, and angry at himself. "I... I didn’t mean to," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.
Slowly, he lifted his right hand, hesitating before gently placing it over Charles’s bandaged chest.
His fingers trembled as he swallowed hard. "Does it hurt?" he mumbled, his voice laced with guilt.
Charles smirked, nodding slightly. "It hurts just a little," he admitted sincerely.
Then, tilting his head, he added, "By the way, can I see your bandage beneath your hospital gown?"
Augustine nervously gulped, his fingers trembling slightly as he grasped the hem of his hospital gown and slowly lifted it.
As his chest and stomach became exposed, Charles’s gaze darkened, his frown deepening at the sight of the bandage wrapped tightly around Augustine’s stomach.
"You shouldn’t have started a fight with those men," Charles scolded, his voice firm yet laced with concern. "Did you really think you stood a chance against those huge men?"
"I know I can’t fight them, but at least I made an attempt. Besides, I couldn’t just stand there and watch them keep hurting you, so I had to—"
Charles scoffed, cutting Augustine off as he slammed his fist against Augustine’s shoulder, not caring if it worsened the bruise. "You’re unbelievable," he muttered.
"Ouch!" Augustine winced, his brows furrowing as he instinctively placed a hand over his shoulder, massaging the sore spot where Charles had struck him.
Despite the pain, Augustine couldn’t help himself from the small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Do... do you plan on knocking me out completely?" he teased, his voice carrying a hint of amusement despite the pain.
Charles sighed.
"Augustine Wales," Charles called out, trying to sound calm despite the rage that was brewing within him.
Charles clenched his jaw, his fingers twitching with the urge to strike Augustine’s shoulder again—just hard enough to make Augustine pass out.
"You knew you couldn’t save me," he snapped, his voice laced with cold anger. "And yet, you still threw yourself into that fight like a reckless fool. Do you have any idea how stupid that was, Augustine?"
Charles words were sharp, cutting through the air like a blade, but beneath the anger was something else—fear.
Fear of what could have happened. Fear of losing him.
"Why are you mad at me?" Augustine questioned, pouting. "You should be complimenting me for being brave, not scolding me."
A mockery scoffed rolled out of Charles’s mouth as he stepped down from the bed.
Gazing at Augustine, Charles lifted his right hand towards the air as he struck Augustine’s shoulder once more, and this time around, it was much more painful than the previous strike.
"What the hell, Pookie—"
"Shut up!" Charles exclaimed, his voice echoing through the hospital room, sharp and unyielding.
The sheer force of his words made Augustine freeze, his mouth snapping shut as silence settled between them.
Sigh!
Charles chest rose and fall with measured breaths as he struggled to rein in his emotions.
He ran a hand through his hair before exhaling deeply. "You need to start taking things seriously, Augustine," he said, his tone firm. "Stop acting like a damn child." Charles scolded, before taking a step back from the hospital bed where Augustine was seated.
"You... you’re alive, fine, and healthy, but if you keep challenging men who could kill you on the spot, you will be dead in no time."
He paused for a while, allowing himself to take another deep breath. "Do you think walking into death is some kind of flex? People run from danger, but you— you choose to walk right into it. Do you really think that makes you a hero?"
"Charles, you have to calm down," Augustine mumbled, struggling to push himself up from the bed. "Even though I walked into a dangerous situation, I am still fine, healthy, and most of all, I am alive."
Charles scoffed, his lips curling in frustration.
His fingers clenched into fists as he fought the urge to shake some sense into Augustine.
"Do you really think you are fine? Healthy? Alive?"
Charles rolled his eyes, shaking his head sideways, his voice laced with disbelief. "You can’t even sit up without wincing, Augustine. Do you really think that means you’re okay?"
"But I am fine."
"Your words disgust me, Augustine," Charles hissed, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear. "You should have run away because life is precious. You... you should have been selfish and saved yourself instead of playing the hero."
His breath hitched, his eyes burning with unshed tears. "Do you even realize what could have happened? Do you know what it would have done to me if you had died?"
"And what could have possible happened?"
"Your parents would have killed me." He coldly declared.
Augustine sighed, fluttering his eyelashes a few more times. "Why do I feel like you’re upset about something else?" he murmured, his voice laced with quiet concern.
Sliding his feet onto the cold tiles, he studied Charles carefully, noting the tension in his shoulders, the way his fists clenched ever so slightly. "Did I do something wrong?" Augustine pressed, his voice softer now, almost hesitant, as if afraid of the answer.
Sigh!
"You... you shouldn’t have tried to save me." Charles’s voice wavered, strained with suppressed frustration. "You got hurt because of me, and every injury on your body is a reminder of that." Charles hated this feeling—the helplessness, the anger, the fear that he couldn’t protect Augustine the way Augustine had tried to protect him. "How am I supposed to live with the guilt of knowing you were hurt because of me?" he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
Augustine smiled faintly, stepping closer to Charles. "You’re more bruised than I am. If anyone should feel guilty, it has to be me—for being the reason you were kidnapped and beaten by my mother’s men."
Silence...
Charles pondered for a while, thinking of the right reply to render to Augustine. "Being hurt is nothing new to me," Charles explained, his voice stoic and resigned. "You shouldn’t have put yourself at risk to save me. I already knew the risks of being with someone like you, so I’ve accepted the consequences."
"Oh," Augustine murmured, finally closing the distance between them.
His gaze locked onto Charles as he smiled. "And what exactly do you mean by ’someone like me’?"
"Augustine Wales," Charles said, his voice laced with a quiet frustration. "You know damn well that I mean someone like you—someone with a powerful name, wealth, and a high social background."
Charles gaze softened for a moment before he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "And by the way, sit back down before you end up hurting yourself even more..."
"Shhh!" Augustine hushed Charles, pressing a finger against Augustine’s lips to silence him.
Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around Charles’s waist, pulling him close until there was no space left between them.
Their breaths mingled, warm and uneven.
Since Augustine was slightly taller, he tilted his head down, his gaze locking onto Charles’s with an intensity that sent a shiver through the air between them.
Charles lifted his gaze, his eyes locking onto Augustine’s, the weight of unspoken words settling between them.
They both became silent as neither of them look away from each other.
Then, Augustine leaned in slightly, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. "What can I do to lighten your mood?" he murmured, his voice dipping into something dangerously seductive.
Charles blinked rapidly, his expression shifting as he gripped Augustine’s wrist. "I want you to promise me," he murmured, his voice laced with quiet desperation. "If something like this ever happens again... you run. You find help. You don’t throw yourself into danger for me."
"But I–"
"Just promise me," Charles stated, cutting Augustine off from completing his sentence.
Augustine sigh. "Such a situation will never happen again," Augustine mumbled, trying to reason things with Charles.
"Augustine Wales," Charles called out with a frown. "I need you to promise me and stop saying rubbish."
Augustine parted his lips to argue, but no words came out. ’A promise isn’t needed because I’ll make sure my mother never lays a hand on Charles again.’ He thought.
Yet, as Augustine looked into Charles’s eyes, filled with both worry and frustration, he couldn’t bring himself to say what he was thinking.
He didn’t understand why Charles needed this promise—because if danger ever came for Charles again, running away would never be an option.
Nevertheless, knowing that a promise was the only way to put Charles at ease, Augustine sighed and gave in.
"Alright, pookie," he whispered seductively. "I promise that if this ever happens again, I’ll be selfish and save myself first."
Charles’ brow furrowed. "This isn’t a joke," he said, his voice firm. "I need you to hold to your promise. Do you understand?"
A smile, bittersweet and fleeting, played on Augustine’s lips as he nodded in agreement. "I promise to fulfil my promise," he murmured, extending his pinky finger towards Charles in a childish but tender gesture
Charles rolled his eyes at him. "Thanks." He whispered.
Augustine chuckled. "You are welcome." He purred leaning closer to the lip of Charles as he sealed it with a kiss.
But then, an unexpected visitor came barging inside the room.