Page 40 of His Untoward Hate

“Watch yourself, dickhead.” Sky threatened as he harshly shucked the black mask covering his face.

He was not wrong.

Estevin motherfucker Simbajon, it definitely was.

Despite struggling for his very life, Estevin’s lips curved into a taunting grin. Blood dripped from his mouth as he spat at him, refusing to surrender even in the face of death. Estevin’s display only provoked Sky’s honor and pride, and the demon inside him shouted, “Kill him!”

Sky answered by spitting a mouthful of blood straight into his face. Then he unleashed a relentless barrage of punches, his fists crashing into every side of Estevin’s head. One blow followed another. He lost count long before Estevin went unconscious, but the fury consuming him was far from satisfaction. A ferocious part of him wanted nothing less than to tear his head from his shoulders.

Over the years, this had always been Estevin Simbajon’s specialty: running his mouth and provoking people with words, yet when it came to physical fighting, despite his masculine physique and utilization of sparring gear, he was no more of an expert than Sky.

Sky jolted defensively when someone tried to touch his biceps and slightly grabbed and pulled his long white sleeve, stained with a lot of blood. But instead of knocking that someone off who tried to touch him, he felt there was a familiar electricity telling him not to. Sky slowly looked at the awful condition of a pitiful boy on his side.

Jude shook his head for him to stop, and just like that, Sky could feel his muscles suddenly ebb.

“P-lease s-top,” he said, tangled in complexity, which only made his heart clench.

It drove him furiously mad at how his face looked. It was busted and broken just because of what these assholes had done. They had to pay for what they had done. Sky’s fury still clawed at him, demanding more, but then his gaze fell on Jude. He watched him squint, desperately trying to focus despite the absence of his lenses. It brought those striking gray eyes into full view, and for a moment, everything else faded away. The anger that had threatened to consume him faltered. Just like every time before, he found himself yielding to Jude’s unspoken plea, allowing the rage to loosen its grip.

Bullshit! he screamed mentally.

Before it got worse, Sky looked back at Estevin, who was unconscious, and spat a ball of saliva stained with blood on his face again. He stood up and kicked him on the side as he walked to get the eyeglasses of Jude Finn, which had fallen on the floor. Then, he growled mentally.

Fuck this pumping organ!

18

“I can still walk,” Jude resisted with great difficulty when Sky tried to help him up.

Sky ignored him completely. Without saying a word, he lifted Jude into his arms in a bridal style. In Sky’s arms, Jude seemed tiny and fragile. The walk from the parking lot to the school gate felt unbearably long, as if they had to cross a hundred miles. As they passed through the gate, the guard glanced at them, but one look from Sky was enough for him to understand. The guard stayed silent. Since the beginning of high school, he and Sky had secretly been acquainted, especially when it came to their drug operations. Over the years, the security guard had become one of Sky’s most loyal accomplices. Their relationship was purely transactional, and they both gained something from it.

Jude could hear Sky’s uneven breathing, deep, heavy, and almost as loud as the pounding of his own heart. This time, the sound of his heartbeat felt like music to him. He just wanted to go home. Exhaustion weighed heavily on him to the point where he felt like he could no longer keep going. Sometime along the way, he realized he had already fallen asleep in Sky’s arms.

Somewhere in the middle of the drive, Jude slowly opened his eyes, his head still resting against the headrest of the passenger seat. The moment he woke up, his gaze immediately fell on Sky. He blinked a few times as though he was still trapped in a dream, but the aching soreness all over his body reminded him that everything was real.

Jude stared at Sky, who was quietly maneuvering the car despite his busted lips, broken nose, and the mix of fresh and dried blood smeared across his face. Jude noticed the way Sky’s jaw tightened every time he clenched his teeth. He looked completely focused on the road ahead, his eyes fixed forward, giving Jude the chance to watch him in silence.

Despite the wounds, cuts, and bruises covering his own body, Jude endured the pain as if it barely affected him. He could even taste the metallic hint of blood at the corners of his mouth. It was not the first time he had been beaten this badly. In a way, Jude considered that a good thing, because he had already grown used to it. He had become almost immune to the aftermath of pain and violence.

Jude remained still, silently staring at the man behind the wheel. He had never looked at Sky this way before, not with eyes clouded by enervation and stripped of both fear and hatred. Before, whenever Jude looked at him, it was always with either resentment or fear. But this time, something felt different.

Jude’s gaze slowly drifted down to Sky’s sleeves rolled up to his elbows, then to the hand gripping the steering wheel. Sky’s other arm rested against the window while he drove with only one hand. His eyes lingered on his bruised and bleeding knuckles.

For some reason, Jude suddenly felt guilty and sorry.

The way Sky had beaten those guys just a while ago terrified him. He had been consumed by wrath. He was very frightening, powerful, and overwhelmingly intimidating. That was exactly how he saw him at that moment.

Jude still could not fully understand why Sky was there to save him or why he had not simply gone home and left him there.

Did he actually wait for me? he thought.

Jude blinked a few times and forced himself to shake away his thoughts. His eyes drifted back to Sky’s hands firmly gripping the steering wheel, veins visibly protruding beneath his skin. The sleeves of his white long-sleeved shirt were rolled up to his elbows, exposing the tattoos that covered his arms. Jude had no idea what any of them meant. He had heard that tattoos often carried deep meanings, though some people only got them for fashion, and maybe Sky was one of those people, getting them simply to look good. To him, tattoos usually looked messy and unpleasant. He preferred boys who looked neat and clean, exactly like Jasper. But if he were being honest, the tattoos embossed on Sky somehow suited him well.

Jude’s gaze slowly traveled up to Sky’s broad shoulders. The white cotton fabric stained with blood clung tightly to his body, leaving little room for air as it stretched perfectly over his prominent biceps. Every time Sky tightened his grip on the steering wheel, the muscles in his arms flexed even more.

Jude’s eyes wandered higher, stopping at his neck. He found himself oddly fascinated by Sky’s Adam’s apple, far more noticeable than his own, while traces of tattoos peeked out from beneath the collar. It made Jude wonder if there were even more tattoos hidden underneath his clothes. His eyes slowly traveled upward to Sky’s sharp jawline, the faint stubble beginning to grow back along his shaved beard, and finally to his pointed nose. His gaze trailed up to his eyes. Those eyes were beautiful, especially when he was serious, in deep thought, and silent. He was like a tamed lion.

The side of Jude’s lips slightly tipped up, watching him exhaustedly. Still staring at Sky’s face, he eventually drifted back to sleep in the same position when he woke up.