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Casey

″That,″ he breathed, ″was the most atrocious experience ever.″

His nephew giggled, hugging Casey′s thigh as the elder wiped remnants of vomit off his chin with the cuff of his button-down, realising the stupidity of that moments later. They′d both puked after the ride. Well, Casey during, but that was besides the point. We should have stuck to the carousel.

″So, what′s next, Dad?″ came Hammy′s excited voice. The boy caught his breath, averting his gaze with an embarrassed blush. ″I － I′m sorry, Uncle Casey.″

The elder had stopped in his tracks, eyes set on the beautiful kid that clung to his side. The same kid, who moments ago had been chuckling in the most adorable manner imaginable, and now stared dejectedly at his mismatched socks. Casey didn′t know how to respond. He knelt down, heart racing, and said the only thing that resonated; ″Hammy, you can call me Dad anytime.″

A smile spread out across the boy′s bright, pink cheeks. ″Really?″

Fredrick won′t mind, he figured. ″Of course, baby,″ he replied, gently cupping his nephew′s face.

He felt an unfamiliar swell in his chest, like the torrent of butterflies in his stomach had risen to his sternum, creating a cyclone that warmed every gust of inspiration. Such a shame, he pondered, that Fredrick didn′t want to spend every waking second of his life beside Hamilton.

Hugging the boy closer, he said, ″We′ll need more ice cream to mask that breath of yours.″

″You puked more than I did!″ cried the child defensively, his delightful giggle having returned.

″I guess that means I get more ice cream.″ He winked at Hamilton, taking off at a leisurely stroll.

At the creamery, Hammy tugged the sleeve of his uncle′s shirt. Innocently, he said, ″Actually, I think I puked more, Dad.″

⧇

″Uncle Casey, there′s this guy following us. I think he loves you.″

Casey blinked, taken aback. He glanced over his shoulder, tugging Hammy closer by the tail of his raincoat. ″Sweetheart, what guy?″ he asked, alarmed.

Before Hammy answered, Casey locked eyes with him.

Six o′clock. Dark hair, eyes the colour of roasted coffee beans, dressed in a grey V-neck that exposed his toned chest and tanned, olive skin. His dark outfit alone didn′t tick Casey off. The young man, who appeared of his age, seemed more frightened than hostile. His eyes had gone wide upon meeting Casey′s, and from afar, the latter discerned that a thin film of perspiration beaded his forehead.

He quirked an eyebrow at the stranger, to which the boy spun on his heels and darted off in the other direction. ″Is he your friend?″ came Hammy′s voice, first to pierce the stunned silence. Casey stood on his tiptoes, scanning the crowd for the boy′s face. His chest heaved abnormally. He′d disappeared.

Baffled, he shook his head. ″I′ve never seen him before. How did you know he was following us?″

″He′s been staring at you since the rollercoaster,″ chimed his nephew, as if this should be obvious.

″Blimey.″ Casey expelled a sigh. He felt like the worst uncle ever. How hadn′t he noticed? For all he knew, the sketchy boy could′ve been a snatch thief, or worse, an abductor. ″I don′t remember seeing him.″

″That′s ′cause you weren′t looking,″ giggled the child. But something else he′d said lingered on Casey′s mind. I think he loves you. Now, he thought, what on earth made him think that? Then again, youth came with a precious sort of naivety. Hammy wouldn′t know any better. ″Is that the Ferris wheel?″ he gasped, pointing to the brightly lit ride, sparkling LEDs lending hues of various colours to the pier.

Still on edge, Casey took a moment to nod. ″You up for a ride?″ he asked his nephew, ruffling the kid′s hair.

The boy′s smile, so broad that it nearly touched his ears, said it all.