บท 18: 1.18 A Helping Hand

While the whole Lanchaster family fussed over the Duke, the servants took the time to renovate the sleeping chamber of their youngest lord. In less than a day, the floors were spotless. Anyone could use it as a mirror with how well-polished it was. All of the furniture was brand new, including the large bed which was in a much better condition than the rest of the belongings.

Nero's so-called office was moved to the vacant room beside. A connecting door was placed on the wall that separated his working station and his sleeping quarters. The wallpaper has also been changed into a much livelier hue but it was still bare as there were only two portraits hanged on the wall. Both were placed in Nero's office, on the right wall beside the young lord's desk.

The first was a medium-sized framed canvas of an adorable five years old Nero. This was drawn by the Duchess herself. Mirae was a talented painter who could create realistic images. The second painting was made by a well-known artist. It was a candid image of the entire Lanchaster family.

Nero shut the cabinet after taking whatever caught his eye, and the wooden door creaked as a result of the movement. He slipped on the white long sleeved shirt he had in hand, tucking it in his grey slacks which showcased the slope of his lean waist. Embellished with emerald gems, he wore jewelry around his finger, wrist, and neck. Nero lifted the pair of teardrop earrings the duchess had given him and gazed at the sea of deep green that sparkled under the lights. He then clasped it on his ears and frowned when he realized that his mother's gift was partly hidden by his long hair.

He rummaged through his drawer but could not find anything to tie his hair. Just when he was about to close it, he saw handkerchiefs neatly folded and stacked on its own compartment inside the drawer. He took a cloth with a similar shade of his eyes and wrapped it around his hair. Recalling what Linda had made him do one summer time because she forgot her scrunchies, Nero gently twirled his white hair into a messy bun, revealing his ears.

Because Nero was starting to get more sun after years of living like a hermit crab, a natural rosy shade tinted his cheek and ears.

The cute slant of his button nose was emphasized when his hair was pulled back. His sharp jaw also came to view.

All in all, Nero looked twice as beautiful as he normally was.

While checking his appearance on the full length mirror, Nero noticed that the connecting door was still pushed open. He stepped towards it but halted himself when he saw the larger portrait. His heart swelled at the sight of young Nero with black hair and emerald eyes. He was laughing as the duke held him high in the air. The duchess and his two brothers were watching them both with fond looks in the background. Nero stared at the image of his father.

Duke Veron . . looked so young and. . . happy.

Nero shrugged after a moment then closed the door as he left his room. On his way to the Duke's hall, he failed to notice the stares that came his way. If Butler Zeron hadn't feigned a cough, everyone would have kept ogling the young lord, mesmerized by how angelic he looked.

***

Nero was on the verge of throwing the bowl of soup at his own father. He accepted responsibility and volunteered to be the one to care for the duke because he was the last trigger to the duke's psychogenic fever. As he previously stated, no pills could fix this mess, and what he required was essentially a freaking therapy. They only needed to talk it out, but Duke Veron continues to dismiss Nero's efforts.

Nero tried again to feed his father, but the Duke steered away like a sulking child before he could even lift his finger. It wasn't that the Duke was immobile; it was Nero's way of getting the Duke to open up, and he was painfully failing.

"Heavens, you really are a coward," Nero can't help but mutter.

His father (finally) looked at him with a scowl. "Is that how you should speak to your own father?"

"Wow," Nero says with the enthusiasm of a sloth. "So you can talk."

Duke Veron clicked his tongue at that before going back to ignoring the young lord. Nero sighed before he stood up and placed the bowl of soup on the surface of a nearby drawer. He watched as it gently puffed steam, following the smoky trail until it led his eyes to a portrait of his parents. Specifically, their wedding portrait.

"Don't get me wrong," he spoke not bothering to face the Duke. "I still don't like you." Because forgiveness wasn't his to give but the original Nero. "I'm merely doing my duties as your son. You should to." He spun to face the duke. Nero didn't fail to notice the longing look on his eyes before it went back to a sharp glare.

"I don't need a father," he says. This time, the duke did not hide his emotions as his eyes widened in shock. "But mother needs her husband."

"That's the least you could do," Nero finishes before leaving the room.

***

A wrinkly hand caressed a small picture frame softly. There were three young boys in it, all with dark hair like the night sky and eyes like exquisite emerald gems. Such characteristics were inherited from him, but what he adored the most was the cheeky grin on each of their faces.

Slowly, his fingers came to a halt on the youngest. As he remembered a particularly windy day on the meadow, Duke Veron felt bile rise in his throat.

Sweat trickled down his brow as he ran and laughed, catching his three mischievous boys as they fled from his grasp.

When Veron managed to catch his youngest, Nero exclaimed, "Papa!" He scooped the small body into his arms and lifted him high into the sky. The child's giggling increased by twofold.

"Dear, be careful!" He heard the angelic voice of his dearly beloved wife.

"No fair, I want upsies too!" Simone said but he had a fond look on his face.

At the memory, his fingers trembled and he brought down the picture frame. Only a ghost would be able to tell how the proud second duke broke down that day.