forum "Falling in love? It's an occupational hazard." | OxO CLOSED, STALKERS WELCOME

Started May 02, 2023 by @Vitae_

tune

Carlos blinks, silent for a moment. He then sighs, "Thanks…" he mutters as he lays back down, staring at the ceiling full of glow-in-the-dark stars. He sadly, couldn't go back to sleep.

Once morning came, everyone was out bustling and doing their own thing. Soon, there was a woman's voice and knocking coming from Carlos' door. From what could be heard, the woman was trying to get Carlos to eat, and he was refusing.

Mikhail also didn't sleep that night, although that was hardly unexpected. He lay on the bed, the sheet twisted around his legs as he stared unblinkingly at a spot in space just below the covered window.

Eventually, he seemed to shake himself out of his thoughts. Faint noises from downstairs, likely the staff of the house waking and preparing for the day ahead, drifted to his ears and he finally blinked.

He gave a long, languid stretch and turned over onto his back, glaring at the ceiling. He felt a fool for the way he'd reacted earlier in the night, but on the same token, he couldn't exactly fault himself for being so on edge. Especially after the two weeks he'd had.

Still it was embarrassing to kick off his career as a bodyguard in that manner. Perhaps if he was lucky, Carlos wouldn't mention it.

At the thought of his ward, Mikhail finally sat up. He rolled his neck from side to side, relishing in a few well-placed pops that helped to relax his muscles.

He stood and dressed, pulling from the wardrobe the clothes that he had been lended for the job, given the fact that it was no longer safe to return to his home and retrieve his own clothing. It wasn't exactly Mikhail's style, but he pulled them on without complaint, and then faced himself in the mirror for the verdict.

His hair was still a bit of a mess, though improved by the quick finger combing he gave it. Otherwise, he looked sharp. 'Like a real bodyguard,' he thought, letting his eyes roam over the borrowed outfit.

His shirt was a simple, but formal white button-up shirt, framed by a pair of gray suspenders that lay clipped to the black dress pants. He wore a black tie around his neck, and his shoes were the traditional dressy kind, tidy and black, but they had a higher top that made them easier to move in. In fact, all of his outfit appeared to have been arranged with easy movement in mind. "What is this, the Kingsman?" He mumbled to himself, wondering if he'd get some super neat spy weapons to go with the vibe.

When he was as content with his appearance as he felt he would be, he paused to grab his gray beanie and a black jacket off his desk and then headed to the bathroom attached to his bedroom.

He went through his normal routine, although he paused halfway through brushing his teeth to cock his head at sounds coming from the room next door. Mikhail quickly spit and rinsed his mouth, then wandered out into the hallway to see what the commotion was about. He peered through Carlos' open door, and waited until the boy noticed him to ask, "Not hungry?"

Carlos hadn't even gotten dressed yet, still lounging in his seemingly makeshift pajamas. A long sleeved, soft green tee, and some pajama pants that didn't match at all. The boy jumps and looks up from his desk, then sighs. "No…people keep fuckin' bothering me about eating when I keep telling them I'm not hungry."

The woman who was trying to get Carlos to eat signs and mutters under her breath to Mikhail. "He hasn't eaten a real meal in a week…"

(bro I can't top your post- god teer- T^T)

_{(I'm so sorry for dipping without warning! Long story short, I had to take a mental health break. I'm not fixed, per say, but I do feel better and I want to try to get back into the swing of writing while I feel motivated!)}

"I see…"

Lips twitching into a faint frown, Mikhail shifted his gaze from Carlos to the maid. He indicated with a tilt of his head that she should leave, then took the tray from her with all the grace of a man who spent forty hours a week carrying them from table to table.

He nudged the door further open with his shoe, hesitated, then murmured, "Pardon the intrusion." With that, he crossed through the threshold of Carlos' room for the third time.

"What are you working on this early in the morning?" he wondered, heading straight to the desk and setting the tray down carefully where it would be out of the younger boy's way. Just far enough away that Mikhail could maintain a neutral stance on the issue of food. At least, for now.

The bodyguard took a more relaxed stance, blinking as a shaft of sunlight fell across his face. Reflexively he lifted a hand to shield his eyes, though they still shone amber in the lighting as they cut to Carlos with appropriately muted curiosity.

Carlos sighed heavily as he turned back to his paper. But as Mikhail came closer, he slipped the paper in a drawer and quickly closed it. “None of your business as far as you’re concerned.” He grumbled. Carlos then grabbed a book and opened it, looking at it. He seemed to move away from the food, a sick expression on his face mixed with discomfort.

The boy just seemed off in more ways than one. His posture was in the least, horrible. His eyes were dark, and overall…he seemed sad. Or angry. Or even a mix of both.

Mikhail hummed, unfazed by the younger boy's dismissive response. He was quiet for a long moment, considering his next move carefully.

Finally, he sighed, ducking out of the sunlight and leaning against the desk so that he faced the door instead of Carlos. "Is it fine if I eat this?" He asked, snagging a piece of bacon off the plate and waiting for an affirmative before ripping half of it off with his teeth.

He took his time chewing, observing Carlos long enough that he was sure the boy would be feeling antsy by now. "If you have no plans for today," Mikhail began when he had swallowed, "Perhaps you can humor me for a while. I'd like you to give me a tour of this mansion. In return, I'll grant you any one favor, given it's in my power to accomplish. What do you think?"

Carlos sighs heavily and nods. “Sure. Just don’t let yourself get ran over.” He stands and grabs a pair of jeans, a muscle shirt and a hoodie and walks to his bathroom. “I’ll be back. Just wait here or outside. Again, don’t get trampled.”

The hallway in front of Carlos’ door was silent, but you could hear in the distance that people were already up and moving. Downstairs, there was muffled yells and threats. Probably either an interrogation, or someone rough housing.

The boy shuts his bathroom door, leaning Mikhail alone. It took Carlos about 30 minutes to get fully dressed and do any other hygiene routine he does.

The older boy cocked an eyebrow, wondering how, exactly, he might be trampled upon. Then the noise filtered up to his ears and he wrinkled his nose in distasteful understanding.

Still, Carlos was actively getting dressed, so he'd count it as a win. He ended up taking over the boy's now-empty chair while he waited, though remained facing away from the desk so as to avoid giving the impression that he was snooping. He wasn't, though he did continue to pick pieces from the otherwise abandoned plate of breakfast.

When it was clear Carlos would be a while longer, Mikhail pulled his phone out of his pocket and began to browse the internet, as unprofessional as it may seem. The room fell silent aside from his quiet tapping on the screen, until the bathroom door opened again and Mikhail glanced up.

"Well, good morning," he greeted as if for the first time, standing from the chair and pushing it back into place. The boy cleaned up nice, his albeit casual outfit a stark change to the nightclothes he was wearing prior. Perhaps he was still a bit grumpy, but at least now he looked ready for the day. "Would you be so kind as to show me to the kitchen, first? If you're ready to go now, that is."

Carlos simply nods as he walks out the door straight to the kitchen. He begins to explain shortcuts, different pathways, and how busy the kitchen usually was. “Everyone’s here most of the time. Mostly because of our Italian heritage. My family loves cooking.” He sighs, leaning against the doorway as people swerved to avoid knocking into him. It was like he had a bubble around him.

“Of course…it’s pretty big. But it’s supposed to be.” He shrugs.

Mikhail followed, dutifully taking note of Carlos' commentary. He was pleasantly surprised to find that, despite his surly mood from before, his explanations were concise and informative. Exactly what the bodyguard needed.

When they arrive at the kitchen, the older boy observes the lengths the people go to avoid interacting with Carlos. 'Strange,' he thought, 'That none have greeted him, yet.'

"And what about you? Do you enjoy cooking?" he felt inclined to ask, taking up a post beside his ward. For some reason or another, the bodyguard seemed intent on remaining near the kitchen for the time being.

Carlos sighs heavily. “Where do you wanna go next?” He said, completely avoiding the question. He still seemed off, but he seemed to fake a smile every time someone passed him. But his eyes…they showed the truth.

A man passes Carlos, smiling. “Mornin, kiddo.” He says cheerfully as he walks by. The man was older looking. Like a tired dad who had raised two boys. From a closer look, he had crows feet by his eyes, adding onto his age. But at least he seemed nice.

Carlos simply nods, giving a little hum.

The older boy held Carlos' gaze for a long, silent moment, his expression carefully impassive. Then his amber eyes flicked to the tired-looking man, trailing his movement through the doorway.

"I'd like to do something while I'm here," Mikhail suddenly said, aware it was an unsatisfying answer. He didn't wait for a response. Instead, he strode right past him into the heart of the kitchen, paused, then followed an employee to the counter and began to discuss something with him. Throughout it all, he never let Carlos out of his peripherals.

Mihail bowed his head at something the cook said, then turned to the fridge and opened the door. A moment later, he was making his way back to his ward with a bowl in hand. "I'm ready now," he announced, tilting the bowl ever so slightly to reveal a myriad of fruit. Without explaining what it was for, he added, "How about the offices? I seem to remember there being some towards the front of the house."

Carlos sighs and tips his head back against the wall with a thunk. An annoyed look on his face showed he was not amused. Yet, he led Mikhail to the offices. He went on explaining the traffic during the day through this hall, and two other hallways leading to them.

“It’s just places for everybody to work. Hold ransoms…order shit…crap like that.” He murmured. He seemed to get more and more tired each step he took.

"All the normal things," Mikhail commented, his voice light in an attempt to bring humor to the atmosphere between them. A frown played on his lips, however, as he began to wonder if he was pushing the younger boy too hard.

Sweeping his gaze across the halls, he concludes he's seen the most important places for the time being. Most of the upper levels were still unknown to him, but seeing as the majority of the rooms up there appeared to be bedrooms, Mikhail was satisfied.

"And the garden outside? I noticed a path leading to one," he suggested, subtly quickening his steps in case Carlos' exhaustion became any more severe. This would be the last stop, he decided.

Carlos goes silent, staring at him. It almost seemed like…he was thinking. Contemplating on whether to take this man to the one place he kept for himself. Eventually, Carlos sighs.

“I don’t feel like it right now…” he murmurs. He wanted that garden to stay private. Only for him. That’s what it was for. Just for him. “Let’s just go somewhere else if you really wanna drag me everywhere.”

Mikhail fell quiet again, disappointed that part of his plan would have to be omitted. He echoed Carlos' sigh, but cracked a small smile and responded, "How about the library, then?"

This time, he took the lead. Carlos had mentioned it in passing before, and it was only a matter of trial and slight error to find the hallway leading to it again. At the sight of the large arched doorway, Mikhail let out a soft whistle. "This place is huge," he mumbled, eyeing either side of the entrance and then letting his gaze drift to Carlos. Expectant.

"You must know this place well if the number of books in your room is any indicator. Where would you find, say…the history section?"

“Far left in a corner.” He immediately replied. “Don’t touch the green book or father will chop your hands off. He’s done it before. All brown books are good.” He spoke as if it were routine. Which it probably was.

“Fantasy is far right. Exact opposite.” He walks over to a bookshelf and takes out a book. A science book. “This whole wall is school shit. Every subject. Religion is that shelf.” He points to the shelf next to him.

The bodyguard blinked. "…Noted," he responded slowly. 'Green equals do not touch.' Just a totally normal day serving a totally normal boss. At least he had free access to the brown-covered books.

He followed Carlos over to the school section, expression brightening at some of the curriculum mentioned in titles there. "Does this mean you were homeschooled?" he asked, cracking open a textbook on advanced macroeconomics. "These are expensive," he muttered to himself, absorbing the table of contents and making a mental note to come back in his free time. For now, it was back to his original task.

"What is this area?" he asked, wandering towards the back of the library with a bay window and a small side table. Mikhail checked that Carlos was following, and casually set the bowl of fruit on the table. Then he leaned against the wall next to the window and peered out, adding, "It seems like a nice place to relax."

Carlos nodded at the homeschool question and then followed after him. “It is…surprisingly…we get some targets with kids. So we let the kids come over here and in the playroom and kids area. There’s all kinds of stuff for them. They always really enjoy it.” He smiles warmly, seeming to enjoy the fond memories.

He then huffs a sigh. “Anyways…you can stay here if you want. Ima go back to my room.”

Mikhail wondered privately what happened to the children if their parents were killed. He considered asking Carlos, but then the boy began to head back to the room. "That wasn't the deal," he called after him without moving from his spot. Silhouetted by the light streaming in from the window, Mikhail seemed but a shadow before him.

"You agreed to humor me," he continued when he was sure he had Carlos' attention. His voice was calm, without any trace of accusation. "And in return, I will give you one favor. But before that… It is nearly time for lunch. Do you plan to eat anything?"

Carlos sighs heavily. “No. I don’t. And if you hold that against me, I wont take that favor.” He snaps. He then turns to face him, his expression a mix of emptiness and annoyance.

“So besides that. What else do you possibly want from me.” This definitely didn’t sound like a question. More of an annoyed statement.

Again, Mikhail showed no visible reaction to being snapped at. If anything, he looked vaguely amused at the latter part of Carlos' questions. "Did I not say yesterday that I couldn't promise anything if you decided to feed me?" he asked, referencing the picked-at breakfast sitting abandoned on the younger boy's desk. "I don't plan on leaving you alone unless you properly dismiss me." He seemed to sober, and asked in a far more gentle tone, "Why do you not want to eat, Carlos?"

It was the first time Mikhail had used his ward's name since he'd first spoken to him, and the gravity of the fact felt important.