… a scar.
And I know I gave it to you months ago. I know you're trying to forget.
But between the drinks and subtle things, the holes in my apologies, you know I'm trying hard to take it back.
So if by the time the bar closes and you feel like falling down, I'll carry you home.
Tonight …
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.
.
.
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A little bit too soft for the heavy wood, Gilbert knocks on the door between him and Oz' room. The dark material vibrates lightly under the touch of his knuckles and the vague throbbing trails off muted against the cold, empty stonewalls of the hallway.
Some endless moments Gilbert fears that his knocking went by unheard, but then he can here a soft Enter from inside and relief sinks into his tense muscles. The flurry stays regardless, and as he opens the old door and slowly passes the threshold, he instinctively stops breathing.
In a sudden flash of pain, he remembers that there has been a time when going into his Master's room for bringing him some tea or spent some time with him had been the most natural thing on earth for him.
But right now he can't even breath properly because of his pounding heart and has to wet his dry lips with his tongue first, before he is able to mumble even a simple Hello.
This fear is without any reason and Gil is aware of that, but even thought, the angsty feeling still curls and twists around every thought of his when it comes about being a servant for Oz.
It's always in these moments that he is afraid of suddenly waking up and realizing that everything was just a dream. A bittersweet dream, because it would be the sweet conformance of all his hopes, and bitter, because it would leave the taste of gall in his mouth for sure.
But until now, Gilbert didn't wake up and maybe he should just start to face reality as it is. Just accept it like his Master always does.
A small smile appears on his lips and he is able to push the fears back to the deepest part of his mind where all the heavy thoughts and all the worries go when Oz is around.
Silently, Gil closes the door behind him and enters the room completely. A flush of pleasant anticipation spreads inside him as he sees how Oz, with his back pointing at Gilbert, tries to put on that elegant shirt he has to wear for his 'introducing to society'-party.
Slightly amused, Gilbert watches his Master for a while, how he desperately tries to button up the complicated system of buttons and finally resigns with a small groaning.
Instead, he turns around and immediately starts smiling as his gaze meets his servant.
Automatically, Gilbert's smile widens, too.
"Gil!", Oz screams relieved, "Thank God, you're here...I really need your help!" And with an inviting gesture he points at his chest where his shirt is still messy and wrinkled-up.
A quiet chuckle escapes Gil's throat as he steps in front of his Master and knees down. Amused, he notices the pouting grimace on Oz' face when he realizes that his servant is so much taller.
"Are you nervous?", Gilberts asks casually while he buttons up the shirt and evens the stiff fabric.
At first, Oz shakes his head, but then he stops for a moment and nods even harder.
He sighs and lets himself get pushed on the chair, the only piece of furniture except the canopy bed and the dresser with the big mirror that is in the room Isla Yura lent him for his residence in his house.
"I don't know", he confesses finally with a lowered head and half closed eyes. "There's so much depending on this evening. And I still don't like this creepy guy..."
Gilbert can feel Oz trembling as he thinks of Isla Yura, maybe because of disgust, maybe because of hatred, maybe some mixture of both, but this obvious shown antipathy worries Gilbert.
His Master isn't the kind of person who plays with open cards. He prefers to keep his true thoughts for himself and instead acts as if he is willing to do what is expected from him. Even if it's just a show in most cases.
But this openly shown dislike for their host is so unfamiliar and odd that Gilbert can't help but worry. Because this is one of the signs for the change Oz is undergoing...
Agile, Gil strips off his white gloves and grabs for the comb lying on the dresser. Gently he drives it through Oz' hair, who is obviously enjoying the intimate fondling.
"Don't worry too much", he mumbles softly and runs through the blond bangs with his fingers. It feels so familiar under his skin and not as if he wasn't able to do this for the last ten years.
"We're all right beside you. So it's going to be fine."
Satisfied, he notices how Oz slowly relaxes under his touch and how he finally closes his eyes, humbling a silent tune.
Gilbert himself just smirks cynical about his own words. When did he become this optimistic?
Hasn't it always been him who was prepared for the worst? Who always expected the most awkward outcome? And the one who spent every day with thoughts about how life is just the link of bad luck?
So when did he start to believe in hope?
The answer is simply morbid, so he can't help but burst into a hush, throaty snicker.
He let hope enter his life the day Oz was thrown into the Abyss. Ironically, it was exactly the same moment when pessimism started to sink into his thoughts, too. But even though...even though, he wouldn't have survived these last ten years, wouldn't have been able to fight every single day, if, deep inside him, he wouldn't have been an optimist.
And what did he get? What was it worth for?
"What's wrong?", Oz asked curiously, as Gilberts giggling gets louder and uncontrolled.
Sedative, Gilbert shakes his head and tries to bring himself under control again. However, he returns the look Oz is giving him through the mirror.
"I just thought about the irony of fate."
One more time he has to suppress the desire to laugh, starting to question if he is going to freak out every second, but he can't feel any impulse in his chest. Nothing, that could lead to an attack.
"And that I had to wait for ten whole years to do this."
With an almost experienced calmness, he grabs for the can with the hair oil that is also standing on the dresser, and uses the clingy mass to straighten Oz' hair. The soft locks are unexpected stubborn as he fixes them, but Gil continues patiently until his Master's hair are perfect.
During the monotonously movement he has the chance to watch himself in the mirror. And what he sees reflecting in the polished glass, surprises him.
For ten years, he was able to get used to what awaits him every time he looks into the mirror.
And he really got used to it. To the gaunt face, the bitter crinkles around his lips, the worry lines on his forehead and the dark shadows that just don't want to leave his eyes. To the tiredness he shows obviously, the resignation he carries around like a second coat.
But as he sees himself now, with his hair tied back properly and in his best suit, with this inapproachably masc on his face he only wears at ceremonies like this special one, he can't see the bitterness for the first time in ten years. Instead, there is a very small smile in the corner of his lips, not big enough to be described as happy, but also not small enough to be ineffectual.
And his eyes...they aren't dim, like tarnished gold, but radiant like polished jewellery.
All of this...all of this is because of Oz, Gilbert knows. And he is really grateful.
"Hey, Gil...", Oz breaks in his thoughts, "Thank you."
Stunned, Gilbert puts down his hands and faces his Master, who is now standing up and walking to the bed, where the dress coat is spread on the sheets. Oz waits for Gilbert to clean his hands with a cloth and get on his glove again, until he holds out the black jacket to his servant and raises his arms in expectancy.
"Wherefore?", Gil asks, while he helps Oz with the jacket, and checks one last time if everything is correct with his Master's clothes.
The moment he waits for the answer, he knows that it is necessary for him to hear it, because it is going to be something essential. That right here, now, something between him and Oz is going to change. Something that was waiting for this chance to morph ever since Oz returned from the Abyss, finding himself thrown into a world so new, he, his relationships with the people around him, the relationship with Gilbert, didn't have the chance to become new, too.
It is something that will make up for the ten years Gilbert was sinking into the shadows of his own soul. And something, that will create the way for Oz, for a future, he may not be able to even imagine right now.
"Thank you for still being here, with me", Oz whispers, his voice nothing more than a soft mumble,while he tries hard to hold back the tears. Tears, that maybe just had been waiting since that day ten years ago for being allowed to be hold back right now, in this moment.
He is shaking as he leans against Gilbert's stiff body, clings his hands to his jacket and buries his face into the chest of his servant and best friend.
"Thank your for being the only absolute in my life."
And finally, Gilbert awakes from the numbness Oz' words were putting him into, and returns the embrace with a small smile on his lips.
His heart pounds irregular fast behind his ridges, as if it wants to leave his chest in overwhelming happiness, because finally said those words Gilbert was eager to hear for ten years. So for now... why should he still care about all those sad memories, all those ugly scars that are wrapped around his heart and misshape his body?
He pulls Oz nearer, drives his fingers one last time through the smooth hair, that hasn't lost one bit of his softness, before he frees himself from the close position and shows Oz the brightest smile he can wear on his face.
"Come on, we should go by now", he states and leads Oz to the door, silently repeating the vow he made so long ago but still knows word by word. He will never forget this, not as long as he lives. No matter what dark shadows may be hiding in his forgotten past or are awaiting him in the future.
As he shuts the door, all fears and doubts are leaving him. Fears he carried around for ten years and doubts that crept in his heart since he was laying on the gritty soil of Sablier. They all vanish because of one clear thought.
Yes, it's true, he is the only absolute in his master's life. That's all. That's enough.