Ok, you're probably wondering why this chapter is 2 weeks late. I have good excuses! Really, I do! Sure, some of it was laziness on my part but eh.
Reason #1: My computer broke. One week after I submitted the last chapter, my computer went all... dead on me. It was out for two days, we got it to work for one more day, then after that it was out for two more days. Then, my dad cobbled together a computer that I could use until I got my new parts. That's what I'm using right now. The new computer SUPPOSED to be ready today, but the geniuses at the computer place broke one of the parts and had to reorder it. So, I should be getting it tomorrow.
Reason #2: This computer has no Word.
And that's why this thing is late. I hope it's a satisfactory explanation x_x I have a clear view as to what I'm doing now, so that should be the only hindrance for awhile. I've got about 7 major 'instances' in this story, and 2 have happened, the third is about to happen. So, that means I'm almost half-way through! Yay!
Note: I'm done posting the cast, if you wanna know who is who, just hit the 'Back' button and look at the list in the first chapter.
Thanks to dJeu, Kumagorou, panatlantic, Lilyblue, jenny, Ayako, jestagal, Melody Mist, ShadeAngel, Hoshi no megami, c-chan, chibiukyou, Din, and ai for all your encouraging reviews!
Ayako - Hai, I will once I get this story finished (I've actually started on it already).
c-chan - Yay! Another anti-ASK person ^_^
chibiukyou - XD ahhh I love your reviews! I know you make my day brighter with them (and I'm sure you do the same for the authors of all the other stories you review ^_^)
Disclaimer: All I own is my *barely* functioning computer. And I didn't even pay for that... @_@
Roses
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Chapter 13
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The day had been nice so far. He'd gotten home early and Edward had been in particularly nice mood. The man had been dressed rather oddly, though. Edward was never one to wear a formal suit, but he was standing there, leaning against the staircase railing, in a white, pressed suit. He'd told Stuart that they were going on a picnic and promptly raised a whicker basket in his arms.
So, the very next minute, they were at a park, eating finger sandwiches. This really wouldn't have been so very odd if people had stared at them. Or if Stuart was wearing his normal dark brown casual suit. Instead, he had donned a long forest green walking dress that came just above his ankles and had tons of ruffles. It really was more of an evening gown but he didn't seem to mind.
Stuart reached up to finger the bushy feathers sticking out of his dark green hat that was just a bit off-center. It really was rather nice weather and all, and the green seemed to compliment his hair. Although he really had no idea why - green had always made him look like a leprechaun.
"It's a nice day, isn't it?"
Edward nodded and raised a sandwich to Stuart's mouth, feeding him. It really was a rather nice day, and Edward really was in a rather odd - but nice - mood. And that bright pink butterfly that just landed on Stuart's nose really was rather pretty. It all seemed so very, very surreal. "I wish days were always like this." Edward nodded and fed Stuart more sandwiches.
The redhead smiled and leaned back, glancing up at the willow branches around them. Suddenly, Hugh peaked his head into the cage-like enclosure the two were in and waved to Stuart. He walked over to the two and sat down, then proceeded to eat some of the sandwiches.
"Oh, hello Hugh."
"Konnichiwa."
"Eh? Edward, what does that mean?"
"It sounds Asian."
Stuart nodded and looked at Hugh again, "Have you been learning Asian?"
The brunette shook his head, "Iie."
"Oh, oh, what does that mean, Edward?"
"How should I know?"
Hugh smiled and stood up, bowing to the two, "Ja ne." He disappeared behind the leaves, leaving Stuart rather baffled. He shrugged and lay down onto the grass, closing his eyes.
"Brat."
"Eh?" Stuart's eyes opened slowly. "What, what is it?" He sat up, rubbing his fists against his eyes, "What happened?"
Edward moved over to him and sat down on one side, a cigarette in his mouth, "You've been asleep for awhile now. Get up."
"Gomen ne, Yuki..." Wait... where had that come from? Since when did he speak Asian? Or call Edward 'Yuki'?
Edward shrugged and leaned back against the couch. He closed his eyes, letting a trail of smoke exit his mouth. Stuart's eyes opened a bit more and he glanced around the room. Well, he wasn't home. At least, not the home he was used to. The room was rather minimal - a couple paintings on the wall (rather tasteless ones in his opinion), one or two pieces of furniture, and a beige box sitting on a rather short table. "I wonder... what's the use of such a short table?"
"What?"
"Ah, never mind."
"Hn..."
This didn't even look like a normal place. Part of him had a rather strong urge to go explore this weird building, the other wanted to sit and smell Edward's cigarette smoke.
"I'm going to go look around." He glanced at Edward and, seeing no change in expression, stood and walked out of the room and into a hallway. Hm... Still rather odd. He peeked into each one of the rooms, seeing the most minimal amount of furniture possible. Was the person who lived here poor? Even his family had more furniture than this, and it certainly was much more decorative. All of these pieces looked so... average. Obviously this wasn't Edward's house. And there was another one of those strange boxes, only that one was black.
"Stuart..."
"Huh? Yuki?" He turned, not noticing the usage of the other name, "Is that you?"
"Stuart..." The redhead moved forward to see where the sound was coming from and felt a sudden drowsy, heavy feeling come over him. He fell forward, curling up on the floor, feeling no urgent reason to open his eyes or even move.
Timothy smiled, holding a feather he'd pulled from one of the beds, and tickled Stuart's nose a bit. "Stuart, wake up." The redhead turned his head away, moving a hand to bat away the feather, "I know that you're awake."
He mumbled something incoherent and opened his eyes a bit, glancing up at Timothy, "That dream again..."
"A dream? Oh, what about?"
Stuart shook his head and rolled onto his side, facing Timothy. The younger man shrugged and slid the feather into his vest pocket. He was very, very tired. And that dream had really confused him - was he wearing a dress? A green dress... or was it blue? Had Hugh been in there? He really couldn't remember anymore, he just knew that he'd had the dream several times before and that it was rather odd. And why was Edward kneeling before him? Edward never woke him up... Stuart would always wake up just five minutes or so before he was supposed to be somewhere and then rush out of the house. Usually Edward wasn't even up when Stuart was.
"What was your dream about?" Edward was never interested in his dreams. He wondered if the man even knew he did dream. Stuart glanced up at the man in front of him and shook his head again. He couldn't talk very well this early; it felt like there was cotton wool in his mouth.
Timothy could tell Stuart wasn't all there. Who could, really? His eyes were half-lidded and he couldn't even find the strength to form words yet. Plus, the room was dark. Timothy grinned - the room was dark, Stuart had already confused him with his brother, and he wasn't even quite awake yet. Therefore, this meant one thing.
The perfect opportunity! And Timothy was never one to pas up a good chance when it arose. He leaned forward, cupping Stuart's chin in his hand. "Hn?" Stuart's eyes opened just a little, trying to focus. If Timothy was going to do this he'd better do it fast. The only reason he really wanted to kiss Stuart was he figured that he'd know what Reece tasted like if he did. Something sweet - maybe a sweet fruit. A strawberry, perhaps? Maybe a peach.
He tilted Stuart's face towards him and leaned closer, pausing just a few centimeters from his mouth. He could definitely tell why Edward liked this particular boy so much - he was intoxicating. Timothy's eyes slid closed and he moved to seal the small space between them.
"Ahem."
"Geh!" Timothy fell back, hitting his shoulders on the table behind him.
"You're awake rather early today, Timothy."
"So are you..."
"Yes, well," He rose a cigarette to his mouth and took in a deep breath, "You aren't exactly quiet when you wake up. I believe 'damned hell' was your choice of words? What did you do, anyway?"
"Stubbed my toe..."
"I see. Well, I'll leave you be then." Edward exited the room and disappeared down the hall. Timothy sighed and turned his gaze to Stuart, ready to try again. Unfortunately for him, Stuart was already wide awake and sitting up, clutching his pillow protectively.
"I shouldn't have to worry about you when I'm asleep! What will it take for you to leave me alone?"
"Just one taste is all I ask..." Timothy moved forward but paused as the rather loud sound of a door being slammed stopped him. "Alright, well maybe something else will do."
"Name it."
He leapt forward, grabbing hold of Stuart's arms, "Introduce me to Reece! Please won't you? I want to meet him so badly and if you introduce us then perhaps..."
"Oh is that all?" Stuart smiled, "Well that isn't any problem. He'd love to meet you."
"Re-really?"
He nodded, "He loves meeting any of his fans. How about... next time you visit, I'll introduce you two. I don't think there's enough time for me to arrange it on the spur of the moment, but if I had enough notice..."
"Oh thank you!" Timothy pulled Stuart towards him and kissed his cheek, then released the redhead and ran out of the room. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.
"He's much more different than Mr. Young."
After the teenager left the room, Stuart had stumbled into Edward's office, bugging him about whether or not he'd eaten breakfast, and then run into the kitchen to fix sausages. It occurred to him at some point that Edward really, really needed a cook, but he got past that when Timothy snuck into the room and stole three pieces of the cooked meat, then ran out.
Eventually Stuart managed to get six pieces ready, put three of them on a plate and slid it under Edward's door, ate the other three, and ran out of the house. He was supposed to meet at Savage Publishing to see about the third addition to the troupe. However, just in Stuart-like fashion, he managed to underpay the carriage driver and run away from the screams.
"Sorry! Put it on my tab! Even if it is several pounds..." The redhead coughed and continued running to the front door, tugging on his tie all the while. He was certain he was late - he always was. He hadn't checked the grandfather clock before he'd left the house, though, so it wasn't for certain. However - Edward was up, so it must mean that he'd overslept.
"Ah, s-sir, wait a minute!" Stuart shook his head quickly, ignoring the soft voice in his head (he later thought that it sounded a lot like Mr. Savage's voice only a bit younger). Instead, he collided with something soft that seemed to have a lot of... limbs.
And of course, in Stuart-like fashion, he fell over on top of the soft limb...y thing, pinning the poor whatever-it-was to the ground. "Oof!"
"Sir, could you please - "
"Ah! I'm so sorry; I wasn't looking where I was going!" Stuart pushed himself off the apparent young man and went around picking up his scattered papers.
"Well, I was trying to warn you but you didn't seem to be listening..." he sat up, grabbing at other papers; "Oh now I'm going to be really late... he hates it when I'm late."
"You and me both."
The black haired man stared at the other man, a questioning look on his face. Were they talking about the same person...? He shook his head quickly and pulled his papers from the other person's hands, shoving them in with the others, "I'll have such a time getting this reorganized..."
"I really am sorry."
"Ah, that's alright." He stood, pulling the man before him up with him, "No harm done to the body, right?"
"That's right." Stuart stepped away and made a move for the door. Unfortunately, at the same time, the other man tried to get inside. They glanced at each other, then at their shoulders wedged together inside the doorway, "Eheh... after you."
"Oh, no, after you."
"No, I insist." He nodded and stepped in past Stuart, hurrying to the grand staircases. The lobby of Savage Publishing was a very lavish place. Marble floors covered with bright red angora rugs that bore the Savage symbol (a large snake in the form of an 's' inside a circle of words "writing, achievement, striving for excellence."). On either side of the glass doors leading inside were secretaries with type writers and stacks of papers on their desks. Next to their desks, doors leaded into offices. Two sets of stairs in the middle of the lobby curved inward and lead to the second floor and to more offices. Thomas's office was in the second floor, down two hallways and two the left of the end of the stairs.
Stuart ran over to the left staircase, glancing over occasionally at the black haired boy running up the right set. He paused at the top of the stairs, turning to look at the hall leading towards Thomas's office. The other man ran past him, shouting a quick "Nice meeting you!" and running down the hall. Stuart blinked and sped up, wondering if they were indeed meeting with the same person.
After a couple turns he arrived at Thomas's office, along with the black haired boy who was panting rather heavily and leaning against the wood grain. "Ah... I... made it."
"Sir?"
"Ah!" He turned quickly, facing Stuart, "You too? Then that must - oh, you're Stuart Shubrook aren't you?"
"How did you know?"
"Allow me to introduce myself." The boy shifted his papers to one arm and extended his free hand to Stuart, "I'm Frederick Sullivan. I'm the new - "
"There you are!" The door swung open, revealing the tall, crazed blonde man otherwise known as -
"Mr. K!"
"You're late! So are you - Sullivan, I'm guessing."
"Ah, yes, we... ran into some problems at the entrance, sir."
"Of course! I don't think Thomas likes it when you're late. Believe me," he leaned in to eye level with the two and lowered his voice, "I know."
"Don't scare them, Mr. K."
"Speak of the devil..." K straightened and placed his hands on his hips, smiling, "Look who just showed up!"
"I see that. Mr. Shubrook, Mr. Sullivan, please come in." He pushed K aside and let the two step into the office.
Stuart sighed - he really was late. Mr. Saunders was slumped against one of the chairs, drool sliding down one side of his mouth (although he was certain that wasn't a good thing). Hugh was leaning against a wall, arms crossed, watching the man twitch. Stuart lowered his head and walked into the room, feeling the tense annoyance weigh on his shoulders. "I'm sorry that I'm late."
"As am I! Thom - "
"What did I tell you, Mr. Sullivan?" Thomas walked past his desk and sat down in the large leather chair.
"Mr. Savage. I was busy gathering my papers and then I ran into Mr. Shubrook outside."
"Couldn't you have saved conversation for later?"
"Well..."
"He means it literally, Mr. Savage." Stuart took the chair next to his former manager, "I really did... run into him."
"Yes... and, well, he helped me get my papers together and - "
"Mr. Sullivan, you really do need to buy a briefcase. Now then. Down to business. Mr. K, please sit." The manager glanced around the room and settled on the chair next to Hugh. The brunette sighed and sprinted over to Stuart - well, as slowly as he possible could - and sat down in the chair next to him. "I see I'll need to buy more chairs. You may stand for now, Mr. Sullivan." He leaned forward, clearing his throat, "I see that you and Mr. Shubrook have already met, that makes my job a bit easier. Mr. Shubrook, Mr. Norris," he looked to each of them in turn, "Mr. Sullivan is the new addition to your troupe."
Smiling faintly, Thomas eased into the back of the chair, clasping his hands on his desk. Hugh and Stuart exchanged glances, and then glanced at Mr. Sullivan, "You are...?"
"I was going to tell you, Mr. Shubrook - "
"Please, call me Stuart. Don't call Hugh Mr. Norris, either; he's too mean for formalities." Hugh turned his gaze to Stuart, glaring, "See?"
Frederick smiled, "Well, call me Frederick then. I hope that you're not too angry about this. Mr. Savage told me you - "
"Ahem..."
He paused and looked at the publisher, "Excuse me... I was informed that you were angry."
"Him, angry? Noo..." Stuart stole a glance at Hugh, pouting. The brunette simply raised his hands and smiled.
"I was... a bit annoyed. But I'm alright now."
Hugh cupped a hand near his mouth and coughed, sounding much like he was trying to say 'liar.'
"Be careful, Hugh, you might have a cold coming on."
A voice sounded out from the left side of the room, near Thomas's desk. The collective group - minus Mr. Saunders - turned to see Mr. K standing on his chair, pistol raised, "Now then! Mr. Savage has us here for a reason. I don't know about you, but I'd rather not spend my afternoon stuck in here listening to arguments over Mr. Shubrook's anger management problems - "
"That's calling the kettle black."
" - THEREFORE let's be quiet and listen to Mr. Savage." He flipped the safety off his gun to get his point across. The rest of the occupants nodded quickly and faced Thomas, stricken looks on their faces.
"Thank you, Mr. K. As you know, I'm not going to change my mind about Mr. Sullivan," he looked at Stuart, "So; I want you all to get to know each other. I made reservations for you all at the restaurant down the street. Unfortunately, I can't join you so you'll be on your own. Mr. K," he glanced at his employee, "I trust you can keep them under control."
"Of course!"
"Good. Now, the reservations are for 11:30 and it's..." he pulled a pocket watch from his vest pocket, "11:20, so I trust you'll be on your way." Stuart, Hugh, and Mr. K stood and walked towards the door, leaving Frederick and Mr. Saunders near Thomas. "Mr. Saunders." Thomas stood and leaned forward, shaking the agent's shoulder. He grunted a bit in his comatose state and stirred a bit. "Mr. Saunders!"
"Geh! Right away, Mr. Savage, of course, it's no problem, I'll - " he paused, his eyes adjusting to the light. Quickly he slid his glasses up and looked at his employer, "Oh... eheh... hello, Mr. Savage."
"Your companions are leaving without you." He gestured to the open door and Frederick who was waiting for the agent.
"Oh, well, they do that a lot."
"They're doing it right now. I trust you'll leave with them?"
He nodded slowly and stood, nodding to the publisher, "Right then." Mr. Saunders turned and stumbled over to Frederick. He blinked, looking at him disgusted, "Who are you?"
"I'll explain to you at lunch, Mr. Saunders."
"We're going to lunch?" Frederick nodded and led the bewildered agent out of the room and down the hall.
Edward's study was always dark. There was a large tree on one side, and the tall window in the front of the room had its curtains drawn. Edward himself liked dark places - he tended to keep the draperies shut in his bedroom and guest bedroom and had usually kept the parlor dark as well. Stuart, however, was prone to going about the house and pulling open the curtains to let light in. 'It's better for your eyes' he said.
The writer also preferred candlelight to electricity. He kept kerosene lamps in his office and used candles about the house. It was only because of his sister's nagging that he'd gotten electricity in the first place. He only used it when she, or Timothy, visited. Right now, Timothy was visiting, and the lights were on almost constantly. What with Stuart creeping into the study before Edward woke and throwing open the curtains and Timothy running around each room flicking light switches, Edward could never find peace. He had slept in his study that night - locking himself in and going to sleep on his chase lounge.
However, a few minutes after Stuart had left, he'd unlocked the door and crept out to use the bathroom and dodge Timothy. His younger brother watched from the dining room as the man went upstairs. He nodded once and ran down the hall and into Edward's study. He was a man on a mission - a mission of great importance.
You see, Timothy had a problem. A very, very big problem. He had to bring his only brother - his father's secret pride and pain in the back - back home. Now, he'd promised Edward he wouldn't bug him about it, but he'd lied. It shouldn't surprise Edward - the teenager took lying as a second language. He into a corner between the windows and willed himself to blend in. A few minutes later Edward came in, a cup of tea in hand (most likely laced with some sort of alcohol, Timothy guessed), and shut the door behind him.
"Edward."
He started, snapping his gaze to the corner Timothy was standing in, "What do you want?"
"Edward, I need to talk to you. It's very important."
"Hmph. Everything is important to you." The writer turned and walked towards his desk, setting the china cup down on the wood, "Well, get on with it."
"Now, I don't want you to get angry at me until you understand my situation." Timothy followed his brother and stood on the opposite side of the desk, "You need to come home with me."
"I thought I told you not to talk to me about this!" Edward reached for the metal box of cigarettes, pulling one out and placing it in his mouth. He didn't light it - he still didn't have matches.
"I know, I did! But I lied. You know me better than to believe me when I say something."
"You have a point there."
"Edward, I understand why you won't come back, I can sympathize with you, and in any other circumstance I wouldn't ask this of you, but you have to come back! Even if it's just for this weekend and never again, you need to - "
"I'll do nothing of the sort. There's absolutely no reason for me to return."
"Dammit, Edward!" Timothy brought his hand down on the wood grain, causing the glass on the table to rattle. Edward raised a slim eyebrow at his younger brother and moved to sit down in his chair. "Listen to me before you say that!"
"It's already arranged that you'll take over for father, not me. I have no reason to go back."
"Can't you at least do it for father? He's lonely, Edward."
"He has you."
"He doesn't want me, I'm the last son! You're the first born son, you're the special one. When you left he was beside himself. It's partly your fault for all his health problems."
"I really don't care. He could be screaming curses on my name on his death bed and I still wouldn't care."
"You're impossible!" Timothy turned, running a hand through his hair. "If you won't do it for him, then do it for me." He turned back abruptly and brought his hands down on the desk again, "Please, Edward! You have to!"
"What does it matter to you?"
"It matters everything to me! Edward, I didn't leave to beg you for father's sake. I left to beg you for my sake."
"Decided against being a priest, hm? I always knew you'd back out someday."
"No! He - " The teen sighed, "He said if I didn't come back with you that he'd send me to a monastery."
"A monastery! That's absurd, he'd never do that. We don't have any ties to a monastery. We own that church, not a monastery."
"Don't you think I told him that? He said he didn't care - he'd find some nephew to head it."
"Huh, a monastery..." Edward leaned back in his chair, chewing on the end of the cigarette, "I can't imagine you with a bald head, walking around chanting. It'd be funny, actually."
"Be serious here! I'm not cut out for being a monk. A priest I can handle, I've been told I'd be a priest almost all my life; I've been brought up to be one. But not a monk, Edward. Just come back with me, just for this one time. He never said you had to stay, just that you had to show up."
"I can't go back there..."
"I'm your brother, dammit! You care for your brother, you're supposed to drop everything and say 'yes, I'll help you.' Stop being so damned selfish!"
"Me, selfish..."
Timothy nodded furiously and leaned forward on the desk, "You're the most selfish person I've ever known!"
"Of course. What if I refuse to go with you?"
"Then I'll hate you for the rest of my life. And when I die, I'll haunt you. And if you die first, I'll guarantee you won't have a peaceful rest!"
"Aren't monks supposed to be non-violent?"
"Monks aren't, but I'm not a monk!"
"Not yet."
Timothy clenched his fists. He should have expected such a response from Edward - but one never knew, really. Some days his brother was cooperative, other days he was an ass. Today he seemed to be an ass with something up his ass. The teenager reared his arm back and lunged forward. The soft sound of flesh hitting flesh resonated throughout the room. He watched the normally passive writer look up in shook and raise a slim hand to touch the red mark on his cheek. Timothy shut his eyes, waiting for Edward to stand and hit back. He always hit back.
"Timothy..."
"I don't care! If you're not coming back then I'll just have to go in hiding! Run away; never tell anyone where I go. Maybe I'll live in a grass hut in the French countryside."
Edward lowered his gaze to Timothy's hands. When they were younger, the brothers had gotten into fights. They'd hit each other, screaming, only to be pulled apart by their sister or one of the priests. They were always stupid fights - who got the last apple slice, which was at fault for something. And their hits had never had malice behind them; they were never hard enough to actually hurt. But this... this was the first time Timothy had ever hit him with such force - Edward could feel the anger and pure rage radiating from the teen. He closed his eyes. He really had hurt him.
"I'll go."
"And I don't care if - what?" The black haired boy opened his eyes and looked down at his brother. "Did, do you say - "
"I'll go. When do you leave?"
"I have tickets to leave this Friday evening."
Edward took a deep breath and stood, "Do I just visit?" Timothy nodded, "Alright. I'll make arrangements to leave with you. And Timothy," Edward opened his eyes, "Don't tell him."
"'Him'? Who - Stuart?" Edward closed his eyes again, "But wouldn't he be - "
"Just, don't tell him."
Timothy sighed and nodded, "Alright. Thank you Edward..." He smiled and turned, walking out of the room. Edward opened his eyes and glanced out the window at the tree in the side yard. Stuart would be worried, but... Thomas had a point; Edward had been with the boy for far too long. It was time he'd given up their childish game and moved on.
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*is heard in the back room strangling Yuki*