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The Portrait
Part 16
"Good morning, Sleepyhead. Time to wake up!"
Milliardo grumbled but opened first one then both eyes lazily. It had been a long time since anything but the alarm clock had woken him in the morning. Treize was hovering over him, looking far more cheerful and bright-eyed than one should at such an early hour.
"What time is it?" He yawned.
"0700 hours," the older man told him. "Breakfast should be up soon, so you better hurry if you want to take a shower before. How did you sleep, by the way?"
"Wonderful. You know, this bed would have been large enough for the two of us. You really didn't have to take the couch."
"But I did," Treize insisted with a soft smile. "For your sake as much as for mine. I thought I made that clear last night. Don't get me wrong, Milliardo, I find you incredibly attractive and I have feelings for you that go far deeper than physical attraction. But I don't think either of us is ready yet…"
Milliardo gave an amused huff as he pushed away the comforter, revealing a lean, well-built body glad only in a pair of boxers. "Are you always such a gentleman?"
"What's wrong with that?"
With another huff the younger man climbed out of bed, breathing a ghost of a kiss onto Treize's cheek as he passed him. At the door to the bathroom he held his step briefly, looking back over his shoulder. "Just so you know…Last night, I was ready."
#
Breakfast was ready by the time Milliardo finished the shower.
The professor had set the table in the solarium, from where they could watch the sun rise over the city. A single long-stemmed rose in a slender vase… lit candles in crystal holders… matching china, from the serving plates all the way to the cute little egg-holders; it looked like a picture from a 'beautiful home' catalogue. Usually breakfast for Milliardo consisted of a cup of coffee and a bagel on a paper plate, in front of his computer while he checked his emails or finished homework. He wondered if Treize ate like this every day or if it was something put together for his sake.
His gaze fell upon a large pitcher of what looked like freshly squeezed orange juice. "No coffee?" he asked with a smirk.
"Trust me, it's not worth it." Treize returned the smile. He pulled a chair out for his guest and waited for Milliardo to settle down before he too took his seat. "Help yourself."
"Thanks." The blond buttered one of the freshly baked crescent rolls before picking up his knife to slice the top of his egg. It was perfect, just the way he liked it; the white solid while the yolk was still soft and runny.
"You know, I was thinking…" he announced as he sprinkled a tiny bit of salt onto the egg. "You really were planning on buying my grandmother's house if my family would have sold it, weren't you?"
"Absolutely," the older man nodded. "I was prepared to pay the asking price without question. I really fell in love with that place the moment I saw it."
"I guess that makes two of us. Well actually, it took me a lot longer to fall in love with it. But I don't think I would want to give it up now for any price."
"I wasn't really expecting you would."
"But like I said, I was thinking." Milliardo put down his spoon and looked at the professor. "What do you think about roommates?"
"In general?" Treize asked, slightly confused.
"No, I'm talking about you and me living together as roommates; well housemates to be more precise." The younger man corrected. "You see, I can't afford a house this large on my own. Between the renovations and the property taxes… Of course I could ask my father for money but that's something I'd rather not do. My other option would be to split the costs by taking in a housemate. And since I know you love the house as much as I do, and I have no doubt that we will get along…"
"That… is really…I don't know what to say." The professor seemed taken off-guard by his proposal.
"You hate the idea."
"No, no," Treize quickly assured him. "I think that would be wonderful."
"Then why do I sense a 'but' coming?"
"But…" the older man continued. "I'm afraid you are missing an important point."
"Which is?" Milliardo took a sip from his orange juice and looked at the professor questioningly.
"Marymount might frown upon these kinds of living arrangements. I am your teacher, after all."
The blond shrugged. "Only for another two months."
"Three months."
"Two and a half. Besides, I am legally an adult. What do you expect them to do, send in the moral police?"
Treize chuckled quietly. "Alright, I'll think about it," he promised.
###
"Take a left on 5th street, will you?" Milliardo directed as Treize and he drove back to his house after breakfast. "There is a little used bookstore I want to check out."
"A used book store?" the other man echoed.
"Wufei told me about it. There are some old books I'm looking for that I can't find anywhere else."
"I see."
A few minutes later the professor parked in front of a Victorian era row house; the bookstore was located in the lower level of the house. A little bell hanging above the door chimed as the two men entered the store, and an old man behind the counter raised his head.
"Good morning," he greeted them.
"Good morning," Milliardo replied politely. "Where can I find mystery novels, preferable early editions?"
"That would be aisle C, right there to the left. If you are looking for anything specific I can have my grandson check the computer," the man offered.
"Thanks, I'll just go take a look first." As the blond walked over to the shelf the storeowner had indicated, behind him he could hear Treize asked the man if he had any old newspapers or magazines.
Letting his fingertip run over the book spines Milliardo's eyes scanned the book titles and authors. By the time he returned to the checkout counter he was carrying two Sherlock Holmes novels and an early book by G. K. Chesterton. Maybe these will put Alexander in a good mood and keep him occupied until we are finished painting the house. Presupposed, of course he didn't change the door locks on us over night, which I really wouldn't put past him, the young man thought with a hint of sarcasm. I probably should have told him that there was a chance I would spend the night out.
Treize was still looking through the newspaper section. "Found anything?" he asked as Milliardo joined him.
The younger man nodded. "What about you?"
The professor handed him an old paper that looked like it had been opened and refolded many times. "This one is from the day you were born."
"Really? Wow! I wonder what happened that day." Milliardo exclaimed, then suddenly frowned slightly. "Wait a second. I don't remember telling you when I was born."
"It's in your school records."
"Of course it is," the young grinned sheepishly. "What about the day you were born? Do they have a paper for that day too?"
"I didn't check," Treize admitted. "I was actually looking for something that dated a little further back."
"How much further?"
The voice behind their backs made the two men nearly jump. Neither of them had heard the store owner approach. The old man was leaning heavily on a walking stick that looked almost as old as he.
"Around 1900."
"I'm afraid you won't find anything that old here. But if you give me an exact date I'll see if I can find something. It might take a few days, so leave me your name and phone number and I'll call you when I'm done."
"Thank you, that would be most appreciated," the professor inclined his head politely.
They headed back to the counter and while Milliardo paid for his books, the professor wrote the date of the papers he was looking for and his contact information down on a small index card. The old man held the card at arm's length and squinted as he tried to read it.
"One of these days I'll have to get a second pair of glasses just to help me find my first pair," he laughed. "I never can find them when I put them down. Take my advice young man, don't get old. It's the biggest mistake you can make in life."
Treize chuckled quietly. "I'll keep that in mind. Thanks for your help."
"No problem at all, Mister…?"
"Khushrenada, Treize Khushrenada."
"I'll call you within a few days," the store owner promised.
His customers left, the jingling of the door bell accompanying them all the way to their car. If either of them would have bothered turning their heads they might have noticed the old man watching them from behind the large glass window.
"Khushrenada," he mumbled as he looked down at the card in his hand. "Now that's a name I haven't heard in a very, very long time."
###
"Why don't you go get changed while I make coffee," Milliardo suggested as he unlocked the front door. He entered the house reaching out with his senses for Alexander who was usually waiting for him, but to his surprise he couldn't feel the ghost nearby. Maybe he didn't notice us, because we came in Treize's car. Or he is just sitting up in the attic pouting.
The two men split up in the hallway, the professor heading upstairs to change in the bathroom, while Milliardo walked into the kitchen. He put the bag with the printed 'Book Baron – used and out of print books' logo down on the table and reached for the glass coffee pot still drying in the sink. He filled it with water almost all the way to the top, convinced that they would need more than just one cup this morning. As he was measuring the coffee he could suddenly feel Alexander's presence.
The ghost entered the kitchen and went straight for the shopping bag on the table. Like catching mice with cheese. Milliardo tried not to smirk.
The books slipped out of the bag and opened up as Alexander slipped through them.
"I hope you like them. When you are done, I think I'd read them too."
The ghost grabbed the books and turned on his heels, as Milliardo could tell from the way the books moved in mid air. Sulking, but at least not angry, the young man concluded. It's a start. The sooner he realizes that I have my own life, a life that includes Treize now, the better it will be for both… no, the three of us.
"You are quite welcome, too," he called after Alexander, his voice laced with amusement; as his ghostly housemate headed already back up to the attic.
#
Treize straightened his T-shirt as he walked out of the bathroom. Suddenly he raised his head. For a moment there he was almost sure he saw something moving on the stairs to the attic. But there was nothing but a few specks of dust dancing in a streak of sunlight that had found its way through a crack in the attic door.
From downstairs the smell of freshly brewed coffee started to fill the house. The professor inhaled deeply. What a wonderful aroma.
"Milliardo, were you calling for me earlier?" he asked as he walked into the kitchen a few moments later.
Putting down the cream he had just taken from the fridge, the younger man turned his head. "Call for you? No, why?"
"I thought I'd heard your voice while I was still getting dressed."
"Oh…I was probably talking to myself. 'where is that darn coffee pot' stuff like that you know," Milliardo grinned. Damn, I hate lying to him. And I'm afraid he is smart enough to figure it out sooner or later anyway.
"Talking to yourself, huh? You what they say, right?' Treize teased. "It's the first sign that someone is either losing their mind or spending too much time alone."
"Really?" Milliardo's grin turned into a sly smile. "One more reason you should move in with me…rather sooner than later."
"Good try," the older man laughed. "How much longer until that coffee is ready?"
###
Milliardo was a little surprised but at the same time pleased how smooth things went this time around. Apparently his plan to 'bribe' Alexander with some good reads had worked. The ghost hadn't been bothering them all day, and the two men were able to not only finish painting the bedroom they had primed the day before, but also removed most of the old wallpaper in the study. It was a tough and sticky job to say the least, but Treize seemed to have worked out a perfect system. Milliardo left him to finish up the last wall while he went back into the bedroom to put the second coat onto the baseboards.
The first layer of wallpaper usually came off in large strips. Removing older layers below was a little more difficult, but Treize figured out that letting the steam soak through thoroughly before trying to scrape of the paper was the best way to go. He prepared a small part of the wall and let the steam do it's magic while he picked up his putty knife again to work on another part that already had been soaked.
After a few moments the professor lowered his hand and slowly turned his head, his brows knitted into a frown. For some reason he could not shake the feeling that every once in a while someone was watching him. His gaze went to the open window. Could it be that someone across the street was 'peeping'? They'd probably need binoculars, but it wasn't impossible.
Shaking his heads Treize went back to work.
"Done already?" he asked as Milliardo walked back into the study about fifteen minutes or so later.
"Yep. What about you?"
"Not quite, but I'm running out of steam."
"I'm not surprised; you have been working hard all day."
The older man laughed as he climbed down from the ladder. "I'm talking about the machine. You mind filling it up once more?" he asked as unplugged the steamer and handed it to Milliardo.
"Um… of course." The blond nodded. He tugged at the power cord, not realizing that in the process of climbing up and down and moving the ladder fourth and back, it had wrapped itself around one of the wooden legs.
From the corner of his eyes Treize noticed the ladder swaying.
"Milliardo!" he called out in warning, but it was already too late. He could see the ladder topple straight toward Milliardo and without even thinking he jumped forward, trying to push the younger man out of harm's way or at least shield him from the impact. Then something very odd happened. The ladder, which by all intentions and purpose should at least have grazed him, moved mid-air as thought someone had pushed it moving it slightly to the left, just far enough to make it hit the floor a good foot or so from his leg.
Treize gasped. He closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to clear his head. What in the world just happened?
"Treize, are you alright?" Milliardo scrambled to his feet, his eyes wide in shock, clearly shaken up.
"I'm fine," the older man nodded. "It didn't even touch me" Although I'm not sure why.
"I'm sorry; I wasn't watching what I was doing… If you wouldn't have pushed me aside…"
"Don't be," Treize told him as he accepted Milliardo's outstretched hand and let himself be pulled to his feet. "It wasn't your fault. I should have made sure the power cord was free."
With the younger man's help he pulled the ladder upright and back onto its feet. "Looks like we both got lucky."
"I agree." Milliardo nodded. "Do you want to take a break?"
"No, let's finish this first while the steamer is still hot," the professor suggested. "I'd prefer to get this room done by tonight so that it can dry over night and tomorrow we can put on the primer."
"Okay then, let me refill the machine." Making sure this time that the power cord wasn't tangled up in anything else the younger man left the room and walked into the bathroom down the hall.
Left alone in the study Treize looked around guardedly. Something isn't right here, he decided, he just wasn't able to put his finger on it…yet. The ladder changing directions in mid-air, I didn't just imagine that, did I? Also the strange feeling of being watched; he remembered having it since the day when he first visited the house. And this morning when they arrived, he could have sworn he heard piano music just before Milliardo unlocked the door. I wonder if he feels it too. No wonder he doesn't want to live here alone. The professor smiled softly, understandingly. Why didn't you just tell me, Silly.
As Milliardo walked back into the study a few minutes later, Treize looked at him firmly. "I have been thinking…about what you said this morning… about us living together and such. And I think I've made my decision."
"Oh?" the younger man asked. "And what did you decide?"
A smirk crossed the professor's face as he asked. "When can I move in?"
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T.B.C.
Author's Note: