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The Portrait
Part 17
"So he is really moving in with you?"Duo Maxwell asked.
He and Wufei had met with Milliardo after school at 'Mimi's' a favorite hangout for the college crowd. They had managed to find a table in the back of the small café where they had relative privacy.
"Yep, as soon as we finish painting the upper floor. Right now I'm using the spare bedroom for storage."
"Did you tell him about…'you know who'?" the braided young man wanted to know.
"Yeah sure, I just said: 'Wanna move in with me, it's going to be great just the three of us, you, me and the ghost of your great-grandfather.'" Milliardo nearly rolled his eyes.
"So you are still lying to the professor." Wufei pointed out.
"Hey, it's not like I don't want to tell him," the older youth defended himself. "But I'm not sure how he will take it."
"Speaking of taking it… Has Alexander started to warm up to him yet?"
"I think so," Milliardo nodded. "He seems to realize that Treize isn't his rival, although he still likes to play pranks on him." The young man chuckled. "Treize wants me to call a plumber to have the heater checked, because every time he takes a shower the water will turn cold every once in a while."
Duo couldn't help but laugh and even Wufei grinned as he took a sip from his tea glass.
"Did you find out any more about Alexander's past by the way?"
"No, I'm afraid not. But last Friday we went to that bookstore you told me about… Great place by the way, how did you find it?"
"The owner's grandson goes to school with us." Wufei explained. "I buy all my textbooks there. Did you find anything of interest?"
"A few books for Alexander, but I want to go back and take a better look. Treize has them find some old newspaper from the time his great-grandfather died. Hopefully there will be something that might tell us how he died and why."
"It seems really strange that he died the same day your great-grandparents got married, isn't it?" Duo remarked. "Have you ever considered suicide? I mean, he lost the love of his life not once but twice, maybe that was just more than he could deal with."
"It did cross my mind," Milliardo admitted. "But Treize insists that that's out of question. A Khushrenada would never kill himself."
"Hmm…" Wufei stared into his tea, lost in thought. "I think just as important as how he died is the question of why is he still here. Usually there is a reason when a spirit doesn't pass on."
"You mean he 'contacted' us because he wants help?"
"It makes sense, doesn't it? He keeps giving you tips and hints through letters and dreams."
"Yes, but those haven't let anywhere."
"Maybe you just haven't completely deciphered them." Duo pointed out. "Maybe if we go over everything we know again, looking for clues we haven't found before, we might find the answer." In spite of what people thought about him, Maxwell was a lot smarter than he let on.
"Let's assume for a moment you are right, and let's also assume we would be able to help him. That'd mean he would disappear wouldn't it?" The young man wasn't sure if he liked that idea. He had gotten so used to having Alexander around that he couldn't imagine how things would be without him.
Wufei nodded. "Most likely. But that's the way it's meant to be. He should have passed on a hundred years ago. This isn't his world anymore."
"You are probably right." Milliardo admitted somberly as he pushed away the plate with his half eaten croissant sandwich, suddenly not feeling hungry anymore.
###
Trying to juggle two shopping bags while pulling his key from his pocket and unlocking the front door proofed a little difficult. Luckily, and very much to Milliardo's relief, the door was unlocked from the inside and opened.
"Thanks Alexander." Making sure his actions were shielded from possible passers-by, the young man handed one of the large paper bags to the ghost. "Take this one in the kitchen, would you please."
It had been exactly one month since that day Treize had knocked at his door asking to use his phone. It seemed hard to believe really, because Milliardo felt like he had known the other man for a lot longer. In any case, he had invited Treize over for dinner. The day was unusually warm for the season; perfect to fire up the grill in the garden and perhaps even eat outside. On his way home after meeting with his friends at Mimi's he had stopped by at the butcher and grocery store to pick up a pair of thick, juicy steaks and vegetables for grilling, along with everything else he would need.
As he followed Alexander, or more precisely the moving shopping bag, into the kitchen the young man's eyes fell upon a bouquet of white roses on the table. He knew for sure that those weren't there when he had left for school in the morning.
"Flowers?! Where did those come from? Alexander, did you…?" Milliardo frowned slightly. The garden was full of roses in all colors; long-stemmed, climbing and even on trees. But was it even possible for the ghost to leave the house? I always thought ghost are confined to the place they died at. But maybe the garden is considered part of the house?! Who knows? "I don't know what to say. That's very sweet, thank you."
Smiling softly he put his shopping bag down on the table and started to unpack them. It was already almost 4 o'clock. Treize would be here in little more than an hour and he still had a lot to do before then. And then there was something else he wanted to take care off.
"Alexander, would you mind staying here for a moment? There is something I'd like to talk to you about." He moved the vase to the counter, out of harm's way, since he was going to need the table to cut the vegetables and prepare the meat. "I think I'll put them on the dinner table tonight. They will be perfect."
Milliardo stepped to the sink to wash some bell peppers, zucchini and egg plant. When he went back to the table he looked up into the general direction from where he could feel the ghost's presence. "Alexander," he started. "You probably already know, but Treize is moving in with me on Monday. I think life would be a lot easier for all of us if the two of you would get along. And that includes playing your little tricks on him. I know they might be amusing and entertaining to a bored ghost. But trust me, it a lot less fun for the person on the receiving end." He paused for a few moments, long enough to wipe down two large portobello mushrooms, before adding. "I know you don't really dislike him." It was true, if Alexander truly hated Treize or wanted to harm him he could do far worse than shower him with cold water or hide his car keys every once in a while.
For a moment or two the ghost's presence didn't move, Alexander was thinking. Then it shifted slowly toward Milliardo. Invisible finger's ruffled the young man's soft hair. Then he felt a cool sensation against the side of his face as his ghostly houseguest placed a kiss onto his cheek. Flustered Milliardo took a step back.
"Careful now, this might get you into hot water with my boyfriend." he tried to joke. "I've heard the Khushrenada family is known to be hot-headed and jealous."
#
Punctual as ever Treize rang the doorbell at three minutes to five, just as Milliardo walked back into the house after lighting the grill.
"Coming," he called out. We need to get an extra key made this weekend.
The professor was carrying a bottle of red wine. He smiled softly as he kissed the younger man 'hello'. "Am I early?"
"No, your timing is perfect," Milliardo assured him as they walked into the house together. "I just fired up the grill. Hope you don't mind, but I set the table in the garden."
"Not at all, it's beautiful outside today."
"How was the teacher's conference?" the blond asked in an attempt to make small talk. Treize had been in a meeting all afternoon.
"Tedious," the older man sighed. "I hate wasting time on talking about the obvious."
"Which is?"
"Do you really want me to bore you to death with that stuff?"
"No, maybe not." Milliardo laughed. "How about opening the wine instead? There is a carafe in the top cabinet above the fridge, and the wine opener is in the utensil drawer."
"I can do that."
"I'll put the vegetables on; they'll take quite a bit longer than the steaks."
The young man had marinated the veggies earlier in a mixture of balsamic vinegar, worcestershire sauce and a pinch of garlic salt, a recipe he had picked up from his father who was a true master when it came to grilling. The BBQ was nice and hot, the vegetable rack already preheated. He lowered the heat a little before adding a layer of zucchini, eggplant and peppers. As they cooked they'd shrink, making room for the onions and mushrooms to be added later.
"Where do you want me to put the wine?"
"On the table, if you would?" Milliardo gestured toward the round patio table beneath a wooden shade structure.
"Ah, I see you got my flowers," Treize noted as he put the wine carafe down beside the crystal vase.
The younger man turned, a slight frown on his face.
"I was a little worried leaving them at the front door when I came by earlier. But you weren't home and leaving them seemed like a better idea than walking into the meeting with a bouquet of roses." The professor chuckled quietly.
"Ah yes, they are beautiful. Thank you so much. I love the color." So that's where the roses came from. Of course, that makes sense. Alexander, I see you are not above taking credit for another person's effort, Milliardo thought with a hint of amusement. I should have guessed, I suppose. But I really don't know the first thing about ghosts and…
"…I wasn't sure what else to get you. You are a very difficult person to buy gifts for, do you know that? So what do you think? ... Milliardo?!"
"Ah, yes." The younger man suddenly realized that he had spaced out, barely listening to what Treize was saying. "Thank you, like I said I love them."
"I was talking the other gift. The small package I left along with the flowers… There was a package when you came home, wasn't there?"
"The package; oh yes of course." Milliardo managed a smile. "I'm sorry, I got so busy preparing dinner I never even had chance to open it yet. I'll do it right now, thought. Keep an eye on the grill, will you."
Leaving the older man behind in the garden, the blond entered the house through the patio door. "Alexander Khushrenada!" He kept his voice sharp but hushed, knowing the ghost would hear him anyway. As he walked into the kitchen his gaze fell upon the lidded chrome trashcan in the corner, and he remembered what happened to Treize's last gift. Sure enough when he opened the lid he found pieces of white and silver paper, like one would use to wrap a present in. But that's all he could see. He turned as he felt Alexander's presence behind his back. "I believe there was something else left at the door, along with those flowers; a gift for me. Emphasis on 'for me'." Milliardo's voice was laced with sarcasm and a slight hint of annoyance. "I found the wrappings in the trashcan. You wouldn't happen to know where the rest is, would you?"
He could feel the ghost leave, and as he re-appeared only a moment later a thin rectangular object dropped onto the table. A book, and not just any book but a first edition of Cyril Hare's "Suicide Expected". Milliardo suddenly realized that Treize must have thought that he had bought those novels at the Book Baron for himself. "Well, I suppose it is a present for you, after all. Still, in the future I'd like you to keep your hands off any packages, gift etc that are not clearly addressed to you. It's just not good form to open someone else's presents; a gentleman like you should know that." The young man picked the book up from the table. "I'll have to borrow this for a little while. You'll get it back later."
Milliardo put on a smile as he stepped back out onto the patio. "Thank you so much. I'll definitely enjoy the book. But a first edition? You really shouldn't have."
"Don't worry about it. I got a good deal. I'm just glad you like it… more than the steak iron. Speaking of which; the vegetables are done. I'm turning the heat up on the grill now to put on the steaks. Are we ready?"
"Absolutely, I'm starving."
"So am I," the older man admitted. "And everything smells so delicious."
"Where did you get that book anyway?" Milliardo asked as he put it down at the side of the table while Treize put the meat onto the hot grill. "The Book Baron?"
"No, no I know someone who deals in first editions only. So, if you ever looking for anything just let me know. But since you brought up the Book Baron… I got a call last night. Apparently they managed to find some newspapers for me."
"That's great."
"Yes, I'm really excited. I was thinking we could drive over there and pick them up after dinner." Treize turned his head to look at the younger man. "What do you think?"
"I don't think we will have enough time."
"Ah, right. You have to work tonight. I almost forgot."
"Yeah, I have to leave by eight," Milliardo confirmed. "But what's with that face?"
"I'm sorry, but I just don't know how I feel about you working at that place," Treize admitted.
The younger man frowned slightly. "That Place?! What exactly is that supposed to mean?"
"Please, don't get me wrong. But I don't really like the idea that you spend the night with other men rather than with me."
"It's just a job. I wish you would trust me a little more."
"I never said I didn't trust you," the professor pointed out cautiously. "It's those men you are with I'm not so sure about." He paused just long enough to open the grill and turn over the steaks. "It's naïve to think they are there just to talk to you. Trust me; people who visit these kinds of clubs do it for one reason and one reason only."
"Is that so?" Milliardo's voice was laced with sarcasm. "If I remember right you are not s stranger to 'these kinds of clubs' either."
"Exactly." A sly smile curved Treize's lips. "That's how I know what I'm talking about."
The younger man huffed, modestly amused. "Khushrenada logic?" he asked. "I'm sorry, but I like my job and have no intention of quitting any time soon. If it makes you feel better you can always come by the club and keep an eye on me."
"Don't tempt me." The professor smirked.
#
A few minutes later the two men were sitting down for dinner.
"Absolutely delicious," Treize announced after taking a bite from his vegetables. "I had no idea you were such a good cook."
"I only know to make a few dishes, but I'm pretty good at those," Milliardo admitted.
"So, you are going to be spending all weekend with your family?"
"Don't remind me," he sighed. It was Relena's Debutantes Ball on Sunday. And his parents had invited her escort for a family dinner the night before; a family dinner they insisted he was to attend as well. He was almost tempted to take Treize along but he reminded himself that he had promised Relena not to do anything to spoil her celebration.
Treize raised one eyebrow questioningly.
"Don't get me wrong. I don't hate spending time with my family, but two days in a row is a little much for my taste. Not to mention that I never was much of a fan of stiff social events. Strutting around like a peacock, all dressed up, rubbing elbows with other members of the high society and competing in who can afford to buy the most expensive diamond necklace for his wife or daughter, is something I think should have gone out of style along with top hats and walking canes."
"But you do intent to play along anyway."
"Of course, Relena is my little sister. I wouldn't do anything to upset her. I think girls are different. They like to dress up and show off in front of others. Secretly, I think my father doesn't feel much different than I do, but he has obligations as the head of the Milliardo family. But hey, can we talk about something else?"
"Yes, of course. I checked out the showroom of a local furniture dealer this morning before school. They deliver same day, so I thought we could get some shopping done Monday morning. After all, all I have right now are my personal belongings."
"We?" Milliardo echoed.
"You will accompany, won't you?" Treize asked. "Two opinions are always better than one."
"Fine, as long as we are back home by noon."
"Ah yes, that's right, Mister Maxwell and Mister Chang will be coming by."
The younger man grinned. "Will you stop calling them 'Mister', it sounds weird." Since Monday was a holiday, Milliardo had forgotten which one, there was no school, and his friends had agreed to come over to clear out the spare bedroom so that Treize move his things in.
"Well, just referring to them as Maxwell and Chang would sound even stranger, and not to mention rude." Treize pointed out.
"They do have first names you know."
"In any case, the store opens at 0900, three hours should be plenty to pick out a bedroom set, wouldn't you think? You know, I'm really starting to get excited."
"About buying a bedroom set?" Milliardo asked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
"About moving in with you."
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T.B.C.
Author's Note: