The Gentleman's Affair
Chapter 3: Luck
Disclimer: I don't own.
A/N: Okay, I don't really know what I'm doing. I know the plot isn't really moving, and I'm sorry for that. I just like a lot of detail. Unfortunately. Anyway, here's the next chapter~! I'm so sorry it doesn't really tell you guys much. Uhm. At least it has more background stuff for you? I don't know. but yeah, everything here plays a part in the overall plotline. You'll see later on. :D I didn't have much time. Otherwise, I would have given you guys some plot (and LENALEE AND KOMUI AND KANDA APPEARANCES) but I didn't really have time. ): even so, enjoy, if you will~ and leave a review? :D
The streetlights hurt my eyes more than usual tonight.
No sense of direction, my vision's blurred.
I think I'll lay down for a while.
But I don't have a bed of my own,
just a space on someone else's.
No, I don't have a bed of my own.
Just a space on someone else's,
or at least for now.
Sometimes, after he'd slept, the twenty year-old dreaded the fact that consciousness was slowly returning to him, the feeling in his fingertips just a breath away. Couldn't they – whoever they were – free him from his chains? Couldn't they have just let him slip away to wherever it was people went after death? Things would be so much easier. He wouldn't have to suffer anymore.
But then his conscience would growl at him from the depths of his mind, reminding him that he had an old man to take care of and that he owed that same old man everything. His education, his life, everything. He couldn't just leave like that without repaying every last bit of the old man's favours.
Lavi knew the voice was right, and though he was concerned that he was hearing it, he listened.
By the time the redhead came to, the sky was black and his skin was cold. He was drenched to the bone and numb. He could barely feel the stiffness in his bones and blood leaked from his lower lip. Lavi clenched his teeth as he moved slowly to sit up. The redhead tried not to wince from the bruises on his back as he managed a sitting position.
A wave of anxiety washed over him and Lavi felt his stomach do a backflip. He fought down half the urge to wretch and coughed over a dry heave. His back exploded in pain and the redhead drew in a sharp intake of breath.
Lavi's eye searched the darkness around him, spotting his messenger bag lying torn apart a few metres away. He scrambled for it, his heart pounding at the thought of what might have happened to his belongings. His back screamed with pain, but Lavi fought his weakness. He didn't have time for it. He didn't matter. A metallic taste surfaced in his mouth.
Breathing deeply to maintain his composure, he grasped the strap of the old leather pouch. He checked his messenger bag anxiously, hoping, praying, that if not his wallet and phone, his suit would still be in it.
Gold glinted in the shadows of the alley, and Lavi felt his searching hands brush against the plastic covering of his phone and the fabric of his wallet.
The redhead released a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. The expensive garments were right where he'd left them, safe and sound, if somewhat soiled with murky alley water. It was alright. They could be washed. His phone, old and out of style, had probably been useless to his muggers. Even his wallet was intact, the entire sum of money that had been there in the beginning still secure in its folds, as were his license and identification card required to access the hotel's service entrance.
The twenty year-old sighed, his face scrunching up in pain. His visible skin was all pallor, save for the large bluish-purple bruise on his right hand. Lavi flexed his long fingers and rotated his wrist. Noting that it didn't sting nearly as much as his back, he decided that he would still be able to drive adequately the next day.
Lavi narrowed his eyes. Some bastard had probably stepped on it. He sighed.
"Dammit."
The redhead slowly got to his feet and hobbled back to the apartment, thanking whatever god there was out there for the tiny stroke of luck he'd had. He still had the suit, not to mention his 2-dollar lunch money for the rest of the week and his phone, and though he hadn't escaped the mugging unharmed, that was enough.
When Lavi's eyes fluttered open, he was alarmed at the intensity of the sunlight streaming in from the window. Forgetting the contusions on his back, the redhead jolted up from the couch at the sight of the time on his wall clock and nearly cried out in pain ("F-!") but bit his lip.
It was six thirty. He was supposed to have been up at five. He needed an hour to walk to the hotel. Forty-five minutes if he ran.
Lavi ignored the throbbing as well as he could. It was a milder ache that morning as compared to the night before and he most definitely could rush through his morning routine regardless of how much of an annoyance it was being.
The twenty year-old hurried through his shower, not bothering to dry his hair properly, and threw on a clean pair of jeans. He set the microwave on high and heated up some leftover porridge, preparing a kettle of hot tea on the stove. Grabbing his hoodie, the redhead pulled his shirt over his head with a grimace and jogged to the Panda's room.
The old man's fever had gone down and he was now sleeping soundly. The dark circles around his eyes which had earned the old geezer his nickname were still deep black lines of fatigue and sickness, but at least the colour had returned to his cheeks.
Lavi smiled faintly at his 'grandfather' and left some porridge and a mug of tea by the bed.
The truth was, Bookman wasn't really related to him by blood. It was just what people assumed of them; that Lavi was the old man's grandson – who happened to be a lot taller than him and must have somehow not inherited his genes whatsoever. A long time ago, Lavi would have earned himself a kick every time he taunted his old man about it.
As a child, he'd wondered when the old man would run out of use for his little 'pet' and throw him back out onto the streets like a stray cat.
Over time, those doubts had dissipated enough to lay off his mind and let him focus on more important things. But sometimes, Lavi still wondered just how long it would be before he no longer belonged to a family, no matter how small. The redhead shook his head to clear his mind of the past once again.
Making sure his grandfather was comfortable, the redhead grabbed his suit from where it was draped over the couch, stuffed it into his mended messenger bag and headed out.
Lavi crouched low over the neck of the black stallion. They raced along the old road to the back entrance of the hotel. The redhead totally owed Chomesuke one. He wouldn't be late after all. The horse and rider pair thundered down the dirt path at full gallop. Lavi urged the powerful animal on, the wind whipping his hair around his face. He still had another two minutes to check in at seven.
His heart raced.
His good childhood friend, Chomesuke, now twenty like himself, owned a small stable and riding school of about fifteen horses and a plain near his neighbourhood. She had inherited the land from her parents when they had died a few years back from an unfortunate accident, and had quit school to run the business (she had claimed school wasn't very much fun without Lavi anyway).Whenever there were guests at the hotel, the hotel would suggest a short ride or riding camp at Chomesuke's stables. Chomesuke and the hotel head honcho, a Mr Cross, as far as Lavi knew, went way back somehow.
Chomesuke had actually lived on Litmus Lane as his neighbour once upon a time. They had been good friends for the six months her family had rented the apartment next to his and Bookman's. Lavi had been fourteen then, attending junior high. Chomesuke, attending the same school and in the same class as him, had been his first girlfriend (and, no doubt, last in a while), but it hadn't turned out as anything serious. They'd stayed friends ever since the mutual parting. Then she'd moved away – and luckily too, because it was only six months after she'd gone that the neighbouring country had invaded them. It was just Lavi's bad luck that he lived about ten miles away from the border.
The stallion slowed to a trot, panting heavily, its neck soaked with sweat. Lavi drew in deep breaths, his chest rising and falling, and breathed the country air in deeply. The hotel was in his sights now, and as the redhead rose and fell in the saddle with the stallion's rhythmic gait, he hoped he would still have time to freshen up from his ride.
He ran a hand through his hair.
Finally Chomesuke caught up to him on her own mare. She brushed the perspiration off her brow with the flick of her wrist.
"Phew," she breathed, "I swear, you have got to be the best rider my riding school's ever seen."
Lavi threw her nothing short of a smirk. Around Chomesuke, Lavi was always in the best mood. Late to work (and kind of tired from the ride as well as lack of breakfast that day) or not, he felt a little less grouchy around her – she was always cheerful, smiling and joking.
"Better than you?" he asked innocently, still breathing somewhat heavily.
Sidling up next to him on her pretty blue roan, Chomesuke stuck her tongue out at him.
"Of course, not that you'll let me hear the end of it. I did teach you to ride, though, and I do think I deserve some credit for playing a part in the development of your champion skills, don't you?" she said in between huffs.
The redhead smiled and Chomesuke grinned.
"What happened to your bag, by the way? It looks like you had to fix it in a hurry with the wrong kind of thread," the brown-haired girl observed, frowning slightly.
They halted a few yards away from the frozen food trucks unloading food from their mobile refrigerators. A few of the workers paused to stare at them before continuing their work. Lavi chuckled as he dismounted.
"It's nothing," he replied with a shake of his head.
Unbuckling the catch on his saddle bag, the redhead gave the big black stallion a pat on the neck and a sugar cube from his pocket.
"Good job, boy. Thanks for the ride," he told the horse as he nuzzled the sugar cube in Lavi's palm. Turning to Chomesuke and handing her the reins, the twenty year-old smiled. "I owe you one, yeah? I'll repay you when I can. Sorry," he said sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. He turned to leave. "Gotta run!"
Lavi dashed off in the direction of the service entrance with a wave. The brown haired girl smiled to herself and returned the wave as the redhead's stunning crimson head of hair disappeared behind mahogany swing-doors.
"See you later," she whispered.
She lowered her hand and pressed two fingers to her lips.
Allen was just about to gobble down some pancakes when Lavi stumbled into the lounge breathing heavily like he'd just run a marathon. Unfortunately, as a result of the redhead's loud and attention-drawing entrance, the white-haired boy almost choked on his blueberry pancakes. The redhead washed his hands nearby and hurried to the check-in machine without a word, leaving the seventeen year-old quite puzzled.
Checking in at exactly seven AM, the redhead hummed and stole a pancake from Allen's plate ("H-Hey!") before continuing on to the locker room. The twenty year-old set up an ironing board and grabbed a hanger from his locker. He retrieved the freshly washed and dried suit – albeit very creased in several areas. But then, that was what the ironing board was for, no?
Once he was done ironing, the redhead sighed and grinned to himself. The suit looked smart and rather fetching on the hanger. Lavi glanced at the wall clock momentarily. He still had fifteen minutes to freshen up. Maybe, with his luck today, everything would turn out well.