This chapter was inspired by the song 'Jar of Hearts' by Christina Perri. It's not happy, per se, but it is not sad either… Yet. This chapter is strange in that I wrote their first meeting whilst thinking about the end of their relationship. I wrote the beginning but this song would colour the end.
They're both a little more jaded here, but they would be under the circumstances. I feel like this takes place in 1930 or earlier.
Jar of Hearts
Matthew balanced on the windowsill and shifted his weight back and forth. The metal railing cut into his bare feet, sharp and cold. He squinted.
It looked easy enough.
He traced the wooden frame with his fingertips and sighed. His breath frosted the windowpane. He slipped a slender piece of wire through the gap in the window and lifted the latch, carefully, quietly. Effortlessly. He bit his lip, closed his eyes, and pushed it open.
Too easy.
He stepped inside with a small smile. These business tycoons were all the same, these entrepreneurs… Old money, new money; it did not matter. They thought that they knew everything, that they had seen everything, but they never saw him coming. No one ever did. He was a ghost.
He padded across the study to an excessively large painting, hideous and obviously set on hinges. His bare feet were silent, or nearly, on the marble flooring.
He swung the painting open and examined the combination lock underneath. He was surprised. The safe was an older model, a louder model. He had expected more of a challenge. It really was too easy.
He leaned forward and pressed his ear against the safe as he twisted the dial. He could hear the cylinders catch and scrape against each other. It took him less than ten minutes to run through twenty four possible combinations, once he had figured out which numbers were sticking.
The safe clicked open. He smirked.
"Well, well, well," someone clapped behind him, "I am impressed."
Matthew tensed up. Fuck. He turned slowly on his heels to find a pale, pale man wearing a dark, dark suit. He was striking in the moonlight.
"I was told that you were the best, of course, but I needed to see it to believe it. I'm afraid that I rigged this whole thing, see? Sorry about that." The man meandered across the study, unhurried and unworried, and settled into a leather armchair. He poured two tumblers of… Whiskey, maybe? And offered one to Matthew. "Come on, sit down."
Matthew raised an eyebrow. He glanced at the safe, at the open window, and tried to gauge the distance. He could probably make it…
"Now, now, stop that. You'd never make it, and even if you did, you would break your legs. We're four stories up, you know," he scoffed. "Besides, I'm not going to hurt you. Sit down."
Matthew frowned at the man, feeling chastised. Damn it.
He took three steps forward.
"You might have called the police," he pointed out. "You had more than enough time, really."
"Ah, so you can talk. Good. That'll make this easier." He took a sip from his own glass and jounced the other one. "And, yes, I could have. But I didn't."
He took another two steps.
"And why should I believe you?"
"You shouldn't," he chuckled. "I'm not a very nice man."
One more step. Matthew closed the distance between them and reached for the proffered tumbler. His fingers curled around the glass and he cradled it close to his chest.
"At least you're honest."
The man studied him with the detached air of someone running numbers, weighing risks.
He stared him down and Matthew stared back without blinking. He was an attractive man, from what he could see in the darkened room, with broad shoulders and long legs. He had a ready smile. Empty eyes.
Matthew liked him immediately.
"I want you, Matthew," he whispered, and if Matthew was surprised that he knew his name, well, he tried not to show it. "I want you to work for me."
"You know that I'm a thief, right?"
"And a good one at that," he nodded.
Matthew circled him and carefully considered the offer. He usually worked alone, if he could help it. The last time he had had a partner… It had been messy. Awkward, complicated, nasty…
Despite that, he was intrigued.
"What's in it for me?"
"A forty/sixty take."
Matthew snorted.
"Fat chance."
The man grinned and clicked their glasses together in camaraderie. Matthew must have passed some sort of test. Great.
"A fifty/fifty take, then. My infinite resources and your skills, just think about it. We could rob this town blind."
And they could... They really could.
He was more than intrigued.
"Where do I sign?"
The man leaned back in his armchair and kicked his feet up onto the ottoman. He smirked and gestured behind him.
"In the safe."
Matthew started laughing.
"Of course."