He sets down the half eaten drumstick back on his plate, his brow creasing with worry.
"What is it?" Baz asks.
"I just realised…" He hides his face between his hands, his eyebrow twitching.
"What?"
"I can't go home." He hadn't thought about how he was going to get all the way to his apartment on his own.
"What? Why not?"
"I can't… Too many stairs."
"Oh." Realisation dawns on Baz's face.
Baz had visited his apartment, just once, and it was around the time when he had just moved to this town, but he knows what it's like. There's no elevator, it's only three floors after all, but going up three flights of stairs with a wheelchair would be an impossible task. Even with crutches it would prove too difficult since the stairs are so narrow only one person can use them at a time, added to the fact the doctors said he was only allowed to use them for short periods of time.
"What are you going to do?"
"I don't know," he answers miserably. He's even lost his appetite, his food less than halfway done sits in front of him.
"Can you stay over with anyone?"
Kit gives him a look. The number of people he knows in this town are pretty much limited to people at the office and his neighbours, none of whom he can just impose on.
"No, no. You're right. I'm sorry. Though…" Baz averts his gaze, the tips of his ears going pink. "No. Never mind."
"What is it?"
"I was going to suggest you could stay with me. I mean, there's more than enough space…"
He just stares at Baz. Was this not offering a little too much? He definitely felt like it was too much. It was one thing to stay over during one summer vacation for like two weeks, but a whole month? Not to mention he was sixteen at the time, and now he was a full grown adult.
"Ah, but don't feel pressured to answer immediately," he hurries to say.
"Is it really okay for you to be making offers like this when you still live at your parents' house?"
"You're simplifying the issue again," Baz makes a face. The subject of Baz's living arrangements is a bit of an old argument between them. "It's the family estate, not my parents' house. There's a difference, you know?"
"I fail to see it."
"There is! The estate belongs to the current head, so it's technically Fluorite's house. And how come you never give Fluorite shit over this? She has never moved out either."
Kit ignores him. "Regardless, won't your parents mind? They live there, don't they? If an outsider came to stay over all of a sudden…"
Baz waves away his concerns, "They don't mind. They're old people so they just keep to themselves for the most part. And anyways, I think my parents like you more than they do me. They'll be happy to have you over."
He remembers meeting Baz's parents only twice. It had been almost accidental, only bumping into each other by coincidence.
Back when he had first come to Juniper, he had no idea what to expect. It was a town in the middle of nowhere. The areas around were all farming lands, empty fields stretching out for miles and miles as far as the eye could see. There was no bus station less than two hours away, and the train service didn't even reach the area, stopping right before the farming lands began. Just getting to the town was a hassle.
One could either approach from the southwest, crossing through the Blue Mountains, or from the west, having to travel through all the fields, the only signs of human life being scattered farms here and there. And even those farms weren't inhabited, rather, they were just storage units for the crops or livestock, the products which would then be shipped off to the cities. The farming was all industrialised, so spotting workers out in the field was improbable, if not impossible. It was, at minimum, a six hour trip.
From the southwest, it was quicker, only two hours and a half, but it was also harder. The train would only reach the last city to the south side of the mountain range, bordering right next to the neighbouring country. From there, you were on your own. Because even though a tunnel had been built for access, there was no public transport that would take you through the mountains.
The only saving grace was that there were actual roads built, not dirt roads, or even worse, absolutely no roads with the town only being accessible by foot.
When Baz had told him about it, he had been flabbergasted. The idea of being that isolated from the rest of the world was a concept completely foreign to someone like him, who had spent his whole life in the capital.
"How do you live?" he had asked, shocked.
"Believe me, it's not as bad as you're thinking," Baz had reassured him. "It's not like it's completely cut off from civilization. There's still communication with the outside world and most services are, more or less, available. It's not like they're stuck in the Dark Ages," he joked.
Still, he had imagined the town a lot more rural than what it actually was. When they had reached the town, he had been surprised that it looked, in all appearances, like a regular town. He could see rows of shops and houses stretching out back and back, even some buildings could be spotted among them. It looked almost exactly like some of the towns on the outskirts of the capital, with the only difference being the size.
He had been even more surprised when they had exited the more densely populated areas of the town to where the houses grew further apart, the land they spanned increasing as well. They continued, until they stopped in front of a gate, behind them a stone paved driveway with a circular fountain in the middle leading up to an imposing looking building. Its exterior was like an old, classical mansion, with rows of windows facing outwards. He could see acres of land stretching behind the house, as far as the eye could see, only stopping where the mountain range started.
His jaw went slack. "You live in a fucking mansion?" He knew Baz came from money, but he had just assumed he had a particularly nice house or something like that. Maybe even with a big garden. Not an actual mansion.
"Is it, really?" Baz looked a little bit self-conscious "I never knew."
When they got out of the car, there was a servant already waiting to lead them into the house, and another two to take care of the luggage.
Once inside, he only grew more surprised. The house was a lot more spacious than he had imagined. Just the entrance hall was almost as big as the living room in his home. The floors were made of white marble, polished to shine, the walls decorated with paintings and windows reaching all the way to the roof. There was an archway leading to what looked like a living room. Three different hallways stretched out from there, leading to the left and right, and another leading to the gardens. There was also a curving flight of stairs off to the side, leading up to the second floor to where Baz led him.
"Now I see why you don't mind living out in the middle of nowhere," Kit commented as they climbed the stairs to, he assumed, Baz's room.
"Oh, no. Believe me, I mind plenty. Leaving to study at the Academy was one of the best moments of my life," Baz looked back at him.
Baz took him on a whole journey through the second floor. Finally, they stopped at a hallway, two rows of rooms on either side, the doors made of dark wood. There's a circular window at the end of the hall directly overlooking the backyard, a small table with some sort of fish decoration placed below it. (He honestly forgot how they even got here, there had been too many twists and turns, and all the hallways looked the same to him.) "This is my room," he stopped in front of the door, "and you'll be staying there," he points to the door directly across from it. "You can go in and see it. If you don't like it, we can still change it."
"Um." He felt like his head was spinning. "Is it really okay to get a whole room for myself? I mean, what about your parents and sister?" He only realised how stupid this question was after he'd asked it. With a house this big there was more than enough space to accommodate a single person.
"My parents? They live in the next wing. And Flourite has her own hall at the other end of this wing."
"Right." He had absolutely no clue what "next wing" was supposed to mean.
"Someone should have already brought your stuff up, so you can either settle in and rest, or I can show you around the rest of the house."
"I think I'll rest for a while…" In truth, he was a bit tired, but mostly, he felt like he needed time to grow accustomed to the whole idea of being in this place.
"Sure." Baz agreed easily. "If you need anything you can use the phone on the bedside table to call a servant," he called out after him before he shut the door to the "guest room".
In the days that followed, he grew slightly more used to the whole "living in a manor even equipped with a whole staff" deal. He was still somewhat amazed at the fact that yes, Baz had his own personal chef, and yes, each family member had a different one. (Privately, he wondered why the hell this was a thing. It seemed like some sort of unnecessarily self-indulgent rich people thing.)
Back in the capital, space was limited, houses couldn't afford to be this extravagant; there was simply no space. Most people lived in apartment buildings, such as himself. And even though he was aware it was in one of the nicer areas of the city, it didn't hold a candle to this. There was simply no way a two-bedroom apartment, however spacious it was, could compare to a whole estate.
(Funny, he thought, the only thing this place is missing is a horse stable.)
He never did try to explore the house by himself; he was sure he would just get lost if he tried, but Baz showed him around most of the place. At least the wing he called his "own".
The only people they saw were the servants, occasionally he would even see Fluorite when Baz talked to her or they passed her by the entrance on their way out to the town. He never caught a single glimpse of his parents though.
He hadn't given it too much thought; his own parents were almost never home either, so he assumed they were just as busy as his. Honestly, the only reason why he ever even saw his father was because there wasn't enough space in the apartment to completely avoid each other.
However, one day as they had been leaving (Baz had mentioned something about introducing him to a friend of his), a voice had called out, "Basil."
It sounded almost identical to Fluorite, so much he at first assumed it was her. Except she never called Baz by his full name.
Baz had made a grimace, turning around slowly. "Yes?"
Standing there at the foot of the stairs, was a woman, looking to be in her mid-to-late 40s. She had the same face shape, the same eyes and the same black-almost-blue hair as Baz and Fluorite. This had to be their mother.
"Where are you going?" Her voice carried the same stern tone her expression showed.
"Just to visit Aster," Baz sounded bored.
She gave a curt nod, turning to walk away, before she noticed Kit half-hiding behind Baz. "Who is he?" she asked Baz, refusing to acknowledge Kit.
"A friend from the Academy," his response was also curt. "His parents were going to be away during the summer vacation, so I offered him to stay over."
"Notify either your father or me next time, you hear?" And with that, she left with a sweep of her sleeves, disappearing behind a column and into the corridor leading to the right from the first floor living room.
(Now, when he looked back on the memory, he realised she had the exact same mannerism as Fluorite. Comparing the present day Fluorite and Baz's mum from back then, they could convincingly pass off as sisters.)
"Was that your mother?" he asked Baz once they were out the door, getting into the car already waiting outside. (The whole personal driver thing he'd been able to easily adapt to.)
"Yeah," Baz had a shifty look about him, obviously he did not want to discuss the subject in depth. He could understand that, so he simply let the subject drop.
The other time he had seen Baz's parents had been when he'd graduated from the Academy. Both his parents had been present at the time, but he'd only seen them from afar.
Technically speaking, he'd never spoken to either of Baz's parents even once.
"I've never even talked to your parents. How can you say they like me?" Kit questions Baz.
"Intuition?"
"I don't think that's how it works."
"Just trust me," Baz taps a finger on the table (it's some sort of nervous habit both siblings share, Kit has observed). "They definitely know who you are, and at least Mum doesn't think negatively of you, I can tell you that."
"I don't know…" He scratches the back of his head. "I don't even have any clothes ready to take…"
"We can go by your apartment and pick up some stuff on the way," he offers.
He's being pretty insistent about it, making Kit feel like a dick if he were to turn down the offer. "Fine," he sighs in defeat. "But I still think you should let your parents know."
"I'll call Fluorite. She'll let them know."
Kit doesn't argue against that. It's a compromise, he supposes. And who is he to judge Baz for not wanting to call his parents? He hasn't talked to either of them for almost ten years.
(Whenever he feels guilty over this, he tells himself the 'happy new year's' text he sends his mom every January counts as "talking", but deep down, he knows he's making excuses.)
~~~
This time, all the extravagance doesn't catch him off guard. Not completely.
It's still weird having people ready to do everything he needs, and he's still scared of getting lost if he wanders too much from the places he has deemed "safe". Well, it's not like he can actually wander about alone, seeing as the whole reason why he is here is due to his limited mobility.
He gets put up in one of the guest rooms on the first floor, placed conveniently near the kitchen and the dining area. (One of the dining areas? He has the feeling like there is more than one, but he hasn't asked.)
It's actually better than the room he had stayed in the first time. There's a built-in bathroom with a bathtub, low enough he can get in and out on his own. (If he'd needed help to take a bath he would have died from shame.) Plus he even has a TV in his room now.
If he needs to go somewhere, or just wishes to ask for anything, Baz tells him he's gotten a personal servant all to himself. This, however, is something he tries to make use of the least possible amount, only calling them if he feels the craving to go outside for a while, since he doesn't trust himself to remember the way from the gardens back to his room. For anything else, like going to the dining room, he tries to be self-sufficient. He is able to move around, if only for short bursts, with crutches, and once he gets a hang of it, he's also able to manoeuvre the wheelchair on his own.
When the servants try to help, he politely waves them off. But he never quite manages to do so with Baz, and he always ends up being pushed around by him. And Baz seems to be around the house an awful lot, so he's pestered almost day and night by him.
He knows he rarely goes to work, but that was because he preferred to wander around town with Valentine.
When Kit had scolded him about it, saying that if not because he cared about work then to at least be a responsible teacher to Valentine, he should take his job more seriously, he had simply laughed.
"But I am being a responsible teacher!" he'd said. "Don't you know the best teacher is life experience?"
"Going around being a lazy bum hardly counts as 'life experience,'" he scowled.
"Nonsense! She's learning just fine. She's doing excellent, if I must say."
Much to his chagrin, Baz had been right. Valentine had been completely up to date with everything she had to know. That had been the end of their argument.
But now, instead of going out, he would stay at home most of the time. And without fail, he would always be found hanging around Kit. And if Baz was there, it was almost certain, Valentine would be too.
"Don't you have work to do?" he finally asks one day.
"Fluorite has been very lax lately," Baz answered from where he was lying on the bed next to him.
Sitting on the floor in front of them was Valentine watching TV. He has to admit, her taste in soap operas is a lot better than his mother's had been, but if he has to watch another CEO k-drama he thinks he's going to gouge his eyes out.
"What about you, Valentine?"
"I've also got some days off," she answers without taking her eyes off the screen.
This, he knows, is a lie.
"Aren't you happy to have us taking care of you?" Baz pokes him between the ribs.
He shoots a glare at him. "No."
The novelty of being able to laze around all day had worn off really quickly. By the end of the first week, he'd already been itching to go back to work. Or at least do something.
But the Director had been very strict he take the necessary time to recuperate properly, almost going so far as to physically enforce it.
She had come to his room one day, throwing open the door. "Don't you dare come back until after a whole month, you hear me? You do, and I fire you!"
He had been almost convinced she was going to tie him to the bed if only to make sure he wouldn't try to go back to the office.
Honestly, he's surprised how Baz can sleep around the whole day and not lose his mind. He feels like he's going crazy from just lying in bed all the time.
"Cheer up a little," Baz tells him, "why don't you think of it as paid vacation?"
"Because it's not!"
"You're not getting paid?" he sits up in bed.
"I am!" he says it too loudly, because Valentine shushes him immediately. Looks like they're at a critical point in the show, the male lead is even crying on screen.
"Then what are you complaining about?"
"Because it's not vacation!" He wants to pull out his hair from frustration. "I need something to do. I feel like my brain is going to melt out of my ears if this goes on," he groans.
"Why don't you take up crossword puzzles? That's what my father does."
"What? No way. Mine does too."
"Crazy," he says, reaching out for the popcorn bowl Valentine has left forgotten, too immersed in the drama on screen to notice.
"If you leave crumbs on the bed I'm kicking you out."
He lets out an indignant gasp, "You can't kick me out of my own house."
"It's not your house!" he sits up halfway, "It's your parents' house!"
"How many times do I have to tell you it's not my parents' house?!"
The argument only escalates from there.