The morning sun filtered through the soft curtains, casting delicate patterns on the floor. Aaron, still in his night clothes, sat on the edge of the bed, watching Kris as he buttoned his coat in front of the mirror. One thing he had observed was that Kris always appears efficient—getting ready for anything official, be it about the city or not.
Kris turned, his eyes meeting Aaron's. Kris' warmth lingered in his gaze, as if he didn't want to leave yet.
"Don't look at me like that. I'll be back by evening," Kris said, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he reached out to brush a lock of hair from Aaron's forehead.
Aaron smiled back, the corners of his mouth lifting involuntarily. His heartfelt lighter, he was back out of the little thought that was in his mind; he only felt the warmth coming from his husband.
"I know. I just… I'll miss you." Aaron's eyes flickered with a soft emotion he couldn't quite name. Being alone in this house still felt strange; having the only person he could be close to in the house not around gave him an off feeling, a feeling not so warm.
Kris chuckled softly, his arms sliding around Aaron's waist. "I'll miss you too. But remember, you'll have the day to yourself. Do something fun, and don't get too lost in your thoughts."
Aaron was surprised by the kiss, and his thoughts couldn't help but drift as the kiss came on his forehead. The warmth of Kris' lips lingered longer than usual, as if wanting to leave in that warm moment.
Kris pulled away, adjusting his coat one last time before stepping towards the door. "I'll be back before you know it."
Aaron waited until Kris' footsteps faded before rising to his feet. He missed Kris. He was going to miss Kris, but there was no one he could be close to as Kris. The house was still, the quiet almost too loud. Since Kies was gone, Aaron's mind could only think of one person; it was the silver-haired man, the only friend he has gotten in the house since, and Ethan was not included because he had not met him in the house but in the forest.
Aaron thought he couldn't disturb the cute Ethan.
He hadn't seen the silver-haired man in days. Aaron's fingers trailed along the walls of the hallway as he approached the studio door. His heart gave nervous beats. Why hadn't he gone to check on the silver hair sooner? Was he a bad friend? The question in Just came for a moment, but it lingered as he pushed the door open slightly.
Inside, the silver-haired man stood by the window, bathed in the soft light. He didn't move when Aaron entered.
He didn't even glance his way. As if he had been expecting Aaron all along.
Aaron's breath caught for a moment, as he always found himself struck by the man's beauty. The silver hair cascading down like imagery flowers, and those eyes—cool, distant, but irrisistably pretty.
Aaron shifted awkwardly. The silver-haired man looked pretty as always, so Serene-looking, standing there alone, could he have disturbed him?
The man turned slowly, his silver eyes locking onto Aaron's. "You haven't come to see me in some time," the man remarked, his voice smooth, almost like water hast. There was no accusation in his words, but something in his tone made Aaron feel as though he had done something wrong.
Aaron hesitated. What should he say? "I... I've been busy," he stammered. Kris had kept him close, and truth be told, Aaron had enjoyed the excuse to avoid coming here.
"Busy?" the silver-haired man echoed, his expression unreadable. His eyes narrowed slightly, as though dissecting Aaron's words. "With your husband, I suppose."
Aaron nodded, his throat dry. He couldn't deny it, even if it sounded ridiculous now.
"And does your husband know you're here now?" The man's voice was enquired; his voice sounded as beautiful as his face. The question seemed innocent enough, but there was a look in the man's pretty eyes; those eyes are just so pretty that even though the silver-haired man's eyes tried to say something, his brain was too small to understand it.
Aaron swallowed. "No. He's... in the city."
The silver-haired man took a step closer, his movements smooth and deliberate. Aaron's Gulf nervously, though he wasn't sure why. He is always nervous. Aaron, the man, doesn't know, or was it the atmosphere that the man always created between them, especially when he is staring right at his pretty face?
"And what if I were to do something... would he know?" The silver-haired man's voice was low, almost too soft to hear, as he closed the distance between them. His lips curled into a faint, unreadable smile.
Aaron felt his back press against the wall, the cold surface sending a shock through his body. He wanted to look away, but those silver eyes held him in place.
"You're making me uncomfortable," Aaron murmured, his voice trembling despite himself. He hated how small he felt under the man's gaze—how weak. All men were the same; they all found pleasure in bullying the weak; all of them—both Kris and the silver-haired man—like inserting control, as always beauty isn't what could decide a person's character.
For a moment, the room was filled with an unbearable silence. Then, unexpectedly, the silver-haired man's face broke into a soft chuckle. It wasn't loud, but the sound was filled with amusement—a strange, light sound that didn't match the personality that he just showed.
Aaron's eyes widened in confusion. What was so funny?
"You're too pure," the silver-haired man said, his voice still carrying traces of laughter. "Too trusting. Too… stupid." The words didn't feel like an insult, though they should have.
Aaron's heart pounded in his chest. He didn't know how to respond. He doesn't know why, but he had the feeling that the man was making jokes of him. Like now, the way the man was staring at him and laughing unsettlingly about the man's laugh, being laughed at or teased by someone, Aaron didn't find himself uncomfortable because, for some reason, he couldn't find the will to be mad at anything the man does.
While Aaron was lost in his own field of thoughts, the man stepped back, his face returning to its usual, unreadable calm. It was as though nothing had happened.
"Let's paint," the silver-haired man said, as if the moment of tension hadn't occurred. Aaron blinked, still trying to process the sudden shift.
"R-right," Aaron muttered, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts. Why did he feel so off-balance around this man? But at the same time, is he okay being with him?
He moved toward the easel, picking up the brush as the silver-haired man positioned himself behind him. The man's hands moved lightly over Aaron's, guiding him with practiced ease. But occasionally, Aaron could feel the man's breath on the back of his neck; no, it was just his illusion; the man was seriously guiding him, but his breath as he spoke tickled his neck.
He tried to focus on the painting, but the silver-haired man's breath striking on his neck was tingling more and more. His mind kept wandering.
"Paint a fairy," the silver-haired man's voice broke through Aaron's thoughts, his tone gentle but firm. It was a command, not a request. "Something delicate. I want to see how well you've learned."
Aaron swallowed hard, grateful for the distraction. "I'll try."
As he worked, the silver-haired man's gaze never left him. Aaron could feel it, even if he didn't look up. Having real beauty with silver hair and silver eyes looking at you and guiding you, Aaron couldn't focus; his eyes always found a way to trail off and still glance at the man.
The man watched him work in silence; his silver eyes still showed the amusement in his heart that he carried. Aaron just tried to focus. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Aaron finished the sketch and stepped back, wiping the sweat from his brow.
The silver-haired man smiled softly, his eyes lingering on the fairy that Aaron had painted. "Good. You're improving."
"Thanks," Aaron whispered; his voice had no courage to charter. But his mind was still stuck on the earlier moment. With a silver-haired beauty guiding him and laughing at him, his boredom was almost gone.
The silver-haired man turned away, already returning to his own work. "You can leave now," he said, his tone dismissive.
Aaron hesitated for a moment, clutching the canvas to his chest. "Goodbye," he said softly, but the man didn't reply.
With his head swirling with different emotions, Aaron left the room. He can't forget the man's last expression as he left that door—the silver-haired man, just Carrie's too many dominions—very magnificent and fun to be with.
The moment Aaron left the corridors that hid the studio, he passed the midpoint of the garden and suddenly bumped into a maid. His body stiffened for a moment as tea splashed onto the ground.
What just happened? He turned quickly, his gaze landing on the maid he had collided with. Her tray had toppled, and the tea cups were scattered on the path. She stood frozen, clutching the empty tray, her eyes wide and trembling. Aaron frowned as he crouched down, intending to help.
The maid's hands trembled uncontrollably. Her lips quivered, and tears began spilling down her cheeks as she bent to pick up the pieces. Why is she crying?
Aaron reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. The maid flinched, her face paling further. His brows furrowed deeper, and he spoke softly, "Are you alright?" She seems so terrified...
The maid said nothing at first, just trembling before him. Her body quaked with silent sobs as her fingers clumsily gathered the broken pieces.
Aaron paused, observing her reaction. Something felt off. She was afraid, but of what? Him? The broken tea?
"What's your name?" He asked, his tone as gentle as he could make it.
Emilia looked up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. "Emilia," she whispered, her voice barely audible between sobs.
Aaron blinked, his confusion deepening. He had never encountered this level of fear over spilled tea. What's really going on here?
"Why are you crying, Emilia? It's just tea," he continued, his voice softer. He tried to catch her gaze, but she was too terrified to meet his eyes.
Her lips trembled as more tears fell. "It's... It's Lady Anabel's tea," she finally managed to say.
Aaron's eyes narrowed. Her panic intensified at the mention of Lady Anabel. Lady Anabel, why is she so afraid of her tea?
Before he could make sense of it, a sharp, icy voice echoed from behind him.
"What is going on here?" The sound pierced the garden like a blast.
And Aaron felt a cold shiver run down his spine. Emilia's face drained of all color, her eyes going wide with terror.