Butler ~COMPLETED~

Five

I came home after a few hours. I'd avoided any drinks for the past two hours, and taken a detour, walking through the old fields so i could sober up a bit. I plumped up his pillows and tidied his bed. I went into my room, straightened it up, even though it was pretty much immaculate already. I then got changed into a more comfortable outfit : a pastel green t-shirt and some track suit bottoms. I  went back into his room. I checked my watch.

"He shouldn't be back for another couple hours yet." I took a deep breath, sitting next to his pillows. I laid against one, smelling his woody, peppery scent. I sighed with contentment, snuggling into the duvet. It felt like he was lying next to me. I tried not to fall asleep, but i couldn't help myself.

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I woke sharply to the sound of the front door closing loudly, and the corrosive sound of piano keys being slammed aggressively. I sat up abruptly, tidying the bed quickly and running from his room to mine, thankfully avoiding his detection. My socks made me slip as i came to the doorframe. I fell, making a terribly loud noise.

"Elliott?" his voice was monotonous and growly. "What're you doing?"

"I slipped." I winced, standing.

"Do me a favor, run me a hot bath, please."

"but you said it was my day off-"

"Just do it!" He snapped, his voice cracking. I jumped, whimpering. I went into the bathroom, running the tap. I laid a fluffy towel on the rack on the wall for him to use. I then went back in my room. He came upstairs, and he went in his room. I heard a choked sound. Then a sob. He's... Crying?

He then calmed down, going into the bathroom. I knocked on the door.

"Sir?" I went in, and i saw his eyes watery, his cheeks damp from where the tears has been falling. "What's wrong?"

"Get out." His voice was wobbly, and it caught in his throat.

"But-"

"Elliott, you are here to serve me when i ask. Not to offer me unnecessary counsel. Now get out!" He yelled, his fists clenching around the basin. I stood for a minute, my eyes going salty. I frowned, wiping my nose on my arm. I saw him in the corner of my eye, his anger melted into instant regret but saying nothing as i left the room, slamming the door behind me. He didn't say anything. I threw myself into my bed, curling up.

"You idiot." I tugged my hair in frustration as tears pricked my eyes. I squinted, refusing to let them fall. But they did fall. A lot of them fell. In fact, i ended up crying myself to sleep that night.

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I woke up, my eyes stinging. I got into my uniform, not bothering with the ribbon and took a bow-tie from my drawer. I put it on and went downstairs. Perfectly timed, it seemed, as he had gotten up at the same time. I got the fire started and sat cross legged in front of it. I closed my eyes, the crackling sounds relaxing me. If he was sorry he would have said something.

He came downstairs, his shoes tapping on the floor. He sighed, his footsteps pausing. Then they continued. Why isn't he saying anything? I held my breath, the tension in the air becoming more uncomfortable then ever. Then his phone rang. Really loudly. I jumped. He groaned, answering it.

"Hello." He started pacing about. "Can we drop this?" He sounded immediately, the curious accent becoming more apparent. "Mother, it's not my fault!" There was a pause, and i could hear shouting from the other side of the line. "Look. I'm not going to talk about it anymore. I've got to go." He hung up, walking away from me, his footsteps sounding angry. He sat down, reading the newspaper, the occasional huff and stir of movement.

After a while, the fire began dying out. I heard him talk. After all this time he spoke. But it wasn't an apology.

"Elliott, get me my salad please." fuck you. I stood, walking to the kitchen without even looking at him. I put it on the table, walking away, stoking the fire and sitting back in front of it. "you'll get smoke in your chest if you carry on like that." I didn't reply. Say sorry. I held my breath in, standing again and walking upstairs into my room. I dug into my covers. "Why am i so stubborn? Why am i so sensitive?"

After a few minutes, the door swung open unexpectedly. It was him.
"Hey, listen. I'm sorry about last night, alright? Now could you go get some coffee? You can have a cup of your own, if you want."

I looked up at him and smiled. "Thank you, sir." I got up and headed downstairs, gradually getting used to the glass stairs. I heard him sneeze as he sat down at the piano. I felt a smirk tickle my lips as I picked up two cups and switched on the coffee machine. After giving him the hot beverage, i sat peacefully across the room, sipping mine. He took a few sips, his hands then skipping gracefully along the scales. I stared at him in awe, focusing on the music so i wouldn't get another erection. He was frowning slightly, concentrating as he slung the gentle melody into a mozart masterpiece. Quiet sounds of adoration poured from my lips as i was enticed into the world his playing was making. I felt shivers tingle down my spine. He ended it with a flourish of his wrists, then began heaving. Does playing piano wear you out that much?

"Sir?" I put down my quickly cooling cup, walking over to him.

"Yes, completely fine." He wiped his forehead a bit, still having trouble getting his breath back. "Actually, I tell a lie..." He went limp, falling to the floor as he tried to stand.

"Sir!" I took his arm, frowning the blush away as i helped him stand. I put my hand on his head. Burning. "You've got a fever." He sniffled, sneezing again. "Flu."

"I can't afford to be ill." He groaned, trying to return to the piano.

"Well, sir, you have to. I won't let you get any worse. I'm taking you to bed." My social anxiety slipped down the drain as my hidden assertion came out.

"Fine." He sighed, admitting defeat and allowing me to lead him to his room.

"Maybe you should get changed into something more comfortable while i get you some soothing tea." He nodded, clearing his throat as it had began to seize up.

"Elliott." He croaked.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Thank you." The redness crept to my face again, my shoulders tensing.

"It's... I... it's quite alright. It is my duty, after all."