Who Are You, Really? || Thoma x Ayato|| × Modern AU ×

(4) Stripped off Choices, Stripped off... Clothes?

The sun promptly invited its warm rays into the room, sneaking in through the cracks past the curtains. The area slowly started to overfill with the light, caressing Thomas unconscious body from his slumber. His skin seemed pale, almost gleaming in the empty room, starting to wake him from the resting state he was in.

A faint sound of birds chirping rang in his ears, bringing him home from the dream he was still floating in. His eyes slightly parted, adjusting to the light, his vision still blurry. With every second passing, more of his senses came to settle. In his still relaxed position, a cover carelessly draped over his body, his hand resting on his forehead. Thoma parted his lips to let out a refreshing yawn. The cold air dawned upon him as it brushed against his exposed skin.

Exposed... Skin?

Thoma furrowed his eyebrows, the realization shivering his senses. He darted up, the cover slipping off his chest as he looked down at his body. His yesterday's clothing was folded and placed on a marble sofa not far from the bed, but he was wearing a crimson red robe, which was barely holding together by the slipping knot that was supposed to tighten it. A sleeve fell off his shoulder, the cold atmosphere forcing Thoma to grab it in an attempt to keep warm.

Not a single coherent thought could be made, for a headache pounded in his head, like drums in a festival march. With a sharp inhale, he shook it, trying to piece the story together in his mind, a desperate attempt to make ends meet. The last thing he could recall was his aching feet and a familiar face standing in front of him. A smile, so hardly decipherable, congratulated him with something, but the story would only fade to black.

"Ugh... Am I suffering memory loss?" He whispered to himself, his lips parting again for a yawn. He stretched his arms up, a refreshing breeze running through his blood as his tense limbs got a chance to relax.
Welcome to the Kamisato estate, Thoma. A faint image flashed in his head. He quietly inspected the recurring memory. It will be a pleasure working with you under our roof.

"Holy shit." He darted, his eyes widening at the sudden realization. He threw a glance around the room to find a clock, his gaze finally stopping at a mechanical one beside his bedside, proudly ticking 7:32 AM in pale white numbers. Only a small wave of relief washed off him, but the other question remained.

"I work here now... Right?.." He mumbled. Suddenly he heard a knock on the door. The consistent thumping almost scared him, for it was a break from the agonizing silence. He didn't spare a minute waiting in the unknown. "I'm awake! " He called out, his voice still hoarse and sleepy, but clear enough to be heard from the other side.

"Good morning, Thoma. " A familiar feminine voice replied. The blonde could recognize it, it was one of the maids he's seen many times while visiting Ayaka. Her name was easily forgettable, but maybe during the time he'll have to work here, it'll stick. "My orders from the commissioner are to awaken you accordingly, for you're on breakfast duty" She added, some of her words muffled by the heavy door.

"A-Already?" Thoma darted. "Are you sure he was referring to me?" He wobbled out of bed, rushing to grab his clothes which gave off a fresh and rich fragrance as if they were washed during the night.

"Affirmative. I will provide you with a schedule of your shifts, please pick it up after you're done serving the food. Miss Kamisato will be the one feasting" She carefully laid out all the duties weighing on Thomas shoulders, yet only one thing caused him real concern.

Only Ayaka? "What about the master?" He slightly cringed at the sentence, no matter the fact that he'll have to get used to it. That certain word was most likely an everyday occurrence to the maid, maybe even expected from him.

So without an ounce of hesitation, she replied. "Mister Kamisato has left for transactional duties. Next time, you will be more well-informed" Her voice remained the same, not shifting past its monotone sound. Either way, her answer raised more questions.