Roses Wilt, Bites Scar [boyxboy]

Chapter X

~Monday 16th March 2011~

Emeri woke slowly, feeling awfully groggy where he laid. Thankfully, his head didn't ache as much as it usually did when he got drunk, and he didn't feel so nauseous. Normally, he wasn't able to consume any blood for at least twenty-four hours after he drank, and it could be up to a week with regular food, liquor simply didn't agree with him.

Emeri rolled onto his back, his eyes opening slowly, giving a moment to his vision to adjust to the new light and scenery around him. It was then, as he was staring up at the light ceiling, that every memory from early that morning rushed back into his head. Waking up in his office, showering in front of Arlo, the kiss...

Emeri reached to his right, finding the space empty and the bed cold. Surely, he hadn't dreamt it all, he couldn't have, that didn't seem possible. He sat up slowly, silently, a smile creeping onto his lips when he spotted the boy sat in the corner of the room. He was facing away from Emeri, with his legs crossed in front of him, adorning the man's dark shirt that he had shed the previous night.

"If any of the maids see you wearing that there'll be rumours," Emeri's voice was hoarse, and it was only then that he noticed how thirsty he was, he felt almost like a newborn. Arlo peered over his shoulder, a bashful smile on his lips, before returning his attention to the wall.

"Someone will have seen you come in here last night, the rumours will already be out there no doubt," Emeri tilted his head to the side ever so slightly, catching sight of the drawing that Arlo was sketching onto the pale wallpaper. It was a portrait of Emeri, in his true form, and it was utterly amazing. Arlo seemed to be using a piece of charred wood, likely having picked it up from somewhere or convinced Inya to supply him with it, yet it didn't seem crude in any form. It was almost professional.

"My brother wouldn't be pleased if he saw what you were doing to the walls, he happens to be a neat freak," Emeri sat up, leaning back against the headboard of the bed and ensuring the covers remained bunched in his lap. He didn't care for Arlo seeing him, the boy had already had that opportunity, he simply didn't want to impose himself. For once, he actually cared about what the boy thought of him, it was beginning to concern him.

"Sorry, I can't help it," Arlo sounded almost forlorn at the prospect of being punished for simply allowing his creativity out in the only available medium, his shoulders sagging and his hand dropping to his lap, "when I get inspiration, I just have to act on it."

"I was joking, kitten," Emeri wasn't sure where he had picked up the pet name for Arlo, having usually barely addressed his other toys by their own names, but he had no intention of stopping, "come here," Emeri patted the bed next to him, taking a moment to admire the beauty of the half-drawn portrait of himself on the wall when Arlo rose to his feet.

"You don't seem to have much of a hangover," Arlo mentioned sceptically, settling down beside Emeri, "were you really even drunk last night or was that just an excuse to sleep with me?" Emeri chuckled, shaking his head, leaning over to tuck the covers around the boy, shocked by his own actions. He had never been a caring man, not selfish by any means, it was simply not a natural instinct to think of others, or empathise for them either. And, yet, somehow it seemed almost ingrained into his DNA to care for Arlo, like he was a child that had come home after years of being away, his presence was almost soothing to Emeri.

"Does it worry you?" Emeri asked, slipping his hand under the covers and resting it leisurely on Arlo's thigh, remaining as casual as ever. Arlo didn't seem to acknowledge the movement, other than flinching ever so slightly when the cold metal of Emeri's ring touched his warm skin. Either he was a very good actor, or he wasn't as interested in Emeri as the man had remembered from the previous night. Hopefully, Emeri didn't show any signs of the subtle disappointment that washed over him at the thought, although he could never be sure anymore.