Old-Fashioned, or Another Story With Ghosts

Chapter 5. The first cup of tea is finished and the first kiss takes place

"Ah...oh, yes. I mean, sure...m..."

James raised his brow and handed him a whole jar of biscuits.

"This reminds me, I was wondering if the Green bedroom was still there. I'd take some book for an evening read. I believe, it was close to your premises here. Do you mind me accompanying you?"

Greg seemed relived and nodded, so James's guess was right. He was scared to return alone. He was also right not to mention a door that closed silently behind their backs.

"Can you... can you talk to him? Old lord Blacke?"

They were in the middle of the main stairs, and lights were off, and the deep twilights were covering the surroundings, making them to appear differently. From time to time Greg was not sure whether the two of them were still in the same building with the flower containers and plastic bats, or... the same building but different time. The box in his hands was a weak anchor. The tall man speaking like in a movie walking near him was... a strong one. 

If he was still the right man. 

Greg didn't think much when increased the steps bumping into lord James carefully, just enough to hold on his forearm slightly. 

"Sorry." He would manage accent better any other time. "I-I noticed something in the shadows. A mouse, maybe."

"Oh. It is certainly possible. The house needs renovation."

"It's perfect." The answer came immediately, without making up. "In the daylight even better. But..." Greg shrugged uneasily. "But 'd be even better after renovation."

"Thank you."

The forearm wasn't taken from him. Greg's fingers were shivering a bit and he did his best not to lean on the supporting hand.

None of his boyfriends ever walked with him in such an old-fashioned manner.
Why'd they, though?! They haven't been even in the college. "Have you been at some boarding school?"

James raised his brows. Greg just felt time slipping through his fingers, time till his room for that night. The first time he'd think he could use a bit more stretched time for once.

"Indeed, I was. Why are you asking?"

"You speak like you're reading from Shakespeare. Are you going to... live here, in the house?"

"In summer, possibly. It seems to be quite a remote spot to get to when the weather is not so welcoming."

"Depends on your definition of welcoming." Gregory let out a silent laugh. James smiled - and they both had to stop, watching the dark figure on the other side of the corridor.

James was holding a candle, watching the dark figure on the other side. He was sure, his face was visible and he must have looked pretty sad, judging by the look in her eyes. In fact he was not sure at all if that was her. He made a step closer, trying to reach out and touch her face. Did he meet her finally? But how could he forget?

"Charlotte?" he whispered, his lips making no sound.

Her eyes turned into the garden fog again, and he got lost.

James blinked and looked at Gregory, holding desperately to his hand caressing his cheek. He was saying something but it took him a while to start hearing the words.

"Oh, excuse me. That was not quite... intentional." He lowered his hand slowly, looking around. Gregory gulped.

"It-it's... fine. Don't... it's fine, really." Well, it was fine. It was more than fine, and not just this. But not with the man's eyes turning greyish blind, like some fog accidentally spilled in them. "Are you, um, do you feel well? You seemed... distracted."

Lord James frowned for a moment, then shook his head. "Did I? That is certainly possible. I had a rather long journey earlier this day, and might use some sleep. You stay here, I believe? Well, thank you for your company, my dear Gregory. I enjoyed our conversation greatly."

"Aye, me too. I mean, yes, a lot. Thank you. And for seeing me off." Greg stepped in the room, now lit up and even welcoming with the huge soft bed. And turns back next moment. "Thank you, I mean it. I... it's an honour for me. You promise you'll be fine... too? On your way back?"

Now he appeared to surprise his companion. "Be assured that I would. It is my house, after all."

Right, Greg sniffed silently. House is yours, but how 'bout your head? "Do you promise?" 

Lord James raised his brows. Greg'd never be able to speak to him like this in the daylight. Christ, they'd never meet in the daylight, really! 

But there was still that night for ghosts to walk around. And two of them sharing one ghost story. So he waited demanding the promise.

"I give you my word."

"Fine then. Well. Good night... I guess?"

"Have a good night, Gregory." James smiled slightly. He might be smiling like this before kissing some lucky bastard. Or lucky bitch, doesn't matter.

The door was between them, like in the worst paper-covered romance possible.

It might have been a dream, Greg decided, falling asleep peacefully soon enough.
And even if so, he had it.

A few drafts of the man standing near the window with the cup, and the same man sitting near the fireplace, and playing with the dog in the rose garden, were hidden among other album studies left on the table near the window. 

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