Memento Mori (MxM)

Chapter 6

Calael realised only as he was making pancakes for two, lost in these mundane thoughts, that he hadn't considered the absolute insanity of this situation all morning. He'd shared a bed with a ghost, was cooking for a ghost, and was assumably now going to be roommates with said ghost; the situation was so bizarre that it was as though it had been constructed in the realm of fiction.

"Cooking up a storm?"

Calael whirled around on his heels at the abruptness of Artemus' voice behind him, reaching a hand back to the counter instinctively, however yelping in pain as he touched the hot pan instead. He immediately jerked his scolded hand away and cursed loudly. "Ah, shit!"

"Oh god - I'm so sorry! Here, here, let me help," Artemus said quickly, his eyes slightly wider in alarm as he rushed forward.

He guided Calael away from the stove and to the sink by his elbow, where he ran the cold water, and quickly thrust the man's hand underneath the stream to soothe the pink burn before it could blister. His gaze was fixed on the task, his own smaller hand gently supporting his by the palm and the underside of his wrist.

As the pain subsided, hissing through his teeth, Calael looked up at the blonde, and found himself as captivated by the sight of him now as he had been yesterday. His hair was not bound by a ribbon, but instead golden tresses fell loose over his shoulders, a little tousled by sleep. Gazing at him, he noticed everything from his delicate hands, to the crease marks on his face where the pillow had sunk into his soft skin, and thought how much the boy looked like art without so much as trying, and how men and women alike must have mourned his beauty whenever he left their company.

Artemus finally looked up at him, the pale morning light from the window turning his eyes to a winter sky, and he offered a pretty smile. "Better?"

"Ah, yes- better," Calael answered, finally breaking from his trance like state. "I, uh- I think we need to set a few ground rules though, if we're going to be living together."

"Oh? Well, yes of course, anything."

"First off, plain and simple, no sneaking up on me," Calael stated, mustering up a good humoured grin.

Artemus snickered, and nodded his head as the brunette returned to the stove to scrape the remaining pancake from the pan. "That, I can understand and oblige."

"Second.. You can't show yourself to any of my family. They're skeptics, they'd probably check themselves into a mental hospital before believing that you're real."

"How do you know I am?"

"Don't toy with me, it's too early for existentialism," Calael murmured, then picked up their plates and led the man into the dining room, taking his seat. He could hear Artemus laugh delightedly again behind him.

The blonde sat opposite him at the table, with a flashy smile, resting his chin innocently upon his spread palms. "My apologies. Might I suggest something of my own?"

"Of course," Calael obliged, looking up from cutting his pancakes to listen. "Anything, Artemus."

"I would appreciate a small amount of compromise when decorating the house.. I would really like some more flowers everywhere. We could perhaps fix that awful garden too? It used to be blossoming and beautiful," he sighed wistfully, as though grieving the splendour of what once was.

Calael felt saddened by his disheartened expression, and was infused with new energy to remedy the issue immediately. "Of course.. Of course, we can. I'll even get a gardener to come and make it look pretty, and you can pick the flower beds."

"Truly? Oh, thankyou, thankyou very much, that shall mean a great deal to me!"

However, a question came to mind as he watched Artemus smile and gush with happiness, his thoughts returning to the weeds he'd found in the vase in the attic. "I suppose it must have upset you a great deal, when the memorial flowers died?" he asked tentatively.