3(School happened. Uh... hopefully, I have more free time now.)
The way to a man's heart
Chapter 1 | Add some spice
"Another year without Raven. Is it the end of his career?"
He swiftly blew the cigarette and turned off the radio. A hand immediately flew to his uneven hair and tried to even it somewhat, a signal of how distressed he was despite it being only nine in the morning.
Before he could muster enough energy to go make breakfast, a knock was heard at his door. He sighed, mentally preparing himself for Alice's impromptu visit.
The sight that received him at his door was surprising—
"Break."
—but not entirely unexpected.
"Heya," the older man held his hand high, a wide smile covering his face as he invited himself into the other's house.
It wasn't Alice visiting out of the blue, as he first thought when he heard the knocking. He was as appalled as he was surprised.
Gilbert just closed the door behind him and watched as Break looked in the cabinets, probably searching for some candy.
"Should I be asking?" he said at last.
Break stared at him. "Asking about what?"
Gilbert's eyes narrowed in disbelief. Either Break was oblivious or he knew what Gilbert meant—it's not like he came uninvited to his house in the first place, nor like it's been almost three years since they saw each other, so the natural question would be: 'what are you doing in my house?' but he never knew with Break—and was just pushing his buttons because he was feeling like it.
(Numerous times he had felt like it. And years ago, Break knew how to read Gilbert's every expression like the palm of his hand. Gilbert wondered, not for the first time: would he still?)
"What brings you here?" He went to the kitchen. There was still the tea he prepared half an hour ago, and it was still lukewarm. He served two cups and brought the sugar with him. As expected, the older started munching on the sugar cubes, teacup all but forgotten.
"What? Cannot come to check on you without you getting all worked up?" He pouted, Gilbert rolled his eyes.
"Not knowing the kind of person you are, no." There were so many things left unsaid, so many Gilbert wanted Break to know, but the subtext was not enough of a track for him to follow.
As though he were a scolded kid, Break started sipping from his now-cold teacup.
"Your father is worried about you."
Gilbert stared at him, expressionless.
"Father and you never got along. I believe you will need another excuse."
The china clanked. "Why are we so aggressive this morning?" Oh, he knew very well, Gilbert was sure of this. Break had always been good with dates, after all. Even he could figure it out.
His golden eyes stared, cold enough. "Why come so suddenly? If you wanted to meet up, you could have called me or something. I do have a cell phone, you know? It's been three years, why couldn't you at least warn me?"
Break shrugged. "It's not like you had anything in mind for today, did you?" He then proceeded to drink the rest of his tea in a single gulp.
Gilbert stared. Again. "That's so not my point. Did you ever listen to a thing I said?"
The spark in Break's eyes twinkled. He didn't answer, but his eyes said what his lips couldn't: you know I did.
"It seems I'm not very welcomed at the time, hmm" he left his cup at the table and stood. "This year's contest is going to close its tabs in a few weeks' time. Did you give it a thought?"
Finally to the point, although not one Gilbert would touch willingly. "It was you who suggested I didn't participate anymore, remember?"
Break seemed conflicted at this. "I suggested you take a rest. I—"
"—am so sorry to say it. It's delicious as always. It just… lacks something," Gilbert quoted, looking impassively at him. The older's smile turned into a grimace at the mention of those words.
"You were in a very delicate state of mind at the time, and I couldn't just see you there, participating without a care for your mental health. It was an awful coping mechanism, and you know it, Raven."
The itch to blow another smoke was very tempting. But he remembered how Break would always protest of this very unhealthy habit of his, and so he didn't light a cigarette. If only out of respect.
"There's no joy in cooking for me anymore," he admitted, albeit a little crossed by the answer Break gave him. "And I believe there is nothing that can make me participate."
Despite looking like a child who'd been denied his favorite candy, Break didn't press further. He just let out a long sigh and looked at his hands, as though he felt absolutely compelled to keep on pressing for the other to participate.
"Very well, then. I think I'll take my leave," as though he had it planned, his phone started ringing and he looked at the screen. "Though, I mean it when I say you should call your dad or something. We never met besides that one occasion in the contest, of course, but that doesn't mean we don't share a sentiment of worry for you. You can't live forever like this, telling yourself you could have done something about it."
And he left.
Gilbert lost the little appetite he had left, too. His tea was cold, the itch to smoke stronger than when Break barged in. Had Alice visited him, it wouldn't have been as disastrous as this encounter was. At least her he could shut up with food.
Music echoed the halls of the house. Lottie offered him a sheepish smile.
"He's been at it the whole day, one would think it's a special day or something."
If he remembered correctly, Lottie came into the household barely three years ago. Of course, she wouldn't know about it.
January 18th.
Nine years from today.
Seven years from today.
There were several pictures hanging in the hallway. Some of them had him, some of them not. The most remarkable ones featured two siblings: a violet-eyed, taciturn boy, and a vivacious red-eyed girl that seemed to warm everything with her wide smile despite how mud-splattered her summer white dress was.
"It's okay," Gilbert said to Lottie after a moment's silence. "I will enter the music room. He is almost finished with the song, after all."
As per Break's suggestion, he ended up visiting his father.
Inside the music room, the noise was louder. Gilbert entered and sat beside his father, playing the company to that very same piece.
He had heard it, seen it, played it so many times it was second nature to follow.
It was bittersweet to play it once more. Like it took all the energy away from him as his fingers moved through the piano. Like he was pouring his very soul into the piece.
He had heard it so many times, back when it used to be about warmness, happiness, and hope—now it was only bitterness, mourning and regret.
(He used to go to sleep with this very song, now its notes weren't enough to soothe away his guilt.)
The song and any sound stopped altogether. His father looked at him, moving his head just a little in acknowledgment.
"Gilbert, it's nice to see you." Despite being only forty-one, Oswald's ebony hair started to grey in certain areas. He wasn't one so easily angered, but it had been two years since Gilbert had tried to contact him, his guilt growing just by looking how fragile his father was after playing his masterpiece (he had lost one, but with how Gilbert practically disappeared from his life it's like he lost them all).
"Dad," he answered, his voice clipped. An aftereffect of the music. "I'm sorry I couldn't visit any sooner, it's been… hard."
Oswald nodded in understanding. Whatever it was, he got him.
He rose from the piano bench and made a gesture for Gilbert to follow him.
"Do you want to stay? I planned on lightning a couple of candles."
It was almost ten in the night when he stumbled into the steps outside his house. There was a lump in the entrance, apparently. One that had been asleep until he stepped on it, apparently.
There was an "Ooop—!" and when he could distinguish the dark-chocolate hair and the checkered-like dress from Alice, Gilbert felt like a complete idiot.
Of course, Alice would decide to visit today.
"What are you doing here?" He was surprised, naturally, to see Alice sleeping on his doorstep in the middle of the frigging night, in nothing but a very short dress. She stuck her tongue in response. "Let's get you inside, it's goddamn freezing."
"It's your fault for being away from your house. I've been waiting since noon, you seaweed head!" She went immediately to his bedroom to steal his bed cover, then stepped into the kitchen as though she was the one who owned the house and looked at him, expectantly. "But I'm willing to forgive you if you cook me meat."
Gilbert heaved a sigh. As the coat was hanged in the perch leading towards the door, as well as his favorite hat, Alice sat in one of the chairs, telling him of how bored she had been the whole day because he wasn't there.
"Well, I stopped by and visited dad," he shrugged as the mechanical movement of chopping carrots and throwing them into the frying pan started, thinking still of how… calm had his visit to his father actually been. Alice stopped rambling and stared from inside his bed cover, as though he grew a second head.
"Has any new info come?" her voice was trembling. Gilbert just shrugged and served the cooked meal into a dish.
"He didn't say. You know dad," but it was a no. There hadn't been any news yet, and he didn't know how to feel about it. Worried or happy? Sad, maybe depressed?
Alice ate her dish in silence, suddenly not so interested in the food.
. .
There is a plot. It is heavily inspired in the canon, so beware (no bunny surprises, tho).
