The Master [MxMxM+]

11

Linder climbed down the stairs with the urgency the situation required. He didn't take his time, but neither did he rush. That type of bruise wasn't anything he had never seen before.

He'd seen a lot worse. Unfortunately, on ninety nine percent of the time, it had been the people he loved the most. He'd rushed home on more than one occasion to find his lovely sister tending to his brother; bedridden, weak and seemingly with a leg drawn back, ready to kick the bucket.

Their father had been at it again. He drank as much as a fish in water, and for some reason it made him violent. The alcohol impaired his vision, making his children blur before his eyes and morph into punching bags.

His mom was the one working her ass off to provide for them, the secret behind the success of his drinking business. They profited nothing, and lost all respect and affection they had ever had towards him.

Lily—his sister—was strong, he knew that more than anyone. And that's why he counted on her to protect their brother just a little longer.

Just five more months.

The little accident had triggered the memories which now faded as he pulled the handle of the fridge to study the contents inside.

ice... ice...

Right there. It was just next to the tortillas. Linder poured cubes in an ice bag and turned to leave.

The tall, lanky man closed the door of the fridge to see Pierre waiting and looking shy. His beautiful face turning away from Linder.

Linder stepped back defensively as he hadn't been expecting to see anyone so close. Pierre didn't even give him a chance to properly look at him.

He muttered a quick 'sorry' before going to pick what he wanted.

Linder walked away. When the footsteps had reached further away, Pierre's anxiety told him it was safe to look. Linder had been carrying an ice bag. Was something wrong? Was somebody hurt?

His brain couldn't put up any plausible suggestions so Pierre let it go and decided to focus on the task at hand; cheesecake for the Master.

When he got back to the kitchen island, Pierre fished out a springform pan and some mixing bowls. Finally, he had everything he needed.

He was just about to put cream cheese in a mixing bowl when he noticed Zel. The little guy approached him happily, walking like he had springs under his feet.

"Hi! What are you making?" Zel's eyes brightened in wonder. He sat on a stool and rested his elbows on the counter, cradling his chin under his hands.

Pierre went ahead to add sugar and cream cheese in a mixing bowl. The mixture of white and brown resulted into a color similar to Zel's hair but just not quite. "A cheesecake," he replied.

"Ohh I love those!" Pierre smiled at the statement.

If there was only one person that Pierre was going to talk to during his time here, he hoped it was Zel. For whatever reason it was, something about his clueless nature and curious eyes seemed to put him at ease.

He'd bitten back a smile a few times when Zel was acting out with the Master or when he was just being himself. And now here he was, talking to him.

"Really?" Pierre asked.

"Absolutely! I just never learned to make it. My dad
says I have the shortest attention span and this was one of the pastries he couldn't get me to learn. My first attempt left the entire kitchen covered in cream cheese!"