Brimsley and Reynolds

Chapter 2

Brimsley had been staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours. It was late, really late. And as Reynolds had reminded him more than once, he would have to be up at promptly five o-clock to for training. However, he couldn't fall asleep. He just kept playing the day over and over again in his head. His whole life felt as if it had been turned upside down. 

Of course, he knew it was his choice to apply for the job as Queen's man, but he had never really thought he was going to get it. And now, it felt as though he was living a completely different life. His eyes strayed to the door. This door is made of deep brown wood. It is the door that connects the room. Reynolds' room. When he thinks about Reynolds sleeping so close, he feels like he can't breathe. He stays quiet, trying to hear anything coming from the room next to his. Silence. Reynolds must be a still sleeper. 

He can't figure out Reynolds. He seemed so nice at first, friendly. And then suddenly, he's throwing out how he's more important and Brimsley's job as Queen's man is "Simple". He finally drifts off to sleep, thinking about the warmth of the hand underneath the white glove.

A loud knocking interrupts Brimsley's dreams. He hears Reynolds' voice from the other side of the wall. "It's already ten past five, you better not still be sleeping," Brimsley groans as he begins to undress. As he's pulling off his night shirt, Reynolds bursts into his room from the connecting door. "You know, its nice to acknowle-," He stops, looking at Brimsley, particular the parts that aren't dressed. He quickly pulls over his uniform as Reynolds turns away. 

"You cannot just burst into my room unannounced," Brimsley yells at Reynolds for the first time. He straightens his uniform, moving his hands to his hips as he watches Reynolds' back. "You're right, my apologies," He says sounding rather flustered. Brimsley is surprised, it's the first time Reynolds hadn't sounded cool and collected since they've met. "You can turn around," he says flatly. Reynolds does, slowly, as if he thinks Brimsley is tricking him. "Well," he says avoiding eye contact, "I'll meet you outside our rooms," and he quickly slips through the brown door. 

Five minutes later, Brimsley leaves his room, finding Reynolds standing straighter than usual, trying to once again avoid his gaze. "Well, let's be on our way," Reynolds says, sounding rather bothered. As they continue walking side by side, Brimsley is tempted to look up at him. Suddenly, Reynolds begins to speak. "Today you will be staying with me as I do my job, escorting the King. You will get a real look as to what it means to be a King or Queen's man." Brimsley finally looks up at him, surprised to see Reynolds was already doing the same. "Wouldn't that imply our jobs are equal," He says it with less of a bite that he had intented. Reynolds holds his gaze, "Yes," he says softly , "I suppose it would," 

The King was not at all what he expected him to be. He half thought he would already be graying and almost undoubtedly imagined him to have an unpleasant disposition. On the contrary, he seemed quite normal. As he stared at Reynolds, he couldn't help but notice how much he seemed to like the King. Brimsley wasn't sure how that made him feel, but he could tell he didn't like it. 

The day was extraordinary uneventful. King George seemed to have a fondness for planting vegetables, something Brimsley couldn't understand in the slightest. If he were the King, he would never want to touch dirt again. There was no ability for conversation, except listening when the King spoke to Reynolds. Brimsley felt very out of place, and the whole day was rather uncomfortable. However, they did the same thing the next day, and the next, and the next. 

He had started to feel more comfortable, and felt things with Reynolds were moving much smoother. In fact, he sometimes even enjoyed being in his company. But he also knew that this was not where he belonged. He wanted to do something, his least favorite thing was being idle, and he wasn't hired to follow around the King's man. This is why his excitement was even more than expected when he heard the news. They had found a queen. A young girl from somewhere in Germany, he had been told. After this, things started to change slightly. 

One morning, he left is room, and was standing next to Reynolds and waiting for him to explain what they would be doing that day with the King as he always did. Reynolds spoke quickly, as if he is trying to get rid of his words. "You will not be joining me today. As I see it our training is over. The Queen will arrive in less than a month, and you can spend you days preparing for the wedding and her arrival." Before Brimsley even had a chance to respond, he quickly walked away. 

Brimsley was still staring at the spot where Reynolds had been. What is he supposed to do now? He decided to wander the halls, trying to find some sort of explanation as to why Reynolds suddenly dropped him. He still can't believe how big Buckingham Palace is. It seems he could walk for miles and miles and still find more rooms, halls, and passageways. As he was turning a corner, he saw King George walking with a slight man in glasses. Dr. Monroe, the King called him. He then saw Reynolds following his designated five paces behind. 

He made up his mind not to say anything in front of the King, and decided to continue wandering the palace. He figured he was bound to be able to find something that could be helpful. He walked for hours, searching for any new information. However, everything he came across, Reynolds had already explained to him in his soft, deep voice. Damn that Reynolds, he was a good teacher. 

He finally retreated, walking back to his room. He picked up his sketchbook. He hasn't touched it since he moved in. It was his most prized possession, and he can't believe how long it's been since he's even bothered to look at it. He starts drawing, not entirely sure what he is trying to accomplish. Before long, it becomes painfully obvious. Reynolds is slowly beginning to appear on the page. His eyes, his tight smile, his defined cheekbones, all are present in the portrait his pencil is creating.

Minutes begin to tick by, and Brimsley doesn't even notice as the window in his room grows darker and darker. The slam of a door wakes him from his trance. Reynolds is back. Brimsley sits up, before decidedly hiding his sketchbook underneath his pillow and knocking roughly on the wooden door. "Yes?" Reynolds responds. He sounds tired, so tired Brimsley already feels himself begin to waver. He opens the door. This is the first time he's been in Reynolds' room, despite it being just a wall away. It has a similar layout, but is clearly bigger than his. Reynolds is sitting on his bed, looking amused. But beneath his cavalier smile, Brimsley recognizes deep set worry. 

"Is there a reason you dismissed me today?" Once again, Brimsley sounds more gentle than he had intended. Reynolds' smile dims slighty. "As I said, our training is over. Soon, the Queen will be here, and you will not need even look at me any longer," His words sounded slurred. He stands up, unsteadily walking over to Brimsley. "What makes you think I want not to look at you?" He replied, somewhat surprised. 

Reynolds moves even closer to Brimsley, but this time the smell of gardenias was overcome by something else, something stronger. "You're drunk," Brimsley said, somewhat nervous. Drunk people always made Brimsley nervous, it brought him right back to the many a drunken man, touching him, holding him down, telling him that he wanted it. He didn't. 

Reynolds kept his eyes on Brimsley's as he began to laugh. He looked on the verge of collapse. He stumbled, leaning onto Brimsley. He shrugged Reynolds off and led him to sit down on the bed, "Reynolds, are you quite alright?" He persisted, concerned. Reynolds looked up at him, tears in his eyes. "Oh my," Brimsley said as he began to cry. Softly, broken, his tears sounding not at all like his voice that was so steady and fluid. He sounded so full of pain and sorrow that Brimsley almost felt like crying himself. He sat down next to Reynolds, and slowly wrapped his arms around him, allowing his shoulder to become wet with tears. 

They stayed like this, wrapped in each other's arms, for what felt like a long time. Slowly, Reynolds regained his composure, and was unable to look at Brimsley square in the eye. He inched away to the other corner of the bed before standing up suddenly. "I.... I am very sorry for all of this, it was just..... some unpleasant news from home. I greatly appreciate your understanding," He walked over to the door, gesturing for Brimsley to leave. Brimsley gawked, unbelieving what had just transpired only to then getting thrown out without so much as an explanation. He rose, without a word, and went into his room. He stared at the wooden door, the only thing keeping the two apart, unknowing that on the other side, Reynolds was doing the same thing.