This Charming Man

Eight

I passed Ryan in the corridor that evening while I was pushing the trolley to Mr Weekes' room.

"You won't be long will you?" he asked, eyeing over the trolley.

"I don't think so," I said. "Surely you can manage being away from me for too long?" I grinned teasingly.

He frowned and smacked my arm. "Shut it. You know fully well I'm talking about going to Gerard's room in a minute."

I stopped outside Mr Weekes' room and rubbed my arm, pouting. "Yeah, yeah, I know. No need to hit me," I mumbled and raised my hand to knock on the door but it opened before I could and Mr Weekes jumped slightly at the sight of us but smiled.

"Oh, hi, boys," he said, looking between me and Ryan. Ryan gave an awkward smile, before poking my arm as a reminder for later and left without saying a word. Mr Weekes stepped back and opened the door wider to let me in. He peered down the corridor to watch Ryan leave.

"Who's your friend?" he asked, closing the door behind him.

"Mhm? Oh, that's Ryan," I said absent-mindedly, setting up the cutlery but paused to think, "I suppose he's my best friend."

Mr Weekes crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. "Why so uncertain?"

I shrugged. "I dunno. I have a lot of friends here and I never thought about having a best one. But now that I have, I guess Ryan's my best friend."

I glanced over at Mr Weekes. He had an amused expression on his face.

"Can I ask you a question, Brendon?" he asked.

"Sure."

"How old are you?"

"Sixteen," I answered, picking up the tray and taking it over to the small table set on the balcony. I placed it down and walked back to the trolley and I could tell Mr Weekes was eyeing me up and down. I ducked my head to hide my flushed cheeks.

"I wouldn't have guessed that. You look older," he commented with a smile.

I swallowed and kept my gaze away from his while I shakily poured him a glass of wine. After a quiet moment, I gained the courage to ask, "H-how old are you then, Mr Weekes?"

Mr Weekes paused and blinked up at me. And then he grinned again. "I'm twenty-six," he replied.

Fuck, I thought, that was a bigger age gap than I was expecting.

"I-I wouldn't have guessed that," I repeated and turned to smile at him, "You look younger."

Mr Weekes laughed and stood up to pat my back. "Ah, you're funny, kid," he said walking over to the balcony. I followed and handed him the wine glass after he sat down.

"I-I believe that's everything-" I began but Mr Weekes patted the chair next to him.

"Why don't you take a seat, Brendon?" he smiled up at me hopefully.

I hesitated, then mumbled a "sure" and sat down on the edge of the seat nervously. Mr Weekes slumped back in his chair and sipped from his glass.

"I'd love to wake up to this every morning," he said and it took me a moment to realise he was talking about the view.

"O-oh yeah, it's beautiful," I said, instinctively squinting for the train station.

"I passed this place on the train a couple of years ago and I've been meaning to visit it for so long," he said, not looking at me.

I paused and felt my heart flutter slightly. "Y-you... You've been on the train?"

Mr Weekes looked at me blankly. "Uh... Yeah, of course I have. Why? Haven't you?"

I shook my head and looked down. "No. Not yet anyway. Ryan tried to get tickets but he didn't manage."

Mr Weekes looked confused. "Why can't you get them?"

"They're damn expensive! I'd have to save up for months to get one. No, make that years!"

He frowned. "I doubt it would take you years. Where was Ryan going to take you?"

"Valnesse City," I said, slumping down into the chair. "He had a list of places he wanted to take me."

I heard Mr Weekes chuckle softly. "What a sweet kid," he said and took another sip.

I glanced at him and smiled. "Yeah, he is. H-he bought me a present to make up for not going. He bought me a music box with the last of his money."

Mr Weekes looked back at me with his eyebrows raised. "Wow. You keep hold of that kid, Brendon. He sounds like a keeper."

I blushed and looked back at the sea. "What's Valnesse like?"

"Beautiful," he said. "Just really beautiful. Very busy as well. But working here, I'm sure you're used to that."

I scoffed and ran a hand through my hair. "I hate working here."

Mr Weekes gave me a sympathetic look. "I can imagine why. But how come you're still here?"

"I've been bound to this place since I was born. Well, that's what my grandma told me. She said working here is the only thing I'll ever do. I'll never make it anywhere else."

Mr Weekes frowned and looked over at me. "Hey, don't say things like that. You'll never get to Valnesse if you think like that."

I glanced over at him and sighed, slumping even further into my seat. "I just want to see something else. Something other than the bath house."

"And you will see it some day," Mr Weekes said, reaching his hand over to pat my arm, "You just need to give it some time. Things will change for you. They'll get better."

I looked at him again and smiled slightly. "Th-thank you, Mr Weekes," I said.

He smiled back and squeezed my arm. "You'll make it, Brendon. Trust me."

I glanced down at my watch and sighed. "I'd better go."

"Oh," Mr Weekes said, sounding disappointed. "Oh of course, you're meeting with Ryan. That's fine. Thank you for bringing me dinner. I can't get any work done in the restaurant," he said, getting up and leading me to the door. He opened it for me and smiled down at me. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said.

I smiled back and he hesitantly reached out and patted my shoulder.

"G-goodnight, Mr Weekes," I said, slightly flustered by his touch. He smiled and winked before closing the door behind him. I stood out in the quiet corridor for a long moment grinning madly to myself, then laughed and started running.