¤The Mansion Maid¤

Chapter Twenty

"It's really nice to meet you, (Y/N)! I'm sure Miles has already been speaking about me."

"Hah! Yeah, he has. Uh, Milo, right? And your friend is...?"

"Alexander. Pleasure to meet you, (Y/N)." Your eyes meet with his green ones, shaking his hand firmly. Just then, a soft knock came from the door. Must be Miles.

You go over, pulling the doorknob and opening the door. Being met with Miles and a strangely familiar face. A girl. Blonde hair, vertical stripes dyed brown and grayish white eyes. "Oh, (Y/N)! Hey! You already met Alex and my brother, so this is my girlfriend."

You give the girl a smile, your eyes lingering on her for a few moments more. "It's nice to meet you. ...Have we met before?"

.

.

.

"No. Sorry."

《■□■□■□■》

"This feels silly."

You were laying on your back on Helen's bed, your head hanging off the side and the blanket draped over you.

"Don't move. You'll ruin it." His monotone voice cut through, his gaze flickering from you to his canvas. His arm shifted with each soft stroke of his paintbrush.

"Can you not just take a picture and then I can go?" You question, while doing your best to remain in the same position.

"It's better having the real thing. Photos don't catch what I see." No elaboration and you don't think he'd give you one anyway. So you just enjoyed the silence. Helen's jaw tightened, his concentration fixed. He let out a frustrated grunt, putting his brush down. You raise an eyebrow, silently asking about his wellbeing. "I'm not getting the right atmosphere for this. It's just not right." He pressed his fingers against his temple as he spoke more to himself than you.

You slowly sit up, moving to place yourself at the edge of his bed before climbing off and walking to his side. "Now what the fuck are you seeing." You didn't even hide the disbelief in your tone. What does he mean 'not right'? This looked amazing. Why does it matter that the atmosphere isn't right? He sent a sharp look to you.

"Why did you move? I'm redoing this. It's not good enough." He snaps at you, glaring at the masterpiece he's made.

"Again?" You groan, "Seriously, take a photo. My head aches." He grits his teeth, his eyes narrowing further but doesn't push any further. He puts his supplies away, moving the canvas away.

"You looked nice though. In that position." He says with his back turned to you, fixing his bed of any ruffled areas. "I like being with you, (Y/N)."

Sweat forms at your neck, hairs standing on its end. You subtly rub it down, chuckling nervously. "Yeah, well, you're not bad company either. Great for two friends, huh?"

"Hm."

"Yup! Great friends, aren't we?"

"I want you."

"...huh?"

You look at him, he was still fixing his bed. He looked over his shoulder. "Hm? What is it?" He sounded genuinely confused. Were you hearing things?

"You just- uh, never mind. I'll see you later, Helen."

←- - - -→

He waited for the door to shut, a soft click echoing around his room. He let out a breath he didn't know he was even holding.