Love Overcast // (ManxMan)

=Chapter 16=

A/N: Let's just take a moment to appreciate my sense in models... Just kidding, but Leonardo's (Eric Rutherford) genes are flaming. This is my second strange taste, first is body builders, second is older men. There're more, trust me.

[Leonardo]

Code red! Code red! Super sexy single father with the most lickable biceps in town is going to be here in T minus 15 minutes and my house is still filled to the brim with empty boxes from helping Brason move his stuff into the apartment! Fuck! "Leo! You go clean up the studio, I'll chuck the boxes!" He yells from upstairs.

I am unashamed to say that I have the whole floor of two apartments purchased, I make a good amount of money enough to support both my living space and the art studio directly across. Brason is going to live with me for the time being, he's still going to get his 'paid internship' when in reality I am just giving him money because I have more than what I need.

Brason runs down the spiral stairs and stops in front of me. "Boxes can go into the studio, it's messy enough to blend right in." I say, picking up a couple of his boxes. Brason is naturally very fashionable, but he doesn't go anywhere without a strange bracelet that's been there since I met him.

He lifts the boxes off my hands and comes to hug me around my shoulders. "Thank you for doing so much for me Leo." This kid really does make me want to cry my eyes out, he's so sweet and I wished I had a son like him. But to have that, the primary goal would be to not suck at being independent first. Brason is so much better than me at living on his own, which I am thankful for.

To my understanding, Brason grew up in an orphanage because of a fire accident from a residential-commercial complex in Montreal, I looked it up in curiosity's sake and it did not look pretty at all. Apart from the fact that he doesn't have adoptive parents and he's only been in foster homes, I don't know much about his past.

Nicola only came around and got in touch with the orphanage for Brason's contact number after Brason had moved out and was able to be independent. She ran from her home in Montreal to live in this dingy town when she was barely 17, meaning that she lost all contact with Brason's parents. The family fall out didn't help either, and she never knew Brason was born in the first place.

I cradle Brason's head to my shoulder. "It's all good, you are my responsibility until you decide to leave. Don't be upset to ask me for anything." With a weak pat to the back of his head, I pull away and smile. We continue to throw the flattened cardboard boxes in the studio.

Sebastien is a very interesting man. Apart from his obviously killer face, body and that fucking swoon worthy beard, he's a total mystery to me and that, above all things makes me think that he is a very intriguing person. He approached me the other day through text saying:

Good morning, I understand that it is an unholy hour to message you, but I just realised that I never reached out to you. I hope we can meet up sometime in the near future and make friends.

Which is all fun and games, I was ready to reply because I was up late watching a reality show with Brason sleeping in the armchair. But then, he adds:

Please don't respond! Dad needs to sleep, but you two should be friends, I heard many good thi

The text ends abruptly, so I guess it wasn't Sebastien who was sending the second part. Regardless, I replied with an offer to come to my place for a behind the scenes since he is so interested in everything that goes on behind the scenes of my otherwise glamorous lifestyle portrayed by magazines and the like.

Now that I think about it, if he wants to see the behind the scenes stuff, those boxes in the studio will be a problem...

Before I get a chance to get rid of them, the bell rings and Brason ducks out the second doorway of the apartment with a nice smile and salute, he promised he would leave for a couple hours to catch some air while Sebastien is up here. Which is great because I need the privacy if I'm going to be confined between the studio space and my living area with a man hotter than an incandescent light bulb without the glass.