Master Tomlinson

22-Who Are We?

The first night we spent at the cottage was hard to remember, but memorable at the same time... mainly because we had finished a bottle and a half of red wine during our prolonged conversation—and just two glasses was enough to have me slurring my words. At some point in the night we must've made it up to the bedroom because here I was; it was 9:36am and I had a pounding headache, and soft snores erupted loudly from the sleeping body beside me. I peeked over at Louis; his hair a mess, lips ajar and shirtless as he lay there. Slowly, I retrieved my arm from under his and cautiously navigated to the edge of the bed. I groaned in frustration at how sore my back was, which made me even more curious as to what had happened the night prior. With a glance at the man beside me, I pulled myself out of bed and headed to the bathroom. After I emptied my bladder, I brushed my teeth and got myself decent looking. My under eyes were dark and gloomy from lack of sleep and my skin was still pale as usual, but my eyes were shining like bright emeralds. I hadn't looked in the mirror closely in a while, and it looked like my face was starting to gather a sharper shape to it; as though my "baby face" had disappeared completely. I looked like a proper man. It was odd to look at for some reason.
As I stood there, peering into the mirror, a rumbling noise made itself present in the pit of my stomach. I guess that would be my next order of business then. The thought of tea made my mouth water.

I exited the master suite quietly in attempt to leave him at peace and went down to the kitchen for some tea. A kettle was put on the stove to heat up as I grabbed some milk and sugar. My body leaned against the island; arms crossed over my shirt as I waited for the water to boil. A constant tingling sensation on my stomach made me curious and once I lifted my shirt to investigate, I noticed a small red blotch. Instantly, I gulped. I knew I shouldn't have drank that red wine.

At that same moment, I heard footsteps coming towards the stairs. The water began to boil, so I scrambled to get two cups out and the tea itself that I had forgot about. The kettle was going wild; whistling and shaking in attempt to tell me that it was ready. The disruptive noise was enough to send sharp pains over my forehead in addition to the pounding headache that lived inside of my head currently. With a groan in displeasure, I grabbed the kettle with an oven glove and set it on a cool burner; the hissing noise subsiding almost instantly. I had gathered an audience— and he was standing half naked against the island, his tired face pulled into an amused smirk as I scrambled around the kitchen. When I noticed him watching me, my cheeks got hot.
"Hungover?" Louis asked rhetorically as he observed me in the process of rubbing my temples. With a simple nod, I shook my head softly and huffed. "I should've trusted myself when I said I would never drink again." I laughed dryly and then went back to making us some tea. I went to give Louis his cup and pressed a tender kiss to his lips, which looked more plump than usual and slightly swollen, and he took the tea graciously. I sipped on the piping hot liquid and leaned against the island next to him, setting the cup down to relieve my hands from the scorching hot pain they were in. "How do you feel?" I asked curiously, lifting an eyebrow at the seemingly alright man. He didn't seem hungover at all. Louis kept a smile now, sipping on the hot tea without flinching. He hummed at the good taste and looked over at me with the cup still in his hands. "I feel terrible but... I'm used to it." He grinned and let out a soft chuckle, shuffling in place to be more comfortable. "Did you want something for breakfast? I can m-"
"No.. no that's alright," I cut him off and we both instantly laughed knowingly, but Louis persisted. "I can make some things. I think I made pancakes once." He claimed proudly, puffing his chest out as though he was posh.
With a hesitant look at the self assured man, I nodded slowly. It can't hurt to have him try... pancakes weren't made up of many ingredients. But it was the cooking process that scared me.
"Pancakes it is.." I mumbled softly, still unsure of that decision. Louis, who was aware of my skepticism, only grinned sideways and continued on with his plans. As it turns out, he did know how to cook pancakes. Despite me breathing against his back; he did good on his own. It felt like the role was reversed and I was actually in charge of him; considering that I felt like his mother. My mind began to wander now that I mentioned his mother, he never spoke of her much. I didn't want to pry, but I figured it would give us something to talk about.

"Can I ask something?" I questioned the busy boy, who was now scrubbing the dishes we had just used for breakfast. Louis nodded as he rinsed the porcelain plate and handed it to me to dry, blue eyes peeking up at me curious as to what I would say. "What was your mother like?"
Louis didn't seem too fazed by my question, to my benefit. He continued to wash the pan with a smile, just less of a smile than before and he never met my eyes. He cleared his throat quietly before he spoke and then began.
"She was my favourite person in the whole world," Louis paused and smiled wider over at me as he reminisced in his mind, before continuing, "We would have tea parties, go for lunch in the garden.. and she would be the one making our food. We would sing lullabies at bed time.. And as I grew up, she never stopped loving me. Despite... you know, me being.. Gay." Louis laughed dryly, shaking his head at his own words. His eyes were squinting from happiness from the memories he told me about, and I found myself smiling too. "She became ill when I was 16 and passed away.. and then it was just my father and I." Louis' smile faded as he ended the story, and then looked back at me once again. "What was your mother like?"
You'd think that I would think of my family a lot more than I do, but in reality it was just too painful. I used to wish I could see them all the time for the first year I was taken from them, and then my mind became concerned with other things like... surviving. Thinking of my mother now made my heart tighten.
"I don't think she could've done more for me than she did. I mean, my father worked for us... but she took care of us. As a child I didn't know about slavery, so I guess that should speak volumes on how good of a mother she was. She was my protector." I admitted. Louis stared into my eyes sorrowfully, glancing down at the sink briefly before he met my gaze again. I could see that my words had planted something in his head, although I wasn't trying to make a point about anything.
"What's their names?" Louis asked after a moment of silence, his smile now gone into a flat line.
"Anne and Desmond... Yours?"
"Johannah and Troy." Louis replied back as he was now drying his hands off against his pants, before leaning his back against the sink gently. "Do you miss them?" He asked after a moment of silence. His thin lip was taken between those white teeth of his as he looked at me with curiosity. It was easy to see when the cogwheels in his brain were moving because he tends to bite his lip in silence.
With a small gulp, I nodded slowly while I put the last plate away. "I-I do..." I stuttered slightly, mumbling a bit before I thought about my words carefully. I was in a tough position here. Because if I said anything about being a slave and being taken from my family to the man who bought me— it sounded disrespectful. But that's also how you know just how.. messed up this whole thing is. Even if Louis treats me like I'm an individual, I am still being careful not to upset him constantly. I was bred to please people.
"But what?" Louis asked after he noticed me trailing off into my own thoughts. I looked over at him with uncertainty about my words and proceeded to speak. "But.. there's no use to dwell on it. This is my life now, I can't change that." My tone was quiet but loud enough for Louis to hear, and for a minute I thought I could see something flicker in his eyes. Louis was good at remaining... unreadable. He could hide feelings better than I could. You have to watch him to know if something changes.

Louis walked over to me with a blank expression— to which I became a bit nervous— and slowly extended his arms to wrap around my waist. Pulling me closer to his bare chest, I slipped my arms up around his neck concurrently and locked my fingers together. Those dark blue eyes pierced through mine; staring down into my soul so deeply that my heart felt like it was going to explode. The way he stared at me made my stomach flutter with butterflies and my knees were feeble. Without any words, I felt like we were connecting.. and it felt like I could see another side of him. A softer side of the man that maybe drank too much alcohol, and that maybe broke a couple of hearts. A man that was bred to be strong, staring into a man who was bred to be weak. The universe was colliding and a storm was forming; but the only thing I could think of was how selfishly, horrendously infatuated I had become with him.