IdentityV - Oneshots

♠︎ Count - Joseph x Reader

You walked with the click of your heels echoing behind you, holding a plate of silver utensils and other necessities of breakfast on one hand. You stopped abruptly at a closed door, your dress swaying past you slightly from the sudden halt. You took a deep breath. It was strange, you never used to be such a nervous person before. But after the loss of your Lord's twin brother, the manor you were housed in to take care of them both grew dapper and dreary.

You knocked on the door loudly but respectfully. Soft knocks were no good, as the Count would usually be wrapped in a heavy depressive sleep. "My Lord, it's time for breakfast now." You were silent, and waited patiently. However you knew that if you heard no shuffling of sheets and whatnot in about five seconds, your Lord was not going to answer.

He was usually very uptight and tried to be the best he could be... but some days he just couldn't do it.

You picked a key from your pocket, separated from the rest and inserted it into the door. "I'm coming in, please excuse me." Turning the key, and then the knob, you swung the door open. Instantly you were hit with the smell of some sort of alcoholic beverage. The curtains were not drawn, hence the darkness of the room that you had gotten used to by now.

You placed the tray of goodies on your Lords desk before walking straight to the lump in his bed. "My Lord." You said softly but firmly. You pitied him, after all these years he could still not let go of his brother. You heard muffled grumbles in his pillow. "My Lord it's time to get up." You said reluctantly. You couldn't really stand the sight of him like this. "I'll open the curtains-"

"Don't."

You stopped before you could even start to walk to the windows. Your eyes drifted down to your master and he looked up to you with a scowl. "Uhm, you need to wake up though... to eat. If you don't eat you'll get sick." Under his glare, you couldn't help but look away nervously. He was mean when he wanted to be. "Let me have this." He said lowering his head back down.

"Joseph..." You whispered, and he tensed up. When you began to work here you were young, a tad younger than Joseph and Claude. You practically grew up together, of course on respectable terms. You were his maid, and as displeasing as that was to you, it was the truth. So when you did mumble his name, he knew you meant it. That you were serious, and in that moment in time you were no longer his maid, but his friend.

You sat down lightly on his bed. "I know it hurts. I know that you don't want to wake up and live with the fact that you can't see him anymore..." Your eyes drifted to him, and he was as still as ever. But he wasn't cutting you short, so that was good. "I miss him too. I know that I'm not sure how you truly feel, I've never lost a sibling before but," You turned to him, and as he heard you do so, he lifted his head up to look at you. "Please do not burden your life like this, because it hurts me to see you so sad. I may be your maid, but when we were young we were the best of friends. So as a friend, would you please eat your breakfast?"

It was a simple request but it meant a lot to you. He would barely eat, and it worried you of his health. "Please." You breathed out. It was quiet, and your expression was aloof, waiting for an answer. "I'll eat in a minute then." You heard him mumble, before he wrapped a hand around your waist. Your eyes widened, but you didn't move. Sometimes he would simply hug you at any given time, for comfort, something. To feel anything. So you let him be, quiet as the smell of tea filled his room. In time, the man did release you, but it was hesitant.

"Thank you, Count." You said gently as you stood from the bed and patted off your skirt. His face silently contorted into annoyance at the title you would call him. He heard it come from your mouth just about everyday, yet it caused his so much discomfort. A simple call of his name would do, but he knew if he allowed that, you were sure to get unwanted attention from the other staff.