Chapter Text
Creaking and groaning, the house settles as the two men step through the front door. The interior smells of books and candles, the drafts seeping through the doorway. Only a faint light comes from a room far off in the distance, keeping the manors mystery locked tight, until entry.
Antonio takes a deep breath in, following Joseph past the doorway and inside his home. The ceiling extends far above their heads, only compared in height from castles and mansions where he had once performed.
much too high for someone of his height, Antonio laughs under his breath.
“Please.. Let me take your coat, if I may?” Joseph panders towards Antonio, who quickly snaps from his gaze at the ceiling.
“Go right ahead, Mr. Desaulniers.” He answers with a faint smile. He turns his back towards Joseph, who places his hands on the taller man's shoulders. He begins to slip off his coat, looking over Antonio’s shoulder into the distance.
“You know… You can call me Joseph, mon ami, I don’t mind.”
he says, his voice breathy and sincere, filling the room with an unsuspected tension. Holding the edges of Antonio’s coat at a pause around his arms, Joseph peers over at Antonio, who seemed more or less unfazed. Though suddenly, he turns sharply and grabs his own coat and pulls it down himself.
The violinist's hand lingers on Josephs, who hadn’t let go of the edge of the coat yet.
“ My apologies, “ He removes his hand.
“I’m rather used to people asserting that I use their last name, though I guess this is under different circumstances…” He says before turning back around and offering Joseph a smile.
That’s one thing that stuck out to Joseph, the man’s smile. It was curious, close-lipped, and never really seemed truly genuine. Joseph wondered if he could see his real smile tonight, or another night in the future.
“Well then, Joseph, what do you have in store for me tonight?”
Antonio walks back over to the white haired man, who had also taken off his own coat. Joseph clears his throat and motions to the what appears to be-dining room across the hall. The table is older looking, engravings carved into each side, and sporting a seemingly 18th century french looking tablecloth. It appears to be able to hold six people, not that Joseph would be inviting over that many people anytime soon.
“ I have some beef stew in the making… although do tell me if you’re not keen on eating meat, I can make adjustments.” Joseph makes his way into the dining room, Antonio following his lead. Gesturing for him to have a seat, Joseph grabs the seat across from his.
“It’s a french dish, it’s traditionally called-”
“Boeuf bourguignon? And I’m fine with meat, don’t worry.”
Joseph’s eyes light up, even if only for a moment.
“Ah- I wasn’t aware that you really knew any french, other than in mockery, as before.” He chuckles, staring long and hard into Antonio’s piercing eyes.
“Well… I’ve been to France once before. I was invited to perform for a rich couple and their party guests for quite the sum of money… Of course those are days of my past, and no longer do I intend to sell out my talent to upperclassmen such as them.”
Antonio jeers, smirking as his eyes flick around the lavish room. A single chandelier illuminates the room casting meaningful shadows into the corners and creases of the men’s faces.
“Fascinating. I don’t suppose now Is too late to inform you that I do, in fact, come from wealth.”
Joseph leans forward as to regain Antonio’s attention, placing one hand under his own chin in support. Antonio laughs at the sound of this, the sides of his lips reaching out to his ears. His teeth show when he smiles, his eyes crinkling and closing.
He has such a unique smile, beautiful.
Joseph thinks to himself, studying Antonio’s face as he notices the shorter man inspecting him. Dropping the laughter quickly, Antonio regains his stoic composure and clasps his hands together.
“We are among different circumstances, so do not worry, my friend. I trust you to not betray my relaxation in your home.”
Antonio’s words come from a place of hate, how the words roll off of his tongue seethe with all the pain of past experiences. He seems off-put, now. His mind drifting to the depths of his memories, reminding him of his past life. Joseph senses the shift in mood, pushes his chair back and stands.
“Ah, well then. I’ll get you some wine? If you’d like, that is.” Joseph offers as he walks towards the kitchen. Antonio snaps his attention back on their conversation,
“Yes, I’d like something. And if it’s not too much trouble, grab yourself something as well. I drink alone far too often.” Now it’s Joseph’s turn to laugh, turning back.
“I gave up drinking a long time ago, mon ami. I’ll grab myself a regular drink.”
Joseph retorts, his voice seeming almost snarky. Antonio shuffles back into his seat, “Ah, my apologies.” He voices before returning to inspecting the rest of the room as Joseph retrieves the two’s drinks. In the kitchen, Joseph stops just short of the drink cabinet.
It’s been so long since He’d had another person in his home, much less had someone to actively talk to and enjoy spending time with. Joseph was not rather impartial towords other people, he enjoyed his own time and secrecy. He’d been so long with his empty house and silent nights, he was enjoying this.
He hoped that Antonio was happy with his presence as well.
He thought of how his back moved underneath his shirt, as if the shirt was really much too tight for him. And how much taller he appeared to be, despite always being slightly hunched over. He thought of how his hands seemed so worn from years of musical work, yet still, Joseph had the fleeting thought of reaching out and taking them in his own.
Joseph shook his head and opens the drink cabinet, grabbing a bottle of wine and some sparkling water. He had to remember that this was not like the past couple times people have made their way into his lonely home, Antonio was here as a guest he had invited in for dinner, not an escort, not someone that he could think about for more than today.
Still, he ached for a moment longer.
Returning to the table with two glasses, Joseph poured each of them their respective drinks. The two shared a moment of silence at the dining table, neither bothering to strike up conversation and ruin the comfortable silence.
After a while, the room darkens, and the sun begins to set, showering the two in a glow of pink and yellow.
“I suppose that’s our que to begin dinner, yes?” Joseph quips, finally meeting eyes with Antonio once more. Antonio’s gaze lingers on Joseph as he takes a sip of his wine.
“Whatever you’re thinking, Joseph.”
His name gathers in the air and stays like condensation forming on a window. Joseph loves how the taller man says his name, as if he were a person Antonio saw regularly, as if he were really a part of his life.
God, I need to get out more. He thinks.
I can’t just pick up a wandering musician and expect them to want something more.
Do I want something more?
Joseph ponders. He hadn’t known Antonio for even a full day, yet less than a day is all one could need to form a connection. But, he can’t possibly want something more, not so soon. People don’t want so soon, people don’t have the desire to invite them back into your home, they don’t have the feeling of grasping for something they cannot reach,
they don’t feel like they need to pull them closer and closer till there’s no more gap between them and nothing left to lose.
So no, I can’t possibly want something more.
Joseph is far too stubborn to think about feelings. He stands up and walks into the kitchen, leaving his present thoughts behind to linger in the air, heavy and hot. Besides, dinner was currently more important than whatever mess of a man Joseph was hiding behind his mask.
Much more important.