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All things considered, Guillermo is a pretty private person, despite the fact that he's willing to share a home with four other beings and to let a full-on documentary crew record what feels like his every waking move. At first, he stutters in the eye of the camera lens, finds himself hyper aware that people are watching. He has grown a bit more comfortable in front of the camera, but even off camera he tries to control his facial expressions, tries to keep his voice level.
He holds most of what he feels close to his chest, like a secret just for him, and he's happy to keep things that way. Some part of him supposes it must be, in part, a defense mechanism, first developed as the only queer child in a traditionally Catholic family, then the only gay chubby kid in his class, and now the only human being living in a house full of vampires.
He has a tendency to be the odd one out, he muses.
But it isn't as though he doesn't have outlets. He has quiet ways of expressing himself. He's grown to find liberation in quick, scathing glances at the camera. Sometimes he finds himself typing in all caps to a Twitter following of 0 people. (A bot once followed him, but he blocked and reported on principle).
Sometimes he draws. Well, a lot of times he draws. He's got sketchbook upon sketchbook hidden under his cot in his tiny closet bedroom, pages filled with drawings he feels immeasurably proud of and drawings he is embarrassed to have even done.
One sketchbook - a beautiful, leatherbound book he had received as a Christmas gift the last time he was able to get the day off of work , as he explained - is hidden underneath the rest, tucked in the back corner of the room under his bed. It's private. An outlet. Nothing more.
Which is why when he enters his room and finds Nandor sitting cross legged on the floor beside the bed, pages into his leatherbound sketchbook, he gasps aloud. He knows it's dramatic, but the situation seems to warrant it.
"What are you doing in here?" he blurts. Nandor's dark eyes dart upwards and Guillermo quickly adds, "...master." He can't help the thought creeping up that if Nandor just moved over just slightly and opened up his minifridge, he would be done for. It sends a shiver (a thrill?, he judges himself) down his spine
Nandor looks somewhat appeased by the honorific. He explains, slowly, his teeth showing, "Well, I wanted to draw a picture but I couldn't find any paper. So Colin Robinson told me you have some under your bed."
"Fucking Colin Robinson," Guillermo mutters to himself, and maybe he is imagining the slight upturn at the corner of his master's mouth.
Nandor's got the book open to what is admittedly one of Guillermo's favorites: a detailed, portrait-style drawing of his master, eyes dark and fixed ahead, long hair fanning around his face, lips slightly parted in a hint of a smile.
"You are a talented artist, Guillermo," Nandor remarks, turning the page to another drawing of himself, this time posing near his horse John. Guillermo watches, pride and affection blossoming in his chest as Nandor's thumb moves almost imperceptibly across the image of his beloved horse. He looks down at it for a beat longer before flipping the page again, this time to a sketchdump of Nandor in a cartoon style from all different angles and wearing every expression Guillermo could think of.
Embarrassment wells and he reaches down to take the book, but Nandor snatches it away, standing up in a flurry of capes. "I can't help but notice, Guillermo, that all of these drawings are of me," Nandor states proudly, pointing at his chest.
"Well, I…"
"But I do not remember sitting for any of these. Look at this!" Nandor exclaims, pointing at a detailed drawing of himself snarling, teeth bared. "How did you capture my likeness so well?"
If Guillermo had an Amazon Echo, he would ask it: 'Alexa, how do I tell my boss that the reason I can draw him from memory is because I look at him every chance I get and I think about his face almost 24/7?'. Sadly, however, he doesn't have an Echo, so he has to rely on instinct alone.
As far as instincts go, he's pretty shit, so he blurts, "I like how your face looks."
Nandor seems at least a bit taken aback by that. Can vampires blush? Is that what Guillermo is seeing?
"Oh... Well… I see," Nandor flounders, and Guillermo tries to hide his smile. He takes the opportunity to gently pry the sketchbook away from his master's hands.
They stand there in an awkward silence for a moment before Guillermo offers, "I could give you the drawing I did of you and John. We could get a new frame for it online."
Nandor's eyes light up at that and once again Guillermo feels a swelling of affection for his all at once impossible and charming master. "Yes. I would like that very much."
"And I could maybe draw an even better one. Whatever you want the pose to be, I can do it."
An unreadable expression passes across Nandor's face before Guillermo is suddenly swept up in a tight embrace, his master's long arms surrounding his waist. He drops the sketchbook on the bed and gently wraps his arms around Nandor's shoulders, letting his head rest against his master's neck. He savors the rare moment of intimacy between them, breathing in the musky scent of his master's clothing, and the smell that is uniquely Nandor underneath. They've only hugged like this on a few occasions, and this embrace seems to linger. "Thank you," Nandor murmurs above him, and Guillermo buries his smile into the collar of his cloak.
"You're welcome, master," he breathes, purposefully letting the air fan out against his master's neck, delighting in the slight gasp of breath Nandor takes before he pulls away from the hug quickly. Damn , he thinks. He's pushed his luck too far. Nandor adjusts his cape, composing himself, and Guillermo finds himself fiddling with the hem of his sweater.
"Well, thank you again," Nandor says dumbly, hovering at the doorway.
Guillermo smiles in what he hopes is a reassuring manner. "You're welcome, master."
Nandor bares his teeth in an approximation of a smile before ducking out of the room. Once he's sure he's gone, Guillermo grabs the sketchbook and opens it to the second to last page, letting out a sigh of relief as his eyes scan the page. As he gazes at the detailed drawing of his master in a rather… lewd position, he thanks God for the fact that Nandor didn't see this page. Feels wrong, thanking God for a thing like that, but fuck it. He's grateful.
This page - he thinks, looking at the drawing and beginning to get a little hot under the collar - would have been a little harder for him to explain.