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"Mr. Von Hagen," You start, as the sun is setting down, lighting the room with its color, the light against the man in front of you creating a beautiful picture. He doesn't reply nor opens his eyes, and you might have been concerned, if not for the steady breathing he has. You quietly look at him, etching the moment into your brain with your eyes.
Even for the position you now have, you're not certain you could ever see the peaceful face he has right at this moment. (Because he never stays long enough for you to be awake when you're both sleeping together, discarding the fact that he could barely walk after those nights to go home.)
You almost jumped when he stirs in his seat, and you got a glimpse of a hickey you left on his pale neck, making you bite your lower lip remembering how he sounded last night.
The ticking of the clock nearby suddenly reminds you of your task, of what you should be doing right now. You exhale a quiet breath, not really wanting to wake the older man up. But work calls, and thankfully, this is the last meeting he has before he could rest for the day. So you walk closer carefully, touching his shoulder in an attempt to wake him up.
"Mr. Von Hagen," You repeat, a bit louder but still gentle all the same.
And Austin von Hagen finally opens his eyes, unconsciously leaning towards your arm that's resting on his shoulder, making you want to lock him up in a room and shooing everybody away—just so you could make him rest and cling to you even more. Ah, but that's not good, isn't it? You'll be overstepping your boundaries he has set, and seconds later you would be jobless and homeless.
You sigh quietly. Oh dear, you and your imagination. You wait for a few moments, until he has fully regained his consciousness before clearing your throat to speak.
"Sir, the young master has asked to meet with you." You carefully take in the change in his expression, and gesture to the phone on his desk. "If you are up for a meeting with him, I will call him in." The chairman looks as if he's thinking, his purple eyes gazing over the telephone.
"Please tell him I am not available today, and that I apologize for that." His words are nothing less than absolute for you, and so you bite your tongue to keep yourself from making any comments and pick up the telephone.
You then close the call after a few minutes, and find that the older man has been looking at you almost shyly. You smile gently at him, leaning towards him but not quite touching—close enough that you can smell his cologne, a calm scent that you really like. “What is it, sir?” You chose to caress his hand briefly, feeling butterflies in your stomach when you see him instantly relaxing at your touch.
“Hold me.” You inhale, closing your eyes when you feel his cold fingertips touching your neck. You slowly open them again, your eyes meeting with his, and the usually untouchable man never looked so fragile before. Never have you dreamed of holding the Austin von Hagen in your arms, but the universe sure likes playing with your heart. (Not that you will ever complain, thank you very much.)
“We just did it earlier, sir, I’m afraid you’ll--” A hand covering your mouth stops your words from flowing out, and you only retract your hand as you straighten your back, stepping away from where he sits.
“No.” The words coming out of his mouth are shaky at best. You longed to touch him again, releasing his burden, to make him look at you and only you.
“I’m not fragile, Mr. Secretary, I won’t break if you enter me again.” ( I am worried about you, sir,) You bite your tongue. His pale complexion looks even worse this time. But the look in his eyes tells you that you won’t be going anywhere without giving him what he wants, so you kneel in front of his seat, holding his hand tenderly.
“Alright.” You press your lips on the back of his hand. You wished you could just stay like this forever, worshipping this man forever.
“Make me forget everything.” He whispers, and you can only hold his hand tighter, before nodding.
“I got you, sir.”