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Thoma has a mental list— ten things I'll do for waka to make things easier for him. It's not something extravagant, Thoma just wants to offer his best services to his lord–be it cooking for his everyday meals, removing the stains in his white clothes, and preparing his bath even before he steps inside the chamber. He'd even take the whole world if he has to as long as it means it will lighten the load that Ayato carries.
Ten years ago, when the Kamisato Clan was declining, Thoma was given a choice to stay or leave. The moment he chose to stay and pledge his loyalty to the Kamisatos, he knew what he had to do to assist them in any way he could.
"My lord, it's time to wake up." Thoma gently removes the strands of hair falling on the side of Ayato's face. The touch feels like a feather bumping on the soft skin, his fingertips feeling the tingle as it brushes Ayato's cheek. The bags under his lord's eyes make him frown. Ayato stayed up late again to finish his paperwork.
The first thing on his list, wake Ayato up in the morning. It sounds like a simple task but waking up his lord after a stressful working night is a huge fit.
The killing intent that drips from Ayato's body is so much that anyone in the vicinity could feel the ominous aura. Thoma has to slowly peel the blanket off so the moisture from the cold morning can seep through his skin, slowly waking him up.
A groan falls from Ayato's lips, eyebrows furrowing as he pats for his blanket with his eyes closed.
Thoma watches in interest, letting Ayato struggle with the blanket until he drops his hand with a loud humph.
When Ayato settles down, Thoma sits on the side of the bed and takes the cold hand, warming it with his palms. "My lord, your bath is ready. Do you want me to carry you there?"
The second thing on his list, asking Ayato if he wants to be carried in the bath or not. Most of the time he's still too sleepy and Thoma wants to give him a few minutes to catch some sleep again before he gets fully woken up by the warm bath.
Every second of sleep matters for his lord and Thoma makes sure that there is no time wasted.
Ayato looks at him with half-opened eyes, lips curling up in a sweet smile. He's still in a daze but he reaches out to touch Thoma's cheek as light as a feather, as gentle as the spring breeze. Thoma can feel his hands getting sweaty.
"My lord?"
"Carry me," Ayato's voice is low and hoarse from sleep. The sound travels on Thoma's veins, filling his system until all he could feel is numbness in the back of his head and an explosion in front of his eyes.
It took a lot of willpower to get out of the trance, blinking away the fog, swallowing the huge lump on his throat.
Thoma takes the hand on his cheek, letting it linger between his hands before putting it back on top of the mattress. He stands up from the bed, scooping up Ayato like a princess being carried by the prince.
Thoma is far from being a prince, he muses in his mind. He is just a servant, a loyal person that promised to serve for the rest of his life.
But even if he is no prince, he will carry Ayato like this as long as he allows him to.
The walk from the chamber to the bath feels so long. Or perhaps Thoma moves like a snail, savoring the moment that Ayato is snuggled in his arms, head leaning on his chest.
Thoma hopes Ayato doesn't hear the loud beating of his heart.
The third thing on his list starts as he helps Ayato wash up if he's still too sleepy to move around.
When he puts Ayato inside the tub, smoke rising from the warm water, he notices that his lord is still in a hazy state. Just like what he always does every morning, he takes the shampoo from the rack, puts a small amount on his palm, and starts massaging Ayato's hair with it.
Thoma's touches are tender as if he's afraid to put more pressure, afraid to do more than he's supposed to.
Ayato stays oblivious to the storm brewing inside Thoma's chest as he hums, his body vibrating from the sound. Slowly, he can feel himself waking up, the fog getting blown away by the touches of his retainer's hand.
There are no words spoken, only the splashing sound of the water as Ayato moves his legs and the sound of Thoma's hands rubbing his hair fill the room.
"My lord, do you need help washing your body too?"
It takes a few moments before Thoma realizes how bold his question is. When he sees the tips of Ayato's ear turning into a pretty shade of pink down to his nape and shoulder blades, Thoma takes his hand away.
"I… I mean, you're having a hard time washing your back, right? I can do it for you too if you want."
Ayato looks at him over his shoulders, his cheeks are painted with pink as well, like roses in full bloom. Thoma wonders if the water is too warm for his lord's skin. "No need, Thoma. I've troubled you enough."
A sigh escapes Thoma's lips. He's relieved that he doesn't need to do it but also disappointed.
I'm the worst.
He pulls the door closed, leaving Ayato inside the bath. He stares at his hands, trembling in anticipation. The urge to touch the milky white skin, as white as porcelain and as pretty as the snow he can see in books and pictures, drives him nuts.
It's only the third on his list and yet he feels like he'll lose his mind first before he gets to the end of it.
It isn't that hard before but as his feelings grow like wild vines, holding his heart in a vice-like grip, it's no longer the same. There are no thorns, just buds blooming into flowers as it gets harder and harder to control.
The fourth thing on the list is to make sure that Ayato eats breakfast before he goes to work.
Thoma doesn't want Ayato to pass out from an empty stomach and fatigue again just like what happened last time when he refused to eat anything.
Every day is like a feast; food in different bowls and plates adorned with vegetables and fruits cut in different shapes and sizes filled the table. The presentation makes it elegant. Anyone who can see would salivate from the sight.
Ayato steps inside the dining room, mouth watering in an instant when he sees all of his favorite food. "Thoma, you've cooked too much again." Although he says it in a disapproving tone, his glinting eyes can't lie.
Thoma scratches the back of his head, smiling sheepishly. "It's just a simple breakfast, my lord."
He says that but it's mostly Ayato's favorites. It is cooked the way Ayato wanted, with the right amount of seasoning and with the right amount of ingredients.
Despite saying that the food is too much, Ayato eats it all without leaving a single grain behind.
Thoma can't help but love him even more.
The fifth thing on his list, wash Ayato's clothes. The colors are easy to stain and with his lord's clumsy movements at times, it turns the white fabric into the color of the ground.
With a basin prop up on his waist, he goes to the laundry area to do his work. He discards his coat on the side, leaving his black fitted shirt sticking on every inch of his skin.
"Aiya," He groans when he sits down on the small stool like an old man with a waist problem, an expression that he got from the elders in the city.
As he starts rubbing the clothes in his hand, the bubbles rise, filling up the basin. He looks like he's fighting for his life as he rubs the clothes vigorously and then applies some transparent liquid from the stain from time to time.
"A little more," he whispers, then rubs the clothes again.
From too much concentration, he doesn't notice that the small stool next to him is pulled up by someone. When he stops rubbing the clothes, that's when he realizes that he's not alone.
Ayato's presence surprises the retainer that he almost topples over from his seat. "My lord!" Thoma rubs the clothes one more time. "What are you doing here? It's hot in here."
Ayato's eyes linger on Thoma's biceps flexes every time he rubs the clothes. "I can tell."
"Is there something I can help you with?"
Ayato scoops up the sleeves of his uniform and puts it on his lap so it won't get wet. He also folds his pants up until his knees, revealing his pale skin.
The panic on Thoma's face makes Ayato chuckle. "My lord, what are you doing? You'll gonna wrinkle your clothes!" He wants to straighten Ayato's pants down but his hands are wet so he can only gesture his hands as he panics.
"I'm fine," Ayato laughs out loud.
His eyes dart towards the bubbles filling up the tub and scooping a handful. "Oops, my hands slipped," Ayato exclaims when he cups Thoma's cheeks with bubbles in his hands.
Thoma yelps in surprise and finally lets go of his laundry. "M-my lord!"
"Look at you," Ayato chuckles.
Thoma's sunkissed skin flushes when he looks at Ayato's smiling face. The lord commissioner looks like he's having fun. Thoma had to stop himself from telling Ayato that he can pour all the bubbles on him if that will make him happier.
"I think it looks better on you."
Thoma dips his finger on the bubble and scoops some. He pokes Ayato's nose gently, putting the bubbles on him too.
Ayato tries to look at his nose and quickly takes his revenge by putting another one on Thoma's nose too.
That's when the battle starts, whoever gets to put more bubbles will be the winner but it ends up with both of them soaking wet, their scent is a mixture of bleach and fabric conditioner.
Ayato slumps down on the small stool, hair wild and wet from the moisture.
Thoma squats in front of him, his state is the same. After catching their breaths, they catch their stares and laugh heartily at their childishness.
"Oh, Celestia, I've stained my clothes again." Ayato looks apologetic as he looks down at his coat.
Thoma takes the sleeves, his gentle hands lingering on the dirt. "I can remove it for you again, waka."
Ayato sighs heavily. Thoma notices the worry in his lord's face. He chuckles. "Thank you for accompanying me today, my lord. Washing the clothes alone can be lonely sometimes," He smiles. "You should change your clothes and bring the stained ones to me so I can wash them up now."
Thoma has his ways of telling Ayato that everything is alright, that he doesn't have to think deeply because he's always there to do the things that Ayato can't do.
Thoma and Ayato fill the things that they lack and that is what makes them whole.
The sixth thing on Thoma's list, buy boba milk tea with extra pearls and sugar for Ayato at noon. At this time, his lord must be stuck in a meeting, trying hard not to fall asleep.
Sneaking in inside, he'd put the cup on Ayato's table, smiling at him when everyone's busy discussing.
Ayato mouths a "Thank you", eyes glazed with an emotion that Thoma can't name but sends millions of sparks in his heart.
The seventh thing on his list is to accompany Ayato in his office while buried with tons of paper to read and tons of documents to sign. He lights up Ayato's pipe from time to time, watches as the smoke rises until it dissipates in the air, but stops when he thinks Ayato is having too much.
"Thoma, I need a smoke," Ayato says without tearing his gaze away from the paper he's holding.
Thoma shakes his head even though Ayato can't see him. "You've had too much, my lord."
Pout blooms on his tired face followed by a whine. "But I'm stressed," He drops his cheek on the table, head turned to the side as he looks at Thoma with pitiful eyes.
It takes a lot of self-control for Thoma. He can't give in. He takes candy from his pocket and unwraps it for Ayato. "Here, you can eat this."
Without thinking of his next actions, Thoma puts the candy on Ayato's lips. The lord seems a bit surprised, his face turning red as he opens his mouth to take the candy between Thoma's fingers.
When Thoma feels the soft and wet lips on the tips of his fingers, his hand trembles. His face is now as red as Ayato's.
The awkward atmosphere drifts in the air, heartbeats in chaos, and cold sweat dripping on their skin.
"How is it, my lord?" Thoma acts composed although the color of his face betrayed him.
Ayato smacks his lips, savoring the sweet taste of the candy in his mouth. "It tastes good." But Ayato's eyes linger on Thoma's fingers, his throat bobbing as he swallows.
There is a string that connects Thoma to his control and he feels like it's about to snap soon.
By the time he gets to the eighth thing on his list, Thoma has already prepared the things he needs. A bouquet of freshly picked tsubaki, decorated with pink and lavender ribbons in every stem.
Together they ascend the hill, Thoma holding the bouquet and Ayato silently walking beside him.
When they reach the top, Thoma gives the bouquet to Ayato, letting him offer the flowers to the tomb that welcomes them.
In the stone, names are written in beautiful cursive and Ayato traces it with his fingers.
Every month, Thoma goes to Mr. and Mrs. Kamisato's grave with Ayato. Sometimes he does it with Ayaka or the three of them together but this time, it's just them in front of the tomb.
Just like how it usually goes, there are no words spoken. The gust of the wind makes the leaves rustle, petals from the sakura tree showering them until their figures blend in with the picturesque view.
As Thoma goes to the ninth thing on his list, he holds Ayato's hand to stop it from trembling. When their palms touch, it stops and is followed by a soft, relieved sigh.
"Thank you."
It is in the form of a whisper as if Ayato wants it to be carried by the wind together with the petals floating around them. Thoma manages to catch it, every syllable etching in his heart like a carving on a tree.
Thoma doesn't say anything else. He doesn't have to. A gentle squeeze on the hand makes up for the silence as they stand side by side, fulfilling unsaid promises.
The tenth and last thing on his list, he stares at Ayato while he's peacefully sleeping. He watches as his chest rises and falls, as his eyelashes tremble as he wrinkles his brows, and as his lips twitch as if he doesn't know if he'll grimace or smile.
Thoma kneels beside the bed, his chin propped up on his arm as he looks at Ayato longingly.
Every night, he goes through the lists in his head.
One, wake Ayato every morning.
I love you.
Two, carry Ayato to the bath if he wants him to.
I love you.
Three, help him wash up.
I love you.
Four, make sure that Ayato eats breakfast before he goes to work.
I love you.
Five, wash Ayato's clothes.
I love you.
Six, buy him milk tea with extra pearls and sugar.
I love you.
Seven, accompany him in the office while working.
I love you.
Eight, prepare for a bouquet of tsubaki and visit Mr. and Mrs. Kamisato.
I love you.
Nine, hold Ayato's hand as he trembles.
I love you.
And then, watch him sleep and hug him when nightmares occur.
I love you.
Thoma's eyes are filled with unsaid feelings, like snow that keeps on piling until it gets buried. And then, the pile of snow starts melting, leaving nothing but a stain on the feelings buried beneath.
He takes one of Ayato's fingers and then two until he intertwines it in a gentle hold.
"I love you," he whispers, lips trembling as he does so. "I love you, my lord."
Thoma says it ten times and hopes one of them comes across.