Archive of Our Own ^beta

The Lobby Boy's music begins.
Front desk bell DINGS.

Her boots track mud on the floor. Dark, wet mud. That's why I don't look at her face right away. I don't like mud, but it's easier to clean than blood. The blood always stains. Mud, at least, will wash away. If I scrub hard enough.
I do look at her face when the manager says her name. Her name is Mindy. Her hair is blonde and curled, like my manager's, but there is nothing else about them that's the same. Mindy has a nice face. A round face, pink and smiling lightly. Gentle and welcoming. There's a beauty mark just above the left corner of her lips. I can't stop staring.
She chats with the manager. She says she rode here. On a horse, I guess. I've never seen a horse, but I know about them. I'm glad it wouldn't fit in the door. I wouldn't want to clean it up if it…
I offer to take her bags. She smiles at me so warmly. I know she can't see me. She can't see what I really am.

Thank you kindly, sugar, but I think I might stay out here a minute. Pretty building, ain't it?

I just look at her because I can't think of what to say. She doesn't seem to care, though. She slowly moves through the lobby, looking up at the high ceilings. Her boots are still muddy. I can tell she's not used to… extravagance. She looks out of place. She looks beautiful.
I can't stop looking at her. At her smile. It never goes away. I don't want to take her to her room, but I know it'll get harder the more she stays here, the more I look at her. There's a tight, constricting feeling in my chest. I don't like it.
I think the manager is upset. Her smile is so wide and she only smiles like that when she's not happy. I'm not doing what I'm supposed to be doing. I gesture to the guest's - Mindy's - bags again, asking one more time, and she concedes. She puts a hand on my arm as we begin to walk to the elevator, just briefly. Her hands are so warm. She's so warm. Why is she here? Why does she have to be here?
The feeling in my chest tightens further, even more so when she says -

Thank you, sugar.

As I hold the elevator door open for her. The walk to her room is slow, it feels so, so slow, and I don't understand why I'm dreading it. It's torture, but not torture as painful as what she's bound to experience. What I'd built for her. I look over at her. She looks so calm. So unexpecting.
We get to her door. I ask if she would like me to bring her anything. She shakes her head and her curls bounce a little and she says -

I'll be just fine. Come 'n check up on me later, that's all.

Then she steps closer. I try to move away, but I feel stuck where I am, like I've been fused to the dusty blue carpet. She presses a tip into my hand, and as she does, leans in and - …and she kisses my cheek. The feeling in my chest surges, stronger than before. I feel dizzy, and a little sick. I try to say something, to warn her about what's coming, but it wouldn't help. She closes her door, and I stand helpless in the hallway.
I won't stay to watch this time, I think.