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Edgar Valden hated the cold. It totally put him out of his painting mood. He couldn’t concentrate when it was freezing like this, and no matter how strong the flames of the fireplace were in the lavish manor, he still felt his fingers go numb, having to rub them together like some poor Victorian child living on the streets.
So he couldn’t paint, and Jóse was off with the cowboy, Kevin. Which left him alone. Being alone was usually ideal anyway, what with Jóse’s bright demeanor commonly giving Edgar a headache, but being alone and bored was not something he liked.
So that’s how Edgar Valden ended up sitting next to the fireplace at the manor, hands rubbing together ferociously, hair down instead of in its usual ponytail in hopes of keeping his neck warm. He wore silk pajamas, which looked quite thin and did not seem to be helping his temperature, but he had a large, fluffy wool blanket on top of him, sinking into it. The others were always lively this time of night— 7:00 PM —so while their loud chatter was like nails on a chalkboard, he watched them, listening to their conversations. Maybe one of their idiotic phrases would strike something in his mind, inspiring a new painting.
He was shockingly peaceful despite his situation (feeling like he was freezing to death and being stuck in a large manor with people that made him want to rip his hair out) and felt a tug on his eyelids, making them flutter closed. He started to relax, body slumping out like a cat. Him successfully falling asleep in the cold was an incredible feat for him, because usually he was cursing out the weather so strongly he couldn’t focus on the concept of rest.
Unconsciousness almost took over him when he felt a harsh nudge on his shoulder, his eyes blinking open, immediately going into a glare at the culprit.
Of course it was Luca Balsa.
Luca Balsa had been a pain in Edgar’s side since they had met seven years ago. Edgar had been fourteen years old when they had first met, Luca sixteen. It was one of those insufferable social events his father always hosted. Luca had attended, approaching Edgar since he was the only one that wasn’t covered in wrinkly skin. He had gone on and on about the most random things ever. Edgar had no memory at this point of what the topic of the conversation even was, but he remembered that the boy had given him a migraine so horrible that he couldn’t paint the next day. They met paths a few times over the course of a few years, each time Luca was just as insufferable as the time before. Of course, now that the man had suffered horrible amnesia he had no memory whatsoever of this-- but Edgar, Edgar did. And Edgar always holds a grudge.
So, yeah, he was well acquainted with Balsa.
“What do you want?” Edgar snapped. He wasn’t tired. Any peace of mind he had seconds before evaporated the moment Luca walked within five feet of him.
“You were asleep.” He said, a grin on his face. He had a really stupid grin. Edgar always said it reminded him of a fox; sly.
“ Yes. I was. ” Edgar scoffed, sitting up from his slouched position. He pushed his hair behind his ears, grabbing the ribbon that sat on his lap to tie it up into a ponytail.
“I was waking you up. Thought I’d be all princely-- you know?” He shrugged his shoulders, getting a sour look from the painter.
“ You? Princely? Balsa, are you okay? Running a fever? I mean, I could care less about your well being, but if you’ve come down with something, get away from me.” He scooted a bit aways from Luca, who let out a chuckle.
“Vera said that if I wasn’t so rough, I could probably pass as one.”
“Well Vera’s wrong about a lot of things,” Edgar told him, rolling his eyes. “Why’d you come over here? We both know you didn’t do it to be polite.” He pulled his blanket closer, praying that the heavy fabric would keep him warm.
“I want the blanket.” Luca informed him, like it wasn’t the biggest deal in the world. Edgar’s jaw gaped open, his eye twitching.
“People like you want a lot of things in life, I am well aware.” He said through gritted teeth, giving him a look that could kill.
“Listen, Valden. You know how Orpheus is about LG. She gets sick often, so he took all the good blankets for her. All the thin ones have been claimed, and I wouldn’t want those anyways.” He explained to him, and Edgar hated to admit that everything Luca was saying had been true. Edgar hated when people were right about something when he thought they would totally be wrong. Especially when it was Luca. Luca with his pretty eyes that also followed Edgar, that smug smile he always had when he looked at him, the way he would always approach Edgar even after he had a huge fit over a painting going slightly wrong. Now that the painter thought about it- while he claimed to hate the inventor, he had begun to fester some excitement while anticipating seeing him.
“Well I don’t want to be left to freeze, Balsa.” He put it plainly.
“I don’t want to either!” Luca talked with his hands a lot. This was one of those times. He lifted his hands up exasperatedly, similar to how a priest would praise God.
“What do you want me to do then? Give you a little hug? Let you come under my blanket?” Edgar arched his eyebrows.
“Yes, I do want you to.” The prisoner said with a sigh, and Edgar let out a noise that sounded like the mix of a snarl and a squeak. “Not hug you, you’re still in denial about that situation.”
“Why should I? And denial? I don’t know what you mean by that, but I do not like it.” Edgar pulled his blanket closer, like Luca would steal it any moment.
“I won’t touch you. It's a big blanket, you know you can share it.” He ignored Edgar’s second question.
“Yeah but why should I share it?” Edgar was well known in the manor for being as stubborn as a mule, he never let another person win.
“To be a nice person! I don’t know, anything I say won’t matter anyways, so just hand it over. ”
“No.” The painter narrowed his eyes, tightening his grip on the blanket as Luca leaped forward, reaching for the wool blanket. Edgar elbowed him, pulling the blanket closer to himself. Luca grabbed at it, getting a light slap on the palm from the other. They both stopped struggling, the inventor looking up at Edgar’s face from the place he had ended up on his lap. Edgar blinked, at a loss for words, mouth slightly agape-- he wasn’t breathing. Luca’s face was flushed, his face now feeling horribly warm. He scrambled off, brushing himself off, fanning his shirt out as if it had suddenly gotten hot.
“This is why you shouldn’t argue with me.” Edgar announced after a few seconds of silence, his ears tinged with pink. Luca laughed.
“Just scoot over.” He crawled over from his place on the floor, nudging Edgar with his foot. He glared at him, but sighed.
“Fine. But just this once.” He lifted the blanket up, Luca sliding in beside him, their legs slightly touching, Luca looked up, seeming to ask if it was okay-- the blanket might’ve been huge, but they were two grown men. Edgar stared at him for a moment, seeming to be thinking about something. But then nodded. Spoiler alert, that ended up being one of many times they ended up in that position.