Chapter Text
Eggsy looked up at the house with disdain. He already hated the person who lived there, and he didn't even know their name. When he had read the advert for “A help in all matters. Inquire during interview”, he had dismissed the position immediately. It sounded so vague, so deliberately uninformative, that it could only mean it was a shit job. Sort of like the way that shitty apartments were described as “cosy” and ugly sweaters as “unusual”. But the promised pay was good, and going in for an interview couldn't hurt. He would not get the position anyway; no one in their right mind would hire him, without any previous experience or reference. He had walked past the house five times now, not sure what to think of it. This neighbourhood looked expensive and posh, which made the house intimidating despite its modest size. Obviously, the person who lived there was very wealthy, and would probably laugh in his face when he came in. Still, he really needed the money…
He walked up to the front door and rang the bell, ignoring the fact that he was two hours later than the ending-point of the interview period. After a few seconds which seemed to drag out for ages, the door opened.
A very tall, bald man wearing a brown sweater and a pair of glasses frowned down at him. “Can I help you?” he asked. Even in those few words, his Scottish accent was unmistakable.
Eggsy shuffled his feet. “Yeah. I'm here for the ad?”
The man raised his eyebrows. “If you've read the ad, you know the interviews ended two hours ago.”
“So the position has been filled?” Eggsy asked.
The man pressed his lips together. “Come in.”
****
They went upstairs, into an office of sorts, which was for some reason hung with newspapers. Eggsy tried to find some relation in the headlines, but they were all quite random, and the only common factor seemed to be that they were all of The Sun. This man, whoever he was, had shit taste in newspapers.
The bald man turned around, extended his hand, and said “I'm Merlin. And you are?”
Eggsy shook his hand. “Eggsy.” Merlin hadn't bothered giving him his last name -or possibly first- so Eggsy didn't either.
“Eggsy?” Merlin repeated, as if Merlin was a perfectly normal name.
“Yeah,” Eggsy said.
“Very well. Sit down.” Merlin took a seat behind the desk, and Eggsy let himself fall into the chair across from it. “Do you have any experience with cleaning?” Merlin asked, taking an iPad from the drawer. He started typing.
“Uhm… yeah? I guess.” His mum did most of the housework, but Eggsy helped out wherever he could.
“Cooking?”
“Sure, I can cook.” He knew how to use an oven and a microwave, that counted as cooking, right?
“Have you ever taken care of someone?” Merlin's eyes bored into his.
Eggsy stared back without blinking. “Yes,” he said confidently, and this time it wasn't a lie or a half-truth. “My little sister. She is five.” He smiled when he mentioned Daisy.
Merlin nodded, while typing. “Do you have any medical training?”
Eggsy took his cap off, scratched his head, and put the cap back on. “Yeah, I was in the marines, so I know the basics.”
That seemed to pique Merlin's interest. “You were? For how long?”
Eggsy hesitated. Merlin would not be impressed. “A year.”
“Why did you leave?” Merlin asked sharply. His tone of voice, the judgement that was layered into it, made Eggsy feel defensive immediately.
“Because my dad died in the marines. And my mum was worried sick that something would happen to me.”
Merlin nodded, though he didn't offer his sympathies. “And what have you done since?”
“Nothing,” Eggsy said with a sigh. He would not get the position, that much was certain. “Why do I need medical training anyway? You seem like a healthy lad.”
Merlin raised his eyebrow at being called 'lad', but didn't comment on it. “It's not for me. I just do the hiring process.” He typed some more, and Eggsy wondered what the hell he was writing down the whole time. Merlin looked at him, scrutinizing him, sizing him up. “Can you lift a grown man?”
Eggsy snorted. “Want me to try? I mean, you're pretty tall, but I can try. If you're into that.” He wasn't sure, but he thought he heard someone laugh in the distance. Probably someone outside.
Merlin sighed loudly, looking at the ceiling for a moment, before he said “A simple 'I think I can' or 'I don't think I can' will do, Eggsy.”
“I think I can,” Eggsy said, mocking Merlin's annoyed tone.
Merlin took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. He looked exhausted. “Are you squeamish around blood?” he asked then, without looking at Eggsy.
Eggsy shrugged. “No.” growing up with Dean around had made that impossible. He was used to blood, and he didn't mind it, as long as it wasn't Daisy's or his mum's.
“Good,” Merlin said.
“Why though? Is this person a serial killer? Does he want me to wrap his victims in tinfoil and stuff them in a freezer?”
Merlin looked puzzled. “Tin foil? Do you mean cling-film?”
Eggsy held his hands up. “Damn dude, that's a weird part of the sentence to focus on.” He heard the soft laughter again, and wasn't so sure anymore that it was from outside.
Merlin looked even more annoyed than before. “Alright, I think that's all I need to know. I will contact you to let you know if you have the job or not. What's your number?”
Eggsy rattled off his mobile number, and he wasn't entirely sure, but it seemed as if whatever Merlin typed in was considerably shorter. He was not getting a call back then, but he hadn't expected to.
Merlin walked him to the door. “You'll hear from us, mister Unwin,” he said, and closed the door.
Eggsy was halfway home before he realised he had never given Merlin his last name.
****
Eggsy was listening to music while lying on his bed, when the shrill sound of his phone ringing broke through the heavy beat. He didn't open his eyes, just reached for his phone without looking at who called, and took one earbud out. “Yo, what's up?” Eggsy asked, holding the phone to his ear.
“… This is Merlin speaking. I have good news for you, you have the position.”
“What?!” Eggsy said, ripping the other earbud out. “You're fucking with me!” There was no way he had the job, not after that disaster of an interview.
Merlin sighed. “Don't worry, I don't understand it either.”
Eggsy heard faint laughter, followed by another one of Merlin's earth-shattering sighs. “Do you still want the job, or not?”
Eggsy sat up. “I… well, yes, of course.” How the hell had he gotten the job? How bad had the other candidates been? They had to be incredibly desperate to hire him, but the pay was good, so he was not complaining.
“Can you start tomorrow?”
Really, really desperate. “Uhm. Yeah? Why not?”
“Good. Be there at eight, you know the address.”
“Eight? In the morning?” He said the word 'morning' with so much disgust that one might think he was talking about a snake-infested swamp, instead of a time of day.
“Yes, mister Unwin. In the morning.” Then, softer and slightly muffled. “Oh, wipe that stupid grin off your face, you haven't had to deal with him yet.”
Eggsy felt slightly offended – and oddly proud. This person he was actually going to work for seemed to have a sense of humour at least. It had to be the person Merlin was addressing, right? Who else could it be?
Merlin was back on the line. “I will see you at eight. In the morning. Good night, mister Unwin.”
“Yeah, tomorrow. Bye.” Eggsy hung up. He had no clue how or why, but he had gotten himself a job. He set his alarm unwillingly, and smiled to himself. A job. A real, proper job. He wanted to tell his mum, but thought it better to wait. It would be embarrassing if he were to get fired on his first day. And judging by the way Merlin had spoken of him, that was a big possibility.
****
“Not two hours late this time, I see.” Merlin said with a smirk. Eggsy was right on time, a fact he was very proud of, thank you very much. He was even wearing his best clothes; the white Adidas sneakers with the wings, dark jeans, and his black and yellow windbreaker. “Come in, we'll talk in the office.”
Eggsy noticed he said 'the office' instead of 'my office', and wondered if it meant Merlin didn't actually live here.
As they sat down, Merlin said “Your contract is for three months. It might be extended. This first day is a trial of sorts, and since I haven't given you a lot of information about the job, I think it is only fair to give you the possibility to back out of it. If you don't want the job, I'd like to hear it tonight.”
That was not a very long time to decide, but whatever. It was more likely he'd be fired than to be quitting after one day.
“The job is, essentially, taking care of a disabled man. Do you know what paraplegia means?”
Eggsy almost made a sarcastic remark about that. He had been in the marines, after all, and paraplegia was something that came up in conversations from time to time. Wounded veterans, the fears some had of it happening to them… the conversations were never cheerful, nor very informative, but he knew what it was. “That you can't move your legs,” he said.
Merlin nodded. “Exactly. The person you're hired to assist is downstairs, in the living room. We'll go meet him in a few minutes. Since it is your first day, and I needed to go over paperwork with you, I have helped him downstairs and such. From tomorrow, that is your job.” He shuffled some papers on his desk. “Harry is forty-nine years old. He has been in the chair for a few years, and is pretty mobile.” It all sounded like a rehearsed speech, like he had said it dozens of times before. Eggsy wondered how often he did this, this hiring process. It certainly sounded like he did it on autopilot. “So yes, while mister Hart does not require a lot of help, there are some things he needs assistance with. This has mainly to do with the stairs.”
That seemed rather obvious. Eggsy bit his tongue.
“Since this is a monumental building, we are not allowed to put in a lift. This means mister Hart will have to be helped downstairs in the morning, and upstairs in the evening. You will probably not need to help him with more intimate things, like showering, but sometimes he loses use of his hands and will need your help. I trust you will do so with maturity.”
Oh God. He was really not going to bathe some old bloke. No way. But he smiled politely as if it was no problem at all.
“Your tasks are mainly; keeping the house clean, doing the shopping, and cooking. If anything happens that makes you think Harry is not well, I want you to call me immediately.”
It was funny how he went from calling the man 'Harry' to 'mister Hart' and back, without noticing it. Which one was the slip of the tongue? Was he a friend who tried to be professional, or a distant relative or something who slipped into what he called him in his head?
Merlin pushed the papers towards Eggsy and handed him a pen. “Please sign here.”
Eggsy skimmed over the contract and signed it. He slid it back over the table, and Merlin put it neatly in a folder. Merlin tapped his fingers on the desk and said “That's about it. Do you have any questions?”
“No,” Eggsy said. It was all pretty straightforward.
“Good, then I only have two remarks left to make. Be careful on the stairs, not just when assisting mister Hart, but also when you walk on them alone. They are steeper than they look, and we have lost a few carers before due to them taking a tumble.”
Eggsy wanted to ask if this meant the carers had died, or were just fired, but Merlin continued with a remark that was so odd, and so definitive, that the other one disappeared from his mind at once. “And don't ask mister Hart why he is in a wheelchair.”
****
“So, why are you in a wheelchair?” Eggsy asked, as soon as he heard the door close behind Merlin.
They had walked downstairs, into the living room, and Merlin had introduced them to each other. The man in the wheelchair had looked up from his newspaper when they walked in, and had looked at Eggsy blankly. For a moment Eggsy had wondered if he was mentally not all there either, but then Merlin said “Eggsy, meet mister Hart. Harry, meet your new carer. Eggsy.” He had said Eggsy's name with a slight hesitation, and Eggsy thought he saw him roll his eyes a bit.
Harry had rolled forwards in his wheelchair, an electric thing with a joystick, and had shaken Eggsy's hand. “Nice to meet you,” he'd said, and it sounded as if they both knew it was a lie. Eggsy had simply nodded.
They eyed each other with curiosity and a bit of hostility.
Merlin either didn't notice, or didn't care, cause he simply said “If there is a problem, let me know. Don't get too attached.” He gave both a warning look. “See you later, Harry.” Then he had put his hand on Harry's shoulder for a moment and left, leaving the two of them to stare at each other awkwardly. And then Eggsy had asked the question.
Harry Hart' s expression was completely blank, perhaps with a bit of a frown, but that could just be what his face always looked like. “I'm pretty sure Merlin told you not to ask me that.”
Eggsy shrugged. Merlin should have known this was the surest way to get him to ask.
“Well, I can tell you this. I'm in a wheelchair because I can't walk.” Harry gave him a fake smile for a second.
Eggsy rolled his eyes. “I never would have guessed.”
“You seem determined to get fired.” Harry said. He sounded posh, very unlike Merlin's Scottish brogue. Basically, he sounded exactly like Eggsy would have expected based on the house, and exactly like the kind of person Eggsy despised.
“Isn't Merlin is charge of that?” Eggsy asked. “He isn't here to hear it.”
Harry raised his eyebrows. “Merlin has eyes and ears everywhere.”
Eggsy scoffed. “If 'everywhere' is on his face, then yes. Is Merlin his first or his last name?”
“Yes.” Harry said, and for the first time, some kind of amusement shone through his carefully blank exterior.
Eggsy sighed. “All right, never mind. Be mysterious about it. And that.” He gestured at the wheelchair. “What am I supposed to be doing anyway? Make you tea?”
“Yes. That's all you have to do. Make me tea.” Harry didn't look amused anymore, just tired and a little annoyed.
“No need to be a cunt- to be horrible about it.” Eggsy said. “Merlin has not exactly given me a lot of information about this job.”
“So it seems.” Harry said. He sighed. “I don't know, you can look if there's anything you can clean. And after that, you can do the dishes.” he steered his wheelchair back to the table where he had been reading the newspaper. He looked at the solitary cup of tea on the table. “Or dish.”
Eggsy looked at Harry, who had picked up his newspaper again and ignored him. Harry had thick, dark hair which was parted on one side and combed back. He wore dark glasses that matched his brown eyes, and a dark pair of trousers with a crisp white shirt. He had what Roxy would call a butt chin, but what Eggsy referred to as a 'Lantern Jaw of Justice' after he had read the term somewhere. He actually looked rather good.
It's just the white t-shirt effect, Eggsy told himself. Anyone looked good in that. Even an almost fifty-year old cripple who was rather rude. “Alright then,” he said, more to himself than to Harry, and walked into the kitchen. He would get some cleaning supplies and then explore the house a bit, 'looking for things to clean'. Maybe Harry had some dirty little secrets hidden away somewhere. He had to. The upper class was full of secrets. It was the only thing they had more of -and were more protective about- than their money.
He rummaged through the cupboards under the counter, and found a bucket and cleaning supplies. He filled the bucket with warm water, threw in a generous amount of the all-purpose cleaner, and grabbed a yellow microfibre cloth. Harry looked up briefly as Eggsy passed him. He looked amused, though Eggsy didn't quite know why. He ignored it, and thought nothing of it. He really, really should have.
****
Harry almost wept tears of joy when he heard the blood-curdling scream, followed by the door to his bathroom being slammed shut with as much force as if Eggsy had to try to keep an entire army out. He raised his fists in victory, and choked back laughter. He took a deep breath and made his face carefully blank again. He looked at his newspaper, pretending to read for the few seconds it took the young man to march back to the living room.
“There is a DEAD DOG IN YOUR BATHROOM!” Eggsy sounded offended, appalled, and scared all at once. Harry turned his wheelchair to look at him, and couldn't contain a grin. The boy's face showed a hilarious mixture of emotions, like he wasn't quite sure what to feel. His trousers were wet. Eggsy saw him look and said “That's just water, so you can wipe that shit-eating grin off your face!”
Harry grinned even wider. “That is not the way to talk to your employer.”
Eggsy scoffed. “And you know what isn't the way to welcome your employee? Dangling a FUCKING DEAD DOG IN THEIR FACE!” He had opened the bathroom door with the bucket of water still in his hand. As the door swung open, he was face to face with Death itself, as some kind of hell-hound swung towards him, stopping only an inch from his face. It was that moment that he had let out a quite embarrassing scream, and had dropped the bucket all over his pants. The dog swung back, moving up and down on its elastic cord. Eggsy slammed the door shut and clutched his chest. Then he strode to the living room, ready to cuss the shit out of this snobbish piece of shit called Harry Hart.
Now though, now he saw the amusement on Harry Hart's face, his anger ebbed away. “What the actual fuck was that all about?” he asked. His heart was still racing. “This could have bloody killed me, you know that? How the fuck did you even manage that? Did Merlin help?”
Harry shrugged. “I've gotten quite good at it by now. See it as a hazing ritual.”
Eggsy looked down at his wet pants. “Let me get this straight. Every time you have a new employee, you hook your dead dog up to a bungee cord, and tie it to the door, so it will shoot right up into the face of the first bastard to open the door?”
Harry grinned. “Yes. And I rate their screams. Yours was quite pretty.”
“Fuck off,” Eggsy said, and walked out of the living room. He opened the door to the bathroom carefully, but the dog was just swinging peacefully. Now that he got a better look, he saw it was a really small dog, a fact which only made his scream more embarrassing. And it was, apparently, called Mr. Pickle. “Fucking weirdo,” Eggsy mumbled. Still, he was impressed by it on some level. For someone in Harry's position, making this entrapment would take a long time, even if he had done it before. The elastic cord was wrapped around the dogs belly, and was hooked over the chandelier (Who had a fucking chandelier in their bathroom? Honestly?) in some weird pattern, with the other end tied to the doorknob. Eggsy walked in and closed the door behind himself, studying it. The dog must have been standing on the chandelier before he opened the door. He lifted it now, placing it where he thought it must have stood. Then he opened the door again, very slowly. It was amazing. He probably could look at it for hours and not figure it out. The movement of the door, and the lessened tightness of the rope, set a whole lot of things in motion within the intricate pattern on the chandelier. He couldn't quite tell how or why, but the movements somehow pushed or pulled the dog off its place, causing it to fall down three feet and swing towards the door. It was as impressive as it was weird. Clearly, Harry had a lot of time on his hands.
Eggsy mopped up the mess he had made, and untied the dog. He left the cord where it was. First of all, because he didn't feel like untangling that mess, and second of all because it might save Harry some time the next time, which would probably be the next day or so. The only thing that gave away that a disabled person lived here, was the white, plastic handle next to the loo, which could be folded up to not be in the way, or folded down to be leant on. Harry probably had to hold on to it to lift himself from the chair to the toilet and back. Well, at least it meant Eggsy wouldn't have to help him with that. He cleaned the bathroom, which didn't really need cleaning, and was disappointed he didn't find any dirty magazines or embarrassing creams. Posh people probably kept things like that safely stowed away in a locker. He emptied the bucket, picked up the stuffed dog, and went back into the living room. “Where do you want me to put this?”
Harry had been staring out the window, and now looked up for a second. “Please put Mr Pickle on the edge above the loo.”
Eggsy rolled his eyes at the name, but did as he was told. As he came back, he asked “Does … Mr Pickle… like to look at people when they are having a shit?”
For the briefest moment, Harry looked amused. Then he seemed to retreat back into himself and didn't answer the question.
Eggsy stood there for a few seconds, then he grabbed the bucket again. Maybe upstairs something would need cleaning.
Sadly, everything was spotless. It should have made Eggsy happy, since it meant he didn't actually have to do any work, but it made him miserable. There was nothing to do. He looked at the newspapers on the office wall again, trying to find a pattern, but didn't find it. He didn't want to go downstairs and sit in awkward silence with Harry. He knew he had said the word 'fuck' at least three times already, probably more often, and he didn't think he'd be around tomorrow.
And yet, he was curious about this guy. How did a man like that even end up in a wheelchair? Maybe he had been in the army. Or it was a bungee jumping accident. Wasn't that what rich people did on holiday? Throw themselves off cliffs and bridges, with nothing but a bungee cord or parachute to break their fall? Perhaps the thing Mr Pickle had been tied to was the bungee cord that had snapped and caused Harry to fall. It would be as if he had his murder weapon in the house. Well, not murder. Obviously. Still, the thought was so strange that Eggsy dismissed it. He opened a door, to Harry's bedroom as it turned out. The floorboard creaked. It was barely audible, but still Eggsy closed the door again. He didn't want it so seem like he was snooping, even though he was. The only thing he saw before he closed the door, was another wheelchair.
****
Harry heard the young man walk around upstairs. The faint creak of the floorboards through the ceiling told him Eggsy had arrived at his bedroom. The sound stopped. Eggsy didn't go in. Interesting. Most carers didn't hear the sound, or thought Harry would not hear it downstairs. Some didn't care. Privacy, as so many things these days, was dead for him.
Eggsy started to hoover the hallway upstairs, and then every room, except the bedroom.
When Harry heard Eggsy come down again, he pretended to read the paper he had finished some time ago.
“Hey bruv. D'you need me to clean anything in your bedroom? I looked in, but I wasn't sure if there was anything that needed to be done.”
Harry turned to look at him. Eggsy's pants still were a bit wet, but the boy didn't seem bothered by it. “Nothing, thanks. Merlin has a schedule of things that need to be done. It's in the kitchen cabinet.”
“Ah, right.” Eggsy went into the kitchen. Harry heard him open some cabinets until he found the right one. “It doesn't say when you want your lunch. Is that one of the things Merlin lets you decide for yourself?” he asked loudly from there.
If Eggsy had bothered to take the few steps to the door, he would have seen the bitter expression on Harry's face when he asked that, just for a moment.
“About now would be fine.” He just ate when he was hungry, which meant that some days he ate one meal, on others he ate five. Merlin scolded him for it, he thought it was good to have routine. Harry thought that even more routine might actually kill him, and had said so to Merlin, while decidedly tearing all mealplans off the wall. That was a few years ago. Merlin had since long accepted his peculiarities about food.
“What do you want to eat?” Eggsy asked, still from the kitchen. Harry heard him flip over one of the laminated schedules. Merlin liked to laminate things. It was one of his weirder obsessions. Actually, scratch that, it was one of the more normal ones.
“Doesn't matter. Whatever you like,” Harry said flatly. He was tired. Tired of all of it. He tried counting how many carers he had seen come and go in the last few months, and the number he arrived at didn't make him happy. He hated having new people around. Well, he hated all people around, not just new ones, but especially them. Merlin was the only person he could be around without wanting to claw his eyes out, and that was only because he had known him for almost thirty years and Merlin wasn't around a lot. Well, a bit more these last few months. Since Harry had started going through carers like crazy again. But still. Not often enough to do irreparable damage to their friendship.
Eggsy busied himself in the kitchen, and Harry suspected it took a long time because he didn't want to spend more time than absolutely necessary in his presence. He couldn't blame him. In fact, it was quite a relief.
That was why Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise when Eggsy came back, and the lunch he set down on the table in front of Harry looked edible. More surprisingly, it looked as if it might actually have taken that much time. Eggsy took his own plate to the end of the table and sat down there. They would not have to look at each other awkwardly. Harry looked down at his lunch, aware that he must look like an idiot, full of surprise. But it looked GOOD. Two thick slices of wholegrain toast, with a thick layer of garlic cream cheese, some tomato slices, lettuce and fresh basil. He looked at Eggsy, who had already taken a big bite of his own toast and looked a bit taken aback when he saw Harry stare at him.
“Ne'er 'ad 'is be'ore?” he asked, with his mouth full. He put his hand in front of his mouth, chewed quickly, swallowed, and said “Sorry. Never had this before?”
Harry shook himself out of his daze. “It's just that...” he didn't know what it was. That he hadn't expected the boy to make actual food, instead of throwing some cereal in a bowl, like another carer had done when Harry couldn't be bothered to give instructions? “I didn't even know I had garlic cream cheese,” he said with a tight smile, and then finally took a bite. It tasted heavenly. Maybe it was because he had gotten used to bad food, or it was the time of year, anyway, he got strangely emotional over it.
Eggsy shrugged. “You didn't. But you had cream cheese and garlic, so now you have garlic cream cheese.” He took another bite, and this time actually chewed until his mouth was empty before he said “Do you like it?”
Harry simply nodded. He didn't know what to say. He had underestimated the boy, based on… on what? On what Merlin had said? That Gary “Eggsy” Unwin was the most annoying person he had ever met? That he was rude, and had no experience, and was cocky and… rude? Why would any of that mean he wouldn't know how to make lunch? Harry almost laughed. Wasn't he the one always going off about how snobby Kingsman was? And now look at him, gaping in surprise at a young petty thief who knew how to use a kitchen. If Arthur could see him now, he would give him a smug smile, and say that deep down Harry was like the rest of them. Maybe he was right.
He was so lost in his own world, that the words didn't really dawn on him at first. Only when he noticed that Eggsy was looking at him in anticipation, he realised Eggsy had spoken. “Sorry?” he said.
Eggsy smiled. “I said, you haven't answered my question yet.”
“Which question?” Harry asked. His right arm cramped, which he tried to ignore. Just the time of year, nothing more.
“How you ended up with that kicking machine under yer arse. Buttocks, I mean.” He pulled a face, which said something like 'is that better?'.
Harry finished his first slice of toast, and then said “Okay. I'll tell you. But I don't want you to tell anyone else.” He wasn't sure why he did it. He just knew that something inside him wanted to talk. He had been quiet for too long. Lost and alone in his own thoughts for such a long time, that every thought, every memory, became toxic. It would be nice to just talk, to blabber on. The boy might still quit his job within a few days, so it didn't matter. No one wanted to be around old, bitter Harry Hart. Not even Harry himself.
Eggsy's face lit up. “If there's one thing I can do, it's keep my mouth shut,” he said.
And make some damn good toast, Harry thought. He cleared his throat, feeling a bit awkward even though Eggsy didn't know his thoughts. “It was six years ago,” that much was true, but Merlin had probably told him that anyway. “I was at a party at a friends house, here in London. A posh affair, if you know what I mean. Boring. Expensive. Everyone was in smoking and evening dress. Waiters were walking around with glasses of champagne and hors d'oeuvres. There was polite chatter, mingling, the usual.” He saw Eggsy's eyes gleam with anticipation. Harry lowered his voice. “And then, a fight broke out. The host, Rupert Prescott, caught his best friend -or should I say- former best friend, with his own fiancée.”
Eggsy grinned, probably thinking something about depraved posh people.
“They fought each other, while the now ex-fiancée begged them to stop. It was not a real fight, just some punches and stuff like that, it's almost impossible to fight while wearing a smoking. But then, the fight got bitter. A waiter passed, with dirty cutlery on his tray, wanting to bring it to the kitchen. One of the men, Prescott, suddenly reached out and grabbed a knife off the tray.”
Eggsy's grin widened.
“He stabbed his friend, pulled out the knife, and went to stab him again. I interfered. I managed to take the knife from him, but in the process we had stumbled towards the balustrade. There was a kind of courtyard below, with fountains and such, and from the balustrade the view was breathtaking. It was also roughly six meters up. But I didn't know that. I only knew I finally had taken the knife away from him, and that there was a bleeding man on the ground, and I paid no mind to my surrounding. So when Prescott pushed me, I was not afraid. I simply took a step back to regain my balance, but I ended up with my back against the balustrade. And I know he had never wanted this to happen, but he was seeing red, he was so incredibly angry that I had taken the knife from him, so he pushed me again and I tumbled over the railing. Fell six meters down, landed with my back on the fountain, broke my spine. And now I'm here.”
Eggsy shifted in his chair. He looked so happy that it seemed like he must burst. “Bullshit!” he exclaimed cheerfully, and burst into roaring laughter.
Harry's face fell. Sure, he had made everything up on the spot, but he was a bit offended that Eggsy would just assume that.
“Bullshit,” Eggsy said again, and rubbed his face, as if to wipe away his grin. It didn't work. “You're a good storyteller though, really set the scene. But Harry… if you gonna get into detail, at least make it believable. There is exactly one Rupert Prescott in London, and while I don't doubt he is a cunt, he has never stabbed his 'former best friend' for running off with his fiancée.” Eggsy chuckled. “First of all, this Rupert Prescott is roughly seventy years old, and your story sounded like a younger bloke. Secondly, he has been married for a REALLY long time. And third of all, there is no fucking courtyard in their house.”
Harry gave him a sour look. “And how would you know all of this?”
Eggsy chewed his lip, still grinning. “Fine. But don't tell anyone else.”
Harry was annoyed at hearing his own words repeated back at him, but he nodded nonetheless. He was curious what Eggsy had to say.
“There was a wedding to be held at the Prescott's house. Not his own wedding, obviously. But my mate Jamal worked as a cater-waiter back then, and somehow got me to fill in for someone else who was sick or something. So I have walked around in that house, and there is no courtyard. And I've seen Rupert Prescott, and that dude is so wrinkly, if you'd iron him, you could make a second Rupert out of his excess skin.” He laughed at his own description, and then looked smug. “And I know he is the only Rupert Prescott because I wanted to know if this was THE Rupert Prescott who was rumoured to be easily tricked into giving pretty young things the number to his safe.”
“And did he? Give you the number?”
Eggsy looked as if he would have spat out his drink if he had had one. “No! Jesus! Young women I mean. I just wanted to know if this was the same bloke.” He frowned. “I'm not sure if I should be insulted.”
“I'm not sure either,” Harry said. He sounded bitter, he knew it. He ate his second piece of toast in silence, and declined Eggsy's offer of making more. He was exhausted. While blabbing his way through a bullshit story had cheered him up briefly, he was back at that dark place, that place that Merlin could never understand, or follow him into, and could not pull him out of. Neither could Eggsy. But at least Harry didn't have to watch as Eggsy tried.
****
The rest of the day was spent in uncomfortable silence. Eggsy thought he'd go mad. After doing the dishes, there was nothing left to do, so he just sat at the far end of the couch while Harry watched all kinds of stupid TV programs. He changed the channel every few minutes, as if nothing could hold his attention, and it annoyed the shit out of Eggsy, though he didn't say anything about it.
Harry received a text message which he ignored, followed by at least ten messages a few minutes later, in rapid succession, as if whoever sent them had decided to send his message again, word by word. Harry closed his eyes for a moment, and texted something back. Whatever it was, it only had a few letters, and the look on Harry's face made Eggsy almost certain it had been swearwords.
“What do you want for supper?” Eggsy asked at six. He'd been staring at the clock for a long time, and finally felt like he could ask. Making supper would give him something to do, and since he had no idea when Harry would be going to bed, he didn't know how long this day would take.
“Nothing.” Harry grumbled. “If you want something, go ahead. If you'd rather go out for a pizza or something you can do that. There's money in the till.”
Eggsy wanted to decline at first, or tell Harry that he had to eat, but he thought better of it. Harry was a grown man, and if he didn't want to eat, that was his business. Going out would give Eggsy some precious time away from this maddening silence. “Sure,” he said, and was secretly relieved when he grabbed some cash and made for the door. “Is there a spare key?” he asked.
Harry didn't look at him, and changed the channel again. “I'm capable of opening the door in my 'kicking machine' which I have under my 'arse – no, buttocks'.
Eggsy didn't bother trying to hide his annoyance. “Good,” he said, and went into the hallway. On a desk in the hallway, on a blue and white plate, there was a key. “Fuck you,” he mumbled under his breath, and took the key. He couldn't stand Harry Hart, and he knew the feeling was entirely mutual.
****
He sat down with his fries and texted Roxy
- got new job. Is shit. Boss is angry whole time. Has dead dog in loo!
He got a text back, a few minutes later, consisting entirely of the words HAHAHA over and over again.
Then, another one.
- What kind of dog?
- A dead one
he texted back. Wasn't that enough information?
He ate slowly, dreading going back. In a way, it was a relaxing thought that he would probably be fired immediately. But on the other hand, he could really use the money. And, he admit it to himself, he was curious. Not just why Harry was in a wheelchair, though that question had turned into a small obsession over the last few hours, but also why he was so… weird. So annoyed one moment, and almost friendly the next. Eggsy had noticed the look of shock on Harry's face when he saw the lunch, which made Eggsy kind of sad now he thought back on it. He didn't know what kind of people had helped Harry before, but if Harry was impressed by this food, they must have been shit. Hell, for Merlin to even consider hiring him the rest must have been shit.
Once he could really not draw it out any longer, he went back to Harry's house. He let himself in, not even caring that Harry might think it was rude, and was surprised to smell food. Harry was in the kitchen, stirring a pan of soup. He had to hold his arm in an uncomfortable high position to reach the pan, and Eggsy thought it was probably not very safe to do this. If Harry moved his arm back or something, he would pull the pan off the stove with the spoon, and it would all end up in his lap.
“Could've brought you something if you wanted.” he said.
Harry kept stirring. “I got peckish suddenly.”
Eggsy looked at the empty can on the counter. Vegetable soup. “Well, I hope you have a nice meal,” he said, and went back to sitting on the couch.
A few minutes later, Harry wheeled in, a bowl of hot soup in his lap. Eggsy followed his movements with concern. He had visions of the bowl tipping over and giving Harry third-degree burns. But nothing happened. Harry positioned himself at his standard spot at the table, the one place out of six that had no chair, and lifted the bowl onto the table. He rubbed his right arm. Eggsy felt smug when he saw it. He had been right; the angle needed to stir the soup was so odd, that Harry would feel his muscles ache for the next day or so. Should've asked me to bring him something, Eggsy thought.
He received another text, and quickly set his phone to silence. It might not be very professional to be texting during working hours, but Harry just ate his soup, with his back turned to Eggsy and didn't say a word.
- Has the dog come back to life yet? And what job is it?
- Wouldn't you want to know? What happened to HAHAHA?
- I had company ^^ couldn't think of anything else
With Roxy, 'having company' meant she was lying in the arms of a sexy lady. Eggsy grinned. He was tempted to take a picture of Mr Pickle and send back that he, too, had company, but decided against it.
Harry had finished his soup and wheeled into the hallway, probably on his way to use the toilet. Eggsy wondered what would have happened if he had left Mr Pickle hanging there, though he couldn't imagine that Harry Hart would be shocked by his own dog swinging around while he took a shit.
Even though Eggsy didn't mean to, he listened intently, aware of any sounds that might be Harry losing his balance and falling out of his chair.
Harry came back surprisingly quickly, and Eggsy reminded himself that Harry did this multiple times a day. “I'd like to go upstairs.” Harry said. His face was completely closed off, the same blank mask it had been when they were first introduced.
“Oh,” Eggsy got up. Oh shit. How? He should have asked Merlin. Panic overwhelmed him, and he felt his head go fuzzy. How was he supposed to get Harry upstairs, he had no clue how to do it, perhaps he could call Merlin, was it weird if he called Merl-
He stopped his rambling thoughts, and wanted to kick himself for being so stupid. He didn't have to ask Merlin. He could do one better. He could ask Harry. “What exactly am I supposed to do?” he asked, relieved that his voice sounded calm.
Harry still looked blank. “First, get the wheelchair from my bedroom, and park it in front of the stairs upstairs. Put the brake on. Then come down again. I can hold on to the railing and pull myself up. You can walk behind me and make sure I don't break every bone in my body if I fall. And if I get stuck you can lift my legs. I'll ask you if it's needed.”
The message was clear: Do not touch me without my permission.
Eggsy went upstairs and did as he was told. Then he went down again and stood to the side while Harry drove to the stairs, and parked his wheelchair in such a way it was standing right at the bottom of the stairs. He was facing the railing, and for a moment Eggsy felt uncomfortable, remembering the story of falling over the railing. But that had been fiction. Harry leaned to the side, until Eggsy was sure he'd fall, but he simply grabbed onto the railing and hoisted himself up. He was standing on his wheelchair now, and pulled himself up, so he could place his feet on the bottom stair. He wasn't really standing though. All his weight was carried by his arms, and while his feet touched the ground, they weren't a help at all.
Eggsy climbed over the wheelchair, vaguely aware that this would be considered a fire hazard if multiple people lived there, and stood behind Harry, as he was told.
Harry moved his hands up the railing and jumped a bit, hopping onto the next stair. It must require a lot of upperbody strength to do so, since there was no break from the weight on his arms at any time.
Eggsy watched him with growing respect. Standing this close, it was obvious that Harry was very muscular. At least his arms and chest were. Harry kept pushing his whole body up, and dragging his legs over onto the next step, until he was on the last step, almost at the wheelchair that was waiting for him. “Go stand in front of me,” he said, and Eggsy quickly and carefully walked past him and waited for further instructions. “Hook your arm around me. Make sure you're certain you can hold my weight.”
From where Eggsy was standing, he faced Harry from the side. He put his arms around Harry's ribcage, hooking his arm around him so his hand was on Harry's chest. He held onto the railing with his free hand, and braced himself. “I've got you,” he said.
“I'm going to put my weight on you now,” Harry said, “you only have to make sure you drop me in the chair, and not next to it.”
He slowly got heavier in Eggsy's arm, and Eggsy pulled him in, towards the wheelchair. He took a step to the side rather awkwardly, and now all of Harry's weight was on Eggsy's left arm, and Eggsy turned Harry's body around slowly and lowered him into the wheelchair. He didn't immediately let go of him, afraid that Harry would topple over and fall headfirst down the stairs.
But Harry straightened up in the chair, and everything was okay. “Thank you,” he said, and it sounded cold.
Eggsy understood why. It had to be a terrible feeling to not be able to do things like this by yourself, to have to thank people for helping you with mundane tasks, or sounding like a dick when you didn't. “We've survived,” he said, trying to sound cheerful, but it sounded flat.
“Yes,” Harry said. It didn't sound cheerful at all. He took the brake off, and put his hands on the wheels, moving the chair backwards, away from the stairs. Then he turned, and wheeled himself to his bedroom.
“Is there anything else I can do?” Eggsy asked.
Harry shook his head. “No. I'll read a bit and then go to bed.” he seemed to realise something. “I'm afraid I left my bowl on the table. I'm sorry about that. You can just leave it, I'll wash it tomorrow. You can go home.”
Eggsy tried not to show his relief. He stood at the top of the stairs while Harry opened his bedroom door and wheeled in. He turned around, facing Eggsy. “Oh, Eggsy?”
“Yes?”
“I saw you've found the spare key. That's good. But when I'm downstairs, please just use the doorbell.” it didn't sound judgemental or even accusatory. It just sounded tired. And perhaps that was the reason it made Eggsy feel guilty.
“Sorry, I wasn't thinking. Didn't want to be a bother, I guess.”
“It's alright.” Harry did his best to smile, but didn't succeed. “Good night.”
Just as he was about to close the door, Eggsy said “Are you ever going to tell me the truth?”
Harry didn't have to ask what it was about. He hesitated in the doorway. “Perhaps. If I like you.” His tone said he wasn't counting on it.
Neither was Eggsy. He wasn't even sure he really wanted to come back. But he was determined to find out what had happened to Harry, one way or another.