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He was the Butler.
He had been a loyal servant to the Körner family, since long before Paul Körner was even born. His father had been a loyal servant to the Körner family, and his father before him. It was a duty they carried out proudly and to the best of their abilities, serving an influential family such as the Körner line.
He had watched Paul Körner grow up, from a small babe that giggled and cried, to a gangly and awkward boy, to a talented and handsome man, who was a common household name with his musical talents. He had bandaged the scrapes on little Paul Körner's knees when the boy has fallen from the trees in the garden (Paul's father had thoroughly expressed his displeasure at the boy preferring to climb trees rather than study his schoolwork, but the Butler knew that Paul was just being a boy. He was just a boy, enjoying the simplicities of life until the realities of living sucked the joy from his world), he had taken him to his first days of school, proudly handing Paul's bookbag over to the boy and wishing him well on his academics, reminding him to study more than just the fun topics. He had shown Paul off to boarding school, hugging him tightly before waving as the train faded into the distance, and he was the one to welcome him home when he was expelled, laying a comforting hand upon the teen's shaking shoulder as he took his bags. He had been the one that sat beside Paul on the steps in the snow outside the Körner home after Paul's mother and father had made their disappointment and displeasure crystal clear when they learned of his expulsion - and the fact that Paul refused to tell them what had led to it. He had been the shoulder that Paul cried on when the young man had felt as if he had lost almost everyone and everything which he had loved.
He had been the one that Paul confided in when it came to the reason he had been expelled from boarding school.
He had been the one to offer a reassuring smile, he had been the one to tell Paul that his sexuality changed nothing - that he was just as normal and good as the next person, despite was society would say. He had been the one that listened to Paul lament romances that didn't pan out, of young men that had dashing smiles and handsome appearances.
He had been there when Paul got involved with Franz Bollek, a dirty trickster who found Paul in a dance hall and convinced Paul to engage with him only to turn around and threaten him with blackmail, threaten him with telling the public - the courts - that Paul was a homosexual, that he was violating Paragraph 175. Paul had given in to the man's demands and had been giving the blackmailer money ever since, and the Butler had to hold himself back from punching the man every time he appeared on Paul's doorstep, settling for harsh glares and harsh words.
He had attended each concert, each practice, no matter the hour. He had always carried a container of rosin in his pocket in the event of Paul needing it (Paul never did, the violinist was always prepared, but the Butler brought it anyways). In his quarters in the Körner household, his overflowing desk drawer held every single program from each of Paul's concerts that he had attended over the years, each one carefully folded and organized.
He had been the one that cared for Paul, that had loved every bit of him like a son despite the rules of society dictating Paul as wrong and confused. He had cared for Paul deeply, an affection that extended beyond the requirements of the job. He treated Paul like family, like a treasured loved one.
He had watched proudly as Paul met the kind Kurt Sivers, Paul quickly taking the talented young man under his wing and teaching him all he knew when it came to playing the violin and the piano. He had watched as a mentoring relationship turned to one more... intimate, one consisting of longing glances and lingering touches. He had watched as Paul fell hopelessly in love, and he had patiently listened as Paul told him how amazing Kurt was, how talented and kind and handsome the younger man was.
He had encouraged Paul to come clean with his feelings, and he had watched proudly from the window as Paul and Kurt walked hand in hand to the park, deep expressions of adoration and love in each of their eyes.
He had been the one to find Paul, when it happened.
He had observed that Paul and Kurt had had a fight about the blackmail, that Kurt hadn't come around to the house in days. He had been giving Paul space, space to mourn and rage and despair, but he still stayed close, especially when the rat that was Franz Bollek accused Paul of homosexual activities and started a court case. He had handled Paul's paperwork for the court case, had neatly pressed Paul's suit and shined his shoes, and he had stood patiently outside the door to the courtroom while the proceedings took place. When Paul emerged, pale and shaky, he knew without asking that Paul's career would be over. He assisted him to the car, casting glares at the gawking press and public that were lingering outside the courtroom as he walked Paul past then. He had driven him home with worried glances and a comforting hand resting on his shoulder, his lips twisted into a somber frown as he was at a loss for how to comfort his dear friend.
He had given Paul space when they arrived home, he had left him alone.
He had made a dreadful mistake.
When he came later, to check on Paul and offer him some dinner (he had made Paul's favorite), he found a horrible sight. Paul Körner was horribly still, he was horribly pale. His hand dangled from where he was slumped in his armchair, an empty packet of pills loosely held in his greying fingers, a crumpled note dropped onto the floor.
Paul Körner was dead.
He did all he could, he tried to shake him awake, he pressed down on his chest in the hope that it would forcd air into his still lungs, he called for medics, but deep in his heart he knew that he had failed his charge.
And when he somberly told the Körner's of Paul's death, with tears in his eyes, instead of expressions of sorrow and heartbreak, he saw... no expressions of surprise, no expressions of shock. Paul's father almost looked *happy*, the edges of his lips curling upwards.
As disgust swirled in his gut, he informed the Körner family on the spot that he was quitting, that he no longer had a reason to serve the Körner family as he had loyally been doing for decades. He was curtly dismissed from the deathbed, Paul's family making it clear that his services and presence were no longer needed. He was not invited to the funeral, he was not given a chance to say his goodbyes to the boy he had watched grow into a man.
For who was he, but the butler.