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A manor in the heart of Munich was typical. The lawn was kept in pristine condition, yard decorations elaborate beyond necessity, and sand-lime brick painted over without so much as a chip or a spec of dirt in the pure white. It wasn’t the outside that was a cause for concern, but what happened between the many walls.
Alexis grew up in Hamburg, home to some of the wealthiest people in the country. Even if their names weren’t recognizable, there was a guarantee that every family had their hands in the honey pot of capitalism. Most of the cities he visited look like quiet country towns with fewer people than resources. Munich was one of the rarities that felt quite familiar. For better or worse, he was reminded of home, even if it was a good five hours away from his family.
Not that he needed them, or that they wanted him. When he told them he landed a job in the city, it was the most interest his siblings had shown in his life in years. Somewhere between the relief that they wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore and the surprise that anyone would hire such a defect like him, there was concern for his well-being. As similar as the two places were, moving out as a teenager was not advised by anyone. It got even worse once he told them what the job was.
In exchange for well over a livable wage (even for Munich's standards) and a mansion roof over his head, all there was to pay was the small price of dealing with a single child.
For twenty-four hours of the day, seven days a week, he served as the primary guardian to a boy ten years his junior. He had his doubts going into the job. Not only were the conversations with the man orchestrating his payments brief, but there was a fear in his heart that the kid would reject him. He was only sixteen after all, never too good at school, and entirely unfit for reprimanding a child. The only thing that gave him the push to take up the offer was the chance that his work, sculptures made of wood or molded from clay, would be able to win over the hearts of important people.
Back home, it was nearly impossible to separate himself from his family name, the ghost of science always chasing after him when he’d rather be left alone. Teachers questioned his lackluster performance in the subject, as if he was supposed to sponge up all of his parents’ interests and bleed them back out.
Munich was a change of scenery in that aspect. If people did know of his family, the chances they’d heard of him were next to zero. One of the only ways being the black sheep came in handy.
Alexis wished he could say he made the decision to move after a long month of contemplating, but it was his intuition that told him to pack up and go. His new boss must’ve had connections if he were able to cut such checks without batting an eye. All it would take was for one of his projects to be acknowledged on television, and he would have streamlined networking with some of the greats in the industry. It wasn’t until he started working that he saw the flaw in his plan.
Aside from a spare weekend each month, the couple was never home.
The reason he was hired as an around-the-clock babysitter was more evident than he wanted to admit, shame bubbling in his gut when he reported to his mom about how things were going. Though she wouldn’t care that his career as an artist was at a stalemate, so he didn’t tell her. He sat on the phone, lying through his teeth that the homeowners were some of the kindest people he’d met, welcomed him with open arms, and whatever else he could manage to think of while his heart raved against his ribcage.
In truth, he hadn’t known a wife was involved until he accidentally entered her walk-in closet after getting lost in the twists and turns of the mansion. Every time he communicated prior to getting the job, it was a man who rushed him through conversations. After nearly three weeks, he managed to meet her one morning on her way out the door.
“Be careful with that one!” She shouted to one of the many assistants, stood on the balls of her feet behind the man in black holding the door open. Alexis watched as another suitcase rolled down the center stairs, the sound of wheels gliding against marble responsible for his wake.
He rubbed his tired eyes, his brain too fogged to use proper formalities, “Hello, ma’am. I’m Alexis.”
The woman whipped around, platinum blonde hair moving like ocean water with her head. Her eyes widened, the deep magenta a color he was familiar with. It was strange. Not that she didn’t recognize him, but the way she clutched onto the sleeve of someone he could only assume was her bodyguard.
Alexis dropped his arms, standing there as the two traded whispers between stealing glances at him. For a second, he started to wonder if this was all some big mistake on his part, where he’d wandered into the wrong home and slept in a random bed for the past several weeks. His skin prickled as he watched the exchange take place, frozen and defenseless if the man decided to use brute force to make him pay for his trespassing.
After a few more whispers, the woman cleared her throat, shaking off the disgusted look on her face that he’d only caught a glimpse of, and walked towards him. The sound of her heels clacking across the floor was louder than her voice, honeyed in apology.
“Oh dear, you’re finally here.” She took his hand in her own, slightly towering over him thanks to the stilettos. “I wish my husband had told me he went through with hiring a new sitter.”
Her palms were as soft as rose petals against his skin, not a wrinkle compared to the overweight man Alexis had the displeasure of meeting a handful of times. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that everything about this woman was different. As alluring as she was perilous, her hand felt cool, bloodless in his loose grip as she pierced him in place with a seductive gaze.
She smiled with her lips and nothing more, gliding up to give his shoulder a pat. “Make yourself at home, just protect my wardrobe from any thieves if they happen to intrude, yes? I’m certain that was a clause in your contract somewhere.” Her lips thinned as the final suitcase was wheeled out to the car. She pulled back to look at the diamond bracelet on her wrist as if it were a functioning watch. “Read over it thoroughly. Far too many of you have been let go because you don’t understand the concept of fine print.”
Alexis nodded, not wanting to hold her any longer than her false grin lasted. “Yes, ma’am. My family lawyer gave it a look before everything was finalized.”
Her fingers did a slight twitch at the mention of a legal team, and she spared him a glare. She let out a small huff.
“Good.” Blonde hair whipped once more when she turned back to the door held wider for her exit. “Be sure to tell him I said to keep you.”
With that, the door slammed shut behind her and the bodyguard, who at least bid a head nod of courtesy.
Alexis stood in the entryway until the sound of rubber against asphalt snapped him out of it. Part of him was starstruck. Even a blind man couldn’t deny the beauty she possessed. The other half of him was conflicted, bewildered by her coldness.
Never mind that he had been living in the estate for nearly a month, she didn’t so much as ask about the child. It crossed his mind that perhaps they were only relatives through in-laws, but that was quickly thrown out when he pictured the boy’s face. Minus a mole on her lip, he could be her offspring through mitosis. Lucky for him, when given his father’s unfortunate genes, though it made her detachment that much more questionable.
Before things could settle in his sleep-ridden mind, a much softer patter fell against the center stairs. He turned to see wild hair cautiously peeking over the balusters.
“It’s okay to come out.” Alexis kept his voice gentle even as he projected to the top of the staircase. His smile was soft to start the boy on a good foot in the morning. “You just missed your mommy. I’m sure she’ll be back soon to play, so let’s get started on breakfast, okay?”
Since moving into the mansion, Alexis always found himself telling lies. Here and there, sometimes and maybe, it started to weigh heavily on his chest. Childcare was one thing, very different from repeatedly bending his morals. There was a point where he thought to stop telling the lies, to live in the uncomfortable silence that so easily swept over the house.
But looking across the dining table, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
The boy was seven, still unable to properly hold a fork. His hands were his utensil, used to shovel food from the ceramic plates into his mouth. No matter how many times Alexis tried to teach by example, it was futile at best and, at worst, left the boy going to bed with a half-full belly.
“Michael.” Alexis placed his fork on the dinner mat to properly address his dining partner. With the length of the table being enough to sit a decent house party, they always sat at opposite ends with the maximum distance between them. The boy dropped the handful of pasta salad to meet Alexis’s eyes, waiting for him to continue.
He understood authority and took instructions well as long as they were given from afar. It’s why, despite many attempts, he could never properly coach him into using utensils at mealtime. If Alexis had to guess, he would have said he was a tactile learner.
That day, Alexis had a mission.
His chair scraped across the porcelain tiles, causing Michael to jump slightly. He did the same, kicking his small feet against the table legs to propel himself back. It was a sight to see, Alexis letting out a small chuckle as he approached.
“So you can copy me?” He stood in front of him, able to cross the distance before he could jump down from the dining chair.
The boy let out a whine of defeat, frowning up at him. Alexis was familiar with the expression. If his face ever did change, that was his look of choice. He was as stubborn as he was ill-mannered, cutting his gaze away when he noticed that he was staring.
“Today is the day you learn how to eat properly.” He reached over to grab the untouched fork with a smile. “Ready?”
He didn't expecting to be received well, but he didn’t have to be. What kind of caregiver was he if he couldn’t teach a child something as simple as how to eat like a member of society? The day he stopped prioritizing being liked by the boy would be the day he started to see change.
Holding the utensil between his fingers, he tried to remember how it was explained to him while staring at the position that felt as natural as breathing now. His parents were not the best teachers, so taking their advice probably wouldn’t have worked anyway.
Alexis hummed, sliding his gaze over to Michael, who recoiled in his seat, cheeks tinted pink. He covered his mouth with one of his small, messy hands in a prideful refusal to be fed.
“I'm not going to do it myself,” Alexis sighed. Fighting with the child wasn’t necessary, as his paycheck would remain the same, but surely he’d be fired if his parents came home to their son shoveling food into his mouth. He could forget having his work in any film that had their name on it.
He reached for the closest chair and pulled it up to sit directly beside the boy, a way to both cage him in and come down to his level. “Think of when you write,” he removed his hand from his mouth and placed it along the silver. “But you want to have more control because it’s dangerous.” Slowly, he extended the boy’s index finger down the neck to put it in the proper position.
“See?” Alexis pulled his hands away to dab at the mayonnaise left behind on Michael’s face. “You’re doing it.”
Though he said nothing, his flush had worsened, his gaze never leaving Alexis, cornflower-blue eyes blown wide. Alexis felt his heart tighten beneath his sweater. For once, he was allowed to come close. He didn’t get to bask in his small victory, quickly realizing how the boy was frozen in his seat and blooming red like he’d forgotten how to breathe.
Clearing his throat, Alexis pushed back. They were essentially strangers, so it made sense for him to be wary, even scared, of him.
“I’ll leave you to eat.” He stood to push the chair under the table, giving Michael even more space. “If you do well, you can have a rusk.”
Michael finally nodded, as susceptible to bribes as any child. He was able to tear his gaze away from Alexis and turned his attention to the remainder of his meal. With the fork in his hand, like a shovel (not at all how Alexis showed him), he began picking over his plate, using it more for practice than for actual food to be eaten.
Alexis couldn’t complain, happy to convince him to do something for once. He observed quietly. It was normal to celebrate children’s milestones, yet they’d done nothing of the sort.
“So,” he hummed, not missing the way Michael’s attention snapped at his voice, “your birthday… I’m sorry I missed it. Should we do something now?”
The moment the word ‘birthday’ left his lips, the boy’s small body tensed. His nails bit into the table, where he suddenly pushed off. Alexis nearly jolted to his feet, but held back to only a whine of surprise. “Soon! I mean.” Clutching the arms of his chair, he tried his hardest not to be offended by Michael’s lack of response. Speaking was never his strong suit.
“We don’t have to,” he offered an easy out. He pushed his plate away with a forced smile so hard his cheeks started to hurt. “But it’s a big thing you’re a growing boy.”
Being born on Christmas must have come with its challenges. Any notion of self-expression was overshadowed by the holiday spirit that rang through the country like church bells. Alexis wasn’t innocent. He used his accumulated vacation time to return home. He had the feeling that even if the boy weren’t alone, he didn’t have much of a birthday experience.
Alexis raised his gaze to Michael, standing waist-length with the dining table. His hands and blushing face were still a mayonnaise-smeared mess as he kept his body turned, ready to sprint off at the first wrong move Alexis made.
They faced each other, blinking in the silent room that felt too big for just the two of them, but too small for their exchange. Alexis was the first to yield and relax his hold on the chair. “We’ll talk about it later.” He grabbed his plate and made his way around to take Michael’s half-eaten dish.
He didn’t retreat to the kitchen without walking over, cautious with each step. Michael tracked his movements with his eyes. After sucking in a long breath, he stayed put.
Alexis reached his hand down to ruffle the boy’s unkempt hair. “You did well today.”
There were several living rooms, only one of which was ‘lived in’ on the occasion that Alexis got to spend time with Michael. Their conversation in the kitchen had broken through the awkwardness over them for the first few months. Since then, Alexis learned there was plenty Michael couldn’t do, and he’d taken up a second role as teacher. All of the basics were behind them within a week. The boy was a talented learner, on pace to be advanced before the first month of the new year was over.
With a heavy workload came the need for ample rest. The last thing Alexis wanted was to burn him out with school and put them back in a tense spot.
That was why for the final days of the year, he kept a log of everything. Not a single frown, crease of forehead muscles, or (the rarest) smile occurred in his presence without being documented. In his handbook, there was a dedicated page listing exactly what Michael was interested in, so he could plan the perfect outing.
Twisting a stray strand of wool around his thumb, he waited for the sound of footsteps. “Make sure you’re buttoned up!” he called up the stairs, wrapped in his own layers. Before they even left the house, he was thinking about how to optimize the day, and falling ill was far from that list.
He stood in front of the nearby mirror to check himself a final time. His fully clothed figure met his eyes in the glass reflection. He wore an assortment of tan plaid, from the scarf around his neck to the thick outer pants. Catching sight of the name brand tag on his jacket, he began to think that the paychecks were starting to show in his attire. His parents were fans of dressing modestly despite their wealth, but as a teen with his living expenses covered, he had to splurge somewhere. If it made him fit in more with the blonde little boy with blue eyes, he was willing to accept the snobbish appearance.
Right when Michael came back to his mind, he heard shuffling. A bundle of clothing descended to the ground floor as he held his breath. He could hardly distinguish each jacket on the waddling sphere.
“You look…” he couldn’t finish his thought in good faith after seeing Michael’s face. From the bit he could see, his lips pressed together in a thin line to pout. It was hard to believe there was a boy under all of those layers.
Reaching out, his tone remained even. “I think we should cut down on your outfit, no?” He bent over once Michael waddled in front of him, noticing that his face was turning red just standing there. “Ah,” he peeled off his outermost jacket, “You’re burning up!”
With the work of slow hands, a familiar kid emerged from the bundle of clothing. Each layer he stripped off was worth a couple of hundred euros, hitting the thousands mark in no time. His mind wandered. There was no use for all of this clothing if there was no one to take the boy out, much less teach him how to dress. He didn’t know of their plans for the day, but heard the word ‘snow’ and threw on his entire closet.
Alexis spent an extra ten minutes on redressing him, only feeling satisfied when he spotted a bit of blonde peeking from underneath a hood. “Better?” He wouldn’t risk his warmth, so he settled on a long-sleeve shirt, hoodie, fox fur parka, and some gloves. He observed his model with a smile, and Michael stared at him before nodding.
Intercoms blared through the station, the bustle of people and trains running along tracks. Alexis looked down at the stiff tickets between his fingers. His other hand tightened over Michael’s. They were on the next train west, a sea of bodies waiting alongside them.
He continued to check on the boy with each passing train. “You’re not afraid, are you?” Large blue eyes rattled in their sockets as Michael shook his head. “Good,” he praised.
Michael was quiet, so Alexis worried when bringing him out. The station could be overstimulating to someone so small. The entire time they stood, Alexis clutched him to his thigh, only comfortable releasing him once they stepped onto the carriage. He tucked their bag underneath his own seat to give Michael the most room.
His pay was more than enough to get them the best spot, close enough to the restroom without having to deal with the foot traffic. Michael sat facing the window, glued to the sky as they rode out of the station. With watching eyes, Alexis slipped off his gloves when the heat started to kick in. “Do you like looking at the clouds?”
He didn’t expect to draw Michael’s attention with how invested he seemed in the scenery, speaking low enough to say he was merely taking note of a new habit. The boy was already swaying his legs, hands pressed against the window. “I like birds and planes,” he muttered, breath fogging the glass. Alexis nearly jolted out of his seat.
Never in the six months that he babysat did Michael part his lips to share his own opinion. It was either a head nod or a head shake. Before he could respond, Michael continued. He spoke well without breaking his focus on the thick contrails fresh in the vast blue. “I want to fly too… in the sky like them.”
A small noise slipped from Alexis. Shock, happiness, he couldn’t put a name on it. Michael started to turn to find out, but by the time he met Alexis’s eyes, they were creased, tears brimming at their edges.
Pride was the word he was looking for.
Seeing Michael take a peek out of his shell was better than a month ago, even a day ago. There was plenty of work left to be done, and Alexis should’ve been the last person crying over him, but it was impossible to turn off the leaking faucet behind his eyes.
“The sky?” Alexis glanced at the broken lines of dissipating ice crystals. Michael nodded, back to his quiet norm. Alexis didn’t push him to speak anymore. “I’m going to need a couple of weeks to make that happen. Is that okay?”
Gentle as he was genuine, Alexis reached to fix Michael’s hood over his head. He was surprised to find that the boy’s ears were fiery red and hot to the touch. His immediate reaction was to chastise himself for stripping his own outerwear first.
“You’re burning up again Michael.” He kept the self-reprimands in his head as he slid the hood off the messy blonde hair. “Come here. Let me help you with that.”
The train ride was even smoother than expected. They took a taxi to their location, on schedule to arrive ten minutes earlier than planned. Next to their itinerary, there was a doodle of a cake. Alexis instinctively drew sachertorte, though on the colorless sheet, it could be any dessert served with whipped cream. Only he knew what it was supposed to be, and his stomach growled at the mental image of a slice.
Michael stood to his side, once again squashed to his thigh as they stood near the busy market entrance. Alexis knew Baden-Baden was safe for him, but he’d be a fool to underestimate how a little boy in a Louis Vuitton parka looked from the outside. He pulled Michael’s hood back over his head with clear instructions.
“If anyone talks to you, you squeeze me, got it?” The closer they walked to the market, the more ideas he came up with. Alexis had rarely heard him speak, so telling him to shout ‘help’ wouldn’t be good enough. Even if it cost him some of his freedom, he would rather they be glued together than something happen to the boy.
Nodding, Michael tightened his grip around Alexis’s leg to show he understood. He was intimidated by the park's size and was willing to stick close just this once. Alexis checked him over one last time before they entered the market. His eyes feasted on the lights strung from stall to stall, shining like it were still Christmas Day. The sound of families laughing flooded his ears as roasted nuts wafted through the air. Like any market, near the entrance were culinary vendors, enough sausages and gingerbread to give customers energy to explore the stalls and then some. Alexis thought of his itinerary and how he’d take Michael to see the custom-made toys first. He glanced down, and saw him staring off at a bakery stall, agreeing with his stomach that play time could wait.
Claiming the idea as his own, he guided them to the stand with his hand resting atop Michael’s head as if holding him to his legs weren’t enough. “There’s got to be something good here,” he smiled, pressing a finger to his nose when Michael looked up at him. “My senses are tingling.”
With no objections, Michael leaned in to take a peak at the showcase of treats for sale. Around the new year, most people were looking for healthy food, but nothing of the sort applied to the market. As long as there was celebration, there would be indulgence—sweets, and meats as far as the eye could see.
A particular cookie caught Alexis’s attention. Rich black with an oozing orange center, it sat at the far back of the display, hidden behind all of the seasonal favorites marked ‘SOLD OUT’ in thick marker. Alexis nearly salivated at his luck. He swiped the side of his mouth and leaned in to the woman standing behind the stall. “Ma’am, are those sachertorte cookies?”
Her eyes widened, and she did a double take. “Yes, they are!” There was a lilt to her voice that made Alexis smile. “We only brought a few with us and they still haven’t sold much.”
Alexis bit back the urge to say he’d take her entire stock. “That’s a shame,” he frowned after gaining his composure. “I eat them year-round, so I’ll be happy to take two orders off your hands.” Reaching into his coat for loose notes, he squeezed Michael to get his attention. The boy’s hum vibrated against his leg, his free hand buried in his pocket with his eyes glued to the ground.
As the woman packed the cookies, his heart pounded in concern. Just a moment ago, Michael was interested, and now he couldn’t get him to look up at the table. He scanned the display again. To the right, there was an empty basket with a red bow labeled ‘Rusks.’ They were cheap as always and seemed to offer two options for a sweet or savory experience.
Alexis frowned. Michael had plenty of non-verbal ways to communicate when he was upset, his refusal to face him being the most common. He couldn’t help feeling as though he’d let him down, sighing while taking the wrapped tin from the vendor.
“Thank you,” he forced a smile with his hand guiding Michael’s small shoulder away from the stand. His gaze followed the boy as they walked away. Thinking about what to tell him, he used his nose to lead them to the closest bread stall. He’d gotten his mind so wrapped in his own dessert, he lost focus that the point of their outing was to shower Michael in his favorite things. Ahead of piano ballads and cats, rusks sat at the top of his list.
Alexis scoured for the breadsticks. They arrived in the early evening, so he couldn’t blame the vendors for being sold out. Easy as they were to make at home, they were also bought up by families that couldn’t be bothered to bake their own teething crusts.
Deep in thought, Alexis was slow to notice the release around his thigh. His steps were frantic, looking for a bakery stall, and Michael must have slipped from his side.
The worst images flooded his mind as he turned in the direction of the first stall. He swept across the park, squinting as far as his eyes could see. There were many children held by or locked in the hands of their parents. None of them looked like his Michael.
“Fuck.” A groan slipped, the ball in his stomach tightening with each passing second. No matter which direction he searched, there was no sight of the small boy once attached to his hip. “Fuck!”
The second time he yelled much louder and there was a whine from below. He’d recognize that noise, glancing down as relief washed over him.
“Michael!”
The boy flinched back at his volume. His hands were free from his gloves as he held a bag with one, and lifted a breadstick to his mouth with the other. Swallowing the last of one, he shoved a replacement between his lips to chew on.
Alexis knelt down, not caring about becoming an obstacle to passing customers. He pointed to the bag. “Where did you get those?”
Michael remained silent as always, clutching the remainder of them to his chest in case Alexis had plans on confiscating them. Only wanting to make sure they weren’t tampered with, Alexis leaned to take a closer look. They were the typical rusks, no funny smells or coloring. Even the packaging looked official, familiar to the tin he held in his arm.
“Michael!” He gasped, the boy wincing as his name was repeated. “Did you take those out of that nice lady’s basket while I was talking to her?” He tried his hand at scolding before, but everything came out like a question. Of course he’d stolen them off the table. Alexis only paid for the cookies before rushing off to find something to make Michael happy.
Except he was never actually upset, just smuggling cookies in his jacket and convincing the soft hearted babysitter into ushering him away from the crime scene. Alexis watched him gnaw away at the rusks he guarded with a hand. He didn’t know whether he should’ve been impressed at the elaborate plan, or worried that he’d learned how to manipulate at such a young age.
Rising to his feet, he dusted the snow off his knees. “I’m not going to take them,” he grumbled. Michael heaved a sigh of relief as he relaxed his hold on the stolen goods. “That doesn’t mean I’m not disappointed. If you wanted them, all you had to do was tell me.” He grabbed Michael's head since his hands were busy and tilted it back while pulling him in. “This is all for you to enjoy yourself. I’m here to buy anything you want, so no more stealing, okay?”
Michael froze, jaw slack around the rusk in his mouth. He never got reprimanded by Alexis, the flush on his cheeks showed his guilty conscience better than any apology. His hands trembled, and his face burrowed into Alexis's side. He shoved the opened bag back into his jacket pocket where he’d smuggled it while letting out a whine of agreement.
For once, Alexis could say he issued a consequence that stuck. Michael kept his hands to himself and his leg, leaving all of the displays untouched. They even found a second basket of rusks, marked ‘FREE,’ and he refused to take a bag, eyes glued on Alexis to prove he wasn’t putting on an act of banditry this time.
Alexis felt his pride waning the longer the evening went on. Beyond the stolen rusks and toys that he had to force into Micahel’s hand, nothing was catching the boy’s attention. The market was no easy walk after a three-hour train ride, and he started to sag against Alexis for support. He was beginning to think all hope was lost when they passed a crafter’s empty stall.
Michael bolted away from his thigh, springing for the vendor’s display just before Alexis could catch his hood. “We walk, Michael.” He groaned the reminder, starting to tire himself from looking at variations of the same thing.
He returned to his side for a closer look at what he was chasing after. In the glass were unspectacular wood carvings, rough edges, and dull colors that would give Alexis nightmares if he painted them. An old man stood from his chair, smiling down at the boy’s glowing eyes, peering at his work. “He’s interested in those little things?” He laughed, as non-believing as Alexis was. “That means he’s got an old soul.”
“I…guess so?” Alexis wrapped his arm back around Michael’s shoulder with a squeeze. He stared at the pieces until he couldn’t take it anymore, and glanced at Michael to verify that his eyes didn’t deceive him. The carvings were okay, but Alexis made work that was ten times better, and wouldn’t cost them the upcharge of another’s labor. With a few hours and a good playlist, he could replicate everything in the display himself.
He followed Michael’s gaze for the piece to ask for it to be wrapped when he noticed. Michael wasn’t looking at the woodwork at all. His eyes were glued to an aquamarine ring peeking out of a hand-carved engagement box. The gemstone reflected in Michael’s eye, the blues meeting each other in a silent decision.
“Michael,” he interjected before the fantasy could go too far. “I don’t think that’s for sale. It’s a woodshop, the box is what you’re supposed to buy so you can add your own ring.” It was no surprise that the boy had an eye for jewelry, given the way his mother dressed. The gem was a decent size, no less than a thousand euros' worth of clear, beautiful stone.
Yet to catch on, the old man plucked the box from the display in confusion. “This one? You’re not marrying anyone soon little man, what could you possibly need this for?” Though the man laughed, Alexis’s heart twisted at the misunderstanding. Here was this stall with no customers, and Michael led them over for something that was not for sale. He decided to suck it up and pay for the ring holder so they could leave as fast as possible.
Michael tapped Alexis’s thigh as the box was taken out, flashing one of his rare smiles. Alexis felt his chest turn into a mess, mangled between the elderly and the youth completely missing each other on the route of communication. He forced a smile back at Michael and tried his best to clue the older man in. “That ring you have sure is pretty. I wish it came with the box.”
His best attempt was admittedly weak; no surprise to him when the stall owner chuckled, “It’s a special one indeed. I’d have to ask your little man for fifteen hundred euros to even consider.” He was in the middle of removing the jewelry when Michael tugged at Alexis. Their eyes met, a pout on Michael’s lips like he understood what he was asking for.
Alexis let out a small huff, hoping he wouldn’t regret this.
“What about… two thousand?”
The words fought their way out his tongue and into the cold air where they reached the older man. His hands paused on the lid and he stared at Michael, then Alexis, before back to Michael. He was the very last to understand what caught the boy’s attention, and while he showed slight signs of disappointment that it wasn’t his own work, he couldn’t pass up the offer. “C-cash or card, sir?”
Alexis bristled at the new address, realizing he’d only become a ‘sir’ when Michael decided to flash their wealth. He took out the card he used to receive his payments and swiped away a week’s worth of work. Suddenly the Calvin Klein scarf felt bold around his neck, writing a check he could somehow afford to cash as they wrapped up the transaction. Out of the kindness of his heart (or so he claimed), the vendor waived the twenty euros for the ring box and let them pay an even two thousand. He went to wrap it when Michael extended his hand.
His hesitation was met by a nod from Alexis, and he plopped the bare wood into the child’s hand. Michael immediately flicked it open to take out the ring as Alexis guided them away from the table, not wanting the man to see what he would do with the box after he got his hand on the true object of his desire. “Be careful with that,” he warned, eyes glued to the fortune he’d just spent. Already holding it like glass, Michael nodded. His cheeks bloomed pink, and Alexis bent down to recheck him.
It got colder as the sun descended, snow to fall in thick layers through the night. With their faces close, Alexis could see just how red Michael was turning. “I think it’s time we head back to the station so you can warm up.” He tried to keep the concern out of his voice, but the boy only got worse the longer they stood there. He gave up waiting for an answer when Michael didn’t nod, moving to stand up.
When his back straightened, he felt himself tugged back to the earth. Michael had a grip on his sweater and held the ring box out to him. Aquamarine gleamed inside the opening, facing Alexis. He stared at the gem in confusion as the ugly woodwork slipped from his mind for a moment.
Michael nudged it closer when he made no move to take it. “For you.”
“For… me?” Blood rushed to his face as the pieces fell together. The law of parsimony told him that his assumption was wrong, that the nearly freezing weather was responsible. But Alexis was never one to listen to logic.
The corners of his lips twitched into a smile. “Thank you, Michael.” He took the box and gave the ring a closer look. Translucent aquamarine sparkled under the snow, heavy between his pinched fingers. Fortunately, it was worth every euro he spent, a genuine stone and a beautiful band to complement.
Michael copied his expression, innocent blush spreading all the way to the tips of his ears. Lights beaconed from the stalls, and Alexis swore he’d never seen such pure joy. Cutting his gaze between Michael and the stone, he couldn’t tell which shone brighter.
Once again, the boy found a way to exploit his soft heart.
He slid the ring over his gloved finger, extending his hand for Michael to see. “I’ll hold it for you just like this.” Before standing straight, he pinched a red cheek, “Whenever you want it back, it’s yours.”
When it was clear the boy wouldn’t speak again, Alexis lifted him into his arms. On a regular occasion, he would have trusted Michael to walk, but with their newly acquired gem, he didn’t feel like taking any chances. They didn’t get far out of the market when the boy started to sag on his shoulder, eyelids fighting to stay open until they got in the taxi. Alexis put Michael down before climbing in beside him.
“To the train station,” he instructed the driver, voice low as the boy curled under his arm. His hand pushed back the parka hood to massage his scalp. Michael whined at the touch, too tired to push away.
Alexis couldn’t let him drift off to sleep without saying one last thing. He didn’t expect an answer and wasn’t looking for a thank you. His heart just wouldn’t settle until he told him.
He leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Happy birthday, Michael.”