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Francois hummed to themself as they worked, finishing up the final preparations for the next day. They had dismissed everyone else hours ago, so it was just them and the humming refrigerator. Technically speaking, everything else could be done in the morning, but they were so close to being done. They hadn’t even noticed the hours ticking by.
The door creaked open, revealing a very rumpled-looking Ryusui. It wasn’t the first time he had escaped to the kitchen, and they doubted it would be the last. The reason would often vary, be it nightmares, a fight with his father, or troubling schoolwork, he would always run to them.
They responded the same way they did every time, taking out a set of mugs and getting to work. Ryusui sat himself down at the staff table, content to quietly watch them. And if they snuck in a couple of extra drink mixing tricks, then that was nobody’s business.
With a touch more flourish than was strictly necessary, they finished Ryusui’s drink and made their way to his table. They set down the mugs, quickly disposing of their apron and taking the seat opposite him. As curious as they were as to why Ryusui was up at such an undignified hour, they knew that he would speak in time.
All they needed to do was wait. Luckily for them, patience was a skill they had carefully honed over years and years of baking. They brought the mug to their lips and drank, savoring the warmth of chamomile.
“May I ask what brings you here? It’s practically morning.” They asked once it became clear that Ryusui was far too deep in thought to initiate conversation. As much as they enjoyed his company, he was far too young to last on such little sleep.
Their words were, apparently, the wrong ones, because a moment later, Ryusui burst into tears. Not the loud, melodramatic cries of a child who couldn’t express their needs, but the silent, remorseful tears of someone who was still grieving.
Francois was at his side before they could process.
“Sai’s gone.” He muttered, his voice breaking. Ah. They should have known. “He’s gone.” Ryusui scrubbed at his face with all the dignity of a five year old, and Francois couldn’t help but note just how young he truly was. They took his free hand in theirs, gently tracing their thumb over his knuckles.
They supposed they should have expected him to jump into their arms.
“Ryusui.” They exclaimed, half chiding and half shocked. Because they were breaking so many rules already, and then this. And yet, they held him close regardless.
They provided him comfort the best they could, shushing him gently as they combed through his hair. He only cried harder at that, great sobs wracking his tiny body. A weary sigh escaped them as they tucked him closer.
Why did such a small child have so much to cry about? He was so young, and yet there he was. Frustration boiled in their chest but they forced themself to stay calm.
“Ryusui?” They tried again, softer this time.
He sniffled, pulling back just enough to look them in the eye. And in that soft, innocent face, Francois saw it. The grief. The guilt. He blamed himself, they realized.
“None of this is your fault.” They began, shifting slightly. “While it may seem as such now, there were far bigger factors in play, ones outside either of your control.”
They placed their words carefully. They were toeing a very dangerous line, they knew, but Ryusui needed to hear this. He paused for a moment, as if thinking.
“Why did he leave, then?” he asked, sounding so utterly heartbroken that Francois felt a twinge in their stomach.
“I’m not sure.” They said automatically, faltering. Struggling to explain. They had their own theories as to the reasoning behind Sai’s departure, but nothing they could say aloud.
They could try making another vague statement disguised as advice, but that was too easily misinterpreted. Of course, their hesitance did nothing to help the situation, as fresh tears began streaming down Ryusui’s face.
They pulled him close, tracing soft circles in his back as he cried. They could feel their uniform dampening as Ryusui cried into it, but they couldn’t bring themself to care.
“Sorry.” Ryusui hiccuped, bringing their thoughts to a crashing halt. This was a child. Apologizing for crying. A normal, human reaction to loss.
“You have nothing to apologize for. Besides, emotions seldom stem from nothing.” They responded without thinking. Then, after a moment. “The absence of a loved one is never easy.” Another risky move, yes, but a necessary one.
Ryusui hummed, blinking slowly. His tears had died down, leaving him red-eyed and shaky. He went limp in their arms, his breathing slow.
“It seems to be time for bed.” They instructed gently, cutting off the action before it began. Contrary to popular belief, the kitchen floor was a very unpleasant place to sleep. They would know.
They gingerly maneuvered him off their lap, only to be met with a discontented whine.
“Use your words, Ryusui.” They reminded, tucking his bangs behind his ear.
“I don’t wanna.” He stated eloquently. “If I go to bed, then you’ll leave.” He clung to their midriff with increasing desperation, his face twisting in displeasure.
Ah, so that was the issue.
“If I stay with you, will you return to your room and have some water?” They asked. After all, what were a few more hours of overtime, when they had already stayed so long. Besides, after crying so much, Ryusui was undoubtedly dehydrated.
Once they had gotten him tucked in, they retrieved a chair and began to make themself comfortable. And then Ryusui looked at them with pleading eyes and made a grabbing motion. It was, if they were being honest with themself, adorable.
They sighed in defeat, standing up and making their way to the other side of the bed. After all, who were they to refuse their master what he desired?
He reached out a hand towards them, and they placed theirs on his without much thought.
“G’night,” he mumbled, his words slurring together with sleep. “Love you.” His last words made their world stop, but he was blissfully unaware, already fast asleep.
It was probably just a mistake, they reasoned. Ryusui, in his half-asleep daze, must have assumed they were Sai. Or one of his parents. Yes, that was it. That was all it was. Even though he and Sai had parted ways to their own separate rooms every night, and Ryusui’s father never had enough time to tuck him in.
Instead, it was them who ensured he was situated every night. Them who roused him in the mornings and was always there with advice or guidance. They had been the one he sought out earlier that night, tears in his eyes as he looked for comfort.
And maybe, they realized, they were far more parental towards him than they would care to admit. But as they looked down at Ryusui’s softly sleeping face, void of worry or tears, they couldn’t bring themself to mind. He was so peaceful, even if it was just for the moment.
So with a sigh, they leaned over, pressed a soft kiss to Ryusui’s head, and turned out the light. They knew that, logically, they should leave and return to their quarters. But that would mean leaving Ryusui to wake up alone.
Ryusui, who had just lost one of the most important figures in his life. Ryusi, who was always so unsure of who would truly stay. Ryusui, who had seemed so small, curled up in their arms. No, staying the night was their only option.
And if, from that night on, they found themself going out of their way to bid Ryusui goodnight, then that was neither here nor there. And if they made sure to prepare his favorite dish after a hard day, they were just doing their job as a loyal butler. And if, when they woke from the stone thousands of years later, the first thought on their mind was Ryusui, then that was nobody’s business.