La Luna (BoyxBoy)

The Morning After

Cyl awoke to the feeling of silky bed sheets against his bare skin and the sound of rustling clothes. It took him a moment to remember exactly where he was, but the sight of Brandon sitting on the edge of the bed as he buttoned his shirt, his midnight blue hair illuminated by the morning sun that shone through the large window, sent all the memories flooding back to the young man.

"Morning," he mumbled sleepily, sitting up. "You're leaving already?"

Brandon turned to face him with a smile. "They're going to start knocking on doors in about fifteen minutes," he said softly. "I figured I should at least be dressed before then." He leaned forward to pick Cyl's discarded robe up off the floor and draped it around the noirette's shoulders.

"How often do you come here?" Cyl asked as he slid his arms through the sleeves.

"Every time I'm in the city," Brandon replied. "Thanks to my work I'm never in one spot for too long, so it's nice to come back to somewhere familiar."

Cyl tilted his head to the side, inching closer to his patron, suddenly curious. "Do you pick a Heart every time?"

"Usually," Brandon answered with a nod. "I used to dabble in the Club stuff as well, but now I find it all too exhausting."

The young man's face reddened in surprise. "That's kind of a jump, isn't it? Clubs to Hearts?"

"Well, they're two sides of the same coin, aren't they?" Brandon chuckled. "There's not really that much difference."

Confused, Cyl sat back on his heels. "Everyone who's tried to explain the suits to me has told me something different."

Brandon laughed. "That's because people aren't designed to be put in boxes like that," he murmured, lifting his hand to brush some dark hair out of Cyl's face. "Looking at it from a customer's point of view, though, I find Hearts and Clubs are similar, emotionally."

Sensing Cyl's deeper confusion, he continued.

"If I was someone who wanted a one night stand, I'd pick a Spade or a Diamond. If I was someone who actually wanted to feel a human connection, I'd pick a Heart or a Club." His hand slid down Cyl's face to cup the nape of his neck. "Does that make sense?"

Cyl nodded slowly, though all he really gleaned was that Brandon must be desperately lonely. He reminded Cyl of himself in an odd way, though the younger man quickly pushed that thought aside. He gently reached out to wrap his arms around Brandon's shoulders, hugging him close.

His client sighed contentedly. "Next time I'm here," he breathed. "I'll ask for you again."

"When will that be?" Cyl asked, his grip loosening as Brandon stood up.

"Hard to say," he said with a shrug as he reached for his jacket and slung it over his shoulder.

As Brandon had predicted, a loud, authoritative knock sounded at the door, and the older man smirked.

"That's my cue," he murmured, heading towards the door.

Cyl slid out of the bed and followed Brandon, tightening his robe around his body.

His patron opened the door to reveal a tall figure in a plain-looking full-face mask dressed in a simple shirt, black waistcoat and slacks, reminding Cyl almost of a waiter in a high-class restaurant.

"It's time," they murmured, their voice higher than Cyl was expecting.

"Thanks," Brandon replied, turning to look at Cyl one more time and placing a quick peck against the noirette's lips, as if he were a husband leaving for work.