I See You[MxB]

Chapter 10 | The one with the chameleon

Back and forth between school, Richard's, Alastair's and his own house was exceptionally jading for Preston. At school, he could not be himself, Richard was a case of catch-as-catch-can, Alastair was a chameleon and his house was bricks and mortar without the presence of his parents. Before he was roped into doing community service by his cunning principal, he went to parties, made random trips to the mall to satiate the carvings of his shopaholic soul and bought tickets to whichever concerts were happening in the city. He used to have a life. He had lost track of how long it had been since he hung out with Tyrell or even saw him. There might be a little exaggeration but the point was his life had leveled down to twiddling his thumbs and swinging his legs back and forth while sighing every few minutes.

Controlling himself from sighing one more time, he abruptly jumped down the high stool, making the furniture topple over on the kitchen floor. He looked at it with great concentration only to shrug and leave it be. His staff would be falling dead left and right of boredom if he did all things right. They would pardon their employer, he was sure. To err is human, to forgive divine.

The sound of whistling filled the house along with the noise of dragging feet. The clock decided to interrupt and Preston's pouty lips which were formed in an O shape fell in a flat line. As if they had a mind of their own, his eyes moved to the ugly old-school calendar Isabella Beckett insisted on placing at the side table of their living room. To his utter disappointment, it was still October 10, he was sane and his mind was not playing a trick on him which would have been better to digest than Alastair Cabot making him work on a public holiday. Was it too difficult to be less privileged for a day and perform your own tasks? It would be hilarious if Preston could hear himself saying these words and turning gobsmacked.

While getting ready, he took his sweet time. The sound of his humming bounced off the walls, creating an echoing effect in the too-big house. After deciding on his color of the day to be blue, he pulled the t-shirt over his head and paired it with black jeans. With keys dangling around his finger, he left the discomfort of his house.

To his surprise, Alastair was sitting on the stairs outside the black door of his house, staring into space. As he could not go inside the house unannounced, he waved a hand in front of the blonde man who did not even blink. His nose wrinkled and twitched before he lifted his fist, brought it near Alastair, uncurled his index finger and poked the daydreaming man's cheek. "Mr. Cabot, what are you doing outside?"

Alastair scooted back in freight and toppled over as his hand slipped off the edge of the step. Preston winced at the sad picture Alastair was presenting.

He was reminded of the chair he left sprawled on the floor for the house help to pick up. The blondie on the ground didn't have any staff, he only had Preston – the unpaid cook. Taking pity, he extended his hand for the man to hold who avoided it and got to his feet on his own.

"I never imagined myself to be the one reason for your downfall."

"Not funny," Alastair grumbled. If it wasn't child abuse, he would have punched Preston. "Could you not have tapped my shoulder or cleared your throat to announce your presence like a normal person?"

"Well, I did try to gain your attention by waving a very muscular hand in front of your face, you were too far gone to notice."

"Oh..."

Preston watched his face turn downwards. Nevertheless, he was neither interested nor cared about the man which resulted in him brushing off the twinge of worry and asking Alastair whether they were going in or not.

Without answering, Al led the way. Once in the kitchen, they went to occupy their suitable places and began doing their own thing.

Preston almost forgot there was another person in the kitchen beside him. As an ugly reminder, a voice cut through the silence, calling his name. He turned into a statue, it was hard to grasp that Alastair was initiating a conversation. He forced himself to relax. "Hmm?"

"Can you please get my glasses from the living room? It is in there somewhere but I forgot the exact place."

Preston stared at his dough-covered hands and back at Alastair. "There are three things you must know. One, I am working, can't you see? Two, they are your glasses. Three, I am not your servant."

Alastair's body went taut with tension, his brows creased and his grip on the counter tightened. For a minute Preston worried about getting kicked out of the house and the news reaching Will. Still, he did not back down. He was not in the wrong.

"You made me take a tumble, it is only fair that you help me out."

And that shut Preston right up. It was not his fault but the way Alastair said it made it look like it was. He was being guilt-tripped. Cursing the blondie piece of shit in his mind, he went to search for the glasses after taking a pit stop by the sink. As soon as he stepped into the living room, his aura changed. He picked up the spectacles and stomped back to the kitchen.

"That was fa-" Alastair stopped short when something was shoved into his chest. My glasses! If he had slow reflexes, he would have to get a new pair. "What is your problem?"

Preston was livid. Oh, the guts this man had! "I could ask you the same. They were lying on the table, right in the middle. It was the same table we had to pass by to get to the kitchen."

Alastair was lost for once. Half-heartedly, he apologized unbeknownst to the fact that Preston was a sucker for apologies. His parents had engraved it into his skull that the one who desires to repent must be forgiven. Everyone deserves a chance.

"Forgiven," Preston mumbled. Sifting a hand through his jet-black hair. He retraced his steps back to the cooking counter.

The silence was biting. Preston opened his mouth a few times to speak, to say anything. He was unaccustomed to the tension permeating in the air. It kept intensifying until he reached his saturation point and burst – "Katie..."

"is off the table. A touchy subject."

"Was she your girlfriend?"

"Preston..." It was a warning. Preston shut his mouth immediately, knowing when not to push.

"Geez! A man could try. Trying comes free." About to give up, fully convinced that there could be no small talk between them, he hunched in his chair when a thought popped into his mind. "Does everything appear to be a blur blob to you when you are not wearing your glasses? I mean are you one of those people who need glasses to find their glasses? If that is the case, do not expect me to play a sexy little assistant every day for you. I have this annoying habit of washing my hands countless times while I am cooking, makes me feel icky if I do not. And you! You keep giving me one or the other tasks daily. Yesterday it was passing the water bottle, the day before you wanted to—" Preston abruptly stopped rambling when he noticed Alastair had clammed up. A lecture to self was due and until then he would sew his mouth with the thickest ropes of control he possessed.

The next day, he was ready to deliver a speech about how he was the curious cat that never got killed followed by a private mea culpa but Alastair never showed up.

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With so many apologies in this chapter, what is one more, right? Because I want to apologize for a week's delay in updating the chapter. Thank you for your patience <3

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Lots of love,
April "Appy" Skyes🌻