His Chosen One

Four

Nicklaus

I scarcely dare to breathe as I am allowed to watch Ezra carefully consume his confection, his tea being sipped in the politest of fashions while he continues to avoid my gaze as though he is completely unaware of how much he has affected me by sliding his chair close enough to mine to allow for the hand that had been paused on his back for moral support to slide down to his hip... An action he seems to be using to encourage me to keep him close so that he might continue his treat unbothered, his freckled cheeks filled with the most dazzling shade of rosiness as he keeps his eyes trained down to the china in front of us.

It had frozen me when the transition had so subtly happened... When he had fetched my hand from his back to settle it where it is now... His need to be held so easily communicated without uttering a single word to be listened to by me and me alone without interference from anyone else at the table or the stern-looking security lined up against the wall... I hadn't let myself truly hope for sweet Ezra to actually have a positive response to me, if not due to his shyness than due to the fact that I am older than the typical suitor that might themselves here at one of these tepid mixers...

My insecurity over our age-difference apparently one that may be so very unfounded as I find Ezra leaning into me to steady himself. I had worried that he would see the silvering of my hair that had only just started appearing in the last year or so and think me too old... That he might turn away from me thinking I would not be able to properly relate to him or his interests when honestly I am more than willing to wait on bated breath if he were to explain to me what hobbies he might have other than the gentle ones that had been described in the catalog...

It seems as though none of those thoughts are ones that occur to my sweet cherub as he does his best to keep himself centered enough not to let his hand shake as he feeds himself nibble after nibble of the chocolate-infused treat.

I feel as though once I am trusted with what is surely the most beautiful voice that shall ever bless my ears I will never stop listening to him... I know I will no doubt crave his voice just like I crave every other part of this lovely young man who's stunning hazel irises tremble every time they find the courage to venture up high enough to try and examine my face when he thinks I am not paying attention.

And yet here I am finding myself being the luckiest man here, the other hopeful possible husbands doing their best not to stare at the two of us as we sit in our silence, both of us blushing like mad as the clustering around the tables slowly starts to disperse as the other of-age residents find themselves losing interest in the offered spread in favor of seeking out the activities they normally occupy themselves with during their social hours, this time making room for their guests to join their frivolities if they so choose to...

I suspect a very heavy sharing-is-caring rearing to have taken place amongst this group to prevent in-fighting over the childhood toys and comfort items they all share in the common spaces, the mantra so easily extended to those of us who find ourselves sitting in the facility that has served as their home for as long as most of them can even remember...

And what a lucky lot we are at the moment, a fellow hopeful husband with the most unfortunate shoes being shown a very interesting collection of books along the far wall by a slight redhead, the other two each being so thoroughly drawn into a game of cards that had broken out at the opposing table... Just not thoroughly enough to keep from looking up to peer at us as I give Ezra his timidly asked for support.

They can stare all they want as long as they keep it hidden from Ezra himself, the thought of the unwanted eyes making him uncomfortable again quite an unforgivable one in my mind as I figure out how to navigate how to encourage this dainty beauty to open himself up to me just a bit more without frightening him or causing him to hide from me once more, an opportunity arising when the very last morsel of the sole treat he had chosen to pair with his tea disappears.

Ezra

"Would you like another one? Or a different treat perhaps?" I nearly drop my fork when Nicklaus speaks and breaks the silence that had built up between us, the calm that had finally settled on my shoulders so easily knocked off, only to be adjusted and set right again with the feel of the hand currently resting on my hip giving a squeeze meant to help steady me.

I find myself nodding, the sweetness of the cake still lingering on my tongue after I swallow it, Nicklaus's patience while he waits for me to point at the very same platter petit fours, my craving for them now tenfold in the nervousness that continues to try and overwhelm me despite the quiet chuckle that sounds when Nicklaus reaches for the tongs once more to serve me, "Are these your favorite, Sweetheart?"

I nod before I realize that he has called me something other than my name, the increasing of the heat lingering in my cheeks spreading to the rest of my face and up from my chest as I draw my hands up to try and cover my face just long enough to pretend as though I am alone enough to wipe away the cluster of nerves that has gathered in my stomach, my fork surely sticking out an odd angle in my forgetfulness to actually set it down...

Only to find my hands gently peeled away, the face of the man holding me altogether too close as his eyes search my face for the reason behind my distress... His expression one that suggests he is more intrigued by my shyness than put off by it as he uses sweet words to lure me back into joining him in our shared reality, "There's nothing wrong with liking sweet things, my Love...All the sugar only serves to make you that much more delightful... So there's no reason to hide because of it, Dear."

The hand that had been responsible for keeping me secure wanders up from my hip temporarily so that he might rub my back for a few minutes to soothe my riled nerves in all of the kindness this strangely gentle gentleman has to offer while he presses a light kiss to the back of each of my hands before releasing them so that he might tug my fork away from me...

At first, I fear he is going to signal for one of the caregivers that I need to be escorted back to my room, the thought of missing out on the rare opportunity I have been presented with to have more than just one of the treats I enjoy so much... But he never does call Stephanie or Mildred over... Instead, the hand stroking my back finds its way back down to my hip, his hold being used to pull me just a bit closer as I watch his other hand in fascination as it rearranges our place settings before using my fork to slice open my second petit four and offering to feed it to me, the action feeling so intimate, but not necessarily wrong or out of place as he smiles at me and requests, "Sweet boy...Why not point out what else you like? If you allow me to come see you again I shall need to know what to bring in order to earn a smile."