Beneath the Claws and Cobwebs

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/10617903.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandom: South Park
Relationship: Kyle Broflovski/Eric Cartman
Character: Kyle Broflovski, Eric Cartman, Gerald Broflovski, Kenny McCormick,
Butters Stotch, Stan Marsh, Bebe Stevens, Leslie Meyers, Henrietta
Biggle, Wendy Testaburger, Gregory of Yardale, Christophe "The
Mole", Principal Victoria (South Park)
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast Fusion, Beauty and the
Beast Elements, Alternate Universe - 1930s, Alternate Universe -
1920s
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2017-04-13 Completed: 2017-11-14 Chapters: 16/16 Words:
52409

Beneath the Claws and Cobwebs

by shortstackedcheesecake96

Summary

Kyle Broflovski is 28 and bored of village life in the Bedfordshire countryside, with only
his father and his books to keep him company. Eric Cartman is an orphaned lord of the
manor with a dark secret. Kyle jumps at the chance to stay at a beautiful manor house but
finds more than just adventure at Tenorman Hall. 'Beauty and the Beast' inspired AU.

Notes

Honestly, I didn't expect to be writing another multi-chapter so quickly, but I was so excited
about this AU that I had to write it! Besides from Beauty and the Beast, the other huge
inspiration for this story was the short story 'The Courtship of Mr Lyon' which is a Beauty
and the Beast retelling by Angela Carter. It really is an amazing, and beautifully written
short story! Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this first chapter/prologue and I'd love to hear
your thoughts! Thank you for reading!
 Prologue

December 1924

The miserable English winter, and his dreadful, liquor-induced headache had kept Eric in the
drawing room all day, recovering from yet another party he couldn't afford. The servants had been
sheepish around him; bringing him drinks, his tea, his dinner on a tarnished silver tray and nodding
to themselves when they received a callous grunt of apparent gratitude in return. When the house
was quiet enough he could overhear them murmuring in the hall, fretting over the expenses, but he
was in a too despondent state of mind to get out of his armchair and chastise them. What would be
the point? He would only be repeating himself, and being liberal with sharp words was sure to
make them dull and blunt. And, he too, had grown unaffected by their polite words of concern.

Whilst organising his latest party at Tenorman Hall, apprehension surrounding the event was like a
fever in the servants' quarters. Coarse reprimands proved an effective cure for a while, before Eric
decided that ignorance was the best solution. What did they know about throwing parties? Eric
was lord of the manor, this is what he was raised to do! When he was a child he had followed his
dear mother like an eager little shadow around the house as she finalised the details from
everything to intimate dinner parties, to elaborate masked balls sure to fill the society pages of
every newspaper in England to the brim. How long ago that seemed, an idyll coated in pollen, a
dream coated in dust. A more recent memory floated to the surface of his groggy subconscious; he
was stumbling between the murmuring crowds that had gathered in the grand hall the night before,
babbling about some fashionable topic, splashes of alcohol leaping from his glass and onto the
outfit he had worn for the past four parties. Last night his guests had seemed impressed, charmed,
laughing with him. Now he realised they were laughing to placate him, whispering once his back
had turned. His guests were so much older than him, friends of his parents who had remembered
Tenorman Hall in its prime, the father Eric never had a chance to meet, and he was the eighteen
year old barely-adult master of the house, a child king to smile sympathetically at, and an orphan to
pity. God, had he actually proposed a toast to his mother again last night? The funeral was eight
months ago, it was embarrassing to grieve so publicly for so long.

Eric groaned, and ran his thumb over the bumpy, ornate frame of the mirror in his lap. It had
belonged to his mother, and was the only piece of silver in the house that hadn't tarnished. It was if
it had absorbed her beauty after years of her staring into its blank, glass face. Eric kept it by his
bedside now. He glanced down, and was confronted by his stark reflection. His hair had fallen into
his eyes that were framed by purple, exhausted shadows. He felt ashamed that the mirror had fallen
into his possession, a disappointing demotion, before he recalled how many times it had reflected
his mother's pained eyes, wobbly smile, greying hair, and the house that was already crumbling
around them.

Over the sound of the crackling fire he heard a muffled knock at the front door. One of the servants
answered it, and Eric could distinguish the voice of the most recent addition to the house; a young
man named Leopold, taken on before Eric's mother passed away. A conversation began, but Eric
didn't strain his ears to listen to it.

The door to the drawing room creaked open, but Eric didn't look up.

"Master Eric?"

"What?"

"Someone at the door for you, sir," Leopold said. "A, a woman. I don't recognise her…"
"Then tell her to go away," Eric replied, still not looking up. "Tell her I'm not feeling well."

"I told her that, sir, but she won't go," Leopold's voice was starting to strain with panic. "She says
it's a matter of urgency."

Eric laughed at that and got up, his limbs aching from sitting in the chair for so long. He stretched
his arms and smoothed down his smoking jacket, before striding out of the room. He shoved
Leopold aside, but still the shy butler followed him to the front door.

The December chill had drifted into the airy hall, and Eric wrapped his arms around his chest to
brace himself from the cold. He winced at the sight of the hag at the door; she wore her shabby
shawl pulled up tightly over her head, and her hunched stance and shapeless attire made her appear
deformed, hunchbacked. Her skin was ancient and weathered and cataract had glazed over her
yellowed eyes. Outside it was starting to snow, and Eric could make out the old woman's horse and
cart waiting patiently for her in the distance.

"Well?" he asked. "What do you want?"

"Please, sir, I've been travelling all night, on my way home from market, you see," the hag replied.
"It's bitter cold, frozen outside, and it ain't safe for me and my horse on the road! I saw your house
and almost wept! Your groundsman, grumpy lad with a funny turn of phrase, was kind enough to
let me through the gates, bless his heart! I only hope the master of the house is just as kind! But
don't be thinking I expect to stay the night for free! Not that I'm a wealthy woman…"

"Then how do you expect to pay me for my hospitality?" Eric interrupted. The cold was making
him impatient.

A wide gummy smile spread across the old woman's face and she reached into her shawl,
presenting a beautiful, perfect rose. The scarlet petals were vibrant, almost glowing, in the late
evening. Eric glanced at Leopold, and saw he was just as surprised by its quality.

"It ain't much, but it's all I have sir," the old woman explained. "And it's beautiful!"

Slowly, she handed Eric the rose. He examined the gentle curve of the petals, and rolled the stem
between his fingers. It was exquisite, but not a worthy payment, and he could hardly afford to keep
himself and the servants living here, let alone entertain overnight guests. And why should he let
this woman into his house? He owed her nothing, and Tenorman Hall was not open to the public.
Not yet, at least. He'd rather die than let that happen.

"A rose!" He exclaimed, throwing the flower on the ground. "That's your payment?"

The old woman clutched her chest, and even Leopold winced beside his master. Mouth agape, the
hag glanced between the rose at Eric's feet and his stern face.

"B-b-but I told you sir! It's all I have!"

"And it's worth nothing!" Eric snapped. "Do you really expect me to offer you shelter for a single
rose? How dare you assume you have a right to my home! I would never let a penniless, ugly cretin
like you step foot in this house! Not even if you offered me all the gold in the world! Now, get
out!"

The old woman listened to this calmly, her wrinkled face was not creased by any offence or upset.
She seemed detached from Eric's words, and he wondered if she was, in fact, senile. But, suddenly,
she began to float. Her feet left the ground and her ragged clothes lifted to reveal pale, bony ankles
and wrists. Suspended in the air, and emitting a piercing white light she resembled a Gothic ghoul.
Leopold was shaking beside Eric, while Eric stared at her with a combination of disgust and awe,
refusing to take his eyes off her. A gasp, like one waking from a bad dream in the middle of the
night, echoed through the house. A howling gust of wind rattled the chandelier, and the portraits of
forgotten ancestors on the walls. Eric and Leopold backed away and cowered from the terrible
sorceress.

Her body twisted and she twirled in the air like unravelling silk, descended like a dove shot out of
the sky; anything but human. Yet standing in the doorway now, she was very much a woman,
possibly the ultimate, splendid example of humanity. But Eric felt no arousal, no admiration, for
she was terrifyingly beautiful. Her shawl had fallen from her head, revealing long black hair that
glimmered like spilt ink. Her ivory skin had a glittering, iridescent quality but she cast a
prepossessing shadow, she stood taller than Eric now. Despite her height her body was in
proportion, and her face was so symmetrical it could have been a mask. Her plump lips were
redder than the rose she offered, so red they were almost purple, slabs of juicy meat rather than
delicate petals. She could have been a vampire for all Eric knew. Or an Amazon. The long black
gown she wore seemed it like it had melded to her unnaturally perfect body, clinging like
desperate, pleading fingers to her wide hips. The hem of her dress unfurled like gnarled, wild
thorns, like tentacles. The garment – that looked more alive than even she was – reminded Eric of
the stoles he had seen draped across the shoulders of the women who had attended his latest party,
the fur still plush and soft, when their eyes were very much dead and cold.

"You were foolish to deny me, Eric Cartman," the sorceress said, her voice was low and taut.

"H-h-how?" Eric managed. "How did you know-"

"For a youth I have never met a person so bitter, so resentful, so selfish and unkind," she continued,
marching purposefully and slowly over to Eric and choking him in her suffocating gaze. "You live
in a superficial world, and now that you have lost everybody you love, you can only take solace in
material things. You numb your senses, and spend money you don't have on the company of
vacuous and fickle people. These people have ugly, rotten souls. Yet you turn away a stranger in
need? When you should be using your wealth – however waning – to help the poor, miserable hag
at your door. Do not be deceived by appearances, Eric Cartman."

She extended her long, pale fingers, and although she didn't touch him Eric doubled over. The ache
he experienced in his limbs during puberty returned but tenfold, grabbing the muscles in his back
and stretching them, pulling them, until he was so hunched over it felt like he would collapse into
the floorboards. And he would tunnel like a mole until he was away from Tenorman Hall, free
from this torture, or perhaps he would keep falling like Alice into this grotesque Horrorland. He
looked at his legs and realised they were growing, and broadening and taking new shape right
before his eyes. He heard the seams of his smoking jacket, his trousers, rip, and with the stiches
undone he could finally see what he was transforming into. He cried out and tears burned his eyes
when long, jagged claws split his fingernails and toenails, tore apart the flesh and rendered his feet
and hands paws.

The sorceress stood over Eric, face impassive, bored, as he seethed and sobbed. Fur started to
sprout from his follicles, more rapid than Eric had ever seen hair grow, and thick and untamed it
wore away the thinning, stretched material of his clothes. Eric heard Leopold shriek beside him, he
was too stunned and horrified to do the same. There was a white-hot pain at the centre of his skull,
worse than any migraine, and Eric covered his face with his new arms, not wanting to look at the
sorceress. It hurt too much. He shivered and whimpered, and the tears clung to his fur-covered
face. He tried to cry out, but he roared instead. Bewildered and hysterical, he tried again, but all he
could do was roar helplessly.
"Do not lose everything in a greedy attempt to fill the holes in your life with nothing," the sorceress
finally spoke. "You must learn to love truly, and become somebody worthy of loving. Take this
rose," she picked up the flower and handed it to Eric. He grasped it clumsily in his paw. "You have
ten years until the last petal falls. If you do not change your ways, and if you do not find someone
who you can love and who will love you in return, you will remain a beast forever."

Eric opened his mouth to scream at her, to curse her, to beg her, but she had already turned away
and disappeared. The front door was still open, letting the snow drift into the house. Eric ran to it,
peered through the relentless storm to find her horse and cart, and he would go after her, chase her
on all fours if he had to, like the animal… the beast… he had become. But he could see nothing
but snow flurries. The flakes settled in his fur, joining his dried tears. He threw his head back, and
roared once more.
 Chapter 2
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Ten years later

Kyle sighed quietly to himself as he left the bakery. His shopping complete he could now head to
the library to return the book he had finished. Kyle hadn't experienced much outside of England –
and only London and Bedfordshire at that - but when he thought back on every storybook and
novel he had pored over throughout his life the nostalgia immersed him in all kinds of epic
settings; humid, colourful jungles, grey, stormy oceans and fantastical castles. These were
bittersweet recollections however, unable to grasp in reality, and he often wondered what lay
beyond the village, the county, and if he would ever see it for himself.

"Kyle!"

He furrowed his eyebrows at the disembodied voice calling his name. Feminine, he noticed,
confident, alluring to some. But not to him, it only stoked a pang of dread. He smothered an
exasperated sigh when Leslie approached him.

"Hello, Leslie," he said with a smile.

"Fancy seeing you out in the village!" She grinned. She was a couple of years younger than Kyle
yet spoke with the assurance of somebody twice her age. "I should notify the South Park Gazette!"

Kyle hoped his smile hid his irritation. It seemed that she was not only assured in herself, but
everybody else too. That must be one of the perks, Kyle assumed, of being the doctor's daughter.

"Yes, well, I do try to pop by every week," Kyle replied. "To do some shopping, you know."

"A man who actually shops? Oh, what I wouldn't give to have a chap like you about the house!"

Kyle chuckled politely. "And I do hope you will someday, Leslie."

She lowered her head just slightly, but looked up at Kyle in a way that was supposed to be
flirtatious, but he could only focus on the calculating twinkle in her eyes.

"Oh, believe me, I know I will," she replied, reaching out to gently stroke Kyle's arm.

He balked at the touch, and tried to discreetly back away. Kyle wasn't used to such forwardness,
although his memory of other girls flirting with him was hazy. He had just moved here, and Leslie
was barely a teenager then.

"So what are your plans for the day, if you don't mind me asking?" she asked, undeterred. "If you're
not busy Tweek's tea room is supposed to be wonderful."

"Is it?" Kyle asked, glancing over Leslie's shoulder.

"Yes!" She grinned. "I went there just last week. Odd name for a tea room, mind you."

"Yes it is," Kyle nodded, before brushing past her. "But, I'm, uh, awfully sorry Leslie, I must go. I
have a few more errands to run, and then I need to get this shopping back to the house."
"Well, all right," Leslie replied, hands on her hips. "But you must accompany me to tea sometime!
Or perhaps dinner? I know my parents are desperate to meet you."

"They are?" Kyle asked. It was hard to believe her when she said everything with such artificial
sincerity. "Well, that's very nice of them. But I really must go."

Kyle waved at her before quickly walking away, sighing once more as he walked down the street,
and smiling when the library came into view. The door creaked when Kyle opened it, the same sort
of creak that his own front door possessed. As always, the library appeared to be empty except for
himself and the librarian. A middle-aged woman, with thick-rimmed glasses and the most peculiar
corkscrew curls that she didn't bother to pin back or tie up. Kyle had learned she moved to South
Park from Bristol many years ago, when the woman she was living with sadly passed away. But
she had always loved reading, and decided to take up the librarian post. What better company, she
had said to Kyle, than hundreds of books?

"Hello, Miss Victoria!" he smiled, making his way over to the desk.

"Hello, Kyle!" She replied, looking up from her magazine. "Here to return your book already?"

"I couldn't put it down!" Kyle reached into his satchel, and placed the novel on the desk. Miss
Victoria then picked it up, adjusting her glasses so she could read the title.

"Ah, Jane Eyre. One of my favourites! I do love the Bronte's."

"What do you recommend?" Kyle asked.

"Well, Wuthering Heights is marvellous, of course," she replied. "But Villette is wonderful too, and
written by Charlotte Bronte."

"I'll look for that then," Kyle smiled. "And I had my eye on Jekyll and Hyde last week. Thank you,
Miss Victoria."

With that, Kyle wandered over to the shelves and quickly found the bookcase devoted to
'Nineteenth Century English Literature.' With so many books to read, he was trying to make his
way through the library's entire catalogue, although it was the numerous works of fiction that he
was most eager to flip through. Running his fingers along the coarse, thick spines he soon found
Charlotte Bronte's Villette and Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson;
a short book, he was sure to finish it in a day or two.

"Did you find everything?" Miss Victoria asked, as Kyle made his way back over to her desk.

"Yes, thank you," he replied, watching as the insides of the novels were stamped.

"You're welcome," Miss Victoria nodded. "And I hope you enjoy Villette!" She added as Kyle was
about to leave.

"What about Jekyll and Hyde?" Kyle asked, opening the library door. "Do you not like it?"

"It's not for me, I'm afraid. Those foggy London streets make me quite uneasy."

Kyle chuckled and shook his head. "Oh, they're not as foggy as the Victorians make out."

In fact, Kyle remembered the street of his childhood home to be clean, and well-lit, with trees
lining the pavement and a lovely view of the lush green park he had spent many summer
afternoons in with a book and packed lunch.
"I suppose you would know better than me," Miss Victoria nodded. "Enjoy the books!"

"Thank you, again!" Kyle said, before leaving the library.

As he walked home, memories of his childhood floated to the front of his mind. Unlike the
enthralling written scenes that had captured his heart and imagination, these memories were real,
accompanied by tangible sensation and long-lost thought. The most pressing memory was his
father pacing the window in the lounge, his restless march obstructing the pleasant view outside.
Kyle had once wondered why his father ever wanted to leave London, but he soon came to realise
he didn't have much of a choice.

Their house was just outside the village of South Park, situated on a country lane. It was perched
right near the edge in fact, where the grass met the gravel and the unruly, pretty weeds that grew
between the two. When they first moved there, Kyle was enchanted by the cottage that seemed to
have leapt right out of the pages of a fairy tale. He supposed the spell hadn't waned just yet, for he
still smiled when he opened the front door and stepped into the quaint lounge. His father hadn't
moved from his small desk since he left to go shopping, hunched over his work (being the only
solicitor in South Park kept him busy). Before Kyle could greet his father, he asked: "Busy in the
village?"

"No, not really," Kyle replied, crossing the lounge to stand by his father's desk.

"Anything exciting happen?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary. I spoke to Doctor Meyers' daughter Leslie, she spotted me coming out
of the bakery. And then I returned Jane Eyre to the library and borrowed two new books-"

"How is she?"

Kyle furrowed his eyebrows and chuckled. "Who? Jane Eyre?"

"No, no, Leslie Meyers," his father replied, his tone fussy like he missed the joke. "Very polite girl.
Always stops to chat when I see her in the village. Charming too, and attractive, you know," he
chuckled then, and looked up at Kyle. "Well, I hardly need to tell you that. Red-blooded young
man like yourself can spot a pretty girl better than I can."

Kyle fidgeted, wanting to give the most agreeable answer possible.

"I, I suppose," he said. Clearly it placated his father, who returned to his work with a small smile.
"Um, Miss Victoria recommended another of Charlotte Bronte's books to me. Villette. I had never
heard of it before. I suppose it's not as popular as-"

"And she comes from a good family too," his father interrupted. He didn't look up from his work.
"Wealthy."

"I imagine they are," Kyle murmured, looking around the room as if he could retrieve the
conversation, but he sensed it was too late for that. "I'll, uh, just put the shopping away. Is there
anything I can help you with?"

"You can help me organise some of these papers if you wouldn't mind," his father replied. "Once
you've seen to the animals and made us some lunch."

Kyle nodded, and his head was lowered when he made his way to the kitchen. He hung his satchel
on the back of one of the chairs, before placing the shopping bags on the table and putting the
items he had bought in the cupboards. Once he was finished, he picked up the small, wicker egg
basket from the counter and some feed, stepping into the back garden.

Kyle thought he would miss his old park terribly when he arrived in the village, and would have no
peaceful place he could escape to, to lose himself in his books. But he had gasped at the stretch of
green, dewy grass they had been lucky to secure with their property, fields that had rolled into one
another like an oceanic scene. Not all his, of course, but he had explored the area with gallons of
that exhilarating country air in his lungs, strolling the lanes and woodlands, and jumping over
fences, as though at sixteen his childhood had been replenished. That was twelve years ago, and
little had changed. Well, except for the arrival of the animals. They had all this land, his father
remarked a year into their move, and weren't doing anything with it. What a waste! So the
chickens, geese, and goats came along and turned their once massive garden into a smallholding.
Kyle didn't mind, it was a nice little business venture, and the silence of the countryside provided
him with all the peace he could have needed. He didn't need acres of land all to himself.

The geese and chickens were bustling about, clucking and quacking incessantly as if in
conversation with one another. Kyle chuckled as they huddled around him, obviously knowing
they were going to be fed. He scattered some on the ground, static for a moment as the geese and
chickens pecked around him, blocking his path.

"Excuse me, ladies," Kyle laughed as they eventually cleared away.

He crouched in front of the chicken coop, collecting the eggs and brushing the feathers off them
before placing them in the basket. The goats roamed outside the makeshift enclosure the poultry
were kept in, lazily munching on the grass. Kyle patted them on the head as he passed, counting
each one. One goat however was lying on the floor, shivering in the cool, spring afternoon.

"Oh…" Kyle whispered, kneeling down next to her and setting his basket aside.

"What's the matter?" He asked, stroking her stomach and she bleated. Kyle winced at the sound;
taut, loud and irritable. He noticed a small pool of vomit had soaked into the grass and he sighed.

"I'll have to call in Stan's tomorrow," he muttered to himself. Frowning, he patted the goat on her
head this time, and her eyelids drooped in appreciation. "I have to go now but it'll be all right."

Kyle stood up, basket in hand, and made his way back to the house. Before he entered however, he
looked back over his shoulder at the poor, sick goat. Her white hair seemed such a stark contrast
against the grass. How had Kyle not noticed before? The other goats had started to gather around
her, sniffing at the grass, peering at her with concern. Kyle hoped Stan wasn't too busy tomorrow.

When Kyle checked on the goat after breakfast, he was greeted by the troubling sight of the poor
creature still lying in the same spot as yesterday. Thankfully, however, Kyle saw that she was still
breathing. Sighing to himself he then hurried to Stan's veterinary practice in the village. His face
was pinked, and he was breathless by the time he reached Stan's door, and Stan was gathering his
things and slipping on his coat before Kyle could even finish explaining what had him so worked
up. He was glad to be driven back to the house in Stan's car, the seats warm from where the sun
had shone through the windows.

Now, Kyle was leaning against the fence of the enclosure while Stan was crouching beside the
goat, stroking her for co-operating in his examination.

"There we are, old girl…" Kyle heard Stan murmur, before he stood up and addressed him.
"Appears to be a stomach bug, that's all. Nothing serious. I would keep her away from the others
though." Stan reached into his bag and handed Kyle a small bottle. "Give her this medicine three
times a day, and she should be right as rain within a week."

Kyle smiled and nodded, putting the bottle in his trouser pocket. "I will, thank you."

Stan grinned in return, delving into his coat pocket and pulling out a cigarette packet and lighter.
"I'm glad I could help."

Kyle watched Stan move beside him, the rickety wire fence dipping beneath them both as Stan
leaned against it. He placed the cigarette between his lips, and as he lowered his head slightly so
the tip and the flame could meet, a jet black lock of hair fell loose.

Kyle smiled to himself, his disarrayed hairdo made Stan look boyish, younger than his thirty four
years. It reminded Kyle of when he first met Stan; he was a newly qualified vet, and Kyle had been
living in South Park for a few years and was still friendless. They bumped into each other on the
lane. Kyle was on his way to the library and Stan was paying a visit to one of the neighbouring
farms. Kyle hadn't been sure if it was the collision, the surprise of seeing somebody else strolling
along the usually quiet lane, or Stan's good looks that made his heart seem to stop. Stan had
smiled, apologised, and was off, but Kyle replayed that exhilarating minute in his head for days
afterwards, and looked out of his window every morning in the hopes of reuniting with the polite,
handsome stranger.

Kyle often blushed reminiscing about their first encounter. Stan was the first person he had ever
had feelings for besides the more dashing heroes of the novels he had read. When his father had set
up the smallholding and Stan had to make frequent visits to ensure the animals were healthy and
well-treated, Kyle was giddy at the prospect of seeing him. But he realised that such feelings were
silly, unreasonable, so he learned to conquer them. It was the only way he could purse a friendship
with Stan, which was something he wanted very much. Especially when Stan was always so keen
to talk to him, and when Kyle felt he had finally found somebody he could relate to in the village.

Stan took a drag on his cigarette before turning to Kyle and asking, "Do you want one?"

Kyle shook his head. "No, thanks."

The wind rolled over the fields and hills, and the smoke from Stan's cigarette seemed to battle
against the breeze.

"Do you know Leslie Meyers?" Kyle asked.

"Not really, no, she's a fair bit younger than me," Stan replied. "I know her father though,
obviously, can't say I have the fondest memories of him."

"Why?"

Stan smiled, his eyes glinting like he was about to let Kyle in on a big secret. "If I tell you, you
mustn't think me silly."

"I'll try not to," Kyle smiled in return.

"All right…" Stan took another drag on his cigarette, as if to prepare himself. "I hate hospitals,
doctors, all that."

Kyle pursed his lips, but he could still feel the tremors of laughter in his throat, vibrating against
his sealed lips.
"You promised me you wouldn't do that!"

"I never!" Kyle protested, inadvertent laughter in his voice. "I said I wouldn't think you silly, and I
don't."

"Then why are you laughing? Anyway, whenever I think of going to the surgery as a boy I shiver. I
suppose if it wasn't for my 'fear' I'd have nothing against the man. He was hardly sympathetic
though, I can never remember him comforting me when I started to cry. Even the smell of the
place would be enough to set me off. He had a very monotone voice, awfully flat, like a vicar
rather than a doctor."

"So if you hate hospitals why did you become a vet?"

"I love animals," Stan shrugged, before his soft smile vanished and his eyebrows furrowed. "Why
do you ask about Leslie, anyway? Are you interested in her?"

Kyle sighed. "No. My father seems more interested in her than me… not like that."

Stan was trying to hide his chuckles now. "Sorry, you just took me by surprise."

"I saw her in town and when I mentioned it in passing to my father he wouldn't shut up," Kyle
explained. "It's all he wanted to talk about. He seems quite keen on setting us up."

"Well, Wendy tells me she's not a very nice girl"

Kyle had been dismayed at first, when he realised Stan was married. But when he met Wendy it
was hard to dislike her, or be too jealous. He was impressed actually, utterly charmed by the
couple. He found it incredibly romantic how two opposites like Stan and Wendy could fall in love.
Besides, it would be ridiculous to be jealous, Kyle had reasoned. He liked to think of himself as a
practical man, even when his own muddled desires and aspirations betrayed him.

"I gathered that," Kyle replied. "There's just something about her that seems… off."

"Wendy has said she's sly."

"Perhaps that's it," Kyle muttered, before shaking his head. "But I'm judging this girl and I hardly
know her, maybe something will seem off about all of them."

The dent in Stan's brow returned. "All of who? What are you talking about?"

"The girls around here. I seem to want none of it."

"Then what do you want?"

Kyle sighed, looked out over the countryside as if what he wanted could be easily spotted on the
horizon, something attainable he could find and reach someday. But it wasn't, and all he saw was
the same sky, the same meadows and fields he had been seeing for the past twelve years.

"I just want something different, something more. I can't quite explain it, I… I can't be the only one
who realises there's more to life than just this village? Don't get me wrong, I love this house, and I
love this countryside, but not enough that I would stay here forever. I go into the village and I feel
like a phantom, disconnected, like I don't quite belong. Maybe I don't try… but I don't want to try,
that's the problem." Kyle shook his head, staring at his shoes. "Listen to me, I'm hardly making
sense…"
"I think I understand."

Kyle looked up at Stan with widened eyes. Despite their friendship, and despite how much he felt
he could relate to Stan, he had always assumed this was one issue he was alone on.

"Do you?" he asked.

"Yes," Stan replied. "I studied in London, and I was so nervous at first. But coming back here for
Christmas and Easter was such an underwhelming experience and I yearned to go back to the city.
It was so exciting, and vast, and everything seemed possible when you were there. Here, it all
seemed so quiet and narrow."

"Exactly! But…"

"What?"

"Why did you come back? If you enjoyed yourself so much in London?"

Stan frowned, shook his head. "I could never have afforded to live there, and with all the farms
around here I was sure to make more money. Strange, isn't it? How money can be so freeing and
yet so inhibiting?"

Kyle thought of his father pacing in front of that old window again, and how he could hardly bring
himself to look at their possessions as they were packed away.

"Hmm, yes, funny that," Kyle murmured, before he raised his voice again. "I wonder if all those
wildly successful businessman, the gentry, ever feel dissatisfied with life?"

"I suppose," Stan replied. "They're only human. Take the Cartman family for instance, now there's
a cautionary tale about wealth. The lord of the manor dead before the heir to his estate is born, his
wife eventually killed by nerves, and the son squandering their remaining wealth and who no one
has seen since. The house is probably shut up now, most of the manor houses in the country will be
in ten years time. There's just no place for them anymore."

Kyle blinked, Stan had reeled such a scandalous and depressing story off so casually.

"I've never even heard of this family," he said.

Stan's eyebrows rose and he chuckled to himself. "Really? You don't know Tenorman Hall? It's
only a couple of miles outside the village, how could you not have heard?"

Kyle laughed sheepishly and scratched the nape of his neck. "I wasn't brought up with the local
history like you were."

Stan smiled softly, and nodded.

"You could probably see the house from here on a clear day," he remarked, pointing somewhere in
the distance. Kyle's gaze followed the line of his finger but saw nothing but distant trees.

Lowering his arm, Stan looked at his watch.

"Well, I must be off," he said with a sigh.

"I'll walk you out," Kyle offered.

Dodging the chickens and geese, they made it to the back door.
"What do I owe you?" Kyle asked when they stepped into the kitchen.

"Nothing," Stan replied, waving Kyle off. "I was just helping my friend out."

Kyle's shoulders slouched with exasperation, but his smile was one of gratitude.

"That's very kind, Stan, but I have to give you something."

"Fine," Stan yielded, noticing the basket of eggs on the counter. "I'll take half a dozen eggs,
please."

Kyle rolled his eyes, but his smile didn't waver as he handed him the basket.

"Thank you," Stan said with a nod.

Hearing the front door shut, Kyle peered over Stan's shoulder.

"Kyle?" his father called out.

"I'm in here!"

"Oh, right…" Kyle heard his father say, before he appeared in the kitchen doorway. "Why, hello
Doctor Marsh! I didn't realise you were still here."

"Hello, Mr Broflovski."

"How is she?" Kyle's father asked. "The nanny goat?"

"Oh, fine. Just a stomach bug, that's all," Stan explained. "I told Kyle to keep her away from the
others, and prescribed some medicine for her."

"Wonderful, thank you, doctor. Do you have any plans on Friday evening?"

Stan shot Kyle a confused look, but Kyle could only shrug in return.

"I don't believe so," Stan replied.

"Well, I'm throwing a dinner party and I would be delighted for you to attend," Kyle's father
beamed, and Kyle imagined him thinking he was in London again.

"Yes, certainly, thank you sir," Stan nodded, before glancing at Kyle. "Kyle never told me about a
dinner party."

"Well, this is the first I'm hearing about it too," Kyle added, giving his father a questioning look.

"Oh, it was an impromptu thing," his father replied, easily dropping his once boastful tone. "Only
small. I ran into Doctor Meyers in town, and invited him as well."

Stan's voice was fainter when he said, "Lovely, lovely…"

"Yes…" Kyle added, unable to hide his trepidation.

"Oh, and do bring your wife along, Doctor Marsh," his father continued, oblivious to the punctured
atmosphere. "Doctor Meyers' daughter will be in need of some female company, I'm sure."

Kyle's body stiffened, feeling like a boulder had dropped into his gut.
After Stan had left Kyle felt he had to be on his own for a while. Luckily, most of his chores were
completed by himself, and after they were all done, he rushed upstairs, grabbed his copy of Villette
and his coat, before heading outside to sit under his favourite tree. But not even the wind, the faint
noises of the animals, or the novel he was otherwise enjoying could let his mind roam too far from
the subject of the looming dinner party, and whenever he looked up from the pages he was
struggling to immerse in, he was met with the sight of the house, and his father sat obliviously
inside. Eventually Kyle set his novel aside, the pages fluttering in the breeze making an oddly
calming sound, like a bird ready to take flight. Kyle closed his eyes and envisioned himself doing
the same. Only then, he thought, when his feet were far enough off the ground, when he had the
sky at his fingertips would he be able to see beyond that lush green border.

He returned to the house when the day grew dimmer and colder. He had to get supper started,
anyway. As he dished out the simple stew he had made, his thoughts once again drifted to the
dinner party and the menu. What would they serve? Kyle would have to spend all day in the
kitchen, and he grumbled. His father didn't notice when he entered the room, too distracted by the
smell of food.

The cutlery clinking against the chipped china replaced conversation. After hours of attempting to
distract himself from thinking of it, Kyle was now trying to find a way to broach the topic of the
dinner party. Namely, if there was a way out of it.

"So…" Kyle said, idly stirring the stew he had no appetite for. "This dinner party-"

"Yes?" His father looked up from his bowl. "Are you looking forward to it?"

Kyle averted his gaze, he didn't want to witness the glint in his father's eye extinguishing.

"Not really, no…" he replied, so soft he was surprised his father could even hear him.

Kyle thought perhaps he hadn't, when he took so long to respond. In the silence, the dinner table
felt a thousand miles long.

"Why not?" his father finally asked.

"I just wish you had mentioned it sooner, that's all," Kyle replied.

"Well, I told you it was an impromptu thing. Spur of the moment, you know. A little spontaneity
never hurt anyone, did it?"

Kyle sighed, and looked up from his stew. "But it's a lot of preparation at the last minute."

"I can't help that I don't have a wife around to help me with these things," his father replied,
stabbing a potato with his fork a little too harshly.

Kyle winced, his heart stung with a guilt that had been visiting him for as long as he could
remember.

"I, I know that," he murmured.

"You'll think of something!" His father said, smiling now. "You're a capable cook! This stew is
decent, we'll serve that. Nobody is expecting luxury dining."

Kyle nodded, half-listening.

"Does that put your mind at ease? I want you to enjoy yourself tomorrow, Kyle. That's why I
invited Leslie."

Kyle's eyebrows furrowed.

"Why would I enjoy myself in Leslie's company?" he asked.

His father shrugged. "I thought you liked her."

"I hardly know her."

"Well, don't you want to get to know her?" his father asked, returning to his stew before Kyle could
answer. "She's a very pretty girl, polite, charming and-"

"Yes, yes, I know, you've said," Kyle cut in, rolling his eyes discreetly.

"It would do us a lot of good if you were to get married, Kyle…"

Kyle almost dropped his spoon into his stew, his whole body seemed to clench, curl up like a
startled animal.

"What?" he asked.

"Especially if your in-laws are well off."

Kyle's mind was screaming protests, but his words felt lodged in his throat.

"I… I, I don't understand," Kyle replied, shifting in his seat, nothing felt comfortable. "Where has
this talk of marriage come from all of a sudden?"

"Well, it's been in the offing for a while, Kyle, wouldn't you agree?" his father asked with slight
incredulity. "You're twenty eight now-"

"So?"

"You should be looking to settle down," his father explained. "Why should I be the one to tell you
this?"

That once frightened animal was starting to remember itself, it had teeth, and claws, it could fight
back.

"I, I don't know, it never occurred to me."

His father shook his head, grumbled.

"Yes, of course it hasn't," he said, his tone taut and sour. "You've never courted a girl before."

Kyle flushed, tilted his chin to hide his burning face. But maybe that was useless, impossible to
conceal just like his disinterest in girls, and courting, and relationships that he once thought had
gone unnoticed.

"I've never wanted to," he replied, and admitting that truth out loud was emboldening,
impassioning. That horrid, humid flush now fuelled his anger, his indignation. "Besides, I don't feel
ready."

"When do you think you'll be ready?" His father asked, voice raised.
Never.

The word leapt on Kyle's tongue, but faltered before it could leave his mouth. He wasn't prepared
to admit it.

"I… I, I don't-"

"That's not good enough, Kyle!" His father exclaimed. "You can't waste any more time! We're
living on hardly anything as it is! Haven't you noticed?" He shook his head. "Maybe this is my
fault, perhaps I've spoiled you. I've done everything for you. I've home-schooled you, trained you
to the best of my abilities, and put a roof over your head and all you've ever been is introverted and
unsociable!"

"But never ungrateful!" Kyle snapped. His face was flaring now. "And besides, that's my
business!"

"Is that so?!"

"Yes!"

"And you're happy the way you are?!"

"Yes!"

"Will you be happy when I die a penniless old man?! Will you be happy living the rest of your life
in poverty?!"

Kyle shook his head, squeezed his eyes shut, appalled that this is where he had driven the
conversation to.

"Please don't talk like that, of course I won't!" he cried. He opened his eyes, panting. "But I don't
owe you anything for simply doing what a parent is supposed to do."

"Not even getting to know an eligible young woman?" His father asked, his own chest heaving
beneath his jumper. Kyle supposed this was more exerting for him than it was for himself. "Giving
her a chance?"

"No!" Kyle shouted, before he could stop himself. But he heard what he sounded like, and his
throat tightened with shame. He managed to sigh. "But… but I suppose… you're right. I'm sorry,
you're right, I do owe you that much."

His father exhaled too, like his victory was an unworthy one.

"I'm sorry too, I never meant to be so harsh," he said, looking up at Kyle. "I just want you to see
how important this is. Not just for us, but for you too. You spend so much time alone, Kyle, I think
getting to know Leslie will be a good thing."

"Do you?"

His father nodded. "Yes, really."

"Fine," Kyle replied, voice faint. "I suppose I could give her a chance."

"Thank you," his father beamed from across the table. "You're doing me proud."

Kyle smiled tightly, but falsely back. He had obtained a truce, but not a good one.
 Stuck on the same pages of Villette that he had been a few hours ago, Kyle sighed, sunk into the
mattress, and stared up at the ceiling. He repeated the bizarre events of the day over and over,
searching for meaning in every moment, every conversation. Clearly they were more pressing and
intriguing to him than his novel. His bedroom was lit only by the dim lamp at his bedside, buzzing
softly with the effort to keep itself glowing. It illuminated most of his bedroom walls and ceiling,
the furthest reach of light thinning into shadows. He squinted at the shadows like he was looking at
the horizon in the field all over again; out there he had longed to see what was so obscured.

He thought about floating again, about being limitless, independent, free. He didn't have to be rich,
he had forgotten what that felt like now, he just had to be in control somehow. Besides, what did
wealth guarantee? The security, the opportunity was paradoxically never fixed. A few bad
decisions, a few encounters with the wrong people and a dangerous, precarious build-up of ill
fortune could make it all combust someday. Kyle winced at the memory of Stan regaling the
Cartman's depressing legacy, but with a macabre fascination he wondered if Stan's words were
true; on a bright, clear day would he able to see the crumbling Tenorman Hall in the distance? The
intensity of his sympathy was startling, and he wanted the family to be remembered. Even if only
by himself as a distant observer who never knew them, finding the house through the trees.

Glancing out his bedroom window, Kyle only saw blurred silhouettes, gentle moonlight, and a tiny
golden square in the distance. He squinted at the peculiar object. A star? But stars always appeared
silvery, and even the glow on the brightest star didn't obscure its shape quite like that. A moth? But
moths didn't glow at all, did they? And they hovered in the air, didn't remain still. Kyle threw back
the covers and got out of bed, padding to the window to inspect it further. It must have been an
extremely bright streetlamp, he reasoned, and if so, he felt sorry for the residents who had to sleep
with that obtrusive light pouring into their bedrooms. Kyle shook his head, it couldn't have been!
Perhaps it was coming from a house, a building he had never noticed before. He would have to
scan the surrounding fields closer tomorrow, but for now it was too dark and strange to make sense
of.

Kyle went back to bed and got under the covers, switching off the lamp as he did. Maybe the glow
had been a reflection of the bulb on the window? But looking over his shoulder, the tiny golden
glow was still visible, like a star waiting to be followed.

Chapter End Notes

Thank you so much for reading, and your feedback, following, and kudos so far! I
hope you enjoyed, and I love to know what you think of this latest chapter!
 Chapter 3
Chapter Notes

Sorry for the slight delay in posting this. As I'm sure most of you know, university is
pretty hectic this time of year. There is a slightly uncomfortable, coercive scene with
Leslie and Kyle in the car. I understand if that may be difficult for some to read, so
please tread with caution. Other than that, thank you so much for reading and I'd love
to hear your thoughts!

"Did everybody enjoy?" His father asked as Kyle began to collect everyone's bowls, empty save for
the crusts of the bread rolls they had used to mop up the stew.

There was an immediate chorus of 'oh, yes', and 'certainly', and many thanks and praise for Kyle's
dinner. He smiled to himself, felt the highest points of his cheeks flush with warmth. Although he
was dreading the dinner party, the evening had progressed a lot faster than he would have thought.
Stan and Wendy were pleasant company for him, entertaining Leslie too so the burden didn't fall
entirely on him.

Still, however surprisingly well the evening had gone Kyle always winced whenever he saw his
father and Dr Meyers drain their tumblers of whiskey in one big swig out of the corner of his eye,
or heard the edges of their words grow increasingly blunt. And he had been praying that every
fleeting touch and flirtatious comment from Leslie would be the last.

"I'll help you with those," Wendy suddenly said, standing up and gesturing to the bowls.

"Thank you, but there's really no need," Kyle replied. "You're our guest-"

"Stop it and let me help, will you?" Wendy cut in, her words softened by her smile.

Kyle rolled his eyes at her good-naturedly, and let Wendy collect her bowl, as well as Stan's. She
reached over the table to pick up Leslie's bowl, which still had a couple of chunks of potato and
carrot in it.

"Are you finished, Leslie?" she asked.

Leslie looked up, batted her eyelashes vacantly.

"Oh, yes," she finally smiled, showing off her peerless teeth. "Thank you, darling."

With that she reached into her dainty bag and pulled out a cigarette and lighter, flicking her hair
over her shoulder as she lit up and took a drag. Wendy raised her gaze to Kyle and shot him an
incredulous look that immediately made laughter rise in his throat. He pursed his lips, and Wendy
followed him to the sink.

"This was quite the novelty, having a host cook dinner," Leslie remarked once Kyle and Wendy
had returned to the table. "And a man, too!" She shoved Kyle, but her fingers were limp. "You're a
man of many talents!"

"Thank you, Leslie," he smiled.

"Where's your mother tonight, Leslie?" Stan asked. "If you don't mind me asking?"

Leslie shook her head, took another drag on her cigarette.

"Not at all, darling," she replied, though she avoided eye contact with Stan, as if she wished to be
present in another conversation. "She has a migraine, suffers with them terribly. Besides, she's not
one for this sort of thing, you know. She never has been, awful shy. Thank goodness I'm not, ever
since I was old enough to wear a pretty frock and be in the company of adults I've attended every
social event with my father. Isn't that right?"

She nudged her father's arm, but the limpness in her fingers seemed to disappear, for some of his
whiskey leapt from the glass.

"What was that?" Doctor Meyers asked, blinking slowly and facing his daughter.

"You've taken me to every dinner party and hospital ball since I was fourteen."

"Oh yes, quite, quite…" he replied, nodding and gradually turning around.

"The sooner you associate with civilised people, the better," Leslie stated, with a smug smile on her
face. "When you're young you pick up things so much easier wouldn't you agree? I've been raised
with the art of etiquette, conversation. It's good practice, you know."

"For what?" Wendy asked.

Leslie blinked, the smallest dent in her brow threatened to crack her assured mask.

"Why, being a wife!" she grinned, before her eyelids lowered and seemed to cast a dark, coy
shadow over her painted lips. She leaned in and rubbed Kyle's shoulder, "Any man would be lucky
to have me on his arm…"

Kyle gulped, and couldn't bear to look at Stan and Wendy. He tried to shift away, in the hopes that
Leslie's fingers would slip off him.

He cleared his throat before replying, "I'm sure they would. Um-"

"Kyle!" His father exclaimed. Was he actually going to reprimand him in front of their dinner
guests? When he was a grown man? Kyle looked at his father with wide eyes, wondering if this
could get any more mortifying. "The doctor and I appear to have run out of whiskey. Pop to the off-
license and get some more, will you?"

Kyle furrowed his eyebrows and glanced out the window. The sky had already darkened to deep
cobalt.

"It's rather dark to be walking…"

"Then take my car," his father replied. "Matter of fact, take Leslie with you."

At that, she whipped her head around to look at Kyle, and it was the first time he thought her to
look childish.

"L-L-Leslie wouldn't want to come..."

"Of course, I would!" Leslie protested, standing up. But she was careful to keep the mirth in her
voice.
"My keys are in my coat pocket. So is my wallet," his father said, gesturing to the living room
where the coat rack was.

"Well then, let's be off!" Leslie said, hands on her hips.

Kyle glanced at a sympathetic Stan and Wendy, before nodding warily to his father. He stood up,
and Leslie followed him into the living room.

Kyle had driven slowly along the country lane on his way into the village, with only the moon and
the headlights illuminating his path. The latter were piercing, vigilant eyes searching their way
through the darkness. But the steering wheel beneath Kyle's fingers almost provided a partition
between him and Leslie, and for that he was most grateful. She chatted to him, and he nodded
along and glanced at her occasionally, smiling when the tone of her voice demanded it.

The off-license was a small shop wedged between the newsagents and the betting office, and since
it was empty Kyle didn't protest when Leslie linked her arm through his at the till. He doubted that
the owner was all that interested in village gossip. They walked to the car, Leslie's dress swishing
as each step was punctuated with the sharp clack of her modest heel, while Kyle held the bottle of
whiskey by its neck. When they reached the car, Kyle opened the door for Leslie and she thanked
him with a grin he had already seen plenty of this evening. He sighed as he shut the door behind
her, walking around to the other side.

"Would you mind holding this, Leslie?" he asked when he entered the car.

"Not at all," Leslie replied, taking the bottle from Kyle and inspecting it. "What would our fathers
say if we kept this to ourselves?"

"I don't think they would be best pleased."

"Me neither!" Leslie laughed. "Still, it's not an expensive bottle… let's drive the long way, shall
we?"

Kyle furrowed his eyebrows and glanced at her.

"Pardon?"

"Let's drive around the lanes a little bit!" Leslie replied, eyes glinting. "I'm fed up of sitting at
tables with my father! I want to sit in cars with handsome men while the countryside flies past me-
"

"But they're expecting us, Leslie. We really should get back."

Leslie shook her head, her short black curls bobbing as she did. She chuckled, and it rang with a
discomfiting exasperation, before she twisted in her seat so she faced Kyle.

"Oh, Kyle, come off it! Our fathers want us to take our time, don't you see?"

Kyle gulped. Of course he could see, of course he understood, and now he found himself wishing it
had all remained unspoken, merely alluded to. Yes, it had felt infuriating and downright insidious
before, but now it seemed that all that frustration and calculation had combusted and Kyle didn't
know if he could withstand the pressure.

"N-n-no, I don't…"
Leslie rolled her eyes, but maintained that painted, eager smile that showed off her teeth.

"This whole evening was about us! It was all leading up to this moment!"

"What… what moment?" he asked. Now he was confused, but he dreaded the answer to his own
question. He looked away and placed his hands on the wheel. "Leslie, I think you're a little over-
excited. I should really get you back-"

"But I don't want to go back!" she nearly whinged it, before her voice hardened and she demanded,
"don't you dare take me back just yet!"

Kyle sighed, he wanted to run a hand through his hair but he had to remain composed.

"I'm sorry, Leslie, I have to."

He went to start the car, but Leslie lunged forward and gripped his wrists, tugging him towards her
and Kyle's stomach lurched. He thought he would start shaking, but Leslie's grip was so tight, her
manicured nails clung so desperately into his skin that he was withering instead.

"No!" she shouted in his face.

"What on earth has gotten into you?!"

"You! You're bloody impossible!"

"Let go of me, Leslie!"

"Not until you do something…"

"What?"

The streetlight overhead shone on her gleaming eyes, the tongue that dabbed her bottom lip. Their
twinned panting filled the car, and Kyle wondered if the same source of light revealed his own
reluctant gaze and taut frown.

"Kiss me," she finally whispered.

Kyle shivered at the words. They were as flimsy yet pervasive as a spirit.

"What?" he whispered in return, before raising his voice. "Why?!

"So I can begin to make sense of you!" she exclaimed. "So you can stop acting so childish and
indifferent!"

"I'm being neither of those things!" Kyle cried. "For God's sake, and you call me impossible!
You're unlike any women I've ever met!"

A smile spread across Leslie's face, cutting through the night like a cunning Cheshire cat, only
wilder, more desperate, more frightening.

"Yes, exactly," she replied, her words glistening and threadbare. "You'll never find another woman
like me, so why are you pushing me away?"

Kyle couldn't think of a response; something diplomatic and polite to not fracture this tenuous
relationship, to not disappoint his father. He could barely think at all, breathe even, and he was
reminded of those powerful, impossible snakes that slither through far-off, nightmarish jungles,
how they wrap beasts and men alike in their smothering embrace and squeeze the life out of you.

"I… I-"

Leslie didn't wait. Reaching forward her puckered lips met the corner of Kyle's mouth, and he
jerked away. He was reeling with surprise, cringed at the mark her lipstick had surely left behind.

"Leslie-"

Her parted lips grazed his own and he squeezed his eyes shut. He had felt her hot breath, tasted the
fading tobacco, and even though her mouth had only ghosted his he realised for the first time how
sensitive his lips were. They had never been touched by another. He turned away from her again,
this time so violently that his body twisted, so swiftly that a strained muscle sent a jolt of pain up
his neck.

"Please, Leslie," he begged, longing to be louder but his voice was drowning. "Not here… I
can't…"

"You can," Leslie insisted, but her encouragement reeked of coercion. "Yes, you can…"

Leslie kissed his chin, and Kyle was leaning so far back in an attempt to get away from her that he
was in danger of falling into his seat, hitting his head on the door. Out of the corner of his eye,
Kyle saw the shining bottle of whiskey that Leslie had now placed between her legs. It was an
anchor, for if she were to get any closer to Kyle she would have to move the bottle and let Kyle go.
Beneath the fabric of her dress he saw her legs try to negotiate the obstacle, and heard her grumble.

"Damn bottle…" she muttered.

She inched forward a little more and tugged Kyle's hand towards her. His arm ached as he tried to
resist, but soon he felt fabric and the firm swell of her best beneath his palm. Kyle gasped, froze,
saw his unwilling fingers splayed helplessly, trying to recoil though Leslie was gripping his wrist
tighter than ever. She arched her back, a manic display of seduction, but instead of enticing Kyle, it
repelled him, horrified him, and his disgust summoned enough adrenaline for him to finally wrench
away from her grip – unwittingly shoving her away in the process – and free his other hand from
her clutches too.

"For God's sake, stop it!" he yelled in her face.

Seething and trembling as adrenaline and shock wracked his body with nowhere to go, a few
seconds went by before the stars cleared from his vision and he saw Leslie; shaking, her dress
creased, and her chest heaving, staring at him with wide, startled eyes that had never experienced
defeat. His breathing became softer, but he still trembled at the sight, for it represented how he had
potentially ruined everything. He had never meant to upset or hurt Leslie, he had merely wanted to
get away from her. He couldn't do this, why couldn't she understand that? Why couldn't anybody
understand that?

His outburst still echoed in his ears and heat rushed to his face immediately. He turned away from
Leslie, he couldn't look at her. He wanted to speak, but what to say? He placed his hands on the
steering wheel once more, but his fingers were shaking and the thought of starting the car was
nauseating. But beneath the fear of disappointment, the embarrassment, he felt rather relieved,
proud even. He had stood up to Leslie, reminded himself that he was capable of more than taking
orders. This venture had ended horrifically, but maybe this troubling end would burn away and
forge a splendid new destiny with Kyle as the phoenix? He was unsure, for he still had another
battle to fight, one he couldn't imagine winning.
Glancing at Leslie, he saw that she had composed herself, and was now fixing her hair in the wing
mirror.

"We should go," Kyle murmured.

Leslie looked at him and nodded, before staring straight ahead. Kyle sighed and started the car,
preparing for their short, silent journey.

As soon as Kyle parked the car a whiskey bottle was thrust to his chest. He opened his mouth to
retort but was interrupted by Leslie slamming the door. Watching her march up to the house, Kyle
scrambled with the keys and quickly got out; hoping the cold, evening air would coax his throat to
open, rouse some words.

"Leslie, wait!"

She turned around, curls fluttering in the wind and lips pouted.

"I won't make a scene, if that's what you're worried about," she said.

Kyle blinked. He could feel the tension between them deflate.

"Oh. I-"

"I won't exaggerate or over-react," she continued, tucking a curl behind her ear. "Hysterical women
are very unbecoming, wouldn't you agree?"

Kyle searched the darkened countryside for answers.

"I, I suppose-"

Leslie cut through his words, making her way back over to him with a tight frown and intent in her
eyes.

"But don't think I've given up," she said, her gaze was fixed on Kyle and he could hear her terse
breaths. "This is not a… defeat…for lack of a better phrase. I still very much want you, Kyle, and
when I want something I get it, one way or another. You want this too, don't you?" her eyebrows
pulled together, her voice was a softer imploration. "I'll just put this evening's mishap down to
nerves and your… peculiarity. I suppose I will get used to it in time."

Kyle fidgeted under the intensity of her glare, tried to avert it because something in his eyes would
reveal that this 'peculiarity' would never go away, by her hand or anybody else. She raked her gaze
over Kyle and grimaced.

"What an odd man you are…"

She turned on her heel and stormed to the house, while Kyle hung his head, sighed, and followed
her. They were greeted warmly upon entering the house, but despite Leslie's perseverance, the
situation in the car and Kyle's blatant rejection had obviously rattled and disheartened her. Every
snide remark, exaggerated yawn, and clipped response ensured that everybody in the room knew
that Leslie wanted to go home. The bottle was only half empty by the time she and her father left.
Clearly, what she wanted more than anything in the present moment was to be away from Kyle.
Stan and Wendy left shortly after, and soon only Kyle and his father remained in the kitchen.

"Did you enjoy yourself tonight?" His father asked. Kyle heard him pour more whiskey into his
tumbler.

"Yes, I did, thank you," he replied, placing another cleaned dish in the cupboard. "Did you enjoy
yourself?"

"Very much… though Leslie seemed in an odd mood when you came back from the shop."

Kyle winced, glad he wasn't facing his father. He doubted he could look him in the eye.

"She did?" Kyle asked, unsure if his naivety was convincing.

"Yes," his father replied. "Bored, irritable, almost petulant. Of course I've only ever had brief
encounters with her but I've never seen her behave like that. She's usually so talkative and polite.
She was tremendous company at the start of the meal, wasn't she?"

"Yes, she was. Perhaps she was tired…"

"Perhaps," his father sighed. "But she hardly looked at you for the rest of the evening. Before you
two left for the shop she couldn't keep her eyes off you - or her hands for that matter."

Kyle ducked his head, his face flushing, like he needed to be reminded.

"Yet you seemed very uninterested…"

"I'm not bothered by that sort of thing."

Kyle knew the words sounded threadbare, he winced again when he heard his father huff.

"Clearly," he said. "But it wouldn't have hurt to humour the poor girl, surely?"

"I don't want to hurt people's feelings by lying."

"You'll hurt people's feelings either way."

Kyle gritted his teeth and turned around, finally facing his father. He was wearing an implacable
expression, almost waiting for Kyle to lose his temper. It made Kyle wilt.

"Then what do you suggest?" he asked, shyer now. He wanted to know why that sudden flare of
temper had flickered out.

His father shrugged.

"Acquiring a taste for her?" he suggested, sighing and shaking his head. "She is a lovely girl, Kyle.
It baffles me that you seem not at all keen."

Kyle had no argument, no rebuttal. He felt that oppressive heat flood his cheeks again, and lowered
his gaze.

"I should be off to bed," his father added, rising from his chair slowly. "We'll talk in the morning."

Kyle nodded, and watched his father leave the kitchen.

Sleepless nights were becoming routine for Kyle now. He had finished Villette last night in the
hopes that it would distract him from returning to the events in the car with Leslie, or in the kitchen
with his father. No matter how drowsy he was at the novel's end, every time he closed his eyes he
felt the weight of his father's sigh and tasted the tobacco on Leslie's breath and jolted, eyes flying
open.

He would occasionally turn his head and be greeted by that golden glow. It had become a constant,
and he wondered how long it had been cemented into the view from his bedroom window and yet
remained unseen by him until now. There was never a day clear enough to make out any houses in
the distance, nestled between the trees. In his more fanciful moments, Kyle wondered if the light
was indeed coming from Tenorman Hall; beaming like a lighthouse, but as elusive as a storm out at
sea. But it was shut up, wasn't it? Were there staff still living there? Or had the disgraced lord of
the manor not disappeared from this island where he was no longer welcome, but retreated into his
decadent, crumbling shell?

Kyle struggled to keep his eyes open as he stirred his cup of tea, but he heard the purposeful creak
of the stairs as his father strode down them.

"Good morning."

Kyle lifted his head at the sound of his father's voice entering the kitchen, and saw that he was
smoothing down the suit he had worn last night.

"Good morning," Kyle replied. "You're dressed very smart today."

"I'm off to North Park to visit a client."

"Would you like a cup of tea?"

"No, thank you."

Kyle placed his spoon in the sink and pulled up a chair at the table. His father sat down in the chair
opposite him, but kept the chair cocked to the side as if to communicate he had to leave soon.

"You know, Kyle, last night I was lying wide awake in bed, wracking my brains over the situation
with you and Leslie-"

Kyle rubbed his bleary eyes.

"Must we talk about this now?"

"And I just couldn't make sense of why you were shying away from an opportunity to court a girl
who's very interested in you," his father continued. "Not to mention attractive and wealthy, and
then I realised something. Something that perhaps I should have realised years ago."

Kyle gulped down his tea, raised his eyes to his father and saw that he was regarding him with that
same implacable look. All these years he thought he had concealed what he long knew was so
different about him, but perhaps these last two days had been all too telling.

"What did you realise?" he asked.

"You don't want to get married, do you? At least not yet. And the dinner party last night, it all felt a
little too staged, didn't it? Is that it?"

Kyle blinked, but relief was only a short burst of contentment. It couldn't subdue his frustration.

"Perhaps," he replied. "Although…"

"What?"
Kyle sighed.

"Sometimes I feel I may never be ready."

His father's eyebrows drew together and he let out a curt, derisive laugh.

"Then what do you propose on doing with the rest of your life?" he asked, smiling like it was all so
amusing.

"Travel, work, see the world!"

"Well, you certainly have grand ambitions for someone who has so little," his father replied. Kyle
was unsure if that was supposed to be a compliment. "And who will take of me when you're off
gallivanting around the country? Who will take care of the animals? When you do such a good job.
I don't know what I would do without you, Kyle."

Kyle pursed his lips, fidgeted as if trying to wriggle his way out of the guilt his father had elicited
with one sentence Kyle knew to be sincere.

"You could come with me?"

His father huffed, and folded his arms like a spoiled child. Kyle had to supress the urge to roll his
eyes.

"Surely I would be able to compromise?" he asked. "Have a career, and meet people, and go places,
but still come back here at the end of the day?"

It sounded so perfect, like the solution Kyle had been searching for all these years.

"You've spent too long with your head in those books, I'm afraid," his father replied. "Anyway, I
should be off. I'll be back by this evening."

Kyle took another sip of his tea to hide his pinked face, watching his father get up. Before he left
the kitchen he asked;

"Do you need me to pick anything up while I'm out? Is there anything you want?"

Kyle shrugged and glanced around the kitchen, attempting to bring smaller desires to mind now
that his larger aspirations had been dampened. His eyes landed on the small, sparse window sill,
with only one empty vase sitting on it.

"Some flowers?" he replied. "For the vase on the window sill. It would make the room look much
nicer."

"Right," his father muttered with a nod.

Kyle didn't wish his father farewell when he left the house, just listened to the slam of the front
door echo. The noise seemed to rattle not just the quaint cottage's foundations but Kyle himself too.
He shut his eyes to block out the din, and for the first time in years felt like wandering the well-
trod country lanes, only returning if the heavens opened and perhaps not even then. He would get
soaked, cold, hungry, tired, to feel anything other than trapped.
 Chapter 4
Chapter Notes

A shorter chapter, but hopefully an intriguing one. This chapter is split between Gerald
and Kyle's perspective. It was really difficult trying to negotiate the POVs in this
chapter, but hopefully it's not too jarring. Anyway, thank you for reading and I'd love
to know what you guys think! Hope you enjoy!

Gerald hoped to be home by now. He hated driving in the dark. But of course he had to stay for tea
when his client's wife offered him a place at the table. Kyle was a decent cook but their meals were
limited to the small butchers and greengrocers in the village, and his son lacked the consideration
that wives bring to their husbands' plates. The kitchen was no place for a young man, Gerald
believed. He imagined himself and Kyle chatting at a dinner table, peering into the kitchen to see
how long his future daughter-in-law would be with their dinner. The aromatic warmth of his
fantasy made the isolation of the car a little less chilly.

Of course if Kyle married Leslie then she would join them at the dinner table too, and they would
all smile politely as a middle-aged, well-kept maid brought their dinner to them on silver trays.
And Gerald would never have to work late, come home to a cramped little cottage. He would
retire, and Kyle would take on his clients. He would be able to work out of his own private office,
and they would have enough space in their spacious, lavish house that Kyle would not feel
embarrassed to hold meetings there. Leslie would offer cups of coffee, tea, slices of cake, and the
charmed clients would be unable to say no. Gerald would greet them too, and they would remark
how well retirement was treating him. He had never looked so rested, so content…

Driving along the winding country road it felt like he was heading towards such an idyllic future.
Kyle may have been reluctant, but perhaps Gerald should have expected that. When his son had
never even courted a girl before, of course the prospect of marriage would seem daunting. But
Kyle was mature, and intelligent, and loyal, he knew the importance of putting family before
himself. Especially when he had an opportunity to marry a wealthy girl like Leslie, who seemed
very interested in him. No doubt she would ask him to an upcoming social event soon, and Kyle
would grow fond of her in time. Gerald could wait, misfortune had been plaguing him for nearly
thirty years but Leslie and Kyle's union would lift the miasma.

His daydream came to an abrupt halt when the car jerked suddenly, involuntarily slowing, just as
exhausted as Gerald felt. He had bought the car years ago, although it had meant sparse meals for a
month. He needed a car to expand his business, and it had never failed him except tonight.

"Bloody hell!" he snapped, smacking the wheel as if it could jolt the failing engine to attention.
"Not now…"

He glanced out the window, hoping to spot anything other than early evening stars and fields
cloaked in darkness. He wasn't too far from the village, maybe he could walk to one of the nearby
farms? But then glowing windows in the distance caught his eye, carving a faint outline of the
house into the countryside like constellations in the sky. Gerald grinned, making his steady way to
the house until finally the car trundled to the side of the road, outside the looming gates.

Getting out of the car, he peered at the shabby mansion on the other side of the gates. Once
fashionable, pristine, and grand, it appeared uninhabitable although the lights suggested somebody
was still living there, neglecting to tend to the garden and paint the walls. He walked up to the
gate, wrapped his fingers around the cold metal to take a closer look, and stumbled when it nudged
open. He winced at the long groan of rusted iron, but stepped inside the property nonetheless.

Pebbles crunched underfoot as he made his way up the drive, and the lawn that would have once
been trimmed and upright was now overgrown and sagging with apathy. The flowers too were
brash and bulbous, the light from the windows revealed slithers of their rich, unadulterated colours.
They crowded the house like prepossessing invaders, wildly beautiful.

Gerald felt as if he were in a trance when he reached the door, and balked at the door knocker. A
ferocious bear head with tarnished eyes and chipped teeth, it had faded into antiquity, history, like
the animal itself and the privileged few who had once hunted it. Gerald knocked on the door, the
heavy thud ringing into the night. He waited for the shuffle of a housekeeper, a maid, from inside
but was met only with silence. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a bush that sported enormous
roses, protruding like they were craning their gorgeous heads to greet him, their scarlet shade
burned through the cold evening.

The flowers were almost hypnotic. Gerald had to shake his head to free himself from their
distraction. He knocked again, more impatiently this time.

"Hello!" he called out. "Hello? Is anybody there?"

Silence. Gerald sighed, his gaze wandering once again to the alluring roses. Didn't Kyle say he
wanted flowers? These would be perfect! The roses seemed even larger up close however, and
Gerald was unsure if they would fit into the vase. But even one of these roses would be more
magnificent than a whole bouquet of any other flowers. He picked one, careful not to touch the
thorns as he did. The bush shook, seemed to bristle with one of its flowers missing, and Gerald
swore he could hear a long, thrumming growl behind him.

He didn't have time to wonder before he felt a strong hand tugging at his shoulder and nails, no –
claws - tearing into his coat. He gasped, his body rigid, and the rose fell to the ground. He gulped,
and somehow found it in himself to crane his neck, to gaze at the monster looming over him. Just
the sight of the beast rendered him frozen. Grabbing him by the front of his coat, the beast lifted
him off the ground. His throat closed, he was even unable to scream. But it would have been
drowned out by the beast's tremendous roar. The ringing in his ears left Gerald feeling delirious,
and the appearance of this monster rendered him paralysed with fear.

Just like the door knocker, the beast resembled a bear. But it was massive, larger than a bear, more
malevolent, more manic. Its wide nostrils flared and when it seethed it exhumed pure aggression.
Its eyes were an aureate kaleidoscope, multiplying Gerald's startled reflection dozens of times over.
But he would rather look into the beast's shining eyes than its blood-red gums and fangs as huge as
daggers. The thick rolls of chestnut fur made his neck appear wider than it already was, and even
with all its savage strength the beast seemed to struggle supporting the weight of its broad
shoulders and back. It adopted the stance of a bull ready to charge at a matador's red cloth, or
perhaps at an intruder stealing a bunch of red roses. A bear, a beast, what else could this unnatural
creature resemble?

"What are you doing here?!" the beast demanded.

A man. Gerald found himself shaking at the beast's growling, tortured voice. He only then realised
that the beast was in fact dressed in clothes. Its trousers and shirt strained against its hulking form,
some of the seams had already opened.
"M-m-my car…my car… it broke down!" Gerald replied. He could hardly think, let alone speak. "I
n-n-needed help!"

"You were trespassing! I ought to kill you!"

"No, please! Please forgive me!" Gerald begged. "D-d-don't kill me! I-I-I have a family! A son,
waiting for me! And a business! A-a-and-"

"Enough!" the beast roared. "Why should I care?! That gives you no right to… to…" the beast's
eyes flickered, and Gerald felt himself slip in the creature's loosening grip. "Did you say… you
have a son?"

"Yes!" Gerald replied, nodding frantically. "Yes, a grown son! He's all I have in the world!"

"How old is he?"

"Twenty-eight. He's a fine young man." The mention of Kyle prompted a lump in Gerald's throat.
"Please let me go so I can go back to him! I-I-I'll do anything!"

But the beast was no longer looking at Gerald. Its eyes flitted as heavily as a pendulum, and its
breathing had slowed, calmed. Gerald furrowed his eyebrows, confusion overrode his fear the
longer he studied the conflicted expression on the beast's face.

Finally, the best regarded him again with a scowl, and Gerald gulped.

"Would you really do anything?" the beast asked.

"Yes!"

"I need a servant, and you're too old and useless for the job," the beast explained with a snarl. "I
will spare you if you bring your son to me, so he can work and live here unharmed."

Gerald opened his mouth to respond, but he had no idea what to say. How could he trust this
horrifying monster with his only son? But what was the alternative? To be eaten alive by this beast
and to leave Kyle a penniless orphan? Kyle wanted to find purpose, independence, to experience
something beyond their quiet village, was this such an opportunity? Maybe this was a chance Kyle
needed to take to get his desire for independence out of his system? So he could finally commit to
marriage? The beast did say no harm would come to Kyle. But why should Gerald take its word?
What if it was a trick? What was this beast even capable of?

"I… I…"

"Make up your mind!" the beast roared. "Time is running out!"

"All right!" Gerald cried, trembling. "All right…"

The beast dropped him, and he huffed when he fell to the ground, cowering in front of the beast
that now seemed even more enormous.

"B-b-but you won't hurt him, will you?" Gerald whimpered. "You promised you wouldn't."

"You have my word," the beast replied, solemn. "I will not hurt him. Be here tomorrow at dusk. If
you do not come, I will hunt you down and devour you both! Now get out!"

Gerald scrambled to his feet, his petrified adrenaline compelling him to sprint down the drive
without looking back, rose forgotten. The lights of his broken down car flickered on, and he ran
even faster when it occurred to him that somebody might have been stealing it. After all he had
experienced tonight, in this Godforsaken house, he wouldn't be surprised if some roadside
criminals had decided to take off with his car.

He pushed the gates open and nearly fell out of the property. Stumbling to the car, he saw that it
was only him panting and reeling on the side of the road. He shut himself away in the car, locking
the mansion and the memory of this evening out. He was still slumped in his seat, collecting his
breaths when he heard the car hum to life. Gripping the wheel he drove as fast as he could, shaking
all the way home.

Kyle looked up once again from his book to inspect the clock, ticking like an impatient foot taps
the floor. Half past eight and his father still wasn't home. A tooth snagged his lower lip, his thumb
brushed against the corner of the page. He had been reading Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr
Hyde all day in between his chores, and had in fact almost finished it. But perhaps reading about a
man who transformed into a violent creature and terrorised innocent people wasn't such a wise idea
when his father was incredibly late and the night was growing darker.

Closing the book, Kyle tried to relax in his usually trusty armchair by the crackling fire, thoughts of
distraction disintegrating in the amber flames. He wished he had said goodbye to his father before
he left, the absence of a farewell seemed so needless now, so spiteful. Kyle closed his eyes,
exhaled slowly as if the weighty sigh could smother the guilt welling up in his chest.

A loud bang made Kyle jolt, and when his eyes flew open he saw his father standing by the door.
His breathing was laboured, and he was shaking. But he was drained of colour as well as energy,
his face a pale, petrified pallor. It was his torn coat that sent Kyle out of the chair, rushing over to
his father to investigate.

"Dear God, what happened to you?!" he asked. "Are you all right?"

His father had one hand placed on the door, and Kyle watched his shoulders heave as he tried to
collect his breaths.

"Yes…" his father replied absently, nodding as if to convince even himself. "Yes, I'm fine…"

Kyle winced at his father's lie. Much like himself, Kyle's father was stubborn and Kyle was unsure
how to best approach the situation. Tentatively, he reached forward and slung his father's arm
around his shoulders. Kyle couldn't envision his shaken father walking independently without
crumbling on the floor.

"Your coat-"

"Never mind that," his father cut in, waving him off. "I'm sorry I'm so late."

"There's no need to apologise." Kyle shook his head and frowned. "Are you sure you're all right?"

His father sighed. Kyle could feel him deflate beneath him.

"No… no, I feel rather light-headed. I should go to bed."

"What about supper?"

"Just make something for yourself. I need to lie down."

Kyle pursed his lips, before nodding in acquiescence.

"All right," he said. "Let me help you upstairs."

His father nodded too, and when they made their way upstairs the steps creaked louder than ever
under the weight of two bodies.

"I love you very much, Kyle," his father confessed when they reached the top step, Kyle could've
withered under his agonised stare. "You know that don't you?"

"Yes," Kyle murmured, nodding before saying louder, "yes, of course I do…"

"I would never want you to come to any harm."

Kyle's eyebrows furrowed, and he wondered why his father felt the need to say such things,
sentiments and truths that had been only implied for twenty eight years. And why now? Why
tonight? What was his father not telling him?

But he didn't ask, instead he found himself replying; "I know you wouldn't."
 Chapter 5
Chapter Notes

Sorry for the wait, guys! I've been super busy lately, but hopefully updates should be a
bit more frequent from now on. Thank you so much for reading, as well as for being
patient, and I hope you enjoy!

Kyle's eyelids drooped as he spread some marmalade onto a slice of toast, as if the weight of all
these sleepless nights were becoming too much for his poor eyes to bear. His father and his odd
demeanour upon returning home was what kept him up last night, the ripped coat his father was
adamant to ignore was a symbol for Kyle's fears. Was he attacked? But by what? Kyle shivered at
the thought of some savage creature of the night pouncing on his father… perhaps in front of the
car, on the middle of the road. Perhaps the monster had appeared genial at first, almost human and
posing as a person in need before transforming – no, he was being silly. He had been reading too
much.

"Good morning…"

Kyle lifted his head at the sound of his father's voice. He was still in his pyjamas and dressing
gown, and Kyle couldn't remember the last time he had seen his father in his night clothes. He was
always dressed when he came downstairs for breakfast, and had raised Kyle to do the same.

"Good morning," Kyle replied softly, trying to hide his concern. "How are you feeling today?"

"Tired," his father sighed, and rubbed his eyes. "I hardly slept at all last night."

"When you arrived home yesterday you seemed rather… distressed."

His father lifted his gaze to him and Kyle fidgeted under his stare, but he had to say something.

"I don't like driving in the dark, you know," he replied. "It puts me on edge."

"But that doesn't explain the ripped coat."

"Oh, that, it… it's a very old coat, Kyle." His father shook his head and waved the issue off.
"Please don't concern yourself with it, I'm fine."

Kyle nodded, the crunch of the toast filling the silence.

"I don't think driving all day helped," his father continued. "It's not appropriate now, not at my
age."

"Perhaps, but… I still feel like there's something that you're not telling me."

"What could that be?"

Kyle couldn't possibly relay his outlandish suspicions to his father without getting laughed off, but
no other explanations came to mind.
"I don't know, I…" Kyle pursed his lips, tried to think. "Did something happen when you went to
visit your client, perhaps?"

"What on earth are you talking about, Kyle?"

"Did you fall out over something? Maybe you gave him bad news and he didn't take it well or, or,
or maybe he gave you bad news…" Kyle stopped, his eyes widened. "Is he letting you go? Is that
it?"

His father shook his head, and avoided eye contact.

"No, no…"

"Are you sure you're telling me everything?"

His father opened his mouth to speak but quickly clamped it shut, like the words were in need of
some refinement before they could actually be spoken. Kyle watched his father think, watched his
eyes study the grooves of the table, and willed for his father to talk to him. Perhaps it was the light
streaming through the window that made his father's eyes appear to gleam, but he shifted in his
chair before lifting his gaze to Kyle.

"Actually, Kyle, there is something I forgot to mention yesterday. After all, I was all out of sorts."

"What is it?"

"An opportunity has arisen, it might seem… for you."

Kyle blinked, surprised he was at the centre of all this mystery.

"You've made it very clear to me that you would like to experience a life out of South Park, to learn
new things and meet new people." His father paused, raised his eyebrows. "That is what you want,
isn't it?"

"Yes," Kyle whispered, before coughing into his fist and saying louder, "yes, more than anything."

"Well, I was, uh, discussing this with my client yesterday and he told me is in need of a…
assistant."

"What does he do?" Kyle asked.

"He's, uh, an accountant," his father replied. "He's rather wealthy, and he lives in a large house, a
lavish house, in fact. He would be more than happy to take you on as a sort of apprentice, and you
can live there until your training is complete."

Kyle felt a smile spread across his face, like wings outstretching and preparing to take flight.

"Really?" he could hear the giddiness in his voice.

"Yes, really," his father nodded, with his own smile. It was small however, and didn't reach his
eyes. "He seemed… h-h-he seemed quite enthusiastic. "

Kyle was reeling, his shoulders slouching like all his problems had melted away.

"So is it something you think you may be interested in?" his father asked. "You don't have long to
make up your mind."
"Oh yes, yes it is!" Kyle nodded, leaning forward in his chair and grinning. "Thank you so much, I
would love to!"

The corners of his father's mouth piqued only briefly, as if this wonderful opportunity was
lukewarm and distant. Kyle noticed his eyes glimmering, and hoped a more overwhelming emotion
was shining through.

"Brilliant, well you better start packing your things," his father said. "He's expecting us by early
evening."

"Certainly," Kyle replied, rising from his chair. "I'll get started right away!"

He clapped his father's shoulder as he left the kitchen and as he jogged up the stairs he mentally
started to pack, as well as forming an image of this generous, mysterious businessman who he was
soon to stay with.

The waning sun was melting into evening clouds when Kyle and his father left the house.
Affection embraced his heart and squeezed it a little too tightly when Kyle took one last look at his
home. He knew he wouldn't be gone forever, he'd return eventually even if only briefly. But he
wasn't just leaving that faithful house, he was leaving that frustrated, naive self behind too.

Kyle was now staring out of the window as they drove down the country roads, one view
disappearing and being swiftly replaced by another.

"How long will I be staying with this client of yours?" Kyle asked, turning to his father who kept
his eyes straight ahead.

"As long as it takes to train you, I suppose," he replied.

"I still have my library book with me…" Kyle had nearly forgotten he had packed it in his case in
excitement. "Should we turn around and return it?"

"No!" his father snapped. Kyle blinked, and noticed his fingers flexing on the wheel. "No, we're
late enough as it is. Give it to me and then I'll take it to the library when I return home."

Kyle nodded, gaze drifting out the window.

"What's his name?" he asked.

He glanced at his father again, and noticed that although he was looking at the road, a thoughtful
fog clouded his eyes.

"Pardon?"

"I asked what his name is. Your client."

"Oh… oh, well, Kyle, you really should be leaving these questions until we arrive. He'll make all
of the introductions."

"Surely it wouldn't hurt to know his-"

"Kyle, please be quiet will you?!" his father cut in. "I'm trying to concentrate!"

Kyle shrunk back in his seat, stung.

"Of course," he murmured. "I, I'm sorry…"

Kyle returned his gaze to the window, but the views weren't as bright and welcoming, and he
started to feel nauseated by the relentless motion. He tried not to glance at his father, not wishing to
agitate him further. Perhaps he was anxious that Kyle would let him down? Or was he merely
upset at his leaving? The car slowed as they pulled up to an old manor house with greying walls
and the garden grown wild with neglect, and Kyle's breath caught in his throat. He knew. It had to
be Tenorman Hall. That golden constant star had now blossomed into fading beauty.

It was so much bigger than Kyle could have ever imagined. How could he not have noticed it from
his small house on top of the hill? The looming gates opened with an almost menacing creak, and
the car inched itself up the drive like it knew it wasn't welcome.

"What are we doing here?" Kyle asked, turning to his father now. Nothing was more intimidating
than the grounds of this fallen house.

"This is where my client lives," his father replied, still avoiding eye contact.

"I thought he lived in North Park?"

"Well, this is on the way to North Park, isn't it?" his father responded rather tersely.

"I, I suppose." Kyle nodded, not wanting to upset him before his departure.

Instead, he pondered how wealthy his father's client must be if he could afford Tenorman Hall.
Although in this condition it may have been relatively cheap. Whoever purchased it clearly didn't
have the remaining funds to renovate it. His father parked the car by the front steps, and they both
got out wordlessly before heading to the boot and collecting Kyle's belongings.

"This is everything, is it?" his father asked when Kyle's two suitcases were placed on the ground.

"Yes, that's the lot." Kyle smiled, the breeze lifting his mood somewhat.

His father pursed his lips, and Kyle tried to search his glassy eyes before he was pulled into a tight
hug.

"Goodbye, Kyle," his father murmured.

"Won't you come inside?" Kyle asked. The arms that braced him were stiff and sturdy.

"No, no, you're a grown man now," his father replied, releasing him and waving the suggestion off.
"You can make all the necessary introductions for yourself, can't you?"

Kyle nodded, unconvinced.

"My book-"

"Keep it," his father interjected. "Have you finished it yet?"

"Well no, but I-"

"I'm sure the librarian will understand. They won't notice one book missing, will they?"

Kyle shook his head. His father always seemed to have an answer for everything, but lately his
reassurances had left Kyle feeling empty and worried.
"Make the most of this, will you?" his father asked, imploration straining the question.

"Of course," Kyle replied. It was an automatic response, but he added earnestly; "of course I will, I
won't let you down."

"I know you won't."

Kyle was pulled into his father's embrace again, although it didn't rouse the same comfort and
security he had felt as a child; when his father was so much taller, and that unaffected, stoic mask
remained taut. He was shaking in Kyle's arms, and he wondered whether leaving him was the right
thing to do. Had he been selfish? Silly? He may have been idealistic, but that didn't stop Kyle from
fantasizing about making his dreams reality, but were they really just impossible?

Before Kyle could say anything, his father held him at arm's length and smiled tightly at him. Kyle
returned the smile, and watched his father get back in the car and trundle along the drive, waving
all the while. Curiously, the gates closed behind the car and Kyle was alone, his new life waiting
behind him, silent and patient.

He turned around and stared up at Tenorman Hall. The intricate patterns on the stained-glass
windows made the glass appear fragile, and the house itself was like a helpless fly trapped on the
dominating flora's web. Kyle wanted to reach out, untangle the house, clutch it, and discover once
and for all if this was his destiny. If this was a star worth following. He supposed the only way he
would find out was if he knocked the door.

Rolling his shoulders back and picking up his suitcases, Kyle marched to the door. He wondered if
his chin had raised subconsciously, hoping that an authoritative confidence would bloom inside
him and make his whole body stand to attention like a soldier. He stepped onto the porch and
furrowed his eyebrows at the knocker. A foreboding bear, daring him to enter. Kyle grabbed the
bear's face and knocked as hard as he could. Soon after the door inched open with a creak. Kyle
assumed it was the work of a swift, perhaps timid housekeeper. But there was no greeting, no
shadow he could make out in the darkness.

Had there been a mistake? Were they really expecting him today? Perhaps his father had the dates
muddled? But Kyle couldn't go back now. He couldn't sprint out of the grounds and try to catch up
with his father's car (how cowardly, how childish). No, he had to step inside, apologise for arriving
early. Perhaps his early arrival would suggest enthusiasm? Nodding to himself, Kyle pushed the
door open a tad further and stepped inside.

Kyle looked around, though there was hardly anything to see in the dark. And no people, for that
matter too. Pale columns of light shone through a large, dome window and cradled the dust in the
air. The light illuminated the worn out, matted carpet too, and more dust was clumped into the
once rich gold and red fabric. But it didn't find any shadows. Kyle's presence didn't prompt a
greeting or a member of the household to come out of hiding.

"Hello?" he asked, trying to be measured but the echo revealed his unease.

"Who are you?" a disembodied voice replied. Deep and thrumming, making Kyle shiver.

"Kyle Broflovski?" he stepped forward, fingers fidgeting behind his back. "My father Gerald said
you were in need of an assistant."

Kyle glanced around the room, searching for his reclusive host but no features could be
distinguished in the infuriating shadows.
"Who am I talking to?" Kyle finally asked. "Where are you?"

No answer, but Kyle strained his ears and waited. Then, footsteps. Not the assured thump of
Oxfords against the floorboards, nor the warm sound of plush slippers shuffling closer, but
padding. Gentle, surreptitious, like fingernails tapping a desk. The sound was creeping towards the
strongest light source, from the centre of that magnificent, high window. It was silvery, the dust
sparkling. A paw, huge with sharp, yellowing claws protruding out of it met the light. Kyle gasped,
choked on all the mysteries that cluttered the air, took a step backward. Another paw, just as
frightening as its twin, then bulging shoulders, rolls and rolls of fur. A stony face with squinting
golden eyes that soon adjusted to the light. A bear, Kyle had already faced one. But not a real one,
not like this one, except… it wore clothes, pulled tight across its broad shoulders, straining against
thick legs, and when it straightened up it was taller than any bear Kyle had ever seen photographs
of, illustrations of, and its eyes were intelligent, aware, but not human. They were savage, and
striking, and… beastly.

Kyle wanted to shriek as shock was peeled away by reality. A monster was standing in front of
him, no doubt ready to devour him. He ran to the door, hurriedly collecting his belongings after he
had nearly tripped over them. He could hardly see the door in the darkness but he would find it
eventually. He huffed when the side of his face hit the sturdy wood, but he didn't care when he
could hear the lock judder from within, the mechanism so large that the noise reverberated through
his whole body. He felt around for the doorknob before he finally found it and clutched it tight. He
tried to twist it open but it wouldn't budge. Shaking and panting, he twisted the knob the other way
but still it was useless. His skin burned with sweat and he cried through gritted teeth as he pulled
and shook at the stubborn doorknob, the lock jammed. But how did this happen? How could it
have happened? Kyle finally released it with a cry.

"What?!" he yelled. "What's going on here?!"

"There's no use trying to leave," the beast replied. It occurred to Kyle then that the monster hadn't
chased him, or tried to stop him. "Your father promised you would stay."

Kyle hated the sound of his heaving breaths filling the silence, but at least it drowned out the
devastating ebb and flow of all the aches in his chest.

"I… this can't be possible…" he whispered.

"You must be gentle, don't frighten the poor lad!" A new hushed voice spoke, an Irish accent. "Tell
him you won't hurt him!"

Kyle's eyes widened at the new voice in the shadows. Was this house haunted? Cursed?
Condemned? Or was Kyle simply going mad? He hoped it was all a feverish nightmare, and that he
would wake up soon, in his old bed in his old cottage he would never take for granted. He flinched
when he heard the beast coming towards him, his shadow enveloped Kyle like a cloak and he
squeezed his eyes shut, willing for it to disappear. If Kyle kept his eyes closed, and his back to it,
the beast would go away.

"I mean you no harm," the beast said.

Kyle froze at the feeling of claws brushing against his shoulder, and shrugged them away.

"I just need some assistance around the house," the beast continued calmly. "I don't want to hurt
you."

Kyle blinked at the beast's admission, sniffled, and turned around. The beast was just an enormous
blur in his eyes, silent and waiting for a response.

"How long do I have to stay here?" Kyle asked.

"Until I say you can go."

Kyle wiped his tears, although the beast's answer shattered him.

"So I'm a prisoner?"

With his vision clear he could see the beast seethe, its jaw tighten.

"I'll throw you in the cellar if you want to be a prisoner!" it roared.

"Master, please!" the decidedly friendlier voice spoke up.

Kyle detected the voice coming from the beast's jacket pocket, and stumbled backwards when he
saw it belonged to a hammer, with a smiling, flat face.

"What on Earth is going on in this house?!" he demanded.

"That is none of your concern!" the beast snapped, its temper flaring before it sighed. "I'll show
you to your room."

The beast began to walk away and Kyle scurried after it. He knew that it was best to follow orders
for now. He would find a way out eventually but being agreeable for the time being was a sure
way not to get eaten. When they made their way up the wide staircase, Kyle had a better view of
the large window and smiled despite himself at the craggy clouds and the softer, twilight hues.
Perhaps it was the last time he'd ever see the sky? No, he couldn't think like that.

In the silence, his eyes eventually wandered to the walls, where slithers of artwork and ornaments
were graced by the light. It was no wonder Tenorman Hall had fallen to such disrepair if a beast
was simply using it as its den. It weighed heavily on Kyle's heart, thinking what this house and
family had been reduced to.

"This is where you will stay," the beast said as he opened Kyle's bedroom door, not too far from
the stairs.

Kyle reluctantly stepped inside the largest bedroom he had ever been in, although he doubted even
a four poster bed and mountains of pillows would help him sleep tonight.

"You will join me for dinner in an hour," the beat added. "Do not be late!"

The door was slammed shut behind Kyle, and the condemning sound was followed by his luggage
hitting the floor. He didn't care if the suitcases were damaged, if they flew open. He covered his
face with his hands, and cried softly into his palms.

The floorboards creaked as Kyle paced the bedroom, and he glanced at every window. Important
features had been memorised in the hopes they would all link together and form an escape plan in
his mind. He didn't let himself cry for too long, pressing his wrist firmly to his still welling eyes so
he could survey the room; either the tall, greying set of chest of drawers, or the gilt chaise lounge,
would be useful to wedge under the doorknob so his escape could be carried out undisturbed. Then
again, the bathroom with its gleaming marble and triptych mirror had a working lock. But would
he be able to squeeze through the high, narrow window above the – disturbing – claw foot bathtub.
Kyle had tensed upon seeing it. He wouldn't be surprised if all the furniture was sentient. He had to
be careful not to mutter his plans to himself.

He groaned and ran despairing hands through his hair. How had he ended up here? Why did his
father send him here of all places? What could possibly have possessed him to agree to this? Didn't
he realise he was putting Kyle's life in danger? A door flew open in Kyle's mind. A realisation. His
father standing there, with his ripped coat, it had to be the work of the beast! Had it threatened
him? Kyle remembered his father's shoulders shaking beneath the coat, and the glow from the
fireplace casting light on his pale face. Kyle could feel the warmth like a phantom passing through
him, recall the comfort of the armchair, and suddenly thoughts of escape plans and theories
evaporated, replaced by thoughts of home. Kyle's pace slowed, gasping thickly on the lump in his
throat. He sat on the bed, the mattress soft and full beneath him, and closed his stinging eyes,
letting his tears fall.

"Oh, please don't cry, love! It will be all right!"

"Damn it, who's talking now?!" Kyle asked, lifting his head at the sound of another disembodied
voice. This time, female.

"Over here!" she replied. "The wardrobe!"

Kyle turned to the cranberry coloured wardrobe, eyes widening at the golden trim that had shaped
itself into almost feline eyes, long lashes, and a wide, mischievous smile.

"How-"

"My name's Rebecca. But everyone calls me Bebe."

"Oh…" Kyle nodded, sitting up straighter. "All right… it's, um, nice to meet you, Bebe."

"You too, love," Bebe replied warmly. "Mind telling me your name?"

Kyle shook his head, reprimanding himself for neglecting proper manners. Although he supposed
it was easy to forget one's manners when conversing with a wardrobe.

"Oh, sorry, yes, my name is Kyle."

"I know this must seem awfully strange, Kyle. It's been a long time since this house has had any
guests, but it is still a lovely place to stay. You'll settle in eventually."

"Thank you, but right now that doesn't seem very likely," Kyle sighed. "I have never felt so
confused, so lonely."

"Lonely? But you have me for company! And if you have any questions, I'll try my best to answer
them."

"All right… does all the furniture talk?"

"No, no," Bebe replied, twisting like she was trying to shake her head. She added quietly, "only the
ones who had past lives."

"Past lives?" Kyle asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Yes!" Bebe smiled again brightly. "I used to press Miss Cartman's clothes. I was always her
favourite, and she had the most beautiful dresses I had ever seen!"
"What happened to her?"

"She passed away a long time ago."

"Did her death have anything to do with the beast? Did he…" Kyle paused, not sure he wanted to
know the answer. "Eat her?"

"No, no, she was dead long before the-"

Bebe was interrupted by a thud at the door. Kyle clutched the sheets beneath him.

"Bebe!" A cheerful voice called from the hallway. "Can we come in?"

"Who is that?" Kyle asked.

"Pip, and the kitchen crowd," Bebe replied. "Would you mind getting the door?"

Kyle shook his head, opening the door and stepping aside when a kitchen cart with assorted
gawping dishware and cutlery wheeled itself into the room. There was a turquoise butter dish, with
an apple orchard scene and a shy face; a coy, silver spoon with floral engravings; and a white china
teacup with a golden rim, and a painted ribbon underneath his beaming face. Kyle couldn't help but
grin at them all.

"Everybody this is Kyle, he's our guest!" Bebe announced.

"It's very nice to meet you all," Kyle replied, nodding at each one.

"Hello, Kyle!" the teacup spoke first. "I'm Phillip, but everyone calls me Pip because-"

"Of Charles Dickens?" Kyle guessed.

"Pardon?"

"Pip is the main character in Great Expectations," Kyle explained.

"Really?" Pip asked. "I've never read it. Is it a good book?"

"A brilliant book." Kyle smiled. "One of my favourites."

Pip's china seemed to gleam a little brighter, and he beamed at his friends, before continuing his
introductions.

"And this is Kelly-"

Kelly lowered her silvery eyes and giggled at the mention of her name.

"And this is Butters- I mean, Leopold."

"Hello, Kyle!" Butters said, glancing up at him. "Dinner will be ready shortly."

"Thank you, but I won't be attending," Kyle replied. "I'm not hungry."

"B-b-but the master is expecting you."

"The master?" Kyle asked. "You mean that beast?"

Kyle furrowed his eyebrows as his newfound friends all glanced at each other uneasily.
"Yes, I suppose," Bebe replied.

Kyle sighed. "I pity you, having to live with something that horrifying… though I suppose he is
now my master too…"

"Of course not!" Bebe exclaimed. "You're our guest!"

"A guest?" Kyle was even more confused. "I was told I was to work here. Your master even said
so."

He wished they would all stop looking at each other so warily, it didn't exactly convince him that
this crumbling house was a nice – let alone safe – place to stay.

"The master is a complex fellow," Pip finally said.

"Yes, I'm sure all will be explained shortly," Butters added.

"And he's not as terrible and cruel as he appears," Bebe chimed in. "You'll see…"

"But I don't want to see! I just want to understand, I..." Kyle sat on the bed once more, stared at his
hands wringing themselves in his lap. "I need to know why my father would leave me with such a
monster."
 Chapter 6
Chapter Notes

I've had some bad writer's block recently, so I'm still not 100% happy with this
chapter. But god, I've edited it so much that I have to post it. Still, I hope you guys
enjoy and thank you for reading!

"…I need to know why my father would leave me with such a monster."

Eric roared, throwing his mother's mirror on the bed. The image of his distressed guest faded from
the glass as soon as the mirror hit the mattress.

"This is hopeless!" Eric exclaimed, as he paced the room on all fours. It was quickly becoming a
more comfortable position for him to walk in. He hated it, for it signalled a more insidious
transformation. "I should never have let him in the house! I should have thrown his father out of
the gates the second I saw him!"

Gregory, Christophe, and Kenny had all been watching from his bedside table, no doubt warily.

Gregory, as always, spoke first: "Don't be too disheartened, master-"

"Did you hear him?!" Eric cried, growling softly. "Did you hear what he called me?!"

"Y-y-yes, but-"

"You have to give it some time, sir. Give him some time," Kenny cut in gently. "He could be the
one to break the curse!"

"I know that! Why did you think I wanted him here? As if I need more servants…"

"Do you think you could fall in love with him?" Christophe asked.

Silence followed. Christophe had a habit of ignoring the hesitancies in the room, tunnelling
through the obscure and the grimy to find the truth, bright as day.

"Perhaps," Eric replied, his breathing had slowed and his shoulders had loosened. "He is
certainly…" glancing at the blank mirror, he recalled red hair as vibrant as any of the overgrown
flowers, and sharp, intelligent eyes that had been clouded by tears. "Handsome…"

"Forgive my bluntness, monsieur, but you need to change his impression of you as soon as
possible," Christophe pointed out. "The rose wilts more and more every day."

Another stinging truth slicing through the tension, another malignant weed unearthed. Eric
glowered and began to pace again.

"For God's sake, Christophe!" Gregory snapped.

"What?"

"We all know the rose is wilting!"

"So you would agree we can't waste time, no?"

"Yes, but we cannot dwell or fret! We must do-"

"We can't do anything! It is entirely in the hands of the master and our guest."

"Yes…" Eric sighed, eyes slipping shut as if the importance of Kyle's presence was weighing
down on his lids. "Yes, he's right. I must get ready for dinner…"

The tick of the clock above the mantelpiece had never sounded louder in Eric's large, lonely dining
room. For the past ten years he hadn't noticed it. After all, it chimed for no one. But when Eric had
a guest upstairs, a guest who could potentially free him from this prison of his own making if he
gave him companionship, trust, time, and when his dinner at the other end of the table remained
untouched, then Eric couldn't help but let the tick echo in his despondent mind.

Growling to himself, he licked the gravy away from his lips, not waiting for Kyle to arrive before
he started eating. He would have to become more patient around Kyle, remember his table manners
when they were eating together. Although it seemed Kyle preferred to stay in his room like a
petulant ingrate.

The legs of Eric's chair screeched against the floorboards when he rose. Why should he be polite
and weak-willed when Kyle was stubborn and spoiled? If Kyle wanted to behave like that then he
had no problem storming up to his room and dragging him to dinner. But Eric stopped seething
when he heard the sound of quick, purposeful footsteps down the stairs, and then marching across
the hall.

Suddenly, the steady noise stopped, and when Eric turned his head he saw Kyle waiting by the
door. His back and shoulders were firm and straight, a faultlessly confident pose if not for Kyle's
wobbling, impassive mouth and wide, curious eyes. Still, despite their nervous gleam Eric still
found himself withering, wanting to sit down but he was frozen, ensnared by those suffocating
green irises.

Eric needed to exhale, he felt as if he were holding his breath. Instead, he coughed and tried his
best to smooth down his clothes with his paws.

"Good evening…" he mumbled.

Kyle lowered his gaze, and kept his eyes to the floor as he marched to the other end of the table.

"You're late," Eric added, his voice rang through the room.

"Well, I didn't plan on attending but I'm rather hungry," Kyle replied as he took his seat, still
avoiding Eric's stare.

"Your dinner has most likely gone cold."

Kyle sighed, and Eric watched him study the cooling plate of roast beef and vegetables in front of
him. Kyle placed the napkin on his lap, before picking up his knife and fork and beginning to eat.

Eric sat back down, reaching for his half-empty glass of wine. When he ate dinner alone he would
simply lower his head and lap at his beverage, succumbing to his increasingly animalistic nature
was less humiliating when nobody was watching him. But when he was sure Kyle wasn't looking
he raised the glass to his lips and dipped his tongue in.
"So what exactly does my job entail?" Kyle asked.

When Eric glanced across the table, Kyle had stopped eating, waiting for an answer.

Eric shrugged. "Keeping me company…"

"Is that all?"

"Yes?"

Kyle furrowed his eyebrows, before scoffing and shaking his head.

"What's the matter?" Eric asked, despite his best efforts to remain calm he still held the glass of
wine a little tighter.

"That's not a real job!" Kyle replied. "It certainly isn't what you told my father-"

"Then what did he tell you?"

"That I were to be an apprentice of some sort, an assistant-"

"Yes, and that's what you'll be doing," Eric cut in, before Kyle could ask any more uncomfortable
questions.

"Assisting you in what?!" Kyle exclaimed, eyes roaming the room like he knew it was just a
damned vessel. "This whole arrangement doesn't make any sense! What do you have to hide?"

Eric smacked his paws on the table, making the cutlery shake and the wine spill. He rose once
more and Kyle's eyes followed him. Eric wanted to roar to see if it could make Kyle's stern, defiant
expression waver.

"I have nothing to hide! If I knew you would be so ungrateful I would never have considered
letting you in my house!"

Kyle rose from his chair too, scowling.

"And if I knew I would be working for such a beast I would never have come at all!" he replied,
storming out of the room before Eric could retort.

Helpless and seething, Eric didn't wait until he heard the slam of Kyle's bedroom door to roar and
throw the plates off the table.

Kyle had grumbled and pulled the covers over his head when the startling sun shone through thin
curtains. Despite his terrible night's sleep, he had fought to keep his eyes open, too scared to close
them in case the beast decided to suspend his hospitality. He was volatile enough, Kyle knew that
much. He had flinched and hurried up the stairs when he heard the beast's tremendous roar, and
china being smashed. When Kyle had finally made it to his room he slumped to the carpet. It were
as if that frightening day had wounded him, and dizzied by confusion, anger, fear, the adrenaline
were pouring out of him like blood, leaving him drained.

But Bebe had consoled him enough for Kyle to pull himself from the floor and get ready for bed.
He considered finishing Jekyll and Hyde but then thought against it, especially when he could hear
the beast prowling the grounds. His loud, thrumming growl gave him away, even from two storeys
below.
Again, it was Bebe's warm greeting upon his waking, and her unwavering reassurance that finally
got Kyle out of bed. They had chatted as Kyle got dressed, and he could hardly believe that he had
found it in himself to laugh and smile in his current situation. He tried to imagine Bebe as a young
woman, making her beloved mistress chuckle, inquiring about another fabulous new dress she pad
purchased, and holding it up to a secret mirror when she was on her own, letting herself fantasise.
Kyle had frowned to himself when he wished that girl could have been his friend too.

He had also frowned when Bebe finally ushered him out the door, encouraging him to get some
breakfast. The silence Kyle was met with on the other side of the door was goading, and he
couldn't help but ponder how bears caught their prey. They weren't like tigers, surely? Stalking the
clueless herbivores through the thick, concealing undergrowth? Kyle swallowed the lump in his
throat, before braving the staircase. He felt more nauseous than hungry.

Sighing when he reached the bottom of the staircase, he assumed he was in no danger. Still, that
didn't erase the daunting prospect of facing the beast in the dining room again. He made his way
across the grand hall quickly. If the beast was waiting for him, he at least wanted to appear bold,
brave. Despite his stature, and temper, and teeth, and claws, Kyle would not be intimidated.

But when he entered the dining hall he couldn't see the beast's hulking form rising from his throne-
like chair, he wasn't met with a cold greeting. Kyle almost felt relieved, but he remembered when
he had first entered the house yesterday, how he had searched for voices and faces in the dark, how
he had been exposed by the daylight flooding through the window, and shivered. But there was no
darkness for the beast to cloak himself in, and Kyle wondered if darkness was the only disguise
that a creature as formidable as the beast could fit into.

"Good morning, Kyle!"

He jumped at the voice, but then noticed that a beaming Pip had entered on a silver cart.

"Good morning, Pip," Kyle smiled, composing himself. His eyes roamed the room once more.
"Where is your master? Is he awake yet?"

"Oh, he had his breakfast a while ago," Pip replied. "He gets up rather early, but yours is ready and
waiting for you. Take a seat!"

Kyle nodded, and tentatively sat in the beast's chair, feeling somewhat like Goldilocks. But Pip
didn't stop him, so Kyle smiled and placed a napkin on his lap. Suddenly, the doors on either side
of the fireplace opened, and gleaming silver carts rushed in. Perfectly choreographed, they lined up
either side of the table, and Kyle couldn't help but laugh in disbelief at the wonderful, plentiful
food that was on offer.

"Is this all for me?"

"Of course!" Pip replied. "You can have whatever you want, Kyle."

"Really?" Kyle asked. The task of choosing seemed daunting to him. "All right…"

The first cart to Kyle's right offered tea. The teapot had the same burgundy and gold pattern of
Pip's, but was – fortunately – expressionless. Kyle placed it on the table, as well as collecting the
small jug of milk and the bowl of sugar from the cart. As he poured his tea into the cup already
waiting for him, the cart on his left side edged forward. Kyle took the rack of golden, crispy toast,
and selected a dish of butter and a small jar of jam. Pleased, the cart left Kyle to his breakfast,
disappearing into whatever room lay beyond the fireplace. Kyle wondered where it all came
from…
As he pondered that, the smell of meat drifted into his nose. When he looked to his right he saw a
cart of glistening bacon, sausage, and black pudding.

"Oh, um, I'm sorry but I'm afraid I don't eat pork…" Kyle said, not sure whether to direct his
apology to Pip or the cart.

The cart wheeled itself away, and the cart on the other side of the table came forward, presenting a
selection of scrambled, poached, or boiled eggs. Kyle chewed on his toast as he considered his
choice, before grabbing a plate and scooping some scrambled eggs onto it.

The smell of pork was replaced by the smell of oats, and to Kyle's right was a wide, delicious bowl
of creamy porridge. Still, he smiled and shook his head.

"No thank you. Tomorrow, perhaps?"

Only one more cart remained, the most colourful one of all, with apples, strawberries, and grapes.
Kyle selected a green apple and a knife to cut it with - he supposed at this breakfast table he
couldn't just bite into it – and some strawberries too, they had always been his favourite.

"Will that be all?" Pip asked.

"Oh yes, thank you!" Kyle grinned, staring down at his breakfast, overawed by the variety. "I've
never seen so much food!"

Pip nodded at the last cart, before it left the room.

"How did you sleep?" Pip asked, hopping from his own cart onto the table.

Kyle sighed. "Not well, I'm afraid. Yesterday was very… overwhelming."

Before Pip could answer, a new voice entered the room:

"Pip! Is our guest up?"

"Yes, he's having his breakfast!" Pip replied, trying to strain his voice to the deeper, commanding
volume of the stranger.

Kyle leaned forward, and asked softly, "who is that?"

"Gregory, the butler," Pip replied, in an equally gentle tone. "He's been here longer than any of us."

Another cart stopped beside the table, but instead of food Kyle saw the hammer he recognised from
yesterday, still smiling; a pair of pruners with one eye on each blade; and a grand, silver doorstop.
There was a valiant explorer figure atop the heavy base that had now become animated. He was
the only servant in the house Kyle had seen who resembled a human.

"Oh, um, good morning…" Kyle didn't know how to address this odd bunch.

"Good morning, Kyle," the doorstop replied.

Kyle blinked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"How do you know my name?" he asked.

"The master told us. I suppose you are in need of some introductions yourself?"
Kyle chuckled and nodded.

"Well, I am Gregory, to my right is Christophe-"

"Bonjour, monsieur," the pair of pruners interjected.

Kyle balked at the husky, French accent.

"Oh, um, bonjour," he replied.

"And on the end there is Kenny."

"Kyle and I have already met," the hammer said. "I was in the master's pocket."

"Oh, yes, that's right you were." Kyle smiled.

"Are you enjoying your breakfast?" Kenny asked.

"It's delicious!"

"And are you enjoying your stay here?" Gregory added.

Pleasantries became stifled, and Kyle lowered his head and sighed.

"Not really, no… you are all lovely, and I appreciate your efforts to try to make me feel at home. I
wish I could say the same for your master."

The servants all glanced at each other warily, as if anxious they were failing at their duties.

"Oh, don't mind the master!" Kenny chuckled. "He's just nervous!"

"We haven't had guests for a long time," Christophe added.

"He really does want to make a good impression, you know." Gregory nodded.

"Does he? Well, he can at least be clearer about what exactly I'm supposed to be doing here. I
haven't got a clue…"

"I suppose the master will reveal his intentions when the time is right," Gregory replied. "In the
meantime… would you like a tour of the house after breakfast? Perhaps it would make you feel
more at ease?"

"Yes…" Kyle whispered, before smiling and nodding. "Yes, I would very much like a tour. Thank
you."

After all, he had wanted to learn more about this house even when it was just a peculiar star on his
narrow horizon.

An enthusiastic Gregory had been leading Kyle around the house for an hour, and he was
beginning to think he would never feel at ease here. Who on earth could feel at ease in such a large
space? Perhaps if there were more people in the house, Kyle reasoned, it would inspire more
comfort. If a family moved in, the halls would ring with laughter instead of the whisper of a
tinkling chandelier. But there had been a family living there once, Kyle remembered, although
there was hardly a trace of them left in the admittedly beautiful rooms.
Kyle had marvelled at the glittering, embroidered pillows in the bedrooms, the crystal in the
bathrooms, and the grand marble fireplace in the sitting room. Those features were still alluring
enough to distract from the fading paint, the chipped plaster, and the dust that coated everything
like it was trying to preserve the fading beauty. It even sparkled when the sun shone through the
windows.

Kyle wondered if the beast ever stalked these rooms, if in his temper he had ever torn a curtain,
smashed a vase, or ripped a painted face from the wall. What could they ever mean to a beast,
anyway? Surely they dealt in blood and soil, not lace and porcelain? But in his jacket and trousers,
and with his fiery, aureate eyes, he was unlike any animal Kyle had ever known.

Some of the rooms had been shut up, and when Kyle asked Gregory why that was, he muttered
something about the expense of it all before moving quickly on. He was good at that, Kyle
realised, evading an answer. Kyle was careful to be sensitive when enquiring about the family who
lived here before, and Gregory was just as careful not to give Kyle anything substantial, or
concrete, or something he didn't already know. Kyle was still completely clueless as to what
happened to the troubled son, or how the beast came to occupy Tenorman Hall, but Kyle had a
horrifying feeling that the two were linked.

"And this is the drawing room," Gregory said, as Kyle opened the door for him. But his eyes were
drawn to the beast sat in his armchair, rather than the furniture. "Oh, sorry, sir, we didn't mean to
disturb-"

"It's fine," the beast cut in, barely glancing at them. "Gregory, I wish to speak to Kyle alone."

Kyle glanced at Gregory, desperate to find his voice. He would've told him not to go.

"Of course, sir," Gregory replied, though he didn't sound sure of himself.

He shuffled out of the room, and when he was gone Kyle's damp fingers slipped off the knob. He
winced when the door shut with a loud thud. He hoped it would close with a soft click. They were
both stubborn creatures, Kyle realised. Neither moved nor spoke. His feet were rooted to the
carpet, while the beast's eyes were trained on the wall in front of him. Although admittedly, fear
had seized every muscle in Kyle's body. He couldn't have moved if he wanted to.

"I… I would like to apologise for my behaviour at dinner."

Kyle blinked, and his fingers flexed at his sides. The beast's unexpected admission coaxed a
strange, tentative comfort. Kyle was tempted to resist though, he couldn't afford to let his guard
down.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Kyle felt he should say more, but it was difficult to find words when the beast wouldn't even look
at him.

"Gregory has been giving me a tour of the house," he finally said, he felt a smile spread across his
face and didn't try to subdue it. "It's beautiful."

When the beast raised his head, doubt gleaming in his eyes, Kyle could barely breathe.

"Really?" he asked.

"Yes, I think it's magnificent. And your staff… they are all very friendly…"
"Do you still want to leave?"

Kyle was unsure. He didn't know how to negotiate the positive and negative aspects of being here.
Were all the charming, enthralling, fascinating things enough to keep him bolting from someone
– something – he felt he had to get away from?

"At the present moment, no I don't. But…" Kyle faltered, glancing at the carpet before
remembering his promise to himself. He would not be intimidated. "But you must learn to control
your temper."

The beast nodded, glancing at the empty grate.

"All right, I will."

Kyle nodded slowly, cautious of his victory.

"Thank you."

Kyle had turned his back to the beast, about to open the door when he said; "Every evening after
dinner you must join me in this room."

Kyle glanced over his shoulder, before turning around to face the beast properly. His fingers were
suddenly fidgeting again.

"Yes, um…" he paused, pursed his lips. He had to stop the sudden rush of warmth at his cheeks. "I,
I don't know what I should call you."

"Eric," the beast replied. "My name is Eric."

"Eric…" Kyle whispered, trying it on his tongue. It felt like a decent item of clothing, but when
you try it on something doesn't feel right.

Eric

Normal, short, oddly human.

"You are free to go," Eric said, more of a command than a request.

So Kyle nodded and left, the beast's name a haunting echo.

 Chapter 7
Chapter Notes

Sorry for the delay, guys. I've been a bit distracted lately, but I really do feel confident
now that updates will be more regular. The events of this chapter begin pretty much
where the last chapter left off. I hope you enjoy, and thank you for reading!

Kyle kept to his promise, and joined Eric in the drawing room after dinner. Once his tour of the
house had finished, he spent the rest of the day in his bedroom, chatting with Bebe, and avoiding
his host. Kyle was actually rather relieved to be performing one of his supposed duties. Strange as
the terms of his employment were, he wanted to abide by them. Although he resented being told
what to do without any kind of manners present, following orders was the only thing he could seem
to make sense of in this odd house. So many questions remained unanswered, not just about the
house's eerie history but Kyle's reason for being here in the first place. His curiosity was making
him reluctant to execute his escape plan, collecting dust just like everything else.

Their evening meal had been delicious, and since Kyle had been punctual, warm too. A blushing
pink salmon, with creamy herb sauce, and new potatoes glistening with butter had been waiting for
him. They hardly ever ate fish at home, Kyle reminded himself not to become too accustomed to
such luxury items. Still, the silence in which they ate the dinner allowed Kyle to fully savour their
meal. They seemed to regard each other as phantoms, not looking up from their plates. Kyle was
sat at one end of the long dining table, and Eric was sat at the other. Cutlery, a candelabra, and
hostile unfamiliarity between them.

They were closer together in the cosier drawing room. Eric was slouching in his armchair by the
fire, relaxing, Kyle imagined, like a bear would on the banks of a violent, unforgiving river, while
he was sitting on the rather uncomfortable, shallow settee. The sky was darkening, the comforting,
transparent day waning into night. The silence was stifling, and with the door shut, Kyle felt like he
was trapped. Unless he decided to leap out of the bay window and run through the gardens, Eric
was obstructing Kyle's only exit and he began to wonder if he was lured into a bear's den, rather
than invited into a gentleman's drawing room. He could hardly broach the subject, but then again,
he didn't feel like he could ask Eric anything. His host was staring at the fireplace, the coals
smouldering in the grate, and his eyes seemed to be alight with calculation. If he wouldn't talk, then
Kyle would have to prise his mouth open for some sort of explanation, discover his intentions.
They must speak.

Kyle opened his mouth, but clamped it shut again when he heard a thud at the door. Eric lifted his
head slowly.

"What?" he asked, directing his question to the door.

"Would you like some tea or coffee, sir?" Pip spoke from the hall.

"No, thank you!"

"Would our guest?"

Eric glanced at Kyle, and he blinked, shifting in his seat.

"Oh, y-y-yes, I would," Kyle replied. He was unsure if Pip could hear him, if he was even
supposed to address him. "Thank you."

"Let them in, then."

Kyle bristled at Eric's orders, delivered in such a brusque manner, but got up and opened the door.
He smiled when he saw an eager Pip and Butters waiting for him. It was difficult to comprehend
that when Eric wasn't around he could feel comfortable in this house.

"Good evening, Kyle," Pip said.

"Good evening," Kyle replied with a nod.

"Sit, please sit!"

Kyle returned to his seat, and he heard the creak of the trolley wheels as Pip followed him. He
made himself a cup of tea, lifting the cup and saucer off the trolley.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," Pip replied, before the trolley wheeled away again.

The door remained open after Pip and Butters left, revealing the shadowy grand hall. Still, Kyle
didn't want to close it, he felt like he could breathe easily when it was open. He sipped at the
piping hot tea, before placing it on the small side table to let it cool down.

"Were the staff like that when you came here?" he asked.

"Like what?"

Eric was still preoccupied with the fire. Kyle arched an eyebrow at his nonchalance.

"Like objects, not people."

"No," Eric replied. "No, they were not."

"How long have you lived here?"

"All my life."

Kyle's breath caught on the weighty answer, even Eric's briefest responses were delivered with
gravitas. Intrigue reverberated throughout him.

"You were born here?"

"Yes, I was."

"What happened to your parents?"

"They are long dead."

Kyle found himself shifting closer, and he watched Eric's large chest rise and fall. For once, there
was no part of him that was afraid.

"I've heard there was a family living here once… a human family."

Eric's head slowly turned to look at Kyle, like it was effort for his muscles to manoeuvre a body so
mighty. Kyle reached out for the cushion beneath him, the gilded thread felt coarse on his
fingertips.

"Where did you hear that?" Eric asked.

"The village," Kyle replied, his voice faint. "Everybody knew who they were except for me, I
wasn't born in South Park, you see."

"And what do they say about the family who used to live here?"

Kyle remembered Stan, cigarette in his mouth, the both of them looking out over the meadows as
he recounted the demise of Tenorman Hall. It was only a short while ago, but the breeze, and the
bleat of the goats, felt like history to Kyle now.

"That they were members of the gentry, unsurprisingly," Kyle replied, firmer now. "A small family
too, they only had one son. But the father died before the child was born, and the mother passed
away when their son was a young man. But he lost all their wealth, and nobody has seen him since.
It's all very tragic."

Eric's eyes gleamed, his nostrils flared.

"I suppose…" he glanced at the door and rose. "I… I, I must go… "

"Oh…" Kyle's eyebrows furrowed, and his gut clenched. He had wanted desperately to know
answers but was it worth it when he may have offended Eric? "Didn't you want to stay longer?"

"No, I just want to go to bed," Eric replied, he didn't look at Kyle as he marched to the door.

Kyle found himself leaping to his feet, in pursuit of his formidable host.

"Are you sure you're all right?"

Eric spun around, looming over Kyle and appearing wilder than ever.

"Yes!" he roared.

Kyle jumped, and inched away, trembling as he stared up at Eric. But soon Eric sighed, his
shoulders heaving and his eyes slipping shut.

"Yes," he whispered, before fixing his gaze on Kyle. "Yes, I'm sorry."

Kyle shook his head, lips pursed.

"It's fine," he replied. "Shall I see you in the morning?"

Eric nodded, shallow and distant.

"Good night, Eric."

Eric didn't return the sentiment, leaving Kyle to stand alone, trembling.

The following evening, Eric was pacing his bedroom again, waiting for Christophe's return. The
outfit he had changed into for his meal was feeling more confining the longer he wore it, especially
when he was walking on all fours. He prayed a seam wouldn't burst. He had to look his best for
Kyle, he couldn't keep Kyle waiting in the dining room while he tried to sew the hole his shirt, or
look for a new one. Although, what effort had Kyle made with him except shutting himself up in
his room, staring at his plate during dinner, and interrogating him in the drawing room? Why did
Kyle feel the need to ask so many questions? To shut himself away? Of course, Eric already knew
the answers. This was no ordinary house, and he was no ordinary host.

Kenny and Gregory stopped muttering from his bedside table when they saw Christophe squeeze
through the gap in the door, already open ajar.

"I have informed our guest that dinner will be ready shortly," he announced when he entered the
room.

Eric nodded, still pacing. "Yes, thank you…"

"Something wrong, sir?" Kenny asked. He must have wanted to make such an enquiry the entire
time he was in there.

"No, no, I'm just… concerned," Eric replied. "Nothing has improved between us and the rose just
seems to be wilting faster."

His staff all glanced at each other. Eric was growing tired of their wary expressions that hadn't
diminished in ten years. Gregory, as always, spoke up.

"But, sir you just have to give it-"

"Time!" Eric cut in. "I know that!"

"It's only been two days!"

"But I don't have time! And I have no clue what he's feeling other than fear!" Eric turned his head,
and winced. "You should have seen how frightened he was last night."

"Only because you lost your temper," Christophe pointed out.

"I know I did!" Eric snapped. "But he keeps pestering me for answers, and how can I tell him the
truth? I can't! Not now! It will put everything at risk!"

"You just need to change the subject," Gregory replied. "Engage him in conversation."

"What should I say?" Eric despaired. "I have no idea how to impress him, or endear myself to
him."

"You don't have to impress him, just ask him questions," Kenny replied.

"You know so little about him, I'm sure he would appreciate it," Christophe added.

"Fine," Eric sighed, although he suspected that Kyle would greet any questions about his life with
hostility, Eric knew he would. "I must go to dinner, he'll be expecting me."

He left the room without another word, prowling down the staircase before rising on his two legs
when he reached the last step. Even now, it felt dizzying standing at such a height, viewing the
house he had once toddled around as an infant from such a lofty stature. His claws tapping the
carpet echoed only slightly, the sound surely lost once it reached the high window. Just like this
house, lost in time. When Eric entered the dining room it was empty, and when he glanced at the
clock he saw that he was actually two minutes early.

He took his seat, and soon a trolley entered the room through one of the side doors. It creaked as it
wheeled itself over to the table, the two china plates rattling. When it stopped in front of Eric, he
took the plate of lamb and the small dish of mint sauce from the tray. The trolley then made its
way to Kyle's empty seat and waited dutifully.

Eric had managed to get a grip on his knife and fork when he heard Kyle's footsteps down the
stairs. He soon heard him march across the hall and into the dining room, swift and tense. Eric
kept his head lowered, but glanced at Kyle when he said;

"Good evening."

Kyle paused, and glanced at Eric too, unsure if he should answer.

"Good evening," he replied.

He marched to his end of the table, but not before Eric could notice he had a book tucked under his
arm. He watched Kyle collect his dinner, before placing the book on his lap and his napkin over
that. An effective shield, when Eric needed Kyle to let his guard down.

In the drawing room, Kyle was more reserved than he was the night before. It seemed that Eric's
coarse reaction to his questions had stunned him into compliant silence. He had followed Eric from
the dining room into the drawing room, brushing past him and by the time Eric had shut the door,
Kyle had settled on the settee and opened his book, immersed already. Eric could have snatched
the book off him, threw it into the fire, and demanded Kyle speak to him, but what would be the
point? Eric had to help cultivate Kyle's fondness of him, not frighten him into submission. But
sitting in his armchair, quiet and helpless, wasn't getting him anywhere. He would fester there if he
didn't act; feral and unloved forever. What could he say though, that would make Kyle want to
engage in conversation? But perhaps he wasn't as absorbed in his book as he seemed, when his
eyes occasionally drifted from the page, meeting Eric's persistent gaze.

Clearing his throat, Eric asked; "What are you reading?"

Kyle looked up from the book, eyes widened. Eric's shoulders hunched, like he was sinking into
his evening shirt.

"Oh, uh, The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde," Kyle replied with a smile, looking at the
cover like he needed to be reminded. "Robert Louis Stevenson."

Eric lifted his head slowly, before lowering it again. A thoughtful, mechanical nod. Kyle had
already returned to his book.

"Are you enjoying it?"

Kyle looked up again, and an easy smile lit up his face. He nodded and shifted closer to him, trying
to make himself comfortable.

"Yes, I am," he replied. "I finished it yesterday, and now I'm reading it again."

"Why would you do that?"

Kyle shrugged, glancing at the cover again.

"Boredom, I suppose."

Eric noticed his body stiffen as soon as the words came out of his mouth, momentary comfort had
made Kyle forget himself. The dull, rigid tension was a reprimand for such carelessness, punishing
both of them, it seemed. Eric refused to let it continue.

"You enjoy reading, I take it?"

Kyle was slow to respond, but he grinned when he realised there was nothing to be afraid of.

"I love it. It's my favourite pastime." His smile wavered, and he glanced around the room, fiddling
with the pages of the book. "Do you like to read?... can you read?"

Eric remembered gazing out of the window while he barely listened to his tutor on long, sunny
afternoons; he remembered being allowed into the enormous library to select a book of his own
(usually one brimming with adventure, starring a boyish hero he'd love to befriend); and he hazily
recalled his mother's words floating into his sleepy ears as she read to him at bedtime.

"Yes, I can read," he replied. "But it's been a long time since I've picked up a book."

Kyle nodded to himself, closing the book and staring at it with a furrowed brow.

"You can read this one if you want?" he offered, holding the book out.

Eric stared at what was being offered to him, wondering what it meant. He glanced at Kyle,
searching his face and saw nothing but warmth.

"Really?" he asked, his voice was quiet. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I am," Kyle chuckled, the first time he had ever laughed in front of Eric. "It's a brilliant
novel. It would be nice to discuss it with someone."

Eric nodded. "All right… thank you."

Eric swore Kyle's eyes were glinting when he took the book off him. Like most objects it felt
weightless, thin, and fragile in his grasp. Objects as small as this could easily break in his large,
sharp paws that he still had difficulty manoeuvring. This book clearly meant a lot to Kyle, and to
damage it would break this tentative comradery they appeared to be embarking on. Still, he
attempted to open the book, catching hold of a few pages instead of a single one. He let the pages
go, and they fluttered back into place. With a single claw, Eric tried to turn a page, but the paper
was so thin, he couldn't risk it. Grumbling, he handed the book back to Kyle.

"Would you… would you mind reading it to me?"

Kyle blinked, before a smile lit up his face and he shook his head. He retrieved the book from Eric,
before settling into the settee and turning to the first page. He began to read, and for the first time
since Kyle arrived here - and maybe even before that - Eric felt himself relax. Perhaps they had
needed to hear somebody else's story, before they got to know each other's?
 Chapter 8
Chapter Notes

Looking back over the last chapter I realised that I had set a lot of the action in the
sitting room, when I had wanted it to be set in the drawing room. I have since gone
back and edited the last chapter. It may seem insignificant, but I really want the layout
of the house to seem authentic so I'm kind of kicking myself over that mistake. I'm
sorry, guys. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter and thank you all so much for
reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts!

The next morning after breakfast, Kyle had returned to his bedroom but hesitated outside the door.
Although there was no conversation made after Kyle had finished reading a couple of chapters
of Jekyll and Hyde last night, he still felt invigorated. He still felt like he had achieved something,
like his purpose in the house was becoming clearer. Why should he just wait until the evening to
talk to Eric? Surely the best employees were proactive, weren't they? So Kyle wasn't going to shut
himself up in his room, he was going to seek Eric out.

Taking a bracing breath, he began to march down the corridor before he realised he had no idea
where Eric's bedroom was. Gregory had never pointed it out on the tour of the house. Still, Kyle
kept walking, hoping he would at least find one of the members of staff who could point him in the
right direction. Soon, he heard self-satisfied, feminine giggling, and a lower murmuring that Kyle
knew to be Kenny. Turning a corner, Kyle saw Kelly and Kenny in the distance, their conversation
becoming clearer.

"Oh, Kenny, stop teasing me!" she said, hopping away even though she craned her silver head to
look at him.

"I'm not teasing you! We'll be together soon, my darling, just you wait!" Kenny replied. "Soon I'll
be able to hold you and kiss you and-"

"Don't!" Kelly snapped, her whole body twisting. "Don't turn my head like this! You'll only end up
breaking my heart…"

"Breaking your heart?" Kenny asked, hopping closer to her and lowering his voice. "I wouldn't
dream of it."

She looked at him and sighed.

"Oh, Kenny…"

Kyle saw them nestling close together, the closest thing they could share to an embrace. The
reality tugged at his heart, he didn't want to disturb such an oddly intimate moment, but to watch
them felt just as intrusive.

"Excuse me?"

Kelly yelped at the sound of Kyle's voice, and lowered her eyes.

"Oh, hello, Kyle!" Kenny replied, unfazed.

Kelly, however, had hopped away without saying goodbye.

"Sorry about that…" Kenny chuckled.

"Please don't apologise, it's fine," Kyle smiled. "Rather sweet, actually."

Kyle thought of all the romance novels he had read that left his heart brimming with joy, almost
intoxicated. While he longed to be independent, to make something of himself, and see the world,
he couldn't help but entertain the thought of finding a beguiling man along the way and falling
hopelessly in love with him. The fantasy alone was enough to leave him exhilarated and yearning,
no matter how idealistic of an ambition it seemed. Increasingly it appeared to him that he only
dealt in lofty aspirations.

"We've been courting for a long time," Kenny added. "I care a lot about her but it can't ever go
anywhere, not while we're like this, at least."

"I'm sorry about that," Kyle murmured.

He was still so curious about the staff, and haunted by the notion that they were once as human as
he was. Broaching the subject with Eric had ended horrifically, and he even found it difficult to
question Bebe about it. The last thing he wanted was to upset her.

"Never mind," Kenny sighed. "Is there a reason you're wandering around the halls on a beautiful,
sunny day?"

"Yes, I'm looking for Eric," Kyle replied. "I thought he may be in his bedroom, but I don't know
where that is."

"Well, I can take you there. This way!"

Kenny began to hop down the corridor and Kyle followed him.

"Does he ever come out of his bedroom during the day?" Kyle asked. He assumed that if Kenny
was so willing to escort him to Eric's mysterious bedroom then he could sate some of the curiosity
he had. "I only ever see him in the evenings."

"He likes the evening, says it's safer."

Kyle's eyebrows furrowed.

"Safer to do what? Who else can see him in the house besides his staff?"

"I don't know, but he's a strange fellow. I suppose he just likes to be on his own."

They stopped in front of another tall, mahogany door. It was identical to Kyle's, but appeared so
much more daunting now he knew what – rather, who – was on the other side.

"Here we are!" Kenny announced.

"Thank you." Kyle nodded.

He took a quivering breath before knocking.

"Who's there?"

The door seemed to shudder as Eric's voice travelled through it.

"Kyle."

Padding could be heard on the other side, and Kyle flinched when the door was opened to reveal
Eric's stony face.

"What do you want?" he asked.

Kyle had no idea how to answer, had forgotten why he was standing there.

"I… I…"

"I'll give you some privacy," Kenny said before hopping away.

"Well?" Eric pressed, gripping the door tighter.

Kyle bristled at the insolent tone, and he rolled his shoulders back.

"Well, I thought I was here to keep you company," he replied. "I'm only trying to do my job."

Kyle heard a low growl rumble in the back of Eric's throat, and he gulped. The upset Eric, the
vulnerable, clumsy Eric that Kyle had witnessed in the past two days couldn't crack this irritated,
frightening mask he now wore.

"What did you have in mind?"

Except for that; a calmer, more open-minded question. Kyle blinked, fidgeted. He thought of the
brilliant sun that had woken him up and the gorgeous, verdant view from the dining room at
breakfast time.

"It's a beautiful day, and I'm yet to see the grounds," he replied. "Why don't we go outside and feed
the birds?"

Eric shook his head.

"I don't go outside."

Kyle chuckled, his brow creased.

"Yes you do, I hear you prowling around outside below my window at night."

Eric lowered his head like Kyle's words stung him. Before Kyle could apologise, he asked: "Is this
really what you want to do?"

"Yes, it is," Kyle replied. "I know we have our arrangement after dinner, but I think it will make
my stay here worthwhile if we were to spend more time together. Wouldn't you agree?"

Eric sighed and nodded.

"Very well…"

Kyle beamed as he stepped out of the house, after two days spent indoors it was lovely to feel the
sun on his face, natural, he wasn't used to spending so much of his time inside. In the bright, late
morning the overgrown grounds didn't seem so neglected. The enormous, vibrant flowers didn't
seem so intimidating. He felt like he had fallen into a fairy tale, a woodland shrouded by flowers,
or a tropical paradise ensnared in vines. Slowly, Tenorman Hall was starting to reveal its magic,
the mystique Kyle knew it possessed after first being drawn to that enchanting, distant light.
Birdsong whistled through the air, and Kyle chuckled at the sparrows diving and hovering above
him.

Gregory had spotted him and Eric descending the stairs, and was most delighted when Kyle
announced they were taking a walk in the grounds. Perhaps he was glad that the normally
nocturnal Eric was getting some fresh, morning air? When Kyle asked if there were any seeds in
the kitchen they could use to feed the birds, Gregory shuffled away immediately, and soon a trolley
carrying one bag of seeds rolled itself over to the bottom of the stairs.

But Eric growled beside him now, sullen, head bowed, and turned away from the sun. Kyle
frowned, but wouldn't let Eric deter him from enjoying such a nice day. Opening the bag, Kyle
scattered some of the seeds around his feet like he was feeding the chickens back home, and then
placed some in his palm. The birds soon arrived, swooping down for some lunch. They hovered
above Kyle's palm, and bobbed at his feet. Some hesitated at being in close proximity to Eric
however, and promptly flew away, chirping in alarm as they did.

Kyle winced, but found himself reaching out for Eric's arm when he saw him turn away. He
stiffened beneath Kyle's fingers. Kyle certainly panicked himself when his fingers glided into that
thick fur, suddenly aware he was touching him.

"Is something wrong?"

Eric shook his head, glanced at the door.

"This was a bad idea," he muttered.

Kyle's grip was loosening.

"Wait!" he said. "Please don't go back inside… here." His fingers slid to Eric's wrist, holding out
his paw before pouring some of the seeds onto it. "Go on."

Blinking and glancing at Kyle warily, Eric extended his paw to the birds but they still flew away
like they sensed a trap. Kyle furrowed his eyebrows at the sight, briefly distracted by the two birds
that had landed on his wrist, pecking right out of his palm.

"Why do they all come to you?" Eric asked.

Kyle shrugged.

"They just feel comfortable coming to me, I suppose."

"Well, what can I do to make them come to me?"

Kyle pursed his lips, wondering if there was any way of making Eric appear less threatening to
them.

"Crouch down," he instructed.

Eric obeyed him, and Kyle scattered a trail of seeds that led from the pebbled ground to Eric's
cupped paws.

"Now what?"

"Just wait."
A bird fluttered to the ground, craning its neck curiously before it pecked at the seeds on the
ground. Soon, it hopped straight into Eric's palm, and Kyle smiled at the gleam in his eyes.

"There!" Kyle grinned, as other birds started to follow suit. "It's as simple as that!"

It was the first time Kyle had ever heard Eric laugh; a throaty, disbelieving chuckle. A dizzying
sound, he never thought he'd hear it.

"Kyle?" he asked.

"Yes?"

Eric glanced at the birds in his paws, before looking at Kyle again.

"Would you like to join me for tea?"

Kyle blinked, studied Eric's calm, contented face, and nodded.

"Yes," he replied, grinning. "Yes, that would be lovely."

Kyle had only ever partaken in afternoon tea a handful of times, when he was a child living in
London. His father would take him to a bustling tea room and talk to him about universities, and
professions, urging Kyle to make or at least contemplate decisions he didn't understand while he
sipped at tea and savoured cake and listened to the delicate laughter of people much wealthier than
him and his father. Kyle realised now, why his father had been so hasty, moulding Kyle's life to
secure his own future. But soon he had lost his grasp on a lifestyle they had both taken for granted,
and once in South Park he had begun plotting again, scouring the village for anything promising.
Leslie had asked him to tea, Kyle remembered, in that strange little tearoom in town.

In Tenorman Hall, afternoon tea was taken in the sitting room and Gregory relished organising it
all for his master and this new member of the house. He was very enthusiastic today, Kyle
considered, eager to carry out requests. Pip, Butters, and Kelly were there to assist. Kyle couldn't
help but smirk at the sound of Gregory's orders confidently bouncing off the walls. A tower of
fluffy finger sandwiches – watercress, cheddar, smoked salmon - was at the centre of the table,
with a plate of scones and a gleaming china teapot (along with small jugs of milk and sugar), were
placed either side. The sunlight carved the shadow of the window panes on the carpet, and the
birds still chirped outside. Kyle felt the warm rays on his face as he sipped at his tea and bit into a
delicious scone, slathered in strawberry jam.

"Will you be needing anything else?" Gregory asked.

"No, Gregory, this is lovely, thank you," Kyle replied.

"Yes, thank you, Gregory," Eric added, slurping at his tea.

They both turned their heads upon hearing a soft thud at the window, a nosy bird peering in. Kyle
chuckled, the bird hovered in the air before flying away, no doubt soaring over the roof.

"You, uh… seemed to have an affinity with the birds earlier," Eric said.

"Yes, well, my father and I keep chickens and goats," Kyle replied. "I'm around animals a lot at
home."

"And you enjoy it?"

Kyle shrugged, suddenly sheepish.

"I wouldn't say I feel enjoyment but… I care for the animals, and I have to do my bit to help around
the house."

Eric nodded, took another loud sip.

"I see…"

Kyle was waiting for another question, but when nothing came he glanced around the room he had
only been in once before. He soon spotted the most intriguing item by far, a grand piano covered
only by a thin film of dust.

"You know I noticed that piano when Gregory was showing me around. Who played it?"

Eric lifted his eyes from the cup, and Kyle's breath hitched.

"I did, once…"

"You?" Kyle asked, brow furrowed. "You played it?"

"Yes. A long time ago."

"But how?" Kyle stiffened as soon as the question was out of his mouth. He knew his incredulity
had splintered something inside Eric, just like his questions two nights ago had. Heat crawled up
his throat. "I mean, I…"

Eric scowled, and avoided Kyle's gaze. But Kyle could see his eyes were clouded by thought, by
memories too painful to be shared. He sighed.

"I don't mean to upset you, but I can't help but be curious."

"We'll step outside for a moment."

Kyle jolted at the sound of Gregory's voice, but nodded at him gratefully. He saw that Gregory was
ushering Butters, Pip, and Kelly out of the room. In the quiet, the tentative conversation, he could
have forgotten they were still there.

"I'm sorry," he continued. "I know I upset you by asking these questions, but I'm living with a
stranger and I wish that wasn't the case."

Eric huffed, still looked to the faded carpet.

"You've made it perfectly clear that you don't want to be here."

"That's not true!"

Kyle's voice rang through the room, startling them both. Their wide eyes finally met, and Kyle
wondered if his echoing words were true. If so, he didn't know such a confession was buried in
him. Still, he shifted forward. A table was in between them, but he hoped that an honesty he
wished would soon be reciprocated could bring them closer.

"Actually I… I don't know how I feel," he admitted. "It's been a short while but I am growing fond
of this house. And since I am your assistant, or guest, or whatever you wish me to be, I feel like I
am entitled to know who I'm staying with. You're unlike anybody I've ever known and that
fascinates me and terrifies me in equal measure."
"Do you not think I feel the same way?"

Honestly, Kyle didn't. What was there for Eric to be fascinated by? Let alone afraid of? Was Kyle
really that remarkable? Perhaps to someone as strange and alone as Eric he was a mystery. An
outsider that had been washed up on this crumbling island was sure to terrify Eric when all that
surrounded him was dangerous, unforgiving sea, a world he didn't understand and who couldn't
understand him. But Kyle had dared to go beyond the formidable gates, and he wanted to
understand. Eric just had to believe it, and realise that Kyle believed in him too.

"Perhaps I should stop asking questions," he said. "Perhaps I should wait for you to volunteer any
information yourself. Would that be better?"

Studying the table in front of them, Eric then nodded.

"All right," Kyle replied, taking a sip of his tea. "Thank you."

In the silence, Kyle noticed the faint ticking of a clock. He would always feel the seconds slipping
away in this house, but all he could do was wait.
 Chapter 9
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

The ancient floorboards creaked under Eric's paws as he walked down the corridor, heading for
breakfast. He didn't wince at the long, ugly sound, he had no one to disturb. Kyle was sure to still
be sleeping heavily. It was only after their first day truly spent together, that Eric realised they had
been passing each other like ships in the night, only meeting over a dining table, or a novel in the
drawing room. It was easily done, he supposed, in such a large house. There were so many places
one could hide.

But Eric didn't want to hide anymore, despite his initial wariness he had come to enjoy the sun on
his face yesterday. Despite Kyle's persisting curiosity, he appreciated the deal they had struck and
although he was grateful for such a compromise he feared Kyle would become impatient and leave.
Eric couldn't risk that, even if they were starting to form a tentative friendship it still felt so much
safer to conceal what he felt was undesirable. But perhaps he could give Kyle something else? To
show that he was worth waiting for? To show that Kyle did mean something to him, even if there
were some things he wasn't willing to share just yet. But he would be ready, in time. All Kyle
needed was to be patient.

He was nearing Kyle's bedroom now at the top of the stairs, and he was wondering if they would
see each other before dinner. He wanted to, even if he had to seek Kyle out and request his
company, but perhaps Kyle would seek him out too? He had yesterday, after all. Eric jolted at the
sound of the door clicking open, so loud in the otherwise quiet, early morning. Kyle emerged,
rubbing his still bleary eyes before he jolted too.

"Good morning."

"Good morning," Eric replied, clearing his throat before he asked, "did you not sleep well?"

Kyle furrowed his eyebrows.

"Pardon?"

Eric gulped, his stomach fluttering with a different kind of nerves. Anxious, but not suspicious,
uncomfortable, but not entirely so.

"You're usually not awake this early," he replied.

"Oh…" Kyle nodded. "No, I slept fine. I was very tired after dinner, actually. I think the fresh air
yesterday may have worn me out, I'm not sure."

"I see. We won't go outside again-"

"But I want to!" Kyle cut in, stepping forward and smiling. "I enjoyed myself yesterday."

"So did I."

Kyle then made a noise Eric had never heard before; a shy, content hum. It reverberated so warmly
throughout him that for the first time in ten years his fur actually felt stifling. Of course, there was
nothing he could do about that, and he supposed the warmth in his chest would also be difficult to
shift. Kyle had tucked his hands behind his back, and Eric glanced at the stairs.
"Shall we?" he asked, gesturing to the staircase.

Kyle glanced too, a crease in his brow before he smiled up at Eric and nodded. Although it was
large enough, they were still pressed quite closely together as they descended the stairs.

"What are your plans for the day?" Kyle asked.

"I'm not sure. What did you have in mind?"

"Me?"

Eric chuckled at the incredulity in his voice.

"Yes, I would like us to spend more time together. I enjoyed your company yesterday."

"Thank you," Kyle replied, much softer.

"Perhaps we could finish Jekyll and Hyde?"

"Really?"

"Yes, I noticed last night we were nearing the end," Eric replied. "I would like to know what
happens."

When Kyle didn't respond, Eric glanced at him only to find him smiling and nodding.

"All right," Kyle said. "I would like that, Eric."

They walked to breakfast, and when they entered the dining room an unspoken, guileless optimism
came rushing in too.

"'… God knows I am careless; this is my true hour of death, and what is to follow concerns
another than myself. Here then, as I lay down the pen and proceed to seal up my confession, I
bring the life of that unhappy Henry Jekyll to an end.'"

Kyle closed the book and looked up at Eric, smiling, and eyes shining.

"What did you think?" he asked.

"I enjoyed it," Eric replied, despite the piercing empathy he supposed he had enjoyed the novel. It
certainly was a terrific story, perhaps even cathartic when he saw reflections of himself. "Although
I wasn't expecting the ending to be quite so… sad."

"In what way?"

"It was all very confused," Eric replied, his heavy, untamed brow furrowed. "Almost as if when
Jekyll was writing out his confession Hyde was controlling the pen. Even the last line, you're
unsure who is referring to who."

"But I suppose that's the point, isn't it?" Kyle questioned. "It just demonstrates his deterioration."

Eric winced at the word. He was surrounded by deterioration every day; the fading walls and the
wilting rose like a cruelly beautiful hourglass.

"Do you really think it is deterioration?"

"Yes," Kyle replied. "What would you call it?"

Eric had once thought he was deteriorating too, becoming more animal, more disconnected every
day. Deterioration was definite, possessing only one direction. Eric had a chance for recovery.

"A transformation."

Kyle shook his head, glanced at the cover and flicked through the pages.

"But transformation had been occurring throughout the novel, this is more certain, more… abject."

The word weighed down on the both of them, like a spell that shouldn't have been uttered.

"I like your take on it though," Kyle added. "It's a lot more optimistic than my own."

"Or perhaps what Stevenson intended?"

Kyle smiled, and his shoulders sagged with exasperation.

"Even so, I'm glad you enjoyed the novel." His smile faded when he said, "I just wish I had more
to read."

Eric blinked, a smile tugging at his mouth when he realised what he could give Kyle that didn't
involve him recounting his painful history. In fact, it was more concrete than that, more tangible,
and maybe that was ideal for now? A token, or an offering, that would show Kyle that he would be
willing to share anything with him soon.

"You can have more to read," Eric replied, barely able to contain the glee in his voice.

Kyle's brow had creased and he chuckled.

"What?"

"Follow me."

Eric got up from his armchair before Kyle could even respond but he still followed him out of the
drawing room. They hurried up the stairs in silence too before reaching a part of the house that had
been shut away and forgotten long before Eric's transformation, a part of the house that Gregory
had no doubt led Kyle through wordlessly on his tour.

"Where are we going?" Kyle asked. "Gregory told me most of these rooms here are shut up."

"They are."

"He said they were too expensive to keep open."

"They were, but I could open them again if I so wished…" Eric turned to Kyle and smiled. "Or
if you so wished."

"Why on Earth does it matter what I want?" Kyle asked, chuckling.

"I want you to be happy here, Kyle," Eric replied. "I want to do whatever I can to make you happy
here."

"Eric, I…" Kyle had lost his words but they kept walking. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me just yet." Eric grinned, before stopping in front of a door.

Kyle stood beside him, puzzled eyes following the engravings of the large door as if he could find
any clues as to what lay inside. When he found none, he looked up at Eric with a tentative, trusting
smile. Reaching into the pocket of his smoking jacket, Eric retrieved a collection of keys and
unlocked the door. Kyle gasped as the forgotten library was revealed.

Eric had studied in here as a boy, had picked another storybook for his mother to read to him at
bedtime. Although the book-lined shelves reached the ceiling, it seemed so much smaller now. No
doubt the pages of the books had yellowed, the desk was coated in dust, and the sheen of the
burgundy, leather settee had diminished, but Kyle was entranced. He moved slowly, cautiously, as
if the room were a mirage that would vanish beneath his fingertips if he dared to reach out and
touch anything. But it was real, and Eric wanted Kyle to know exactly that.

"What do you think?" Eric asked as if he needed to know the answer.

Kyle laughed, giddy and disbelieving.

"It's incredible! I've never seen so many books!"

"They're all yours."

The words wiped the smile off Kyle's face, and he stared at Eric with brimming eyes.

"Mine?" he asked, just above a whisper.

Eric nodded. "You can come here any time of day and spend as long as you like perusing the
shelves. Of course, we haven't had new books for a while so they may be slightly dated-"

Eric huffed, Kyle arms were wrapped around his middle and his head was pressed into his chest.

"Thank you," Kyle said, voice warm on Eric's shirt. "This is the best gift anyone has ever given
me."

Eric was afraid to move, afraid to breathe when Kyle was this close to him. But he didn't want to be
separated from him just yet. He wished he had the courage to move closer. Kyle, however, seemed
to remember himself and stepped away. His face had reddened and he avoided Eric's gaze.

"S-s-sorry, I… I, I don't know came over me," he said with a limp chuckle, quickly frowning to
himself.

Eric sighed, endeared and emboldened. He didn't want Kyle to be discouraged from touching him.

"It's fine, please don't apologise," he replied, before lifting his paw to Kyle's warm cheek. Kyle's
breath seemed to catch in his throat but he wasn't deterred by the claws or the size of Eric's paw.
"I'm glad you like it."

Kyle smiled, his cheek swelling beneath Eric's paw and his face softening into a gentler pink.

"I do," he replied. "Very much."

Giving the library to Kyle was proving to be the best decision Eric had made in a long time. His
restless, joyous energy as he perused the shelves was enough to make Eric feel giddy, only
returning to Earth momentarily when he saw Kyle climb up the tall, thin ladder to reach the top
shelves. Before Eric could express any concern or remind Kyle just how old that ladder was, Kyle
was already on his way to the top, reaching for books and trying to balance them in his arms. Eric
had intervened then, asking Kyle to pass some books down to him.

Although Kyle had assured him his company was appreciated, Eric decided he should let Kyle be
alone in the library. What could he offer when Kyle was so immersed in leather bound classics? So
he told Kyle he'd see him at dinner, and he himself felt restless all day waiting for such a time.
Unsurprisingly, he was the first to arrive in the dining room. But Kyle arrived soon after, bright and
smiling, and Eric didn't even attempt to change the subject when all Kyle wanted to talk about was
the library, and what treasures he had found there. Eric hadn't wanted to hear anything else, he was
captivated.

It was quiet in the drawing room, the wood crackling in the fire. But Kyle seemed relaxed, Eric
noted, and so was he. In fact, he seemed tired. A day spent in the library must have worn him out.
But Eric was surprised to see he hadn't bought a souvenir with him to dinner, which he usually did.

"I noticed you didn't bring a book with you tonight," he said. "I thought you might have after
spending all day in the library."

Kyle blinked, like he hadn't realised he had arrived empty-handed.

"No," he replied. "I'd rather talk tonight."

Another surprise, hope fluttered in Eric's stomach.

"What about?"

Kyle glanced at the fire, pursed his lips before returning to Eric.

"I've been thinking about the agreement we came to in the sitting room yesterday, and I realised
that perhaps you'd feel more comfortable talking about yourself if you knew more about my life…
would I be right?"

Admittedly, Eric was dazed. It was the first invitation he had received in ten years, to something
more important and promising than a dinner party or masked ball. He would be a fool not to take it.

"Yes," he whispered, nodding. He cleared his throat and said louder, "yes, I suppose that makes
sense."

Kyle smiled, though lowered his gaze sheepishly.

"I haven't led the most interesting life, mind you-"

"I don't care," Eric interrupted. "I still want to hear about it."

Kyle nodded, surer now.

"All right… well, I suppose you already know my father."

Eric supposed that was true, but he winced at the circumstance and the deception in between.

"Did he ever tell you why we moved to Bedfordshire?" Kyle asked.

"No… no, we only ever talked business."

"Well, we lived in London before we came here," Kyle continued. "I was born there, and we were
better-off then. I think it all started to drain away after my mother died, not just the money but my
father's sense of purpose too, his strength."

Eric frowned.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Kyle."

"Thank you, but it's all right," Kyle replied with a weak smile. "I never knew my mother. She
passed away when I was only a few hours old. When I was much older my father told me they had
wanted a child for years but there were problems. She had miscarried several times before she
finally had me. But perhaps being a mother was never meant to be for her, I often think that. My
father would never say it out loud but I think sometimes he blames me for her loss, and sometimes I
believe that too."

"Kyle…" Eric managed to say although his mind was rushing with the parallels between his life
and Kyle unfolding in front of him. "Why on Earth would you think that?"

Of course, Eric could guess the answer, for he understood the compensation one may feel is due
when they lose a parent so soon.

"Well, think about it, it all happened so quickly," Kyle answered matter-of-factly. "I'm born and my
father has the child he's wanted for years, but then a few hours later his wife is dead. The
correlation is easy to spot…" he sighed, before his voice became softer, serious. "I feel like I only
know my parents through photographs. I hardly recognise my father. It seems that after my mother
died he became so bitter, like the world had wronged him. I think after she was gone he just
tolerated life. He tolerated London, he tolerated our old house, his job… maybe even me. But I
want him to be happy, I want him to be proud of me. He was upset at the time but… I think losing
his job was a good thing for him," he started nodding like he still had to convince himself that was
true. "We had to get away and start again somewhere new. It's still an adjustment for him, living
here, but I think something has lifted from him, he seems lighter. But I'm afraid I'll ruin it all again
for him."

"How?"

"Because he sees a future for me and I can't stand it," Kyle's voice became taut, his face as solemn
as the day they met. "I don't want it at all."

"And what would that be?"

"Marriage, and children, and assuming his job so I can support us both," Kyle replied. "He can't
ever be alone, not now, he's too old."

"But you don't want that?"

That brief flicker of promise Eric felt was extinguished by Kyle's brimming eyes, the frustrated
flush rising on his face, and how he could hardly bring himself to answer. He simply shook his
head.

"I just don't understand how he can bet his happiness on me again when I've wrecked it all for him
once before…"

Eric frowned, despaired over what he could possibly say or do.

"Kyle, I-"

"I'm sorry," Kyle interjected, pressing his wrists to his eyes. "I'm sorry for getting upset. I know it's
difficult to understand."

Sighing, Eric realised that all he could offer Kyle was empathy.

"No, I do…"

"Really?"

"Yes, I… I feel like I only know my parents through photographs too."

"How?" Kyle asked, eyebrows furrowed.

"Well, n-n-o, I… metaphorically speaking, I understand how you can only know your parents
through memories," Eric replied, slightly startled. He didn't wish to reveal too much. "My father
died while my mother was pregnant, so I never really knew who he was, and my mother never
stopped grieving for him. It took eighteen years but it killed her in the end."

Kyle frowned, staring at Eric.

"Eric, I'm… I, I'm terribly sorry."

"Please, Kyle, you don't need to be sorry." Eric shook his head. "Like you though, I wanted to make
my mother feel happy again, to ensure her life carry on as normal. I was obligated to take on all his
responsibilities, but I could never become him. I could never fill the void he left behind, but I
could never become myself either, discover who I was. I'm sure my father was a great man and I
admire him very much, but without him in my life this house feels haunted. I feel like I'm revering
a ghost."

"Eric…" Kyle whispered. His voice was a lamenting spirit itself. A troubling thought, Eric didn't
wish the same fate for Kyle.

"I'm telling you all this because we shouldn't feel sorry for ourselves. Yes, what I did for my
mother, and what you're doing for your father may be noble but your actions will fester in the end.
Your father's bitterness will be passed down to you, and you deserve better, Kyle. You deserve to
be happy."

The crease in Kyle's brow returned, and his stare hardened.

"So, what?" he replied. "You're just saying I should put my own needs first? Forget about my
father? He's done so much for me, Eric, and I owe him something! I could never be so selfish!"

"You don't owe him anything for taking care of you!" Eric argued. "For raising you! The bond
between a parent and a child is unconditional, even if we both know it doesn't always feel that way.
You've said that you can't stand the future he wants for you! His happiness will come at a cost, and
you know it."

Kyle sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Of course I do. But I still don't understand what you're trying to say."

"I'm imploring you to be considerate, and brave, and… careful," Eric replied, looking into Kyle's
eyes. "I'm a cautionary tale, Kyle. It would be a wretched thing if you were to become like me."

Eric knew he may have offended him. He could tell by Kyle's wide, wet eyes and parted lips that
he was reeling from all he had told him. He started to slowly nod.
 "I will be all of those things," he whispered.

Eric nodded too, wishing to compose himself. He was rather shaken as well; in disbelief at all he
had shared today.

"Good…" he murmured.

"Eric, I'm so sorry for what happened to you," Kyle said, leaning forward.

Eric nodded, he was sorry too, sorry for all that he should have done but he was still trying to find
himself. He wouldn't be sorry for much longer, he was determined.

"And I'm grateful… not just for your advice but for listening to me and sharing what you did,"
Kyle added, smiling now. "I feel like I know you so much better."

"I'm glad," Eric replied, directing a small smile at Kyle. "Thank you."

Chapter End Notes

Back-story always seems to equal angst in my fics. Still, this was one of my favourite
chapters to write so far! I hope you guys enjoyed it too, thank you so much for
reading!
 Chapter 10
Chapter Notes

Although this chapter is super short, it was also one of my favourites to write and I
hope you guys enjoy it too! Thank you for reading and I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Kyle barely lifted his head from yet another book as he entered his bedroom, flicking through the
pages in anticipation. He'd discovered so many brilliant novels in the library that he didn't know
where to start. A pile was already beginning to grow by his bed.

"What do you have there?"

Kyle jolted at the sound of Bebe's voice. His cheeks warmed when he looked up and met her
knowing eyes. The more time he spent here, the more he could read eyes that once seemed so
blank and lifeless, porcelain and wooden.

"Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte," he replied. "I've wanted to read it for a while now. I hope
Eric likes it too."

"I'm so glad you're getting along with the master now, Kyle," Bebe said with a grateful sigh. "We
told you he's not as cruel as he seems."

"Yes, well, you were right," Kyle replied as he sat on his bed, sighing too. "Although I wish I
hadn't reacted the way I did when I first came here. All of this was such a huge surprise. I think I
was in shock."

"It's easily done, I don't blame you for being scared of him. But you're settled in now, that's what
matters."

"Oh, definitely." Kyle nodded. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since he came here. Perhaps
that was just another ability this magic house possessed? To manipulate time all out of proportion?
"I don't feel scared at all. In fact…"

"Yes?"

"I feel welcome, like I belong here," Kyle continued, a smile spreading across his face. "I never
thought I would enjoy spending time with Eric, but I do! And I'm so intrigued by him! Of course, I
always was, but… even though I've always been curious about this place, about him, I don't fear
the answers anymore. Sometimes I think he does…"

"Why's that?"

"I think he's afraid of his past," Kyle answered. "He's only brave enough to give me mere glimpses
of his life before I came here, and that's fine, but I wish I could know for sure."

"He's a strange fellow," Bebe assured. "Just be patient and he'll tell you soon enough."

Kyle nodded, expecting the answer. "I suppose. Bebe…"

"Yes?"

Although Kyle only possessed the aforementioned glimpses of Eric's life he was still trying to piece
together, an extraordinary picture was starting to form, bright and clarifying – especially when he
now knew so much more about Eric's family. Kyle had left the sitting room that evening believing
that Eric was the forgotten master of Tenorman Hall. It was a bewildering realisation, and seemed
like such a fantastical notion, but the only explanation that made sense.

Still, he was reluctant to accept his theory until he heard the confession from Eric, and the last
thing Kyle wanted to do was upset him by pressing the issue. All of the staff were so loyal to their
master too, so concerned with preservation. They would protect the secrets of this house to their
graves. To Kyle, Bebe was the exception. She was the first friend he had made here, was a brilliant
confidante, had cared as much about Kyle's wellbeing as her duty to her master. Maybe she would
be willing to divulge something? To put Kyle's mind at ease once and for all?

"Kyle?" she asked again. "What is it?

Kyle took a bracing breath. "You've mentioned past lives before-"

They were interrupted by the discordant noise of bashing piano keys, and a furious roar. Kyle
flinched, looked to Bebe for an explanation, for reassurance, but she appeared just as frightened as
Kyle was. Immediately he hopped off the bed and ran out of the room. The wild, distressed melody
with the roaring leitmotif continued, and Kyle almost fell down the stairs as he rushed to put an end
to it. He was panting and trembling by the time he reached the sitting room, throwing open the
doors to find Eric's huge form hunched over the piano. He was seething, his back rising and falling.

"Eric…" Kyle whispered, making his way over to the piano. "Eric, what's wrong? What are you
doing?"

Stood beside Eric now, Kyle realised he had mistaken sniffling for seething. Eventually, Eric lifted
his head to reveal golden eyes brimming with tears. They left Kyle reeling; he had never seen Eric
cry before. In fact, he never thought he would. Still, he placed a hand on Eric's back. His fingers
were so small on Eric's wide shoulders that he feared his touch would be lost, meaningless. He
hoped his voice wouldn't meet the same fate.

"Eric, please tell me," he said softly, his fingers moving in soothing, coaxing circles.

Still sniffling, attempting to collect himself, Eric replied, "I was trying to play the piano. I still
remember how to read the sheet music but these bloody paws are getting in the way." He spat out
the words and lifted his paws, staring at them reproachfully. "I can't play anything, not like I used
to, and what if I can't ever play again?"

Kyle had no idea how to respond, but before he could try Eric blinked and more tears pooled at his
long lashes. He ducked his head again, and Kyle's hand began to tremor above Eric's back. He
frowned and leaned down, wrapping his arms around Eric. His face was buried in his fur.

"It'll be all right," Kyle whispered. The only thing he could offer. "I promise you, it'll be all right."

He lifted his head but remained close to Eric, stroking his fur.

"But you must not work yourself up over this," he added in a strong, taut voice. "You mustn't
dwell… perhaps some fresh air will do you good?" he smiled. "It was lovely being out in the
grounds the other day. And perhaps we can have our tea outside this afternoon? Have a picnic?
How about that?"
Kyle could feel his smile brighten when Eric looked at him, and he beamed when Eric nodded.

"All right." Kyle nodded in return. "That's what we'll do."

They both turned their heads at the signature squeak of a trolley entering the room. Eric's body
stiffened and he turned away immediately.

"Is everything all right in here?" Gregory asked.

"We heard a tremendous noise!" Pip said.

"We thought something terrible had happened!" Butters added.

"No, no, we're fine," Kyle assured, shaking his head. He glanced at Eric. His hand was still on his
back. "Actually, we've decided we want to have tea outside today. The weather is beautiful, after
all. Would it be possible to have it packed into a picnic basket please?"

The staff glanced at each other, relieved and delighted.

"Yes of course!" Pip replied.

"We'll have that sorted right away," Gregory added.

"Thank you," Kyle smiled, but was thankful when they left the room.

He could feel some of the tension drain away from Eric beneath his fingers, at least it was a start.

Eric chewed lazily at the sandwiches and scones that were in the basket, glaring at the blanket
beneath them as he did so. Still, Kyle held out hope that the bright, cloudless afternoon would
inspire some conversation soon - even if he had to initiate it himself. How could the chirping birds
signalling summer, and butterflies and bees drifting through the air, not put one in a good mood?
He swallowed the last of his scone, licking the strawberry jam off his fingers, and admiring the
vibrant summer flowers peeking out over tall grass.

"It really is a wonderful afternoon," he commented. "Summer will be here before we know it! I
wish I could stay out here all day."

"Yes, I'm very fond of the grounds," Eric replied. Distant, Kyle noted, but at least he was talking.
"They're in desperate need of maintenance… although I would rather spend all night out here than
the rest of the day."

"Why?"

Eric's gaze wandered over the grounds. "Because it's dark and nobody can see me. Not even the
birds and the insects can see how hideous I am."

Frowning, Kyle shook his head as if to will away the pang in his chest.

"Eric, please, you're not hideous…" he muttered.

"I'm frightful then. Even you were afraid of me when we first met," Eric pointed out.

"Well, yes, but only because I had seen nobody like you before…" Kyle paused when Eric turned
his head to look at him, focused and hopeful. It swept away any doubt Kyle had for what he was
about to say. "But there is so much more to who you are than how you look, Eric. Your appearance
is not the sole thing that defines you, that should never be the case… do you know what the word
'sublime' means?"

Eric's brow furrowed. "Something that is perfect and beautiful."

Kyle smiled and continued. "Yes, and beauty is subjective – in the eye of the beholder and all that
– and it also exists on a spectrum. Something that is beautiful can be pretty and quaint, or
tantalising and superficial, but when you describe something as sublime it transcends all those
things. It's something that is beautifully extraordinary, frighteningly so, like a tiger or a mountain
range. Both of those things are dangerous but you can also appreciate the beauty of them."

"If the tiger doesn't rip you apart first," Eric remarked.

And although he feared Eric wasn't quite understanding what he was trying to say, or just simply
refusing to listen, Kyle chucked and shook his head despite himself. But he wasn't giving up.

"Did you know that when people rode past the Alps in their carriages they would draw the
curtains?" he asked with a smile. "People couldn't bear to look at them because the mountains were
so sublime and horrifying. But then the Romantic poets recognised the beauty of the Alps and
started writing poems about them. Now I'll bet there isn't a person in the world who wouldn't
admire the Alps and be over-awed by them if they saw them in the flesh."

Eric's shoulders rose and fell with a heavy sigh. He shook his head. "But I've hidden for so long. I
couldn't bear for anyone else to see me."

Kyle chuckled again, with only mild exasperation. He shifted on the blanket and smiled when Eric
slid his gaze to him again.

"But don't you see?" he replied. "I was afraid of you when we first met, but I had to be brave and
patient enough to really get to know you. Even you had to be brave, Eric. And I'm so glad that you
were because now I can see how generous you are, how intelligent you are, how talented and
sensitive you are. Just like those old poets and the Alps, I soon discovered all of your wonderful
traits and came to appreciate them." His smile faded into earnestness. "I'm no longer scared, and I
hope you're not either."

Kyle heard the taut, heavy thrum of Eric's breathing, saw the startled gleam in his eyes, and
thought he might be afraid. But Eric soon shook his head, and Kyle's shoulders slouched in relief.

"Good…" he said with a small nod.

With the buzz of insects in the air, and all the words spoken between them, further conversation
hardly felt necessary. In fact, to Kyle it seemed like it would cut short a rather lovely,
understanding silence. So instead he smiled shyly and reached for another sandwich from the
basket.

"Kyle, I would like to apologise for the way I behaved, the way I treated you, when you first
arrived here," Eric suddenly said, the words coming out fast before he slowed down. "You were
right, I was afraid to have someone like you enter my life. I had just been alone for a long time."

Kyle was reeling, and in Eric's kaleidoscopic irises he could see his startled reflection multiplied by
what seemed like a hundred. He willed himself to react, nodding. His mouth tugged into a soft
smile.

"I know," he replied. "Thank you for your apology."

Eric smiled in return, before delving into the basket once more. They stayed outside, shrouded by
unkempt grass and tall, foreboding walls, talking about nothing and everything, until the sky
dimmed, and dinner was waiting.
 Chapter 11
Chapter Notes

I know I've said this about previous chapters but this was my favourite one to write so
far - for obvious reasons! I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed
writing it! I'd love to know your thoughts, and thank you for reading!

Eric had been delighted to wake up the day after the picnic to discover it hadn't all been a dream.
Although Kyle's laughter, his thoughtful conversation, his glinting smile, and the way he read to
him after dinner with the fire illuminating his face had certainly haunted Eric in his sleep. Of
course he knew what this meant, as alien and dizzying as it was. And he wasted no time in
gathering the staff together before Kyle could wake for breakfast. He needed to inform them of his
marvellous day spent with Kyle, even so he could just relive it.

"…You should have heard all that he was saying! He said I was intelligent, and
sensitive, generous, even!"

"That's wonderful, sir!" Butters replied.

"Giving him the library seems to be paying off, eh?" Kenny added cheekily.

"Now, the master didn't give Kyle the library," Gregory corrected. "He simply opened it up again."

"And I'm sure that's not the only reason Kyle is growing fond of the master," Kelly added.

"Oh, of course," Kenny replied, he hardly ever disagreed with Kelly. He sidled up to her."Who
needs libraries or even arms to be good company?"

Kelly giggled at Kenny's low, husky tone.

Meanwhile, Gregory tutted. "Please, you two…"

"Let the master finish!" Christophe added.

Eric nodded at him appreciatively, before he continued; "And he said he isn't afraid of me
anymore!"

The staff all began to chatter amongst themselves, not that Eric minded since he was hoping his
news would rouse such delight.

"Sir, this is so exciting!" Pip spoke up.

"What does it all mean?" Christophe asked, and everybody fell silent.

Eric looked to the floor, he knew what it meant. As soon as the realisation struck him he knew it to
be true. It was undeniable, intrinsic, leaving him terrified and euphoric at the same time. Kyle may
have even described it as a sublime feeling, and Eric smiled just at the thought of him.

"I think it means I'm falling in love with him," he finally answered. He shook his head, suddenly
self-conscious. "I know it may seem hasty but-"

"Never mind that, sir!" Kenny interrupted.

"Time is of the essence!" Gregory added.

Kelly squealed. "Oh, it's wonderful!"

"You must tell him," Christophe said, serious and blunt as usual.

The words sent a shiver down Eric's spine.

"But will he say it back?" he asked."I know he's fond of me now, but love…"

"You'll never know unless you tell him how you feel, sir," Kenny remarked.

"Precisely!" Gregory replied, before composing himself. "Forgive me, sir, but it's crucial that you
know… for all of us."

Eric sighed and shook his head. "I couldn't bear it if he rejected me…"

"But what if he doesn't reject you?" Gregory asked.

"The odds are certainly in your favour, sir," Kenny chimed in.

Gregory shuffled forward. "Don't you want to find out?"

Deep inside him, Eric knew he had to find out. As a child, his nanny had occasionally tutted and
called him 'demanding', accusing him of 'always keeping on'. His mother chose a different tact,
holding his shoulders as she beamed down at him, praising him for not giving up on anything so
easily. Even if he had to cry and scream to get what he wanted, at least he was trying. Of course,
Eric could hardly revert to such childish tactics now, but he also knew that he couldn't keep
wondering what Kyle felt for him. He had to know.

"Yes," Eric replied."Yes, of course I do… all right, I'll tell him after dinner."

As the staff cheered, it was easy for Eric to become invigorated by their excitement even if he
knew a potential rejection was in the offing. A rejection that would devastate all of them. How
could Eric not be anxious when so much was at stake?

Eric hardly ate at dinner, and he was struggling to concentrate as Kyle read another chapter
of Wuthering Heights. His thoughts all day had been concerned with how best to confess his love
for Kyle, agonising over where, and when. He was too afraid to seize any moment, any dip in
conversation. But he couldn't bear to leave it until tomorrow. He couldn't bear a sleepless night. He
flinched when Kyle yawned softly, staring into the fire with lidded eyes.

"Are you tired?" Eric asked.

Kyle turned his head, like he had been caught out for his fatigue.

"No, not really," He replied. "Why?"

"N-n-no reason!" Eric answered abruptly, fidgeting in his seat."I was just…" his eyes wandered the
room, and spied the dusty, forgotten gramophone behind the door. "I was just, uh, wondering if
you'd like to dance."
Kyle blinked, tried to respond but surprised chuckles fell out of his mouth instead.

"Dance?" he asked."How? There's no music."

Eric smiled and stood up, the most confident and assured he felt all evening. He crossed the room.

"Haven't you noticed the gramophone before?"

He was sure he hadn't imagined the gleam in Kyle's eyes; intrigued but anxious. Kyle laughed and
shook his head. Eric reached for a record, blowing the dust off it and placing it on the gramophone.

"These may be rather old but…"

The music started, grasping his heart and it ached with nostalgia. But when he turned to Kyle that
ache began to subside.

"May I have this dance?" he asked, extending a shaking paw.

Kyle's shoulders rose and fell, and Eric swore he heard a taut, faint breath. It comforted him
somewhat, that Kyle appeared just as nervous and shy as he was, especially when a tiny smile was
still present on his face.

"But I… I, I don't know how-"

"Well, I do," Eric cut in. "I'll teach you."

Kyle pursed his lips, considering the offer, before nodding and rising from his chair. He met Eric
across the room with silent, cautious steps. But his hand was firm and unwavering when it held
Eric's paw, holding him steady. Eric held Kyle as gently as he could, lifting his arm and Kyle
followed. In his mind he was a teenager again, on summer lawns, and in lavish Christmas parties.
When his mother had encouraged him to dance with the daughters of her friends whose names
escaped Eric now. It wasn't necessary, of course, this quaint waltz, but families like Eric still liked
to pretend that outdated courting rituals like these still meant something. They never meant
anything to Eric, and nerves never got the better of him. He was simply appeasing his mother.
Now, it meant everything to him. Kyle was as bewitching as any young, coy socialite if not more
so, and represented a future and fortune far more tantalising and tangible.

Eric was just glad he still remembered the steps. Instinctively he reached out to place his paw on
Kyle's side, just above his waist. It was an action that had felt as hollow as the giggles of his
previous dance partners. But his touch, weighted with fur and claws and desire felt so much more
affecting now, and Kyle was too precious to hurt, or to startle.

"Do you mind if I-"

Kyle shook his head before Eric could finish.

"Not at all," he smiled.

Eric smiled too and placed his hand on Kyle's side. He felt the warmth of his body even underneath
his shirt.

"Now, just put your hand on my upper arm," Eric instructed.

Kyle obeyed, reaching up and holding on.

"And just follow me."

They tentatively began to dance a slow, shuffling waltz, not the sweeping, exuberant dances Eric
remembered. He wished they could have done this in the hall, where they had more room to move.
But Eric supposed this was fine, for the drawing room was intimate, and cosy, and a place where
he and Kyle had already shared so much. It was fitting for Eric to tell Kyle how he felt right here.
Kyle was smiling at the floor, his eyes on his feet, and Eric was happy to admire him silently. But
Kyle must have felt the weight of his stare, for he soon met his eyes, and when Kyle was smiling
up at him, it was like the full extent of Eric's love washed over him.

Reeling from the force of it all, he whispered; "you're beautiful."

"Pardon?"

Eric froze, the words had drifted out of his mouth before he even realised it. But he soon
recognised this as his chance to tell Kyle he loved him. He couldn't deny it.

"I said you're beautiful," he replied. "You're the most beautiful person I've ever met."

Kyle's eyes widened and colour rushed to his face immediately. He looked away as if he could
disguise it.

"Thank you, Eric," he said softly. "Nobody has ever called me beautiful before-"

"Well, that's a terrible shame," Eric interrupted, and Kyle's eyes were still wide when they returned
to look at him. "Because you are, Kyle. You're extraordinary, really, you're… kind, and you're
smart, and the greatest person I know. Nobody has ever made me as happy as you do."

Smiling and growing redder, Kyle's eyes searched Eric's face and chuckled limply. Daring to
squeeze his hand a little tighter, Eric pulled Kyle closer to him and looked into his eyes.

"Kyle, I love you."

Kyle's wandering gaze finally stopped, and he stiffened in Eric's arms.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I love you," Eric repeated, and he adored how it sounded. For a moment, he wasn't afraid of the
words anymore."I'm in love with you, Kyle. Don't you love me too?"

Kyle's eyes resumed their restless movement and Eric knew his thoughts were probably just as
feverish. He wilted, letting Kyle go when he began to back away. Suddenly he was scared again,
when his arms were bereft of Kyle.

"Eric, I don't… I don't know what to say, I, I, I'm certainly very fond of you," Kyle said, his
breathing was coming faster."In fact, I'm fonder of you than I've ever been of anyone but I can't say
for certain that it's love – romantic love, like you're suggesting. I've never been in love before. I
have no idea what it feels like-"

"But I had never been in love either until I met you," Eric interjected, stepping forward.

His hopeful, naïve tone seemed pathetic under Kyle's conflicted stare. He felt his lip curl in a snarl,
frustrated not with Kyle but at himself for being so foolish, so reckless. The humiliation was
stifling, but the fear even more so. That perfect future, that dazzling fortune seemed to be
crumbling down on him like this decaying house and, once again, it was all his fault.

"Damn it!" he roared, and he saw Kyle flinch when he stopped the record. "I knew I shouldn't have
told you!" he threw his paws up in the air, not looking at Kyle as he paced. "But they all kept
insisting that I should! You were supposed to fall in love with me too! You were supposed to break
the spell, but I've ruined it! I've frightened you and I've ruined it all again!"

"Ruined what?" Kyle asked, shrill and scared. He walked over to Eric and asked lowly, "Eric, what
are you talking about?"

Panting, and with tears stinging his eyes, Eric realised that perhaps he had skipped too far ahead.
Maybe Kyle had needed to hear another confession first.

"I have to show you something, Kyle."

Their footsteps had seemed louder when they walked to Eric's bedroom in silence. Kyle hadn't
asked any questions along the way, but Eric wished he had. He needed to know how Kyle was
feeling, if he hated him, or was afraid of him again. Eric shuddered at the thought.

When they reached his bedroom, Eric opened the door and stepped aside. He wanted Kyle to go in
first, but when he looked at him he saw his hands shaking at his sides. For the first time since Kyle
arrived here, he appeared small and uncertain in the huge house. Finally, he stepped inside. His
slow, quiet steps eventually quickened as he studied the room, his fascination easing him in.

"I've never been in here before," Kyle commented, looking over his shoulder at Eric.

"I'm aware," Eric replied, shutting the door behind him. "I didn't want you to know…"

"Know what?"

Kyle stood still, holding Eric's gaze and searching for answers. Eric sighed, crossing the room to
where the wilting rose was kept; a plain glass jar beneath the window though it didn't require
sunlight. It required something elusive and rare to find in this deserted manor. Kyle gasped upon
seeing it, transfixed on the floating flower and the wilted petals below it that still shimmered with
charred iridescence.

"This is what I had to show you, Kyle." Eric felt he had to say something.

"Who gave you this?"

"An enchantress…" Eric paused when Kyle looked at him, only mildly puzzled. Eric supposed
nothing could surprise Kyle in this house anymore."You see, I wasn't always like this. I was born a
human, an aristocrat, but ten years ago a poor, old woman came to my door. It was winter, and she
needed shelter for the night… my mother had died only a few months ago. I was bitter, and selfish,
and not exactly in the right frame of mind to entertain guests who were beneath me, who didn't
deserve my hospitality – or so I thought at the time. She offered me a beautiful rose – this one, if
you can believe it – but I threw it on the ground and ordered her to leave. But she didn't. She
transformed into an enchantress and cursed me and all the staff. She turned me into what I am
today. She told me that if I didn't find somebody who I could love and who could love me in
return by the time the last petal falls, I would remain this way forever."

Kyle stepped back, lips parted and eyes flitting back and forth.

"I… I knew it," he said, voice just above a whisper. "You're the son who everyone thought had
disappeared."

"Yes," Eric replied, hanging his head. "Yes, I am."

"Oh, oh God." Kyle ran a trembling hand through his hair. "I don't know what to say… then how
did I come to be here? How do you know my father?"

Eric gulped, he was terrified of that question but he couldn't lie to Kyle anymore. He shook his
head.

"I don't, not really," he replied. "Kyle, perhaps you should sit."

Kyle nodded, empty and bewildered. He studied the room before quickly finding Eric's plump bed.
He sat on it and waited for Eric to continue. Eric had no choice now, he had to speak.

"I only met your father the day before you arrived here. It was evening, and I was taking a walk
around the grounds. I heard somebody knocking on the door and decided to hide until they left.
But I saw your father picking one of the roses from the bush and reprimanded him for stealing. He
was very frightened, and begged me to spare his life. He said he had a son, and that he would do
anything. I…" Eric closed his eyes briefly and sighed. "I saw an opportunity. I told him to bring
his son here, to work here, although I had no intention of employing you. I hoped that one day we
would fall in love. I never anticipated it happening so soon. Although as you can see by the rose-"

Eric paused to glance at the flower, and Kyle followed him.

"I can't afford to waste time," he continued. He stepped forward, reaching his paw out in tentative
imploration. "But now I see how cruel that was of me, to do that to you. Before it had never
mattered but I care so much about you, Kyle, and it devastates me to think I may have hurt you in
some way. I'm so dreadfully sorry, is there any way you could forgive me?"

Kyle's gaze was preoccupied, but Eric could see that his eyes were gleaming. His shoulders were
rising and falling with rapid, reeling breaths. Eventually, he nodded, and Eric could've sank to the
floor in relief.

"Yes… Eric, of course I can forgive you," he replied. "You were desperate, and you didn't know
me then. If I was in your situation I may have done the same thing. "

"Kyle, you have no idea how relieved I am," Eric said, sitting next to Kyle. "I would never want to
hurt you."

"I know you wouldn't." Kyle nodded, before taking a shattered breath and lowering his head. "I
thought I knew the same thing of my father too."

"What do you mean?"

"How could he do this to me?!" Kyle demanded, leaping up from the bed.

"I told him I wouldn't hurt you-"

"But why should he have trusted you?" Kyle cut Eric off, pacing in front of him. "Why should he
have used my life as a bargaining chip? Like I'm worthless! How was he to know that you wouldn't
have hurt me? Killed me, even! I just wish I could know what on Earth he was thinking! I wish he
was in front of me right now so I could demand answers!" Kyle's body sagged and he rolled his
eyes. "As if I've ever had the nerve to do such a thing…"

He returned to the bed, burying his head in his hands. Eric frowned and gently placed his paw on
Kyle's back, remembering how Kyle had done that to him the day previously. He hoped it would
rouse the same comfort, although that wasn't the only method Eric had at his disposal.
"Well, you may not be able to confront him but you can see him," he offered.

"How do you mean?" Kyle asked, lifting his head.

Eric reached for the silver mirror on his bedside table and handed it to Kyle.

"It was my mother's," Eric explained, watching Kyle run his fingers over the frame. "When the
enchantress cursed me, she cursed the rest of the house as well. If you hold it and tell the mirror
what you'd like to see, it'll show it to you."

Kyle raised a questioning eyebrow at him, but Eric nodded at him in encouragement.

Clearing his throat, Kyle said; "I would like to see my father, please."

Eric leaned over to look into the glass, and saw Kyle's reflection twist into a dark, rainy landscape.
The rain pelted down on miserable, underfed chickens, their feathers matted with mud. When he
glanced at Kyle, he winced at his disconcerted expression. Like they were viewing Kyle's home
through a phantom's eye, the mirror took Eric and Kyle inside a dim cottage; a kitchen where a
sink was brimming with grimy dishes, a living room coated in dust, a desk covered in scattered,
crumpled papers.

"The house…" Kyle murmured. "It's dreadful."

He then gasped at the image of his father, tossing and turning in bed before shuddering with tears.
Kyle pursed his lips and shook his head, turning away from the image.

"Damn it…" he muttered, thrusting the mirror into Eric's chest and burying his head in hands once
more.

Eric held the mirror close to him, and regarded Kyle warily.

"Are you all right?" Eric hated the question as soon as he asked it.

Kyle shook his head, looking up and revealing his pained face.

"I don't know," he replied. "I have no idea what I'm feeling. I don't think I've felt this confused
since I came here, I…"

Kyle stood up again, grabbed his hair in two fistfuls and began to pace.

"Seeing him there, restless and upset, I could have forgotten what he did," he continued. "He's my
father, of course I still feel care for him, of course when I see him like that I can't help but feel
worried. I've been here, having picnics, and pouring over books, and talking to furniture, while he's
been struggling! Eric, being here with you I've never been happier but I still miss him. I miss him
so much, and oh God, what am I even doing when there's still so much I have to take care of back
home! I could have forgotten all my responsibilities…"

Eric nodded, ran his claw over the mirror's etchings. "I, I, I understand…"

"But then…" Kyle covered his face with his hands for a moment. "Oh God, I couldn't even say it."

"What?" Eric asked, eyes following Kyle as he paced. "Kyle, tell me."

Kyle pursed his lips, and crossed his arms around his chest, holding himself steady.

"Seeing him like that, I felt this peculiar, twisted satisfaction," he replied. "Like, as if, after all these
years of him giving me orders, making me feel guilty for what we don't have, moulding my life as
he sees fit without giving me any say, and placing the responsibility of our future happiness on my
shoulders… that's what I needed to see. I needed to see him suffering without me." He shook his
head and looked to the ceiling. "How appalling! What kind of son am I?"

"A good son," Eric answered, firm. "Kyle, you're a tremendous son. In fact, he doesn't deserve
you."

"Then why has he never told me that?" Kyle demanded, throwing his arms at his sides and glaring
at Eric like he knew the answer."Why am I not enough? He clearly doesn't want me if he can cart
me off to a stranger without a second thought!"

Kyle choked on a breath, his body shuddering as he began to sob. Placing the mirror on the bed,
Eric rushed to comfort him. Tentatively, he wrapped his arms around Kyle, not wanting to hurt
him. But Kyle didn't care, welcoming the embrace and burying his face in Eric's chest. His heart
tremored at Kyle's muffled sobs, and he didn't mind the wetness of his tears. Eric just wished he
could say something, do something more to make Kyle feel better.

"You should get some rest, Kyle," he finally said. "Let me take you to your room-"

"No," Kyle cut in, lifting his head and patting at his damp face. "No, I want to stay here. Can I
please stay here tonight?"

Eric blinked, stunned, but nodded.

"Of course," he replied. "Of course you can."

Kyle smiled weakly, and rested his head on Eric's chest.

"Thank you… " he said, his soft voice making Eric bristle.

They were both still awake hours later, lying over the sheets and facing each other. Eric could feel
his eyelids droop, the exhausting night weighing down on him. But he would stay awake as long as
Kyle needed him to; to protect him, to reassure him. They hadn't talked for a while, but their eyes
found each other in the dark, aided by the moonlight shining through the thin curtains.

"Are you afraid of what will happen when the last petal falls?" Kyle asked.

"No," Eric whispered. It was the first time he was saying it aloud. "Not anymore."

"When did you stop being afraid?"

Admiring Kyle, Eric realised it was when he discovered some things were more important.

"Tonight," he replied. "I realised that even if you'll never fall in love with me, and if I remain this
way forever, I will be happy just to have known you. I will always want you to be in my life."

Kyle smiled, a crescent moon, and shifted closer. Eric felt the sheets tug beneath him, and Kyle's
fingers clutching his fur.

"I will always be here," Kyle murmured, eyes closing. "I promise."
 Chapter 12
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

The following morning Eric was awoken by the sound of clumsy knocking at his bedroom door.
He grumbled, his body stiff and lethargic as he sat upright. The daylight was startling, making him
wince, but his irritation melted when he saw Kyle lying next to him. He had turned away from him
in the night, but Eric found as much beauty in watching his shoulders gently rise and fall. It even
made him forget about the incessant knocking.

"Sir!" Gregory called. "Sir! Is everything all right?"

"He never sleeps in this late..." Christophe commented.

Eric watched Kyle stir, and when he rolled over to face him his curls were wayward and his eyes
were bleary from his interrupted sleep.

"Is that Gregory?" he asked, voice slightly hoarse.

"Yes," Eric replied. "And Christophe..."

He marched over to the door and threw it open.

"What do you want?"

Christophe was peering behind Eric's leg, while Gregory attempted to speak, startled.

"Forgive us, sir, but we noticed you had yet to wake up and we didn't see you last night to ask how
it went with Kyle-"

"Gregory!" Christophe interrupted.

"What is it?" he asked, before peering into the bedroom too. He jolted when he saw Kyle, sat up in
bed and listening to the conversation.

"Oh... Oh, I'm terribly sorry, sir!" he said. "Good morning, Kyle!"

"Good morning," Kyle replied.

Gregory wrung his metal hands as he spoke. "Sir, if we had known we would have never-"

"Oh, calm down!" Christophe chimed in. "Nothing happened! We would all be human if they had-"

"Kyle and I will be down for breakfast shortly so please see to it that it is ready, Gregory," Eric
ordered in an attempt to subdue his own embarrassment.

"Right away, sir!" Gregory replied, clearly grateful. "My sincerest apologies again."

Eric was glad to shut the door, although it didn't make his discomfort go away. But Kyle's shy
laughter did, infectious and emboldening. Eric smiled at him, approaching the bed slowly.

"Sorry about them..."

"It's fine," Kyle replied, tracing the creases in the sheets with his finger. "How are you feeling?"

Eric sighed, searching for the words. Content, now that he had someone in his life that he loved,
and who cared for him too. Fearless, now that his priorities had realigned.

"Marvellous." He smiled. "And yourself?"

"All right, I suppose," he replied. He looked at the sheets plaintively.

"Are you sure?" Eric asked, his smile fading. He sat on the edge of the bed. "What is it?"

Kyle shook his head. "Nothing, nothing..."

Perhaps it was due to how long they had stayed awake talking last night, but Kyle looked
exhausted. His face was pale and his eyes were heavy, as if the confessions and realisations of the
previous night had worn him out.

"Well, maybe your spirits will lift after breakfast?"

Kyle looked up at Eric and nodded, a tight smile appearing on his face.

"Yes, perhaps..."

Kyle barely spoke at breakfast, so when – at the end of the meal – he said he wanted to spend some
time in the library, Eric didn't protest. He was just glad that Kyle was finally talking, and hoped
that some time alone in undoubtedly his favourite room in the house would cheer him up.

Afternoon was now dulling into evening, and Kyle was still in the library. It felt strange for Eric
now, to wander around the house without Kyle to engage in conversation, to have tea by himself in
the sitting room. Of course, he conversed with the staff but they couldn't compare to Kyle's bright
inquisitiveness, or his witty remarks. They couldn't duplicate the twinned clatter of china teacups
that Eric had now grown so used to. Besides, Kyle's absence exacerbated Eric's concern. What if
he had been sobbing all day by himself while Eric had remained oblivious? He tried to remind
himself that Kyle perhaps wanted some solitude, but he could have equally wanted some comfort
as well.

Thus, he found himself waiting outside the door to the library, willing himself to knock. He could
never be gentle, he realised, as his small knock still made the door thud and shake.

"Kyle?"

"Yes?"

Eric's shoulders slouched in relief at hearing Kyle's voice.

"May I come in?" he asked.

"Of course you can."

Eric opened the door gingerly, and saw Kyle lounging on the leather settee. His legs were
outstretched, his one foot dangling off the side. One arm was propped up on the back cushion,
while his other hand was placed over the book resting on his chest. Although Eric supposed the
book had been unread for quite a while, for Kyle was preoccupied with staring out of the window.
He soon slid his gaze over to Eric, however, and it was distant and heavy.
"Hello..."

"I wanted to check on you," Eric replied, fidgety. "See how you were feeling."

His words roused a crooked half-smile that didn't reach Kyle's eyes.

"That's very kind."

Searching Kyle's face for any guidance as to what he should do, Eric took slow, cautious steps
towards him.

"Is there anything on your mind?" he asked.

Kyle sighed, sitting up straighter.

"My father," he replied. "I can't stop thinking about him. I hardly slept last night because I couldn't
get that image of him out of my head."

Eric bowed his head and nodded. He should have known, and he started to wonder if he should
have told Kyle about his father's actions in the first place.

"I still need to know... why did he do this?" Kyle continued. "How could he have done this to his
only son? But then, I think about how distressed he was when I saw him in the mirror and such
things seem trivial. I should hate him for lying to me, for being so careless and selfish, and a part
of me does... but I hated seeing the house like that. I dreamt about it all night. Whatever I feel, he
still needs me. I still have to be there, but how could I ever go back and live with him when I resent
him so much? But I must do something..."

"Do you have any idea what that is?"

Kyle pursed his lips, and his eyes suddenly gleamed.

"A vague idea, I suppose," he replied. "But the thought is too painful."

Eric frowned, his heart aching already for the decision Kyle would have to make. Kyle would be
sacrificing a great deal either way, and Eric didn't know if he could live without Kyle, or with
knowing that Kyle would forever be yearning for a compromise that was impossible. He wanted to
make it better, but he couldn't. He didn't know what on Earth he should do. He knelt down beside
Kyle, saw his reflection swimming in Kyle's eyes, as well as so much weary, fractured strength in
the man he loved.

"You mustn't hurt yourself, Kyle," he said. "Whatever your decision, you mustn't put yourself
through that."

Kyle snickered ruefully, and pressed his wrists to his eyes.

"Whatever decision I make, I won't have a choice but to hurt someone," he replied. "It's inevitable."

The silence was stifling at dinner. Eric played with his food mindlessly, more concerned with Kyle
at the other end of the table. Whenever he looked up from his meal, he saw that Kyle's plate
remained untouched. His gaze was rooted to his cooling meal, and he moved his fork across the
plate as if he were etching a crude strategy in the sand. There was no doubt what was on his mind,
and Eric wished Kyle would voice his concerns, and his fears. But he supposed Kyle was just as
timid as he was about broaching the subject. Like a curse, it was almost as if the pain didn't exist if
the necessary words weren't said aloud, and Eric knew a lot about those.

But what was the alternative? For Kyle to be miserable the rest of his life and resent Eric too?
Perhaps Eric couldn't bear the thought of Kyle leaving him, but he couldn't be responsible for
extinguishing the light that had flooded the house, his life, when Kyle arrived here. Eric would
never forgive himself if Kyle faded quietly into the peeling wallpaper, another cherished ghost to
haunt this crumbling manor. Kyle's misery wouldn't be a product of Eric's selfishness, not again.

"Perhaps you should go back to your father..."

The words, though gentle, echoed in the dining room. Kyle raised his head and set his knife and
fork down.

"What?"

Eric took a shattering breath. He felt his heart clench, gripping the words close to him so he
wouldn't have to say them again.

"I said, perhaps you should go back to your father." Eric saw Kyle's brow furrow, and he
explained, "I would love for you to stay here, Kyle, but your father needs you and I know you need
to help him too. I would only want you to stay with me if you felt happy here-"

"But I do," Kyle cut in, leaning forward. "I do feel happy here, Eric."

For now.

As much as Eric wanted to believe Kyle, he knew his loyalty to his father was ingrained into his
heart.

"Would you really be happy knowing that you were leaving your father behind?" he asked. "I
would hate for you to feel guilty staying with me. You cannot feel this way forever, Kyle."

Kyle's eyes wandered the room as he considered what Eric was offering him.

"But what would happen to you?" he asked. "The curse, I... I promised you I would always be
here."

"And I told you that I would be content to remain a beast forever as long as I had you in my life,"
Eric replied, surer than he had ever been. "But I've come to realise I would be just as content to
know that you were happy, even without me."

Kyle's lips parted as if to respond, but he glanced at his lap instead. Meeting Eric's eyes across the
table, he said; "I don't know if I'll ever be happy if I'm not with you..."

Eric choked on the lump in his throat. He desperately sought for compromise in the sacrifice he
had made.

"Well, you can always visit," he said.

Kyle was smiling, crinkled at the edges when his eyes grew wetter.

"Thank you. Thank you for being so incredibly understanding, Eric," he replied. "But how will I
get home?"

"We have a car." Eric nodded. "It hasn't been driven in years but it should get you home. Kenny
will take a look at it. It will give him a chance to be a handyman again."
Eric heard the sound of bubbling laughter, and smiled when Kyle shook his head in fond
exasperation.

"You have no idea how much I will miss you," Kyle confessed, tone soft and gaze piercing.

Eric nodded, his vision blurry. A tear splashed on the table.

Kyle's departure was announced after breakfast, and although Eric had winced at how the staff
glanced at each other, crestfallen, he admired their insistence in helping Kyle prepare to leave in
any way they could. Questions would surely be asked, but Eric couldn't bear to answer them now.
He would wait until Kyle left. He wanted to spend whatever time they had left together without
fretting for the future, mourning what was soon to be gone.

But every word spoken, every breath taken, was wistful and when Kyle suggested he should get on
with packing his bags Eric didn't protest. Only when Kyle tried to return the library books to Eric
did he do that. Eric insisted he keep those, even Wuthering Heights though they had yet to reach
the end. He watched from the bedroom window as Kyle drove the car from the garage out onto the
pebbly driveway, and assisted Kenny in tinkering about with it.

The day was waning now, and Kyle would have to leave soon before it was too dark. Sighing and
hanging his head, Eric knocked on Kyle's bedroom door.

"Yes?"

"Kyle, are you ready?"

"Yes, come in, I'm just saying goodbye to Bebe."

Eric opened the door, and saw Kyle holding his bags. He was standing in front of Bebe, smiling at
her with tight lips and wet eyes. Bebe jittered, choking on the sensation of tears.

"Thank you, Bebe, for being so welcoming when I first arrived here, for talking to me, for listening
to me. You've been such a wonderful friend and I... I hope I can see you again someday very soon."

"Oh, me too," Bebe replied. "It's been lovely to have some company but I could never have hoped
to meet someone as marvellous as you... now would be a brilliant time to cry, wouldn't it?"

Kyle laughed, short and knowing before his tears got the better of him. He pressed his wrists to his
eyes, before hesitantly reaching out. His fingers brushed Bebe's side and Eric could see her relax
under Kyle's touch.

"Goodbye, Bebe."

"Goodbye, Kyle."

Kyle smiled at her once more, before making his way over to Eric and nodding to indicate he was
ready. Eric nodded in return, and Kyle waved at Bebe before he left the room. The door clicked
softly shut. Before they descended the stairs, Eric and Kyle exchanged bracing looks. They walked
slowly, and soon saw the staff waiting in the hall.

"The car is all ready for you, Kyle," Kenny said when they reached the last step. "I hope you're not
planning on driving too far though, I couldn't do anything about the rust."

Kyle laughed and shook his head.

"It's only a short drive. Thank you, Kenny."

"You're welcome."

"Thank you to you all," Kyle said, smiling at each of the staff. "You made this house feel like a
second home to me."

"Must you go, Kyle?" Butters asked, shuffling forward.

Kyle closed his eyes briefly, as if he were preparing himself for the answer.

"I'm afraid so." He nodded. "I'm needed somewhere else. But I will visit, regularly I hope."

"Then we look forward to seeing you again," Gregory replied, forever gracious.

Soon, Eric felt Kyle's gaze on him and all the words that needed to be said. Eric had remained
silent, tried to appear dignified and understanding.

"We'll give you some privacy," Christophe suggested.

"Thank you," Kyle replied with a nod.

The chorus of goodbyes from the staff washed over Eric, but then silence returned to him and Kyle
in the grand, imposing hall. The place they had first met. Kyle chuckled limply, shaking his head.

"I've said so many goodbyes today, and I still don't know what to say-"

Eric threw his arms around Kyle, clasping him close. Kyle's body was stiff at first, but he soon
welcomed the embrace, his arms wrapped around Eric too.

"I suppose if I can thank my father for one thing..." Kyle paused on a stuttering breath. His voice
was thick. "It's for giving me the chance to meet you."

Eric pulled away, stared into Kyle's gleaming eyes.

"The pleasure was all mine," he replied, wavering too. "I will never forget you, Kyle."

"I will never forget you either."

Kyle pursed his lips, the flush rising on his face. Eric lowered his head. He knew if he continued to
look at Kyle it would elicit tears from him too.

"Eric, I'm... I'm sorry I couldn't be what you needed me to be."

Eric looked up, disbelieving.

"Why are you apologising to me?" he asked. "There is nothing to apologise for, Kyle, if anything, I
should-"

"No, don't," Kyle cut in, stepping forward. He smiled. "Like you said, there is no need."

They were drawn into each other's arms again, and Eric wanted to hold Kyle close and memorise
the feel of him to ensure he would never forget it. Even if he succumbed to the most animalistic
part of himself, even if the last of his humanity wilted, he would still remember Kyle in his
embrace, in his house, in his heart.
 "I should go now," Kyle whispered, pulling away.

Eric nodded, unsure, and let him go.

Kyle picked up his bags, staring at Eric, and he could hardly breathe as he waited for Kyle to say
something.

"Goodbye, Eric. I'll see you again."

Eric nodded again. What was he hoping for?

"Goodbye, Kyle."

Kyle opened the door, the daylight pouring in. He seemed to fit so seamlessly with the cloudy sky,
the wild flowers, and the birdsong. How could he ever be parted from them? Eric belonged to the
shadows now, but he felt brave enough to step into the light.

"I love you."

Kyle looked over his shoulder, surprised.

"I'm sorry," Eric added. "But I had to tell you before you left."

A smile spread across Kyle's face, melting Eric's nerves completely.

"Don't apologise," he replied. "I would have liked to hear it again."

With one last lingering stare, Kyle walked to the car. Eric watched him put his bags in the boot
before making his way to the door. When Kyle met his eyes, his vibrant hair was fluttering in the
breeze and he shot Eric a final smile. Too soon Kyle disappeared into the car, and the frail engine
started to rumble. Eric saw Kyle wave and he returned it, his paw shaking.

He stood frozen in the doorway, eyes following the car down the drive. The magical gates swung
open and Kyle disappeared from his sight.

Chapter End Notes

So we're entering the final act now, with only four more chapters to go! I'll be sure to
update as speedily as I can. In the meantime, I hope you guys have enjoyed and I'd
love to hear your thoughts on this latest chapter! Thank you so much for reading!
 Chapter 13
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Kyle could hardly concentrate on the darkening road ahead of him. His mind kept wandering to
Tenorman Hall, his fingers flexing as he clutched the steering wheel. He fantasised about turning
the car around and returning to Eric as fast as he could. He couldn't help but wonder why on Earth
he was doing this. Why was he returning to the father who had so readily abandoned him? Why
was he returning to a life he dreaded to continue, where he would be forever unfulfilled? Why was
he handing over control of his life to somebody else? Kyle jolted at the speed he was now driving.
His knuckles had strained white, the steering wheel digging into his palms. But when the silver
mirror's reflection crossed his mind, the image of his remorseful father curdled his once justified
anger. He continued to drive, and told himself to not look back.

When he pulled up in front of the house it was dimly lit and he couldn't bear the thought of going
inside. But he had to, if only to face his father and demand answers. The evening air was chilly
when he got out of the car, and he rubbed his hands together as he walked to the boot to retrieve his
bags. Kyle closed the boot with a sharp, condemning slam, and the pebbles crunched beneath his
shoes as he made his way to the front door. He felt like he could scream when he saw his father,
and he wondered exactly what his reaction would be when he saw his son. Alive and well, but
resentful too.

Instead of knocking, Kyle hesitated when he reached the front door. He didn't know why. He didn't
even know why he felt the need to knock in the first place. Perhaps he didn't want to startle his
father with his presence? Or perhaps the time away from this house had alienated a part of Kyle
that felt welcome there? Shaking his head, Kyle knocked on the door.

Soon the door opened, but Kyle was startled by the sight he was greeted with. His gaunt, bleary-
eyed father, withering without his son. It was as if the bleak future his father had been prophesising
all these years, threatening Kyle with, was actually being realised.

"Kyle..." he gasped, gripping the door when his knees failed him. "Kyle!"

Kyle huffed when his father threw his arms around him. But his own arms were being squeezed
tight in his father's crushing embrace. He couldn't return the hug even if he wanted to.

"Welcome home!" his father clapped him on the back before pushing him inside the house. "Come
in, come in! Oh, you have no idea how relieved I am to see you! Are you all right?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine." Kyle nodded, shuffling in and placing his luggage on the floor. "Thank you."

He frowned, nose wrinkled in dismay as he glanced around the living room. Dirty, dusty, and
cloaked in oppressive darkness. Valiant, flickering candles tried to lighten the room, but it wasn't
enough. Still, Kyle could try. He jumped when his father pulled him into another hug. He had
never been so affectionate, now he was desperately so.

"Oh, Kyle, you must forgive me!" he pleaded. "I didn't know what to do – I had no choice, I... I
only did what I thought was best! I, I, I thought I would never see you again!"

Kyle was still glancing around the living room, not even his first day at Tenorman Hall had felt this
gloomy and disconcerting. His father was still holding him and Kyle limply returned the hug. It
was the least he could do for now, ensuring their livelihoods was more important than dwelling on
past actions. At least, that's what Kyle told himself to ease the sting of cleaning up after his father's
mess.

"I do forgive you," Kyle replied. "Everything is all right now."

But he wasn't so sure. His voice and his thoughts were faraway.

Night was fading and Kyle had yet to question his father about his actions. He instead had nodded
along to his father's suggestion of regaling him with his time at Tenorman Hall in the kitchen over
a cup of tea. His father seemed to be unembarrassed by the state of the house, not acknowledging
the grimy, unwashed plates and dusty windowsill. Kyle was already planning his day of cleaning as
he waited for the kettle to boil.

"... And the house is beautiful on the inside," Kyle continued, fingers wrapped around a lukewarm
mug. "It is old and in need of repair of course, but it is still lovely. I can only imagine how glorious
it was in its heyday."

His father shook his head. "It is wasted really, on a beast like him..."

Kyle winced at the pang in his chest. Both the mention of Eric and his father's cruelty towards him
stung.

"But it is his home, where else would he go?"

"I can't think of anywhere unfortunate enough that would take in such a monstrous creature as
him."

Kyle thought of huge, warm arms wrapped around him, fur beneath his fingers, the library, and
cosy evenings in the drawing room. His nostrils flared and his lip trembled.

"Please don't call him that!" he snapped. "He never hurt me, and he's not some wild, uncontrollable
beast! He's intelligent, and sensitive, and kind, and..." he smiled. "I grew rather fond of him."

He saw the wary crease in his father's brow out of the corner of his eye and composed himself.
Everything in his ordinary life was so different from Tenorman Hall, Kyle had to remember that.
Such a magical place could make the real world disappear – from the mind at least.

"Still, it's not right, Kyle," his father replied. He was staring out of the kitchen window as if he
could find the manor through the dark. "It's not natural that a creature so abominable exists. It
ought to be destroyed."

"No!" Kyle retorted, his heart suddenly racing. "Eric has as much right to live as you or I!"

"Eric?"

Kyle hunched his shoulders, like Eric's name was a forbidden, troubling word.

"Yes, that's his name."

His father shook his head, the confused look on his face dissipating.

"Please, let's not talk about this anymore," Kyle implored, reaching out and holding his father's
arm. "I am home, safe and sound, that's all that matters."
 His father glanced at his arm and sighed, before nodding.

"Yes. I suppose you're right."

After such an eventful day, Kyle thought he would have been exhausted by the time he went to bed.
Still, he was restless and finally yielded to Wuthering Heights on his bedside table. A few pages of
a new book usually succeeded in coaxing him into slumber, but he had been reluctant tonight. It
felt odd, wrong even, to continue reading without Eric beside him.

Now, he was reminded of him, Kyle struggled to focus on the words in front of him when the view
from his window was beckoning him. Only a few weeks ago Kyle had been fascinated by
Tenorman Hall glowing in the distance. Never would he have guessed that something so peculiar
would lead him to an equally peculiar, and extraordinary person. Kyle wondered what that light
would represent to him now, what emotions it would elicit now he had returned home.

His heart thudded harder and his skin flared, nervous and eager to spot that light again. Would the
lights even be on? Would Eric have retired to bed early this evening? Raising his head from the
book, Kyle found the light easily. Each window was glowing, and Kyle connected them like
constellations. Fresh in his mind, the memory of Tenorman Hall enveloped him as if he were still
there. It seemed brighter than ever, not even when Kyle was clueless and inquisitive did it ever
seem that piercing... like the lights were shining just for him.

His heart clenched with yearning. The sensation was so sudden it robbed him of breath. The pages
clapped loudly when Kyle shut the book, and tears sprung to his eyes when he placed it on his
bedside table. He then buried himself under the covers and turned away from the window. But
when his eyes closed, heavy and exhausted, he knew he would dream of returning to Eric.

Chapter End Notes

Sorry this chapter is a little short, I did consider combining this chapter with the next
one but decided it would be too eventful and I didn't want to screw up the pacing.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed regardless and I'd love to your thoughts! Thank you so
much for reading!
 Chapter 14
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Eric hadn't left his bedroom since Kyle returned home. For five days he had slept by the window
sill, his cheek resting on his arm as he gazed at the wilting rose. The stem had shrivelled, and only
a few hopeful, charred petals remained. Eric often dreamed of them falling, of sealing his fate, and
would wake up with a start only to discover nothing had changed. He was still in purgatory, half-
beast, half-human. He didn't know which reality he preferred, although he knew what one he
wanted. Even if he had insisted that Kyle's happiness was of the utmost importance, he still wished
that his happiness had involved the two of them being together. It would be a unified, symmetrical
happiness. Both human, both madly in love.

A languid smile started to tug at the corner of Eric's mouth, before a voice interrupted his
daydream.

"Sir?"

Eric sighed. The door had been kept ajar for the staff to check on him, although their words of
concern and reassurance barely settled in Eric's ears. Even the meals they brought up to him three
times a day remained untouched for the most part.

"What is it, Gregory?" Eric asked, back turned to him. He was still staring at the rose.

"It's dinnertime, sir."

"Already?"

"Yes, already," Gregory replied with an uncomfortable cough. "Would you like to come downstairs
and eat in the hall tonight?"

"No, thank you, Gregory. Have it sent up to me."

"But, sir, I-"

"Gregory," Eric cut in, as sharp as he could muster. "I want to eat up here."

He heard mumbling then, a soft, anxious chorus. Gregory wasn't alone.

"Sir, please, you haven't left this room since Kyle went home," Christophe said.

Eric winced at the mention of his name. His heart felt as brittle as the rose.

"I know..."

"It's not good for you, being cooped up here all day," Kenny added.

"As opposed to being trapped in the grounds of this house?" Eric snapped, in a brief, fiery moment
of indignation. But then he sighed. What good would self-pity do? "Every room reminds me of
him. How can I walk down a corridor, sit at that dining table, sit in my armchair by the fire and not
be faced with the knowledge that I've lost him?"

More murmuring then, Eric almost wanted to roar at them to speak up.
"You've lost him?" Kenny asked.

"Of course I have!" Eric replied. "He left!"

"Not for good! You both agreed he would visit!"

"But what's to stop him from forgetting me?" Eric pointed out. "When he has a life and
responsibilities of his own? I thought I could be happy without him, knowing he had made the
right choice. But I never realised I would miss him this much, and now it's too late."

It was at that moment another petal joined the others at the bottom of the glass.

Kyle was startled by how easy it was to return to his old routine. He had been exhausted after his
big spring clean of the house, and when he woke up the next morning it was as if he had never left.
It had saddened him then, to realise that Tenorman Hall was retreating into his memory. He
consoled himself with the thought of visiting someday, if only briefly.

Another day had passed and Kyle had gone into the village to do some shopping and return his
overdue books to the library. He feared Miss Victoria would be irritated by his tardiness, but she
was in fact delighted to see him and didn't mention the books in his arm until ten minutes into the
conversation. Of course, she was curious as to where her most loyal visitor had been. But Kyle
already had an excuse prepared by his father. He was to tell anybody who asked about his absence
that he had been visiting relatives in London. Not that Kyle had many friends who were concerned
about him, but he was a regular and polite customer at the bakery and greengrocers.

Visiting the library reminded Kyle of the brighter aspects of his otherwise dull routine, and the few
people and places he cherished in the village. When he spotted Stan and Wendy's house on his
walk back home, he decided to pay them a visit too. His father would be expecting him home, but
he could spare a few minutes to say hello to Stan and Wendy. He knocked on the door and waited.
Soon, he heard footsteps on the other side and Wendy opened the door. Her eyes widened and lit
up at the sight of him.

"Kyle!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him.

"Hello Wendy," Kyle replied, wrapping an arm around her and returning the firm hug. He
chuckled. "It's lovely to see you."

"Oh, it's marvellous to see you too!" she grinned, pulling away. She opened the door wider. "Come
in, come in!"

Kyle followed Wendy inside the house and through the narrow hallway. When they entered the
kitchen, Stan was sat at the table reading a newspaper. But he soon lowered it when he saw Kyle,
revealing a wide smile.

"I thought I had heard your voice!" he said, closing the paper and standing up to greet Kyle. He
clapped him on the back. "How have you been?"

"Yes, how was London?" Wendy asked, before Kyle could answer Stan. "Your father told us all
about it."

"Lovely, thank you," Kyle replied with a nod. It was the truth, and he was glad he didn't have to lie
to Stan and Wendy. "It was nice to have a change of scenery."

"How do you feel about village life now?"

"Yes, Kyle, Stan did tell me you were feeling rather stifled," Wendy added. "I don't blame you. It's
natural in such a small village."

"Oh, um, fine, I suppose," Kyle replied, still nodding. "It does feel good to be back."

Again, when he was with Stan and Wendy that felt like the truth.

"How have you both been?" he asked.

"Oh, fine, fine..." Stan replied, waving the question off. "You know how it is, not much changes
around here."

"We'll have plenty of gossip I'm sure from the tea dance on Friday," Wendy added. "Are you going,
Kyle?"

Even after his lesson with Eric, Kyle still believed dancing wasn't for him. It might even feel
wrong without Eric holding him. Kyle felt his throat close, his nose sting.

"Oh, probably not, no," he managed to reply. He glanced at the clock on the wall, though misty in
his vision. "I must be going, actually."

He was already showing himself out before Stan and Wendy could respond.

"All right, well it was lovely to see you again, Kyle!" Wendy said.

"Try to pop by Saturday morning, if you can."

"Will do!" Kyle replied. "Goodbye!"

Shutting the door behind him, he took a long breath. Being reminded of Eric was sure to become a
more bittersweet, wistful aspect of his routine.

The country air in his lungs on the walk back to the house was enough to refresh Kyle's good
mood. Perhaps after lunch if there weren't any further chores to be done he would take Wuthering
Heights out to the field and read under the tree for a while. It would be difficult of course, to not let
his eyes and his mind wander above the pages to find Tenorman Hall in the distance. He shook his
head, approaching the front door of the house and letting himself in.

"Oh, hello, Kyle," a voice greeted him when he stepped inside.

But not the voice of his father. It was the flat voice of Dr Meyers, standing in the living room with
Leslie.

"Hello, doctor..." Kyle replied.

He gulped, the living room had never seemed smaller when they were all crowded in it. The bored
doctor, his smiling father, and Leslie making sure she shone brighter than everyone in her fine
clothes and with her Cheshire Cat grin.

"Yes, hello, Kyle!" she said. "It is always splendid to see you, however briefly."

"Thank you, Leslie," Kyle replied with a nod. He looked to his father for an explanation as to why
they were there.

"The doctor and Leslie were just leaving," he instead offered.

"It's a terrible shame," Leslie added, lowering her head gently. "I had hoped you would be here,
Kyle, so we could catch up."

"I'm sorry, I was out shopping," Kyle replied, gesturing to the bags in his hands.

"Oh, isn't he good, papa!"

"Yes, yes..." Dr Meyers nodded, preoccupied like always. "A fine gentleman."

Leslie sighed. "Oh well, I suppose we'll have plenty of time to catch up on Friday. Is five o'clock
all right, Kyle?"

"Friday?" Kyle questioned. Brow furrowed, he looked to his father once again. "I, uh-"

"Yes, yes, five o'clock will be wonderful!" his father interjected. "You can take my car if you wish,
Kyle."

"Oh, marvellous!" Leslie beamed, hands clasped to her chest. "You know I haven't sat in that car
since... the night of the dinner party! Doesn't that seem so long ago?" she leaned in close enough to
Kyle that he could smell her perfume. "And didn't we have such fun, Kyle? Perhaps we can
continue from where we left off?"

Kyle's stomach lurched and his throat burned at the insinuation.

"I, I don't-"

"Leslie, darling, we must really be off!" Dr Meyers said. He was already grabbing his coat from
the rack near the door.

Leslie rolled her eyes and huffed. Beneath her practiced charm, and forwardness she concealed
from all the right people, her stroppiness revealed her true age.

"Fine! If you insist!" she replied, before turning to Kyle's father. "Pleasure to see you, Mr
Broflovski!"

"You too, Leslie, goodbye!"

She gave him a small wave before returning to Kyle.

"And it was even more of a pleasure to see you, Kyle," she added lowly.

Kyle offered her a tight smile and tried not to meet her eyes.

"Yes, yes, goodbye," he replied.

He watched her retrieve her own dainty coat from the rack, and awkwardly waved at her and Dr
Meyers as they left. The door slammed shut and Kyle was left reeling by the encounter. He thought
he would never have to see Leslie again, that this pestering about a future he didn't want was over,
but clearly he was wrong about that. It occurred to him then, that he had no real control over his
desires and aspirations. He could have screamed his feelings from the rooftops and his father
would still ignore him and plot behind his back. He blinked, scoffed quietly to himself at how
naive he had been. Nothing would change upon his return. He remembered the shopping in his
hands and slowly made his way to the kitchen, where his father was busying himself putting away
clean dishes.

"What was all that about?" Kyle asked.

His father met his eyes, coughed into his fist and then averted his gaze. He continued to stack the
dishes in the cupboard above him.

"Well, it was rather out of the blue," he replied. "I was working and there was a knock at the door,
and it was Doctor Meyers and Leslie. They wondered if they could pop by for a quick chat, and
Leslie in particular was very keen on speaking to you. We soon got onto the subject of the tea
dance. Naturally, she was delighted when I offered you to take her."

Kyle sighed, closed his eyes.

"But I don't want to take her," he said, his voice straining with frustration. "I don't want to go."

His father looked at him as if he were deluded.

"Don't be silly!" he laughed. "Why would you not want to go with her?"

"Because she is not a nice girl," Kyle replied. "In fact, she is spoiled, and vain, and sly."

His father sighed, leaving the dishes and walking towards him.

"Kyle, you're getting older and you can't afford to be picky," he said. Kyle felt like they'd had this
conversation a thousand times. "She seems like a pleasant, charming, attractive young woman.
Surely you can overlook those faults? You have to. It could be years until another eligible young
woman comes along. They'll all be married off soon, and where would that leave you? A
bachelor."

"And what is wrong with that?" Kyle asked, standing up straighter. "If I was happy... then does it
matter if I have a wife?"

His father sighed again - heavier, closing his eyes for a few seconds longer.

"I have been as patient as I can possibly be with you, Kyle, but it is wearing thin," he replied, his
voice hard and his eyes steely. "I know marriage seems a daunting prospect right now but someday
you will-"

"No!" Kyle snapped, putting the shopping on the table. "I will never be ready because I don't want
to get married! Ever!"

"Don't be absurd! How can you expect to live like this forever?" His father replied. He shook his
head and scratched his beard. "Do you know that the one thought that reassured me while you were
away was that the beast promised me you would be all right? You would be unharmed, and one
day you would return to me with a different perspective. You would have had your adventure, your
independence... you would have seen how wretched and miserable it is to be alone and forgotten,
and you would realise that marriage is the sensible option. It would enrich both of our lives. And
even if it wasn't a burning desire, something you truly wanted... you would feel an even stronger
sense of obligation, of duty to ensure that we and our family name survive. I thought you would
grow out of this immature selfishness!"

Kyle took a step back. His throat tightened, he could hardly breathe or take his eyes off his father.
Meanwhile, his father had pinked and he was fidgeting, squirmy and embarrassed, as one would be
when their true intentions were revealed. Something cold and nauseating surged inside Kyle – the
fear of being trapped. He couldn't let that happen. He may have been strung along all these years,
but he would break free of this coffin before the final nail could be hammered in.

"But we can discuss all of that after the dance," his father spoke up. His voice was quiet. "I don't
want to argue with you. Get started on lunch, will you?"

Bubbling resentment burned that sickening fear, and startling clarity thinned it away. For once,
Kyle was seeing his father for who he truly was. He wasn't somebody who was wise and generous,
nor was he somebody brave and admirable. He was selfish, and cowardly, and bitter, and perhaps
being a father to someone who he felt had wronged him just by being born had made him more
resentful with each passing day. Why did Kyle felt he had to appease him? What more did he have
to do to earn his unconditional love? Before he realised how impossible a task it was, before he
realised how much of himself was at stake, he would have persevered. But he couldn't live like this
anymore, nor did he want to.

"No."

"Pardon?" his father asked.

Kyle gulped. He clenched his fists at his sides.

"No, I don't want to make lunch for you anymore," he continued. "And I don't want to get married,
and I don't want to be controlled by guilt and shame."

His father frowned and furrowed his eyebrows. Kyle wished he could stop trembling.

"I'm leaving," he said, storming out of the kitchen and up the stairs before his father could respond.

"Kyle!" his father shouted, following him up the stairs. Kyle had already reached his bedroom.
"Kyle! What on earth are you doing?!"

Kyle grabbed his suitcase and threw it on his bed, hurriedly packing his clothes, his old books, and,
of course, Wuthering Heights. He had left his bedroom door open in his hurry, and he heard his
father's footsteps behind him. But he didn't care. Nothing could stop him from leaving this place.

"Where do you expect to go?" his father asked, panting.

Kyle snatched the keys to the car Eric loaned him from the bedside table and tucked them in his
trouser pocket. He kept his back to his father.

"Tenorman Hall," he replied.

"Where? To the beast?"

"His name is Eric!"

"Why would you ever want to go back to him?"

"Because he treats me like an equal!" Kyle shouted, shutting his suitcase and grabbing it. He
turned to face his father. "Because he cares about me, and appreciates me, and loves me!"

His father balked, holding onto the doorframe.

"Loves you?!"

"Yes!" Kyle cried. "Something you have never done!"

"How dare you say that! You're my son, of course I love you! I have fed you, I have clothed you, I
have taught you, provided a roof over your head-"
 "You've only ever thought of yourself!" Kyle interrupted. "You treat me like a servant! You blame
me for my mother's death!" The accusation stirred them both. His father gripped the doorframe
tighter and lowered his gaze. Kyle's eyes burned with tears but he continued. "You've never
forgiven me for that and I've been paying for it all my life. But you'll never let me earn my
forgiveness, no matter how hard I try. You just demand more and more of me, until I am
miserable! You lost your wife, and it was devastating... but I lost my mother too, and I know she
would have wanted me to be happy. And I can't be happy here, you'd never allow it."

They were both breathless, and Kyle could hardly move. He saw the tears brimming in his father's
eyes and heard him seething.

"Give me that!" His father demanded, reaching forward to snatch the suitcase but Kyle dodged
him. He shoved past his father and ran down the stairs.

"Kyle!" His father shouted. It still made Kyle wince. "Come back here now!"

But Kyle had reached the living room and was heading for the front door.

"Don't you dare leave!" his father cried, running down the stairs.

Kyle looked over his shoulder one last time and saw his furious, desperate father. He opened the
door and marched out. His father continued to follow him, he could hear his footsteps, quick and
urgent.

"Kyle!" he pleaded, stood by the front door. Kyle had thrown his suitcase in the boot and had
opened the car door. "Kyle, please!"

Kyle ignored him, getting in the car and slamming the door hard. He started the car drowning out
his father's shouts, and sped off. He saw his father running out of the house, but refused to look in
the wing mirror until he was on the country road proper.

He felt as though he had escaped a beast, and now he was returning home.

Chapter End Notes

So last chapter was a bit uneventful, hopefully this chapter will make up for all the
lack of action before. The final part of this was my favourite part to write! Only two
more chapters to go, guys. We're almost there! Thank you for reading and I hope you
enjoyed! I'd love to know your thoughts!
 Chapter 15
Chapter Summary

Just a heads-up that there is some violence later in the chapter. Nothing too graphic or
explicit but I know some people may find that stuff unsettling so please tread with
caution. All that being said, I hope you enjoy and I'd love to hear your thoughts on this
chapter! Thank you as always for reading!

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Too depressed to continue staring at the rose, Eric had decided to leave his bedroom. Perhaps he
would retire to the sitting room, or brave the grounds, or the drawing room if he dared to breathe in
the residual happiness that Kyle had left behind. His legs had ached, stiff and unused, as he
shuffled down the corridor. He had paused at the library, shut up once more and left to collect dust.
Eric hadn't locked it, however, just in case Kyle returned for a visit anytime soon and wanted to
look around.

The desire to go in there himself had raced through Eric like a fork of lightening. It was quick and
emboldening, and had left his heart slightly charred. Kyle was seeped into every corner of that
room. Eric would've choked on his presence. The notion had stolen Eric's breath before he entered,
but he went in nonetheless. He missed him so much, it was worth every stolen breath and tear to
just roam around that room again.

The waning sun streaming through the windows illuminated the books. The sunlight made the
crisp, gilded spines blush in its pinkish hue, held the dust in the air like it belonged to pixies. Eric
ran his claw along them, and imagined how much more magical those books would appear if Kyle
was running his slender, curious fingers along them instead.

"Eric!"

He jumped at the sound, his claw leaving a faint scratch on one of the books. The sound was
enchanting, familiar, the echo rang in his ears and he knew who the voice belonged to... it couldn't
be Kyle, surely? Perhaps thoughts of him had summoned up a phantom of Kyle? A vision of his
beloved? This house was haunted, Eric realised, in so many ways. No longer a home, it was only a
chamber of memories of the people he loved. Still, he looked to the door and waited for something,
anything, for the ghost to show itself.

"Eric!"

Louder, desperate, wavering but strong and real. Eric had to find where that voice was coming
from, had to see with his own two eyes that what he couldn't let himself believe was happening
actually was true. Perhaps he would leave the library only to open his eyes and discover he had
been dreaming all along? He ran out of the library, bursting through the double doors that flew
wide open and hit the wall with a loud thud. On all fours he sprinted along the corridor until he
reached the banister. He stood up, placed his paws on the mahogany railing, and for the first time
felt like he could've buckled under his hulking weight when he saw Kyle. He was a small,
bewildered figure in the middle of the grand hall but his presence was powerful enough to make
Eric falter.

"Eric!"

"Kyle!"

Eric watched Kyle lift his head, and a wide smile spread across his face when he saw Kyle
stumble, noticeably tremble. He sprinted along the corridor and then down the stairs. Kyle was
watching all the while, breathless himself, and his face flushed with tears. Eric saw that he was
smiling at him, noticed the bags that were at his feet and felt like his pounding heart could soar out
of his ribcage. They walked across the grand hall to meet each other and collided in each other's
arms. Neither of them were afraid, just relieved and knowing this is where they belonged. Eric
enveloped Kyle in his arms, lifting him off his feet and pressing him close. Kyle clung to Eric's fur,
grabbing large tufts and nuzzling his heaving chest. Kyle was shuddering, and Eric soon felt a
wetness at his jacket. But his tears had already fallen into Kyle's hair.

"I'm sorry!" Kyle cried, gasping for breath. "Eric, I'm so sorry I left, I'm sorry..."

"Sshh, it's all right," Eric replied, gently petting his curls. "Don't be sorry. I know it's only been a
short while but I... I've missed you so much, Kyle."

Kyle sniffled and nodded.

"I've missed you too. I don't want to leave you ever again." He lifted his head, and their eyes met.
"Please can I stay here?"

"You didn't have to ask." Eric chuckled, giddy and soft. "Of course you can."

Kyle smiled, and Eric pressed him close again when he saw fresh tears well in his eyes.

All the staff were present at dinner, assisting in the meal and chatting to Kyle excitedly about his
return. The only member who hadn't attended was Bebe, but she and Kyle had already had their
reunion. She had shrieked upon seeing him, and Eric left them deep in conversation while he went
to inform the rest of the staff that Kyle was back for good. They had eaten in the dining hall though
hardly had time to speak to each other. They exchanged gentle, relieved glances across the table
that would promise a more private conversation in the drawing room.

Still, Eric was sat in a content silence, staring at the crackling fire and listening to the rain tapping
against the windows. Kyle was lounged on the chair beside him, his smile loose and thoughtful.
For the first time in ten years Eric realised he could make peace with his curse now that he had
Kyle in his life. He was starting to wonder if he could even call it a curse anymore, when it had led
him to meet such a wonderful man.

"How are you feeling?" Eric asked.

Kyle slid his gaze to him and grinned. He sat up in the chair, stretching his arms in a quiet yawn.

"Tired, happy... it's so wonderful to be back, and to see everyone again."

"They missed you almost as much as I did."

Kyle chuckled, though his smile soon disappeared. His gaze wandered into the fire, uncomfortable
and remorseful.
"I would like to say that I don't know why I ever left but I do. I feel like a fool to have ever made
such a decision."

"Kyle, you did what you thought was right," Eric replied. He wouldn't look away when Kyle's eyes
met his. "You thought your father needed you-"

"I thought a lot of things of my father, but I realised you were right, Eric," Kyle cut in. "I can't live
my life for him. It would've killed me in the end." A smile began to stretch across his face, one that
made Eric's heart seem to swell. "But I'm with you now, and that's all that matters."

"Precisely," he said with his own grin. "I will never take you for granted, Kyle."

"Thank you. Should we read some more before bed?"

Eric sighed. He had not only missed Kyle, but the lovely routine they had formed.

"Yes, that would be lovely."

"Although I have read on from where we left off," Kyle warned. "But I don't mind going back a
few pages."

Kyle leaned forward to retrieve the book by his feet and placed it in his lap. But before he could
open it, a slow, hard knock at the door seemed to make the whole house shudder. Like, a shy,
skittish animal that had only recently been tamed it balked and cowered from strange eyes, from
unwelcome discovery. The shudder seemed to reverberate through Eric and Kyle, and they glanced
at each other warily. Who would ever come out here? Who knew he was here? And what could
they want? Only one person came to mind, seizing his and Kyle's happiness and making his heart
clench.

"I'll see to that," Kyle said wisely. He stood up. "Stay here."

Eric nodded, watched Kyle compose himself and cross the room. Kyle gave him a serious but
reassuring look as he shut the door behind him. Alone, Eric fidgeted at not being privy to whatever
conversation was about to take place, and his mind rushed at any potential danger Kyle faced. He
knew his presence would already exacerbate a charged situation, but he hated that he couldn't
accompany Kyle, support him, and make sure he was all right. He stood up and crept across the
room, pressing his ear to the door so he knew if and when he should intervene.

"What are you doing here?" he heard Kyle ask. "I'm not going back with you and I'm not letting
you in!"

"Where is he?!" A louder, furious voice responded. Eric recognised it to be Kyle's father. He
remembered hearing that familiar, desperate tone. His heart plummeted, his fear being realised. "I
want to see the beast!"

Kyle gasped, as sudden as a spirit manifesting. Eric reached for the doorknob.

"Where did you get that?!"

"Never mind where I got that!" His father replied. Eric could hear his feet stomping in the hall and
he snarled. "Tell me where that damn monster is so I can put an end to all this and take you home!"

"I am home!" Kyle shouted. "This is my home now and I am not going anywhere with you! Please
leave and never come back!"
Teeth bared, Eric couldn't listen to another moment of Kyle's distress. He grabbed the doorknob
and twisted it, storming out into the hall. He made sure to straighten his back, puff out his chest
and keep his fangs on show, his claws unfurled and gleaming menacingly. He was determined to
cast as much of an intimidating shadow as he possibly could.

"He told you to leave!"

Eric's voice boomed, bounced off the walls in the grand, airy room. The echoes seemed to slide off
Kyle's father like the rain and he appeared just as feral as Eric. He was seething, water dripping
from his heaving shoulders. He was snarling too, his eyes narrowed and boring into Eric. Just like
Eric's claws, the shotgun he held gleamed in the filtered moonlight also.

"You!" he exclaimed, pointing at Eric. "You've turned my own son against me! You've torn my
family apart! You promised no harm would come to him, and look what you've turned him into!"

Eric huffed, incredulous.

"What are you talking about?!"

"Eric hasn't done anything wrong!" Kyle cried. "This is all your fault!"

"Quiet, Kyle!" his father snapped. "I'll make this right. I won't let this hideous beast destroy our
future!"

Before Eric could push him out the door, he heard the click of a shot gun. Kyle's father was ready
to take aim. Eric gasped, wanting to move or duck but he was frozen to the spot. It was as if his
mind had left him already, watching all this from afar and screaming at his empty body to save
itself.

"No!" Kyle yelled, ringing in Eric's ears.

Suddenly, Kyle was jumping in front of him, arms outstretched. It was a blur of red curls and rain
and not even the sound of the bullet leaving the gun in its swift, explosive cacophony could stir
Eric from his shock. He found it in himself to reach out, to push Kyle away, but Kyle's body was
already limp and a different kind of red sprayed in Eric's vision.

"Kyle!" he screamed.

A sickening copper tang flooded his nostrils, hot, and burning. An agonising scream catapulted
him back to the present moment. A nightmarish moment, a crucial moment where time itself was
crashing around him.

Kyle was at his feet, crimson spreading over his white shirt, and spilling onto the floor. A bullet
had torn into the flesh at his stomach. Eric's panicked breaths, tripling by the second, robbed him
of his words. Although horrified by the sight, he couldn't stop looking at Kyle. His green eyes were
wide and glittering in fear, searching for relief, and tears fell from his lashes. His colourless face
glistened with sweat and he choked on his breathing. Flames of anger engulfed Eric's panic and he
fixed his searing gaze on Kyle's father, who was too terrified at the sight of his bleeding son to be
scared of a beast.

"Look what you've done!" Eric cried. Scorching tears rushed to his eyes.

"I, I, I didn't mean to, I-"

Eric struck him across the face. Kyle deserved more than pathetic excuses. His father had
screamed, and covered his face but Eric had already seen the torn, stinging flesh. He whimpered as
he petted his face, still staring at Kyle. Eric couldn't believe he was still standing in front of them.

"Get out of my house and never come back!"

"Oh," Kyle's father whispered, biting back a sob. He stepped forward. "Oh, Kyle, I-"

Eric roared in his face before he could get any closer to Kyle. His father fled into the rain, leaving
the front door wide open. Eric was left trembling in the grand hall but he had to help Kyle. He had
to be brave and steady if Kyle was going to be all right. But before he could see to him, his feet left
the floor and he floated up towards the dome window. He saw Kyle lying on the floor and tried to
pull himself back down, but the incandescent embrace of mystical forces was too tight, too strong,
weighing down on his limbs and seizing control of his movements. A slivery, unspoiled light filled
his eyes but didn't burn, it washed over his body but didn't feel corrosive. It crawled over his scalp,
seemed to peel away the abundance of follicles all over his body and he felt lighter, weightless,
free. His fangs and claws shrunk and although that startling light had temporarily blinded him, he
knew he was himself again. It pulled him back down to the floor and left him in a heap, shuddering
at the weight that had just been lifted. Blinking his eyes open, he felt smaller and he stared down at
the stretched clothes now pooling around him. He touched his face and felt soft skin and only faint,
downy hairs. In fact, he could run his fingers over his cheek without fear of cutting himself. Short
fingernails had replaced jagged claws. But he couldn't rejoice for long. He crawled over to Kyle
and gently held him. His body was still warm and trembling, but his eyes were cloudy. Eric hoped
he could see him, that he knew him.

"Eric?" Kyle asked, his breath catching on his name.

"Yes," Eric whispered, he gulped down his tears. "Yes, Kyle, it's me. Please, try not to speak."

Footsteps in the hallway were soon heard. The staff had joined them from their quarters.

"Sir, is everything all right?" Gregory asked. "We heard a gunshot!"

"And we're human again, sir!" Leopold exclaimed. "All of us are human again!"

"Can you believe it, sir?" Bebe called from the top of the stairs. "We're- Kyle!" she screamed,
before running down the stairs.

The rest of the staff started to murmur and moved in closer. Kelly gasped and clutched Kenny.

"Was he shot?" she asked. "Who did this?"

"Dear lord, is he going to be all right?" Kenny added.

"Yes, he'll be fine!" Eric snapped, voice buckling with panic. "Gregory, will you please telephone a
doctor and tell them we need urgent help!"

"Right away, sir!" Gregory replied, before rushing to the phone.

"Kelly, get me a cloth to staunch the blood!"

Kelly nodded, transfixed on Kyle.

"Yes, sir!" she replied, before bustling away to her quarters.

Eric wanted to reach out to touch Kyle's face, stroke his hair in reassurance, but his hands were wet
 and warm with blood. Kyle was still shuddering in his arms and Eric's heart clenched with each
droop of his eyelids. But he was still looking into Eric's eyes, holding his gaze as firmly as he could
and not letting go. Eric would never let him go, he wouldn't be going anywhere.

"We're fetching a doctor for you, Kyle," he said softly, trying to smile although his lower lip was
wobbling. "Everything will be all right."

Kyle nodded drowsily.

"Eric... if anything should happen... please know that... I love you."

Eric nodded, his face crumpling in tears he wished he could have held back. Of course he knew
Kyle loved him. He knew it as soon as that powerful light had lifted him and the curse with it. He
knew it as soon as Kyle had risked his life for him. He leaned forward and for the first time placed
his lips on Kyle. He kissed his forehead, and nuzzled his hair.

"I know, I know you do," he replied. "I love you so very much."

All Eric could do was hold Kyle until the doctor arrived, and hope that if their love was capable of
such transcendental feats, such miraculous transformations, then it was capable of saving Kyle too.

Chapter End Notes

Only one more chapter left, guys! I'll try to get it posted as soon as I possibly can,
because this ended on a pretty significant cliffhanger, pfft! In the mean time, thank you
again for reading!
 Chapter 16
Chapter Summary

The last chapter is here! And it's super mushy. But I love mushy last chapters. There'll
be an equally as mushy Author's Note at the end of this chapter too, as per usual.
Thank you so much for reading, guys, and I hope you like this final chapter!

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

When Kyle woke up the next morning, he could have sworn the terrible, extraordinary events of
the previous evening had just been a feverish nightmare. He could have read a chapter or two
of Wuthering Heights; he and Eric could have ascended the stairs together and wished each other a
good night before retiring to their rooms; and he could have chatted to Bebe as he went about his
bedtime routine before falling into a deep, content sleep. The sight of his deranged father, the gun,
the sight of Eric finally shedding himself of his beastly form felt palpably real - the searing,
excruciating pain in his gut even more so. No time seemed to have passed between the previous
evening and the present moment. Suddenly he was lying in bed when one minute he was bleeding
on the floor with a frail gasp on consciousness.

But his head felt as if it were wrapped in the same warm, comfortable sheets he was swaddled in.
His tongue felt coarse and heavy, his eyelids, mouth and limbs felt weighted too. He couldn't yawn
or stretch to break the seal on this stifling fatigue. He could only turn his head and he heard the
crisp fabric of his pillow rustle as he did so. That pain emanating from his gut slowly returned to
him, a dull throbbing ache. In vain he tried to lean forward, to inspect it further, but was
reprimanded by an acute jolt of pain that travelled through him. He seethed and nestled into the
pillows, and then like a salve on his tender condition he finally registered the soft, warm hand in
his own. Sensation was returning to him gradually, a thumb brushed against his knuckles.

"Good morning," Eric said beside him.

Kyle turned his head and almost gasped at the man beside him. He knew it was Eric, he could tell
by his voice, his eyes, and it seemed as though Kyle had finally found him. Eric was so
breathtaking in his genuine form that he shone through the hazy clouds of confusion. They
dissipated, and the world rushed back to Kyle. He smiled, wobbly and weak.

"Good morning..."

"How are you feeling?"

"Groggy, and I'm aching terribly," Kyle replied. "What exactly happened, Eric?"

"Well, how much do you remember?" Eric asked, rubbing coaxing circles on Kyle's hand with his
thumb.

"I remember my father tried to shoot you, and I stopped him..." Kyle stopped. Panic crawled over
his skin. He remembered jumping in front of Eric, but was still unsure if he was successful. A part
of him didn't want to believe that the ache in his gut was actually a bullet wound. "I did stop him,
didn't I? Is that what this pain is?"

Eric only nodded, his eyes glistening and lips pursed.

"Yes, that's what it is," he finally replied. His voice was taut. "You did an amazing thing, Kyle, you
saved my life. I cannot thank you enough."

Kyle shook his head, he never thought of gratitude when he leapt in front of that bullet. He thought
of nothing except saving Eric.

"There's no need to thank me. I could never have let him hurt you. What happened then?"

"Gregory called a doctor and we took you to your room," Eric continued. "He bandaged your
wound and also gave you some morphine for the pain..." he said his next words carefully. "We
also informed the police of what your father did."

Kyle nodded, gaze wandering the sheets as he imagined the police coming to the house and
arresting his father. He heard his pathetic excuses, and saw only fear painted across his face. Kyle
willed himself to feel something, but he couldn't. How could his father do such a thing in the first
place?

"I don't know what on earth possessed him to do that," he murmured, shaking his head.

"He must have been afraid of losing you."

"Perhaps," Kyle replied. "He is a very cowardly man."

He lifted his gaze to Eric and found he couldn't look away. His eyes roamed over Eric's soft
chestnut hair that skimmed his familiar topaz eyes, his short button nose, his sweet, plump lips, and
his round, full face. Kyle thought him boyish with his sparkling, mischievous eyes, strong and
sturdy with his firm hands and broad shoulders, and more handsome than he could have possibly
imagined. He was sure that if Eric lowered his thumb he could have felt Kyle's racing pulse.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

Kyle blinked, shook his head.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," he replied. "You just look so different, I can hardly believe it."

Eric ducked his head for a moment, and Kyle loved seeing more hair fall into his eyes. He wanted
to brush it away, feel it between his fingers.

"Is that a good thing?" Eric asked, chuckling.

"Of course it's a good thing," Kyle replied, chuckling too. "It's a wonderful thing."

"It's all thanks to you, Kyle." Eric beamed. "When you saved me you broke the curse."

Kyle froze, in disbelief that this was all his doing.

"I did?" he asked, his voice cracking.

Eric's face was flushed and he was staring deep into Kyle's eyes when he nodded.

"Yes, you did."

"You're very handsome, Eric," Kyle admitted. He had to acknowledge it sooner or later.

"Thank you." Eric grinned. "I think we make a fine couple, don't you?"

"Yes, we do," Kyle replied, before glancing at his bandaged wound. "Although perhaps not right
now, I must look dreadful."

Eric shook his head.

"You look as lovely as ever."

Kyle blushed at the flattery he was only used to reading about in epic, sweeping novels of
chivalrous heroes and beautiful damsels. Never did he think he would receive such compliments
himself.

"Thank you," he murmured. "You're very kind."

"I'm being honest," Eric replied, earnest and intent. He reached out to touch Kyle's cheek, and even
though his fingertips only brushed his skin Kyle still felt as though Eric held his breath in his
palms. "Even now I want to hold you, and kiss you, and-"

Eric stopped himself. Kyle felt himself grow warmer beneath Eric's fingers. They were quickly
snatched away and Eric gulped, trying to compose himself.

"Sorry..."

Kyle's eyebrows furrowed and he tried to shuffle closer to Eric. He didn't want him to be
discouraged from talking like that. Kyle could've listened to such sincere, tender words all day
long.

"Why are you apologising?"

"I don't want you to think me forward," Eric explained, no doubt stifled by a propriety that had
been instilled in him from youth.

But Kyle didn't want propriety, or suppression, or doubt. Eric didn't need to impress him, for Kyle
was already captivated. He wanted them to be able to express themselves, to be able to tell each
other anything, and not hide their feelings. He shook his head.

"I don't think you're forward, Eric."

"I've wanted to kiss you for so long, but have been unable to," Eric explained, leaning forward.
"Now that the curse has been lifted there are so many things I want to experience with you, but I do
not want you to be uncomfortable. I'll wait as long as you need me to, Kyle."

Kyle's chest seemed to tighten with affection. He felt as if he didn't have the capacity to love Eric
as much as he did, he never thought it was possible. But he did love him tremendously. He loved
him enough to risk his own life, after all, and he would have done it again.

"You're a wonderful man, Eric."

Eric grinned.

"I think you may have had something to do with that."

"But I want to experience all these things too," Kyle said, giving Eric's hand a squeeze. That one
simple action made him feel braver. "I never had any desire for it before, but perhaps I had never
met the right person. Now I know I have... and I don't think I can wait any longer. Please kiss me,
Eric."

Kyle felt Eric's hand tense in his own. He saw his eyes widen with surprise and intrigue. His pupils
had already started to yawn with arousal. Fear pricked Kyle's assured desire only slightly. He was
in awe of his own tenacity, in awe of Eric, and in awe of the passion he elicited in Eric too, when
Eric was staring at his lips like they were the most sumptuous dessert he couldn't wait to sample.
Eric dove in to claim his lips, cutting Kyle's breath short but he soon sighed into the kiss. Despite
the gentle press of lips, a feeling Kyle could only describe as electric tingled throughout his body,
awakening his synapses and enlivening his nerves. Kyle lifted his hips, and his toes spread at the
warm, wet friction their lips were creating. Eric's hand roamed into Kyle's hair and Kyle tilted his
head to receive Eric's kiss, dizzy and greedy, only wanting more. Soon, a careful tongue prodded at
Kyle's mouth and Kyle – inexperienced and yearning as he was – let him in, reaching out to blindly
grab Eric's bicep and hold on tight. This is what Kyle had been waiting for all these years, and now
he had finally experienced it, how could he have ever settled? He whimpered when their lips
separated. They mirrored each other's delirious grins, panting and lips gleaming.

"I'd never done that before," Kyle revealed, remembering his unpleasant incident with Leslie in the
car. "Not with anyone I wanted to at least..."

Eric snickered, pressed his forehead against Kyle's.

"I would never have known," he replied lowly before he kissed Kyle again.

Their pecks were swifter but no less indulgent, as if they wanted more but couldn't keep up.

"You know there really is no rush..." Eric said breathlessly in between kisses. "To do anything...
we can take our time."

Kyle nodded, and kissed Eric again in reply.

"I love you," Eric admitted, ragged and quiet. He still stared at Kyle's lips.

"I love you too," Kyle replied, stealing another kiss.

He was starting to become addicted, but Eric seemed willing to keep him in supply. However, they
were soon interrupted by several knocks on the door.

"Sir?" Pip asked. "Is Kyle awake?"

"Is he all right?" Kenny added.

"Oh, please can we see him, sir?" Bebe begged.

Eric pulled away and smirked at Kyle. But Kyle nodded, he was curious as to what the staff truly
looked like.

"Yes, yes, come in," Eric called, returning to his chair and smoothing out his clothes.

The door opened and the staff poured in, chattering away and talking over each other. Kyle sat up
in bed, chuckling at their excitement and taking in all these new faces.

There was a well dressed blond man, who stood with straight shoulders and his hands behind his
back. He had glossy, wavy hair that was tucked behind his ears, and he resided over the others with
an air of disapproval. But he couldn't stop keeping an eye on them for even a second. Next to him
was a man with hands in his pockets, dark, greasy hair and sun beaten skin. He glanced around the
bedroom with indifference, hands in his pocket as if he were oblivious to the remarkable
transformations that had occurred. Then there was the giggling, delighted couple who couldn't
keep their hands off each other now they had the chance. She had her fair hair tied back with a
grubby ribbon, and full cheeks flushed with first love. Her boyfriend had his arm wrapped around
her and was gazing into her eyes, grinning with all his chipped teeth. He was still rather handsome,
with cool blue eyes and a mop of blond hair.

There were a few blonds actually, including a bright-eyed gentleman with smooth shoulder-length
hair and his hands clasped patiently in front of him, and a boy who still appeared quite young. He
had a peculiar tuft of blond hair that Kyle couldn't help but smile at. He bumped his knuckles as he
chatted to a blond girl who Kyle knew instantly. She had mentioned her abundance of marvellous
curls when Kyle had once despaired over his own unruly hair whilst combing the knots out of it,
and she had told Kyle stories about the men in her hometown pub that had commented on and
leered at her voluptuous figure when they really should have known better. Kyle was delighted to
see her so happy now, twirling a curl around her finger and occasionally bouncing on her heels as
she talked.

"My, you all look marvellous!" Kyle grinned.

"Do you really think so, Kyle?" The young, blond boy asked, in a voice Kyle knew belonged to
Butters – rather, Leopold.

"Absolutely! We'll have to be reintroduced!" Kyle replied. "Although I think I can make a few
good guesses."

Eric chuckled beside him, and he and Kyle exchanged shy, knowing looks before the staff started
to crowd around his bed. After all, this was a time for them all to rejoice.

Although it was a time for celebration in Tenorman Hall, for Kyle it was also a time for recovery.
He was bedridden for two days, and had frequent visitors – the staff bringing his meals, a doctor
checking on him once a day and a policeman inquiring about a night Kyle only remembered in
fragments and could have never truly explained. Eric was by his side through it all. He delighted in
the doctor's positive comments, squeezing Kyle's hand when they were alone; he comforted Kyle
when the policeman's interview had left him perplexed and drained, scooping him up in a gentle
embrace; and they chatted until the witching hour, until their voices strained and their eyelids
became heavy. Eric often fell asleep beside Kyle, but he didn't complain. After spending all day
with him, Kyle felt it was silly to expect Eric to return to his own room when they clearly still
wanted to be with each other, even when they weren't awake. Kyle was happy to fall asleep to the
sound of Eric's soft snoring, and wake up to his peaceful face, or a smiling, hoarse 'good morning'.

They finished Wuthering Heights too, with Eric volunteering to read the remainder of the novel.
Kyle had wondered whether he had perhaps been too boring when he read aloud before, since Eric
did such great impressions of the characters and spoke so emotively. He would be laughing at
Eric's rendition of a booming Heathcliff and simpering Cathy one minute, and misty-eyed the next
as Eric read another beautiful passage. When Kyle felt well enough, he and Eric went to the library
to find a new book to read. Although Eric had advised against it, Kyle climbed up the ladder to
explore the highest shelves, passing books down to Eric until his arms were bulging with classic
novels. But they couldn't decide on one book so chose two for themselves. Kyle didn't mind the
compromise, and adored the image of the two of them cosy in bed, engrossed in their novels but
content in each other's quiet company on hazy, summer nights.
They were now having breakfast in the dining hall, and Kyle was staring out of the window at the
bright, cloudless day. The large roses soaking up the sun, the faint birdsong, was alluring in a way
Kyle had never noticed before, and the lilting daises in the breeze were almost beckoning him. He
wanted to explore the grounds carelessly with Eric, and for Eric to feel like he belonged there once
again. Too long he had only roamed the grounds in the darkness, behind a thick veil of invisibility.
But the darkness hid the garden's beauty too, and it saddened Kyle to think that for years Eric
could never truly appreciate it.

"You look better with each passing day," Eric remarked, pulling Kyle away from his thoughts.
"There's more colour in your cheeks and your eyes are brighter."

"Thank you, I feel in much better spirits." Kyle smiled.

"I'm glad."

Kyle's gaze returned to the garden when Eric took a sip of his tea.

"It's a beautiful day," Kyle pointed out.

"Yes, it is," Eric replied, looking out of the window too.

Kyle shifted in his seat before he asked; "Shall we go for a walk around the grounds?"

Eric looked up from his tea, setting it down and smiling.

"That sounds lovely."

Eric pointed out certain historical features, and his own childhood memories associated with a tree
or a flower patch as they walked around the grounds arm in arm. Kyle listened to each story
intently, glad that Eric was so willing to share. He loved the feeling of the sun on his face after a
few days spent recuperating in the house, the summer air inundated with the scent of flowers and
glistening with pollen, and Eric's strong, firm arm linked through his. The warmth, brightness,
sweetness, and security he felt washed away any lingering resentment and confusion. It felt
unnecessary, stifling but easy to shake off. It belonged to a past life, he didn't need it anymore.

"You have the biggest smile on your face, do you realise that?" Eric asked.

Kyle flushed, but his smile didn't disappear.

"It must be because I was thinking of wonderful things," he replied.

"What were you thinking about?"

Kyle sighed, he was brimming with so much joy that he hardly knew where to begin.

"Oh, everything," he said. "I was thinking of how cheerful everyone is, how wonderful it is that
everything has fallen into place. I was thinking of how the whole world seems so much more
exciting now. I don't think I've ever been happier."

A smile spread across Eric's face and he sighed too.

"Me neither," he replied. "I would never have guessed that such a dark period of my life would
have led me to meet someone like you, that you would bring so much light and promise to my
life."
Kyle's smile crinkled and he rested his head on Eric's shoulder. He didn't want Eric to see his
blissful, overwhelmed tears. But Eric must have sensed he was in need of assurance,
acknowledgement, when he placed a kiss in hair.

"Do you think about the future often, then?" Kyle asked.

"More so lately, now that I actually have one."

"And what does the future look like for you?" Kyle asked, raising his head.

"For us, you mean." Eric grinned, giving Kyle a soft, playful nudge.

"Right, for us," Kyle replied, beaming when the words came out of his mouth. "I want to be a part
of whatever you have planned."

Eric smiled tightly, emboldened by Kyle's encouragement.

"Well... I would like to sell the house and move away."

Kyle bristled, curious and wary of the enormity of Eric's plans, astonished that he had even
considered such a daunting step so soon.

"Really?" he asked. "Where would you go?"

"Anywhere that isn't England," Eric replied. "I want to see the world! France, Italy, India, America-
"

"America," Kyle smiled, mind rushing with all these far-off destinations. "That sounds wonderful,
it all sounds wonderful. I would love to visit all of those places with you."

He never imagined he would leave this island, but he couldn't imagine anything better than visiting
all these different places with Eric; living there, working there, making an abundance friends dotted
around the globe, and memories too. Adventure - it was all Kyle had wanted.

"If we sell the house we could," Eric replied, still grinning. Their enthusiasm was infectious. "I
love this house, and I have so many memories here. But it is falling apart, and I could never repair
it. So many country houses now are being sold to councils and turned into private estates, I could
make a lot of money from it. I have spent so long imprisoned here, Kyle, it is time for me to let it
go."

Kyle nodded. Of course Eric would want to leave behind the place he had been confined to for a
decade. No matter how precious and beautiful.

"I understand, and I will follow you wherever you go, Eric. All I've wanted in my life is adventure-
"

Kyle stopped himself when Eric's arm slipped out of his own and wrapped around his shoulders.
He squeezed him gently.

"I will give you that in spades, my darling," Eric replied. He kissed Kyle's hair and murmured, "I
will try my very best to give you everything your heart desires."

Eric's words sent a tremor through Kyle and he was burning. With affection, yes, but also
anticipation for all these adventures that had barely begun.

"I know you will." He smiled, looking up at Eric and gazing into his eyes. "You already have."
Grinning, they then sealed the deal with a kiss.

A year later

Kyle and Eric left their bedroom and walked down the corridor with their suitcases in hand. They
were smiling, eyes roaming the walls, ceiling, floors, and banisters as if they were savouring this
last ever walk. Kyle heard the staff chatting to themselves, and peered over the banister to see what
was going on. Gregory was busy relaying the orders Eric had already given to him, making sure
they were executed properly. Kelly and Bebe chatted and giggled as they cleaned, whilst Pip and
Leopold chipped in with the dusting and polishing too. Kenny and Christophe were lounging
against the doorframe of the drawing room, their duties not extending to inside the house. The last
of their hard work had already been completed.

As handyman, Kenny had fixed whatever remaining appliances needed to be fixed. Tenorman Hall
no longer needed to be suitable for hospitality, for living in, only for exhibition. He had sorted out
some issues with the lighting, most notably the chandelier in the grand hall. It was to be the
opulent centrepiece that would take one's breath away when they stepped into this splendid, empty
house. As gardener, Christophe had to cut back the grass, the wild flowers, and the weeds. He had
also dug up a multitude of new flower beds. Kyle had lost count of how many times he had seen
Christophe come into the house with a shovel in hand, dirt dotted on his face and caked into his
boots. Gregory would scold him, and Christophe would roll his eyes, asking if he could fetch him
an ashtray to put out his cigarette. Kyle chuckled at the thought, smiling away the brief pang in his
chest.

He had only lived here a short while, but nowhere had ever felt more like home to him. When he
had left here his heart had pleaded for him to go back. Would he feel the same way now? When
they were leaving for good? He glanced at Eric, and knew he would be ridiculously content
wherever he was, wherever their hearts took them because they would be following each other.

"There they are!" Bebe exclaimed, when she spotted them at the top of the stairs.

Eric and Kyle exchanged beaming, fortifying looks as they descended the stairs. With everyone
gathered around the bottom, smiling up at them proudly, Kyle wondered if this moment would be
the most ceremonial he and Eric would ever experience. It certainly felt as though they were
embarking on something as challenging and exhilarating, yet as meaningful and rewarding as a
marriage. Starting a new life together, in a new, faraway place seemed to the type of commitment
Kyle would not only be comfortable with, but thrilled by.

"Isn't this exciting?" Kelly gushed.

"But terribly sad too," Leopold remarked. "We'll miss you both so much!"

"We'll miss you all too. You've been such helpful and faithful staff," Kyle replied. "Not only that,
but you've been great friends."

"Yes, we cannot thank you enough," Eric added. "After all I put you through I am eternally
grateful for your support."

The staff all glanced at each other, sharing one overwhelmed expression. Kenny then stepped
forward and threw his arms around Eric, making him stumble. But Eric soon returned the hug and
prompted a round of embraces. Their farewells were not exclusive to Eric and Kyle, since the staff
would be returning to the nearby villages where their families resided, or taking up new posts soon.
Kyle had just finished comforting a crying Leopold when he spotted Bebe. Her eyes were bright
and glistening, and she was smiling at Kyle sheepishly with her hands clasped at her skirt. Kyle set
his suitcase down and they threw their arms around each other, sharing a tight embrace.

Kyle heard her sniffle and felt wetness at his shoulder.

"I'm trying so much not to cry-"

"Oh, Bebe, it's all right," Kyle interjected. He gently tugged at one of her curls.

"You will write, won't you, Kyle?" she asked, pulling away. "I would love to know how you and
Eric get on in New York."

Kyle nodded, squeezing her shoulders.

"I definitely will," I replied. "We have all your addresses and I'll write as often as I can, I promise."

Bebe pursed her lips and they piqued upwards into a satisfied smile.

"Thank you." She nodded.

"Thank you, Bebe," Kyle said, pulling her in for another hug. He didn't know how else to express
his enormous gratitude. "I don't know what I would have done without you when I first came
here."

"You're welcome," Bebe replied. "I think we both just needed a friend."

Kyle nodded once more, smiling though his eyes had clouded with tears. He spotted Eric throwing
his arms around Gregory and Christophe's shoulders. They had refrained from hugging their fellow
members of staff, refused to succumb to sentimentality, or surrender their professionalism. But if
Eric wanted to give them a hug, as good servants they had to obey. Or no doubt that was their
justification, Kyle thought. He made his way over to them and hugged them too before they could
decline.

"Thank you so much," he said in the quiet space between their shoulders.

"It was our pleasure, Kyle," Gregory replied when Kyle pulled away. "We wish you and Eric a
lifetime of happiness together."

"We always knew you would be the one to break the curse," Christophe added.

Kyle glanced at Eric and he immediately averted his gaze. He glanced at the recently polished
wood carvings in the walls instead.

"Well, then thank you for believing in me, and in Eric too. I know he appreciates it greatly."

Gregory and Christophe nodded in appreciation, and the chatting seemed to die down. The
intensity of such a swift, and yet arduous era coming to a close drew Kyle's gaze to Eric's, as if it
was a force bigger than the both of them.

"I don't think there's anything else to say," Eric said.

Kyle shook his head, lips pursed and nose burning. Still, he cleared his throat and tried to speak.

"I suppose we should be heading off then," he added.

"Right, let me get your bags," Gregory replied, keeping his head down as he rushed to collect Eric
and Kyle's suitcases.

"And I'll open the gates," Kenny added.

Eric and Kyle held hands as they followed Kenny out the door. But before they could step outside
they glanced over their shoulders and saw the staff watching them.

"Goodbye, everyone!" Eric said waving.

There was a chorus of "goodbye!" and "have a safe trip!" that rang in Kyle's heart like rejoicing
bells.

"Thank you!" he replied, waving back.

They then stepped out into the bright, sunny day. It was a day as glorious as the year previously,
when they had first discussed their plans for the future. They trotted down the steps, to where the
car was waiting on the drive. It was a new, open-top one that they agreed was a much needed
improvement to their old car. Kenny had agreed too, and had pored over every shining detail until
Kelly was jealous of not being the centre of his attention. Gregory was putting the last of the two
suitcases in the boot, and Eric and Kyle wordlessly turned around to stare up at Tenorman Hall. On
the wonderful summer day, it looked like it had weathered a mighty storm. In a way, Kyle
supposed, it had.

It was still marvellous, however. Kyle hoped that the council would do a good job of taking care of
it, and that they would succeed in attracting the locals to visit. More people needed to witness its
beauty when it had for too long been forgotten. Eric decided to leave all the furniture, only taking
small, cherished items like the silver mirror with him. So much of the furniture was highly
valuable and steeped in history that Eric couldn't refuse when the council pleaded with him to keep
it in the house. It would have been too painful to sell it all, Eric and Kyle reasoned, and they could
always buy more when they arrived in New York. All that extravagant furniture could belong
nowhere else but Tenorman Hall.

It would have been too much fuss to take the furniture all the way to Southampton and load onto a
ship, anyway. Kyle was thrilled by the idea of being on the ocean, tasting the salt in the choppy air
and seeing nothing but steely blue water for miles. Once in New York they would stay in a hotel on
the Upper East Side, before looking for a townhouse in Park Avenue. That's all they wanted to
decide on after the sale of Tenorman Hall. Their lives had been controlled by relentless time and
expectation, and they wanted as little of that as possible in their new life together.

"I can hardly believe this is the last time I'll see Tenorman Hall," Eric commented, still staring at it.

Kyle nodded. "So many things happened here..."

"It's been in my family for generations. I wonder if they ever considered that one day such
fantastical things could have happened in this house."

"I don't think anyone could." Kyle chuckled.

"Nobody would ever believe us," Eric agreed, in a more sombre tone. He turned to Kyle and
grinned. "But I like that the story is just ours. No one could ever replicate it."

"Exactly," he smiled. "All these years with my head spent in books I never thought I would live out
a fairytale of my own."

"Really?" Eric asked, fitting his hands at Kyle's waist and pulling him closer. "You're extraordinary
 enough."

Kyle snickered, and closed the humid gap between their lips. They were interrupted, however, by
the sound of the boot slamming shut.

Flustered, they glanced at Gregory and saw that he was waiting with a wry smile on his face.

"Your luggage is all packed."

"Excellent, thank you again, Gregory," Eric replied, smoothing down his shirt.

He turned to Kyle with that fearless grin Kyle found so much courage in.

"Are you ready for another adventure to start?"

Kyle nodded, and reached up to place a kiss on Eric's nose.

"Let's be off then," he added.

Gregory opened the doors on the driver and passenger side, and Eric and Kyle shook his hand
before they got in. Kyle stared out over the grounds, over the shimmering horizon as Eric stared the
car. The deep, growling thrum of the engine was a challenging, but encouraging sound, beckoning
them to begin this brilliant journey. They waved at Gregory as they drove off, and at the staff that
had gathered at the front door. The pebbles crunched beneath the wheels as they made their way
down the drive. They waved at Kenny too, when they saw him waiting by the large, manor gates.

Soon they were speeding down the country roads, hair blowing in the wind and exhilarated,
satisfied laughter barely audible over the sound of the engine. Kyle realised it was one of those
perfect moments that happen so often when you're free and in love.

Chapter End Notes

Despite all the angst and drama I put these characters through in my fics, I really do
love happy endings. It's definitely what you wonderful readers deserve! A huge thank
you to everyone who read, followed, favourited and reviewed! Your appreciation and
feedback really means a lot to me. I had issues with writing this fic, since my track
record for completing historical AUs isn't the best, so I'm glad I can finally say I've
conquered that. I wouldn't have been able to do it without the support of you guys! As
for future multi-chapters, I always feel like I need to take a break from writing them
once one is completed, but I honestly don't know what I'll end up writing next, pfft! I
do have a couple of oneshot ideas I want to write, so stay tuned for more fics! Thank
you so much again, guys, you've been brilliant!

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