They’d seen many similar cases over the years in this building, in that exact same spot. Fix had caught another one just this morning at Liam’s building.
“Is he in?” Avery asked shyly, fidgeting in his knee-high argyle socks and brown loafers. The bony knees sticking out from his tailored shorts were quivering.
Taylor hummed, already knowing full well Midas was out. “Let me check.”
She began clacking on her computer, and Fix could see she was typing in a shopping website. She hummed to herself as she clicked through pairs of heels, a serious look on her face while Avery died of anticipation.
Fix decided she’d had her fun by now. Torturing Midas’s fan club was the price she demanded for having to be on the front lines of it, dealing with calls, emails, letters, and impromptu visits to declare fealty and devotion at Midas’s feet.
But Avery didn’t really do any of those, save maybe the last one.
The difference was that Avery and Midas knew each other. Avery probably saw Midas just as much as they did, maybe more. So, it was less crazed and more…loserish and sweet. Which Fix felt on a deeply personal level. He’d had his share of crushes that had crashed and burned in the flames of unrequited love. And he was currently drowning in a sea of emotions for someone he had just met and who he wasn’t sure felt the same.
Fix pushed it all away and cleared his throat.
Avery peeked hopefully toward the hallway. He jumped in place when he saw him before casting his gaze beyond, like Midas was miraculously hiding behind him.
Fix was large, but Midas wasn’t exactly small either. Or prone to lurking. He simply appeared and left whenever he felt like it, regardless of manners or situation.
Fix strode toward the desk with a sincere smile. “Hi, Avery. How are you?”
“I’m well,” he replied, returning the smile. “I just got finished cataloging those marbles you brought in last month.”
Fix shuddered remembering them. “So no more tripping?”
Avery laughed a little, green eyes shining. “Well you could still trip on one normally. It doesn’t just happen in the movies! But those particular ones are safely put away for now. Did you know that marbles used to be used as bottle stops as well as toys? They’re really quite fascinating, you know?”
Fix didn’t know. Fix didn’t think he’d ever know what Avery saw in these things. Maybe he was jaded. Maybe he didn’t have enough of the right screws loose. Either way, he did his best to allow Avery his quirks. Different strokes for different folks, after all.
“I think I’ll stick with the normal ones and just avoid stepping on them. My tailbone still hasn’t recovered,” Fix said, laying a hand over the offended area.
Avery laughed again, but his gaze kept drifting longingly to the hallway.
Fix felt bad for him, so he immediately said, “Midas is out of the office today, I’m sorry. But I can pass those along and tell him you stopped by if you want?”
The naked disappointment that overtook Avery’s face was a little too much to stare directly at.
“Oh…um…it’s okay,” Avery said, mortification and embarrassment now warring for space. “I should have called ahead before I came over. It’s my mistake. I’ll just go. I’m sorry for intruding. I know you’re busy and here I am, just taking up time—”
He turned on his heel as he rambled, blindly moving toward the door and slamming straight into the leather-clad chest of none other than the object of his devotion. An explosion of papers accented the collision, giving it a cinematic flair Fix was almost impressed by.
Midas grasped Avery’s arm to prevent him from falling to the ground in a weird facsimile of what Fix had done for the girl on the stairs as papers fluttered around them. A few strands of Midas’s dark hair escaped the pin he had secured it with earlier to brush his high cheekbones as he looked down into Avery’s surprised face.
There was hardly an inch of space between them, their noses almost brushing.
Avery looked like he’d ceased to be on this plane of existence, staring at Midas in wonder, heedless of the chaos surrounding them. It was like he’d just witnessed the descent of a shooting star, not the near-flattening of his own person.
“Midas,” he murmured, hands deadweight and not signing, even though he knew how. Midas’s eyes moved to his lips to catch it, and Avery’s cheeks bloomed anew, even brighter than before.
“Sorry,” he scrambled to sign in the small space between their chests, before finishing with a coy tilt to his finger placement. “Hello. How are you?”
Midas regarded him for a steely moment before responding with a short, “Good.”
Avery smiled like Midas had just given him a five-page soliloquy.
Midas stared at Avery for one more suspended moment before he turned his attention to the mess at their feet, face still blank. Weirdly, he was still holding on to Avery’s arm, like he was afraid he would topple over as soon as he let go. Fix furrowed his brow, again thinking of how Midas had shrugged him off for even touching his jacket.
Avery followed Midas’s gaze down, finally breaking his stare, and flushed. “I’ll clean it up,” he said and signed with frantic fingers, bending down to do just that.
