? William:Hey, I’m sorry I won’t be able to make a payment this week. I’ll do my best to give you more next month.
William walked to his refrigerator and opened it. Cleaning would have to wait—he’d already wasted too much time feeling sorry for himself. Adathan was probably starving.
The refrigerator was nearly empty, save for a few condiments, a carton of milk, and two big jars of his mom’s barley soup. William would make sure to hug her tight the next time he saw her.
His phone buzzed as he took out one of the jars. He poured the soup into a pot, set it on the stove to heat up, and then checked her reply.
? Mom:honey you know you dont need to give me anything im your mom it was my job to support you when you needed it
William sighed. For a long time, he’d believed that to be true.
? Mom:keep your money I love you
But the truth was that he hadn’tneededher support.
For years, William had spent most of his spare time in his room downstairs, gambling away his meager pay while she covered his expenses. It was an investment, he’d told himself back then. One day, he would win big and shower her with comfort.
Oliver’s accident had been an earth-shattering wake-up call.
William had been taking his privilege for granted. He was never satisfied with what he had—always wanted more. When he saw Oliver’s broken body in that hospital bed, he promised himself he would turn his life around. A month later, he moved out of his mom’s basement and set out to repay her for putting up with his freeloading all those years.
But then he’d let poker lure him in with the illusion of easy money again, hadn’t he? What would it take for him to stop being so weak?
The creak of the bathroom door jolted him out of his thoughts. He turned and froze, his hand clutching the counter as heat surged through him. William tried to tear his gaze away from Adathan’s bare skin, but he failed. His eyes lingered of their own accord, tracing a droplet that trickled down Adathan’s chest, over the ridges of his stomach, and vanished among his golden—
“May I get my spare clothes from your suitcase?” Adathan asked.
“Y-yeah. Of course.” William turned back around and stirred the soup, doing his best to banish the enticing image from his brain. Adathan hadn’t been trying to seduce him this time—he’d merely had nothing to wear. William had to keep it together. Adathan probably felt vulnerable and lost. It was important that William make him feel safe in his new environment.
“Smells good,” Adathan said as he appeared next to him, wearing nothing but snug white boxers and his unbuttoned teal shirt.
“Barley soup,” William said, eyes fixed on the pot.
“Mmm! Soup is my favorite.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. We almost never had it.”
William’s brow furrowed. He would have thought Serviteurs were fed cheap food like soup and gruel during their training. What else had he gotten wrong?
Well, considering he’d been basing his assumptions on movies and novels... possibly everything. This wasn’t fiction. It wasreality.
“You look puzzled, William.”
“No—I mean, I’m just surprised.” He took a box of saltines out of the cupboard, debating whether he wanted to keep this conversation going. Just because he’d ordered Adathan to behave like a person for the rest of his life didn’t mean he no longer had a past. It was part of who he was, and William owed it to him to stop assuming he knew exactly what it had been like to grow up as a Serviteur.
“Hot soup takes too long to eat,” Adathan explained.
William slammed the box on the counter and looked Adathan in the eye. “Well you’re not a Serviteur anymore—you’refreenow. Free to eat whatever you want, and to take all the time you need. Soup’s your favorite meal? Fine, then we’ll have soup every day, and you’ll savor every bite because now youcan.”
Adathan cocked his head, a smile growing on his face as he appeared to be contemplating William’s words. A droplet slid down his cheek and traced the curve of his lips. William’s gaze caught it, lingering a second longer than he intended. He forcedhimself to look away, focusing instead on Adathan’s eyes as he waited for him to say something.
Seconds passed, and a heavy silence settled in his tiny apartment. Heat crept up the back of his neck, making him painfully aware of the proximity of Adathan’s bare skin. It was nearly impossible to hold Adathan’s gaze, but he couldn’t afford to look away. He knew exactly where his eyes would drift if he did.
Say something.
“William,” Adathan whispered.
