Chapter Text
“How long am I supposed to stay here?” you sighed in defeat when your dad’s car finally stopped. Through the car window you could see only the light flashing through the windows of your aunt’s house, it was already dark outside.
“Don’t know, honey. Not long,” dad gave you a comforting smile and squeezed your hand in his gently. You smiled in response, still sadly a bit when dad opened the trunk and put your not so light luggage on the sidewalk. Together you made your way up to the doorway, you pulling your case behind, dad’s arm around your shoulders.
“You’ll be a good girl, right?” he chuckled slightly to lighten the situation.
“Don’t worry,” you assured him, “you’ll come after you and mum-”
“Yes, but...” he interrupted you, his eyes avoiding yours for a while. The topic of mum’s and dad’s divorce was more or less a taboo, nor you and neither your parents spoke about it, but you felt a lot of tension between them, not mentioning arguments and shouting, which got more and more often these days. This was the reason you had to stay with Aunt Molly. The problem was that you hardly knew her and met her only a few times during dull family gatherings, but nobody except you thought it was a complication at all.
“But what?” you frowned in confusion and stopped.
“There’s this..., you know, I have a lot of work...” dad tried to explain as much as possible without giving you any details about his case, so the explanation was truly awful, but you understood.
“You have to catch the bad guy, huh?” you have seen the news and even tried to persuade dad to give you some information, however, with no success. Dad just nodded and moved up to the doorway.
For a while you forgot about the world and just tried to remember at least something about the “Red Dragon” as much as possible, even though there was hardly anything to remember, the police, just like the media knew almost nothing about him. You didn’t even notice when dad rang the doorbell a few times already, slowly growing impatient. You snapped back when the dark door in front of you swung open unexpectedly and you were dragged into a rib-crushing hug.
“Sweetheart, Y/N! How nice to see you!” you mumbled a response with your face pushed against aunt’s shoulder, trying to sound excited as well and catch your breath at the same time. Aunt greeted dad in a less hearted way, but you still thought that the whole street knew by now that you came for a visit. She also offered him to stay overnight, or at least have a dinner, but dad refused politely, which was quite a dirty trick and you gave him a death glare for that. He grinned slyly, the playful twinkles in his eyes gleaming visibly again.
After a small polite chat dad and aunt had, it was finally time to go. You hugged dad tightly, he wrapped his arms around you too, rubbing your back carefully.
“Bye, honey. I’ll come back for you as soon as... possible, alright?” he pulled away with a warm smile.
“Yeah, bye,” for a moment you felt your eyes watering, but blinked the tears back quickly. Luckily, dad hadn’t noticed a thing and after a while you heard a low rumbling sound of his car moving out of your sight.
“Come in, you must be hungry,” aunt’s hand on your shoulder made you turn around. You took the luggage in, she showed you your room and let you unpack your things while she warmed up the food and after a quick dinner, which turned out to be not as awkward as you thought it would be, you finally changed into pyjamas and turned off the light.
Already in the bed, you realised it was not completely dark – a dim light was flashing through your window. You rolled your eyes in irritation – the neighbours would probably be quite a pain in the ass, but turned to face the wall, hoping you’d fall asleep easier. No. After a while of squirming you sighed in annoyance and stood up to draw the curtains. It was supposed to be quick – you’d darken the room and slip back under the covers, but curiosity filled your mind and you found yourself scanning the view from your window carefully and staring at the opposite house. Even in the night it looked huge, a massive black silhouette with a bright light coming from one room. You leaned against the sill to have a better look, the good manners forgotten. The room seemed to be in the attic, the wooden beams were quite visible. Your eyes stopped on a figure – a man lifting weights. You couldn’t see his face, just short black hair, but definitely noticed his rather good looking muscular body covered with a thin layer of sweat, black boxers hiding his private parts. The man seemed to be too concentrated on his actions to notice you staring. You were in the cover of dark, so he couldn’t see you, but still felt adrenaline rushing through your body. A lazy wide grin appeared on your face when you realised you’ve just changed your mind about neighbours being pain in the ass. For some time you kept leaning against the windowsill and observing the man, the tension leaving your body quickly. Out of nothing, the man stopped, put the weights down and turned your way. With a surprised squeak you backed from the window, not aware of where you were going, but trying to get out of the man’s sight and tumbled to your bed and hid under the blankets completely. Your heart was beating somewhere in your throat and you calmed only after you peeked your head out after a while and noticed that the man had turned the light off, but even despite that you felt unease. For a moment you had a feeling that his eyes met yours, but it had to be nonsense – he could not see you. You tried to fall asleep, but failed and spent quite a time fighting the obtrusive, but not really unpleasant thoughts of the unknown. Finally, you managed to drift into an uneasy slumber.
“I’ll come at 6. Dinner’s in fridge.”
This was all aunt left you with. Early in the morning you woke up to the sound of her car’s engine roaring, but it was too early for you to start your day, so you just curled deeper to the covers and fell asleep again. When you finally crawled out of the bed, you found the sticky note on the fridge. After a quick breakfast, you decided to get to know aunt’s house and the neighbourhood. Slowly, you visited each room, looked through all the family pictures on the walls and books put neatly into the bookshelves. You felt your heart sting a bit when you saw your parents’ wedding photo, but pushed the pain away quickly as you moved to another room. For a while you entertained yourself by watching telly and reading some of aunt’s magazines. It was truly odd to know that aunt has some private life, because your parents often told you that she was working a lot and you couldn’t imagine her in any other way, but with a suitcase in one hand and mobile phone in the other rushing from one meeting to another.
When the whole house started to feel too hot and stiff, you made your way upstairs to your room, put on some shorts and a tank top as you were still in your pyjamas and then headed to the hall. A quite curse echoed in the room when you realised you couldn’t go outside – aunt locked you inside and forgot to give you the spare key. You started to look all around to find some rack or bowl – some place where aunt kept the keys. Luckily, you noticed a light wooden bowl on the table nearby, a bunch of keys tangled together in it. With a sigh you untangled them and tried every single one. You couldn’t help yourself, but let out a happy squeal when you found the right key and the lock made a clicking sound.
A wave of warm air refreshed your face and ruffled your hair as you stepped outside into the small front garden. After your eyes adjusted to the sun, you thought it would do no harm if you checked the mailbox, just to save your aunt a second or two. While browsing the newspaper and some letters, all with the same address, you found an exception. The postman made clearly a mistake and put one letter into the wrong mailbox. Quickly, you brought the rest of the mail back home, locked the house and went out to the calm, dead-like street, following the writing on the envelope. You didn’t have to go far; the address on the letter matched the address of the next house. The house. For a second you considered turning back and pretending you never held the damned letter, but you scolded yourself for being stupid and ended up standing in the middle of the street awkwardly. The thing that happened in the night was not serious at all, no one saw you, really no one, you hadn’t seen anything inappropriate either and it can’t be hard to pretend that this man does NOT interest you at all. So that made the night events actually nothing. You were acting foolish. Deep breaths encouraged you while making your way to your neighbour’s doorway. Automatically, your finger went up to the doorbell, stopped just a few inches from it, but after a last short hesitation you heard the ringing sound echoing through the huge building, the shadow of you were currently hiding in. Nothing. You tried again, listening closely to any sounds from inside. Even though you felt terrible for it, you found yourself being happy when an idea that he might not be home flashed through your mind. You turned around to leave, but a chilly breeze on your nape made you turn again.
In front of you stood the man, tall, broad shoulders and chest, the strong muscles you already knew of hid behind a grey polo shirt tugged neatly into dark jeans. Your eyes stopped on his face framed by short dark brown, almost black hair, his light blue eyes piercing yours with a frown, not really unfriendly, but his look wasn’t kind at all.
“What?” you noticed a scar on his upper lip as he spoke, but quickly looked elsewhere. He hadn’t seen it and continued to gaze down at your figure, which you realised started to tremble with unease a bit, despite the hot weather.
“How can I help you?” with a sigh the man started again in a not so intimidating way as he realised that you were not really paying attention to him the way you should be, his smooth baritone rubbing against your ears, which didn’t help your concentration either.
“The - the postman made a mis - mistake, I guess,” you stuttered, burning red in face as you showed him the letter in your hand, “I found it in my mailbox... I mean my aunt’s mailbox - it’s not mine, I’m here just for the holiday, but my aunt’s not home – anyway... Oh, I’m sorry-”
“Okay,” the man stopped your babbling, you didn’t even dare to look up at him, but the thought that you might somehow befriend him, or at least have a small chat vanished immediately.
“May I have the letter?” he stretched his hand towards you, awaiting the envelope.
“Of course,” you calmed and gave him his letter, feeling coldness and distance radiating from his whole being as you did so.
“You – you are new here then?” the man started a small chat as you were still not feeling brave enough to talk some more. It, however, made you just more bewildered and shocked than you already were, but it looked like it was a bit challenging for him to talk to you as well, you noticed his strong grip while opening the envelope as carefully as possible.
“Yes, I’m visiting my aunt,” you responded slowly, trying not to talk incoherently this time and starting to relax a bit. You realised that the man was not as intimidating as he seem to look on the first sight, now he seemed even shy, even though you might just made it up but it made you, on the other hand a bit braver, “so, you have a new neighbour for now.”
“Uhm,” the man cleared his throat and stretched his hand towards you again, this time for a handshake, “Francis Dolarhyde.”
“Y/N. It is pleasure to meet you Mr. Dolarhyde,” you accepted his hand, trying not to focus on his tensed grip and forcing yourself not to hold him too long. You shared a polite smile, Mr. Dolarhyde tensed, you nervous as well, both of you definitely speechless.
“I’m surely keeping you from work, I’ll go now,” you managed to break the awkward silence and stepped a few steps backwards, “goodbye Mr. Dolarhyde.”
“Bye,” Mr. Dolarhyde gave you last small emotionless glance, closed the door and left you alone in the stifling summer hotness.
The rest of your day continued pretty much normal, you even forgot about the awkwardness and tension shortly after your meeting with Mr. Dolarhyde. A big swimming pool in the backyard turned out to be the best place to spend the afternoon in, the cool water making a nice contrast with the warm surroundings. In the late afternoon, when the weather got a bit colder, you even made a small walk around the neighbourhood, admiring others’ gardens and petting the dogs that were willing to be petted, but avoiding Mr. Dolarhyde’s house with all your might. This man was too interesting and you were afraid that your curiosity might grow too much. You didn’t want to think about him anymore and avoiding everything that might be somehow connected with Mr. Dolarhyde seemed like a plan, even though you were living right next to him.
Late in the evening, after the dinner and after your aunt came back from work, you found yourself staring out of the window at Mr. Dolarhyde again. You knew it should bother you – your curiosity and shamefulness, and you knew you promised yourself you wouldn’t seek his presence but there was just something about this man... you just couldn’t drag your eyes of him. With an absent minded smile you watched his muscles tensing under the weights, remembering his voice and look, you didn’t mind the scar on his upper lip at all. After his exercise routine, Mr. Dolarhyde threw a towel around his shoulders, probably heading to the shower. You tried to focus on his back as you had noticed something colourful on it, probably a tattoo, but Mr. Dolarhyde was quicker and made you focus on something else when he took off his underwear. You gasped in shock, your eyes wide opened and observing his fine, very fine bottom for a few precious seconds until Mr. Dolarhyde turned the lights off and disappeared in his house. For a while you were leaning against the windowsill, still trying to recover from the shock. You didn’t even bother yourself with trying to fall asleep – it was impossible. All the thoughts about Mr. Dolarhyde that were pushed back during the day filled your brain, his breathtaking figure, the sheepishness and awkwardness he spoke to you with making him even more interesting and you had to admit he was some sort of Greek god. Greek god of shyness and social anxiety.
You woke up soon after your aunt left again. This time, you forced yourself not to spend the whole forenoon curled in bed and after a small walk, which awoke you completely as it was rather chilly you decided to spend your day in the garden. Already in swimsuit and shorts, you found a blanket, made a fresh jug of lemonade, took your notebook and pencils and headed outside. Choosing the right spot to settle proved to be quite a challenge. For a while you were standing awkwardly in the middle of the garden, trying to decide whether to settle next to the pool, lay down by a small flowerbed, or near the fence. The last option won as there were trees that provided a cooling shadow and you had a good view of the whole garden as well. While drawing, you noticed that Mr. Dolarhyde got active too – you heard a rumbling sound of a lawn-mower in the background, probably on the other side of his house. As time went by, the sun shone brighter and brighter and the rumble of the lawn-mower got slowly nearer. You were too engrossed in what you were sketching to notice it, the rumbling made you even more concentrated. You snapped back to reality only when the lawn-mower was right next to the fence. And so was Mr. Dolarhyde. You turned around and while lying on your back you waited for him to notice you, your lips curled in an amused smile. Clearly, he didn’t so you sat up and waved at him.
“Oh,” Mr. Dolarhyde turned the lawn-mower off, a bit aback by your presence, “didn’t see you there.”
“Hello,” you responded with a wide grin caused by his surprise, “isn’t it too hot for cutting the grass?”
“I’d had to do it sooner or later. But I’m done for today, I’ll do the rest tomorrow,” Mr. Dolarhyde shrugged his shoulders and ran a hand through his sweaty hair. For the very first time you were thankful for the hot weather as it had to soften his hard manners at last and make him form longer sentences.
“May I offer you a glass of lemonade then?” you stood up swiftly; ready to bring a glass for him.
“You don’t need to bother, thank you,” he tried to protest, but it was useless – you have already decided.
“Oh come on, it has to be boiling hot in those clothes,” you glanced at Mr. Dolarhyde’s jeans and shirt, the only signs of him being too hot were rolled up sleeves and droplets of sweat on his forehead and neck. You capered into the house sooner than he could protest some more. After a minute you were back again, filled his glass with the cool drink and passed it over the fence. He mumbled quiet thanks and emptied the glass in a few thirsty gulps. He gave it back, his fingers clearly brushing against yours, not caring about it at all, and you had to fight a bright blush.
“You like drawing?” Mr. Dolarhyde stopped your blush by changing the topic and motioning towards your notebook.
“Yeah, well...” you found yourself gripping the glass strongly, your knuckles going white. It always made you irritated when people asked you about it. You didn’t mind them looking at your pictures, but they always wanted you to draw something for them and you had no interest in doing that at all. Drawing was your way of relaxation, your private thing.
“Can I see?” he gave you a questioning look, eyebrows raised slightly, but you were almost sure he was trying puppy eyes. With a defeated sigh you bent down to grab the notebook and let him browse it. From time to time he stopped and gave some drawings a closer look, his eyes focused on the lines of the pencils. While holding your breath you watched Mr. Dolarhyde turn the pages carefully, so he wouldn’t smudge the drawings. It was unusual, none of the people you showed your drawings to did that, no one of them seemed to care this much about it.
“It’s good,” Mr. Dolarhyde noted and let you take the notebook. You tried to hide a flattered smile. He noticed it, but didn’t say anything, just smiled slightly back. That made you somehow relieved and relaxed and you were sure it was Mr. Dolarhyde’s intention.
“You should probably go inside, you don’t want to get sunburn,” Mr. Dolarhyde suggested and you had to agree – it was surely about noon and the weather got really hot.
“And what about you?” you found yourself asking without thinking it through, so it had to sound quite weird and mentally kicked yourself for saying it.
“I’m going inside too,” Mr. Dolarhyde responded, corners of his lips curling upwards in a hidden laugh.
“Oh... yes, yes, of course,” you mumbled for yourself, feeling ashamed a bit, “goodbye, then.”
“Bye, Y/N,” Mr. Dolarhyde said in low voice while you were slowly heading inside with handful of blanket you took earlier, but heard him clearly.
You realised that Mr. Dolarhyde’s night exercise routine became yours as well. Well, it wasn’t an exercise routine, but a staring routine. The feeling that you were being nosy and basically stalked him was slowly lapsing and you accepted it the way it was. You were watching him lifting the weights, just like the two nights before, thoughts of him running through your head. You were expecting him to pull the underwear down this time, so when he did so you didn’t flinch. However, you did flinch when Mr. Dolarhyde turned around and you saw him from front. You tried to look at his chest or face, or anywhere else but down there, but when his hand moved downwards and his head fell back with mouth formed in O-shape, you let out a soundless yelp of shock and made your way to the bed really quickly. Already in bed, and after you recovered from what you had just witnessed you realised that with each day and night is Mr. Dolarhyde revealing more of himself to you. Well, he was aware only of what he revealed to you during the day, or at least you thought and believed so, but the more you found yourself drawn to him. He was interesting, almost always nervous, those moments when he wasn’t were precious to you and you’d really like to get to know him better, to make him feel not tensed in your presence.
“Good morning, Y/N,” you were greeted by Mr. Dolarhyde as soon as you appeared in the garden. He was on the exact spot he stopped cutting his lawn yesterday, a light smile and a black oily smear on his face.
“Good morning,” you responded, put a towel and a book you brought with you near the pool, took your sunscreen and leaned against the fence, next to Mr. Dolarhyde, but from the opposite side.
“Is everything alright?” you frowned when he sighed, somehow in desperation or defeat, you didn’t know, and wiped his hands into the jeans.
“Yeah, umm... looks like I won’t disturb you today... with the noise, I mean,” Mr. Dolarhyde gave his lawn-mower a glance that would surely burn a hole in it, if it lasted longer.
“You weren’t disturbing me yesterday either,” you laughed gently while covering your arms with the sunscreen as you didn’t want to spoil your day with nasty sunburn. Then you smeared it over your chest and belly, keeping a light chat flowing. You were glad that Mr. Dolarhyde was not so tensed; by the way he greeted you you even dared to think he started to like you a bit.
“Mr. Dolarhyde could you – could you help me a bit, please?” you were covered with the sunscreen completely already; the only thing you couldn’t quite reach was your back. You didn’t even know where such courage came from but suddenly you found yourself motioning to your back with one hand and giving him the bottle of sunscreen with the other.
“Uhm,” Mr. Dolarhyde had nowhere to back out, so he took the bottle with a short hesitation and smeared the cream over his palms. Instinctively, you wiped your hair from your back when you felt his fingers on your skin. Slowly, he covered your shoulders and nape first, spreading the cream evenly over your shoulder blades. His touches, shy and timid at first, became soon gentle and relaxing, his palms pressing with the right pressure over your tensed muscles which made you suppress moans of pleasure that were trying to escape your throat. Your face flushed when Mr. Dolarhyde lifted the laces of the upper part of your bikini with two fingers and then moved to cover your lower back as well. Mentally, you scolded yourself for not thinking this through when you realised you’d eventually have to face him with such violent blush covering your cheeks.
“There,” the huskiness in Mr. Dolarhyde’s voice was clearly audible, even though he cleared his throat to hide it somehow.
“Thank you,” you chirped as you turned around to face him, your eyes meeting for a second, but you both looked elsewhere quickly.
“Can I borrow the – the sunscreen?” Mr. Dolarhyde broke the uncomfortable silence between the two of you and you nodded in response fervently.
“Yes, yes of course, but you have a black smudge over here,” you added quickly, motioning to your own cheek. Mr. Dolarhyde wiped his face with his hand, but that didn’t help, so he pulled a tip of his tee shirt up and rubbed the smear with the fabric. For a second you saw his abdomen, sleek, muscles tensing and relaxing under the almost white, not sun-tanned skin.
“Is it still there?” Mr. Dolarhyde asked after he let the tee shirt fall back freely, not tugging it into his jeans as usual. You shook your head and waited for him to smear the sunscreen over his face and neck.
“Are you sure it’s dead?” you gave the lawn-mower a questioning look after he gave you the sunscreen back and squatted down in the high grass to have a better look at it.
“Don’t know,” Mr. Dolarhyde shrugged his shoulders, stood up and pulled the starter cord. The lawn-mower made a sputtering sound, but when he tried again, the sputters changed to the well known rumble.
“Not quite dead yet,” he chuckled a little. The lightening of Mr. Dolarhyde’s mood made you chuckle as well, somehow in response. With a bright smile you went to the pool and let him do his work.
While laying on an inflatable mattress, reading and being moved all over the pool by a light breeze you noticed Mr. Dolarhyde’s gaze on your skin. You didn’t really mind it, quite the opposite – it made you happy to know he wasn’t feeling so nervous around you; you even joked a few times when you caught him looking by asking him whether he’d like to join you. He gave you a small chuckle or a wink, once he even responded something that made you blush even more than him and went back to work. It was nice to know he didn’t treat you like a child and could share even some dirty jokes with you without it being awkward. Sometimes, however, his look was different. Hungry. Predatory.
You had no idea what came to your head when you decided to bake cookies. You were cleaning the mess you had made while doing the dough, the cookies already baking, the oven making the kitchen even hotter than it already was before. Curses flowed from your mouth fluently without even bothering to stop them as you tried to scrub the dried pieces of dough off the bowl it was in. You jerked in surprise when you heard the alarm clock ring, ran quickly to the oven and opened it. A nasty heat wave hit your face when you opened the door and peeked in to see the result. This time, you bit your tongue and said nothing, just concentrated on taking the hot baking pan out of the oven without burning yourself. After cleaning the whole kitchen and letting the cookies cool a bit you realised that they weren’t such failure you thought they would be. Carefully inspecting each one of them and then tasting one you even had to congratulate yourself as they were probably the best cookies you had ever made. They were actually the first you had ever made, so there wasn’t much to compare them with, but you were still satisfied with how they turned out. A bit darker on the bottom, but sweet and soft enough, chocolate chips and dried cranberries making them even tastier.
It was late afternoon already when you went outside. The fresh and not so hot air blew through your hair and caused a small smile on your face still a bit red from the stress and hotness in the kitchen. With a plate of cookies covered with a colourful napkin you had found after a long search in aunt’s cabinet you were heading to see Mr. Dolarhyde again today. At first you thought that he’d be in his garden and went to see if he was there, but he was nowhere to be found, so you realised he was probably inside. Making your way up to his doorway was so much easier this time. As you rang the doorbell, you hoped that he maybe let you in and show you his house – you found it really interesting and mysterious, just like its owner. You didn’t have to wait too long, after a short while Mr. Dolarhyde opened the door, looking surprised again. Not just surprised. He was red all over his face and neck, panting slightly, droplets of sweat on his forehead and a towel thrown over his shoulder.
“How – how can I help you?” he exhaled and waited impatiently for your reply.
“I brought you some cookies I – I made today,” you responded, not expecting his unusual attitude. Inconspicuously, you tried to look over his shoulder and into the room, but saw nothing but darkness and Mr. Dolarhyde had to notice it as he squirmed a bit to fill the narrow gap, so you gave up and didn’t try to peek in anymore.
“Thank you, that’s lovely,” Mr. Dolarhyde took the covered plate you gave him and smiled politely, but you saw it was a bit forced.
“Well, I hope you’ll like them,” you started to back away slowly, the feeling that you interrupted something private growing strong, “have a nice day, Mr. Dolarhyde.”
“You too, Y/N,” Mr. Dolarhyde said quickly, his voice raspy, and closed the door in front of you.
When you were watching Mr. Dolarhyde working out that evening, his odd behaviour occurred to your mind again. While lifting the weights, he looked so peaceful and calm, unlike earlier that day. You thought that he’d probably want to give you the plate back right away and let you in, so you’d have some time to look around the house while Mr. Dolarhyde would replace your plate with his own. Maybe he’d even invite you for a tea or a lemonade, but that would be truly a miracle. You assured yourself that you went there just in the wrong time and Mr. Dolarhyde wouldn’t want you to witness things you weren’t supposed to witness. For a second a frown appeared on your face, but you calmed yourself quickly – you could ask for the plate you gave him earlier anytime and Mr. Dolarhyde would surely give it back.
The next morning you woke up to a sound of angry bumping onto one of the walls and the window. Still sleepy, you managed to crawl out of the bed and make your way to the window, just to see that the weather had changed rapidly during the night. Enormous gray clouds covered whole sky; it was raining hard, you could hear the wind howling angrily and see flashes of light in the background. While heading back under the blankets you mumbled a few curses, but the heavy raindrops hitting the window drowned them out. It looks like you won’t see Mr. Dolarhyde today.
You congratulated yourself for sleeping through almost the whole day. When you woke up the second time, it was already late afternoon. You realised that without Mr. Dolarhyde’s presence everything seemed boring and there was truly little you could do in the house, so you tried to keep yourself occupied by taking a really long shower and washing your hair, spent quite a time just wandering from one room to another absentmindedly, then you decided to make dinner and waited for aunt to come. When she finally arrived, the food was almost cold. Quickly, you reheated it and set the table. The irritation from her late arrival lapsed as you saw her relieved and tired smile when she sat by the table and didn’t have to make the food.
“I hope it doesn’t bother you too much that you’re alone most of the day, Y/N,” aunt said while finishing her meal. With your mouth full, you shook you head quickly, maybe a bit too eagerly as you pretty much enjoyed being alone.
“Well, then I think you will manage being alone during the weekend then. I have an important business trip,” she added, looking really guilty and sorry.
“No problem, I’ll manage,” you responded and did your best not to sound too thrilled.
“Really?” aunt’s look lightened a little, she was a bit aback by your excitement, “it won’t take long, I’ll be back on Monday.”
“Cool,” you assured her one more time and took the dishes to the kitchen when suddenly you heard the doorbell ring. You heard your aunt murmuring a confused “what the hell?” while hurrying to open the door. She looked even more surprised when she came back to you.
“Who was it?” you couldn’t hold your curiosity.
“The neighbour – Mr. Dolarhyde. He wants to talk to you,” she answered with a bewildered look.
“Me?” you couldn’t believe it either. What could he want from you?
“Yeah, he’s waiting outside,” aunt pushed you gently out of the kitchen with a smirk as you were a bit too numb to move, “go on, I’ll do the dishes.”
A chilly breeze made you shiver as you stepped outside into the street lit only by the streetlamps. It was not raining as heavily as it did during the day, so you thought you could manage it without an umbrella or a jacket. In the dim light you saw Mr. Dolarhyde’s figure shuffling nervously near the doorway, the rain making his clothes wet, the plate you gave him earlier with the cookies in hand.
“Good evening,” you greeted him and he jerked at the sound of your voice.
“Good evening, Y/N,” he coughed gently and gave you the plate, “thank – thank you for the cookies, they were really good.”
“You’re welcome,” you frowned at his, well, not unusual behaviour, but you already got used to him being relaxed in your presence.
“I’d like to – like to ask you...” Mr. Dolarhyde stopped for a moment to think it through “I’ve noticed you like drawing and tomorrow I’m going to an art museum. If you want to, I can take you with me.”
The offer caught you completely off guard; you were just standing there on the pavement staring at Mr. Dolarhyde, who with each second felt worse and worse, holding onto the sleeves of his jacket strongly.
“I apologize. It wasn’t a good idea, you hardly know me and it would be reckless and-” he started to mumble after a while of silence and back away quickly, “good – good night.”
“No, no! I – I’d like you to take me there, Mr. Dolarhyde,” you responded swifty when you finally realised what was truly going on and took a few steps towards him, hoping you didn’t scare him away and he didn’t change his mind already.
“Really?” Mr. Dolarhyde’s voice was still raspy, but you could hear a hint of hope in it.
“Of course!” you smiled widely at him and he gave you a stiff, but true smile.
“I’m leaving at half past eight,” Mr. Dolarhyde added in a calmer tone and you nodded in understand, “good night then.”
“Good night,” you waved in the doorway and while closing the door you saw Mr. Dolarhyde waving back a little.
Aunt Molly woke you up when she was about to go, she gave you last instructions about the food or when to water the plants and you watched her start up her car and leave. After a quick shower, which made the slight tiredness go away you made breakfast and while eating you tried to decide on what to wear. With no success. You found yourself staring into your wardrobe absentmindedly, not knowing what to do at all. With a sigh you finally chose a simple white shirt, dark jeans and a colourful flowery necklace. You weren’t completely satisfied with your choice, but when you looked in the mirror you thought it was the best you could do and secretly hoped Mr. Dolarhyde would like it, even though you tried to dismiss it. You still had a bit of time and had nothing to do, so you just kept wandering through he whole house, from one room to another, like you did so many times before, occupying yourself by imagining all the various combinations of what could Mr. Dolarhyde wear. When you heard a car stopping in front of the house, you took your jacket as it was still cloudy and very likely to rain sooner or later, locked the door and hurried down the front garden to Mr. Dolarhyde, who got out of his van to greet you. He seemed even taller in well fitting trousers and a long coat, probably too warm for the season, grey shirt buttoned up to the neck.
“I have a question,” Mr. Dolarhyde cleared his throat when you came down to him and showed you a long black tie, “tie or no tie?”
“No tie,” you giggled, Mr. Dolarhyde smiled back, tangled the tie into a small ball, stuffed it into the pocket of his coat, took it off and threw onto the back seat. You felt relieved when he took off the coat because you knew you’d have the need to persuade him to take it off during the whole drive. Then Mr. Dolarhyde opened the passenger door for you and you slipped in with a flattered blush. It had never happened to you before and even though you knew Mr. Dolarhyde was a good man, the inner gentleman in him surprised you. So did the inside of his van. All was neat and clean, with no stale smell. It was more than unusual for a single man living on his own. After Mr. Dolarhyde got into the van and unbuttoned the first button to be more comfortable, the air was suddenly filled with his cologne. You forced yourself not to take really deep breaths, so he wouldn’t think you’re some kind of creep, but you were truly impressed and the trip hadn’t even started yet.
Mr. Dolarhyde was driving without a word, eyes on the road, but giving you a quick glance from time to time. Each time you met his eyes, you smiled gently and your smile widened a bit when Mr. Dolarhyde looked back on the road with a blush spreading on his face. When the silence started to make you bored and you feared you might drift off and that you didn’t want in Mr. Dolarhyde’s presence, you started a small chat, asking him about his work and free time. He was really brief and his answers consisted only of one or two words at first, but the more you were asking the more he started to speak, he even told you about his evening exercise routine which you pretended to be surprised about.
When you arrived, there weren’t many people yet. Mr. Dolarhyde bought the tickets and gestured you to follow him. The museum was enormous. The building itself had to be really old, surrounded by big park and bushy trees. But it was nothing compared to the amount of pictures, drawings, sketches and statues, probably hundreds of them, hanging on the walls or standing on stands. For a short while you were just admiring the interior, speechless, trying your best not to walk around with your mouth ajar.
“Do you – do you like it?” Mr. Dolarhyde asked with insecurity in his voice. You just nodded your head, unable to express your amazement and gratitude. You noticed his smile growing wider when he saw that you were so thrilled and felt his hand on your lower back as he was guiding you through the museum, explaining meanings of various pictures, the techniques that were used or lives of the authors, his shyness and stiffness suddenly forgotten. It did, however, came back when he saw William Blake’s The Great Red Dragon painting. A small crowd surrounded the watercolour picture, you and Mr. Dolarhyde amongst them. You stayed there after the crowd of tourists left, Mr. Dolarhyde getting as close to it as possible, not looking anywhere else, but on the heavy muscled dragon standing above a woman clothed in sun. He didn’t even blink and when you tried to ask him something, he didn’t seem to hear you. You decided to proceed on your own, wandering in the next hall, so you could keep an eye on Mr. Dolarhyde, who was clearly astonished by the painting. You liked it too, it was nice, but there were definitely nicer pictures worthier your attention than this one. After about half an hour you decided it’s truly time to move on. At first you asked Mr. Dolarhyde to proceed, but he just mumbled something incoherent, so you took his arm and tried to pull him gently. He startled when he felt your fingers touching him, his sudden movement made you jolt too, but to your luck he let you wrap your hand around his arm and moved with you. Soon his talkativeness came back and everything was like before, except this time you were holding Mr. Dolarhyde as you were afraid he might find his way back to that painting or get stuck in front some other drawing, but he didn’t seem to mind your touch.
Despite your early arrival it was afternoon already when you went out of the museum. Mr. Dolarhyde took you for a lunch at a nearby restaurant, a pleasant place with nice service and good food. You had a suspicion he made a little research before this trip because earlier he told you he didn’t know the surroundings very well, but it didn’t bother you at all. Then you made a little walk in the great park around the museum, asked him about the picture he had admired so much in the museum and listened to Mr. Dolarhyde’s detailed interpretation of Blake’s painting you saw earlier. You had no idea where such interest came from; Mr. Dolarhyde seemed to you like a person who wouldn’t care about art at all.
The drive back home was quicker than you thought. You were watching the sunset from the passenger window, listening to classical music Mr. Dolarhyde used to listen while driving. At first, he didn’t want you to listen to it, you thought that he felt ashamed for his music taste in front of someone younger, but you assured him that it wasn’t weird and that you liked it. And you truly did. The slow melody of piano and cello made you really relaxed and soon you found yourself fighting an intrusive slumber, after a short while you couldn’t bear it anymore and closed your eyes.
“Y/N, wake up,” you felt something snug and big on your shoulder and warm breath on your neck. You opened your eyes slowly, it took you a while to realise where you were, but when you finally did so, redness of embarrassment crept up your whole body. You straightened on your seat quickly, too quickly because your head made several angry spins, which made the blush just brighter.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to drop off, I’m really sorry-” your mumbled apology was interrupted by a raspy chuckle.
“It’s okay,” Mr. Dolarhyde cut you off, the tone of his voice letting you know it was truly alright.
“We are home,” he stated shortly and you looked out just to see nothing but raindrops on the window you were looking through. Again, Mr. Dolarhyde opened the door for you, the cool air smelling of rain chasing your sleepiness away.
“I had a great time, the museum and everything... it was really pleasant to be in your company, Mr. Dolarhyde, thank you,” you turned to him with a bright smile.
“You’re welcome,” his eyes twinkling in the dark showed that he enjoyed your company as well, even though his face was almost emotionless, if not a bit tired.
You didn’t know what came to your mind, but suddenly you found yourself standing on your tiptoes, leaning forward and about to place a kiss on Mr. Dolarhyde’s cheek.
“Good night-” he shifted a bit to wish you good night, but his words were silenced by your lips. You didn’t know what happened, for a second you both kept still, your partly opened mouth pressing against his, you could feel his whole body trembling with fear. The kiss lasted merely a second, you pulled away quickly when you noticed Mr. Dolarhyde’s panic.
“We can’t-” he rasped, looking everywhere else but on you, your apologies drowned out by a smash of the van’s door. Startled, you watched him driving to his house and stumbling while walking to the doorway.
When you knew he was inside, you unlocked your door and slipped in as well. You leaned against the front door, breathing heavily, thoughts flashing through your mind, making a big whirlpool in your brain. Quickly, you kicked your shoes off and while unbuttoning your shirt you made your way upstairs. In the darkness of your room you put on an old tee shirt you used as pyjama top and fell onto the bed wearily, not daring to look up to the window to see if Mr. Dolarhyde was there or not. Only then you realised tears were scooping up in your eyes and you didn’t understand why, but didn’t want to let them go. It had been such a nice day, the nicest you had had since your parents started talking about their divorce. Mr. Dolarhyde was so sweet, gentle and caring, he was trying really hard to keep you entertained and you had spoiled it all. You should have known what the kiss may cause, even if it was on the cheek, but you just couldn’t help yourself. The rational part of your mind kept telling you it was only an accident, you, however, knew it wasn’t entirely true. For several days already you found yourself thinking about his lips, always scolding yourself for doing so, it was hard enough to befriend Mr. Dolarhyde and made him trust you at least a bit.
Slowly, you drifted to an uneasy sleep again, your dreams filled with softness of Mr. Dolarhyde’s lips on yours and the pure beauty of it, but the scene changed way too quickly, too quickly for you to even realise his touch, into Mr. Dolarhyde’s wide-eyed, startled and betrayed look piercing your whole body with regret and sorrow.