Chapter Fourteen

"Fuck" did he just do that? Waylen didn't even flee from him, an action that only brought mixed feelings into his chaotic heart. Not so funny enough, the caretaker thought the exact same thing. His body shining brightly with disapproval. Giving off the classic look if Waylen doesn't kill you he will. 

As if properly on cue, Waylen reaches into the caretaker's breast pocket without a care in the world, directly fingering for its contents. Before anybody could properly process anything, a pair of sharp golden scissors finds its way between his short fingers and lodged towards Xavier's throat. 

"Fuck, he just did that" everyone (apart from Waylen) thinks in unison, as Xavier's red blood trickles down his bare chest.

"Oops, I missed." Waylen says not so innocently, eying the bloody mess flowing onto his left hand. 

Too distracted to say another word to the amnesiac, he stood their patiently, unaware as to the severity of the wound on his neck. It's not as if he would die from it anyway. If he could, he'd graciously accept it. Therefore, his whirlwind of dead brain cells took a healthy priority at the situation in front of him. Though it would prove benefit to not let him make another messy scratch on his pretty neck. Before everyone at this place loses their heads. 

A dazed look didn't suit Xavier. When Waylen kills him, he wants his head fully in the game, reluctantly accepting his submissive fate. Eyes full of hatred and sorrow, with a look of pleading in his ruby eyes. So, he stopped. 

***

Unlike the night previous, the caretaker didn't babysit him in the west wing. So naturally, he didn't return to it. Two days of sitting patiently failed to promote a peaceful atmosphere in the estate. Therefore, it would be better to investigate the series of buildings now, while everyone is mysteriously gone, than later. Now, hopefully this cursed place will comply with his whims. 

First things first he makes his way headfirst into red, while Xavier's off looking clueless for the servants to see. Waylen didn't hesitate to walk in through the main door, as if he owned the place. Not even bothering to be any bit of discreet. 

Maids dressed gloriously in red eye him from above. There pretty, pale heads held high, making sure to keep up a distinguished appearance. In complete contradiction to the young, girls in yellow who contained a fair amount of livelihood in there youth.

The maids didn't say anything. They didn't need too, with there thoughts displayed on there faces like that. It's his own fault if he end up dead. no precautions necaccary. Even if they are the ones carrying the corpse. 

He didn't know what it was, but the familiarity this estate brought didn't exactly bring comfort to his sleeping head. One may only stay compliant so long, before the desire begins to well up inside. Consequently yearning to know more than it's worth. 

The sight Waylen's pretty almond eyes are met with, is an unexpected one. The overall ascetic is closely similar to his own. One way to describe it would be sleek dungeon. No natural light shines in, without a single window on the first floor. Leather chairs line the walls, accompanied by corresponding matching throw blankets, neatly draped over the side. Tall, black chandeliers hang from the ceilings, each perfectly lined in a row like a mother and her ducklings. Everything about it frequent and orderly. 

Ignoring the maids, Waylen makes his way up the spiral staircase. For, all the buildings connect to each other by a center hallway. Therefore, theoretically the side entrance is where he should head. Since this is likely either for show or convivence. Somewhat understanding Xavier, it is the first. 

Weapons hang from black rods in the wall without there coverings. Every other weapon is a sort of blade with a loaded gun between them. No paintings displayed themselves, just toys of mass destruction. Exactly every ten feet rests a dark wooden desk, red, lit candles on the left and right sides. The wax doesn't drip down, failing to pool in the metal cups. Without enough time to analyze the peculiarity, his thick fingers make his way into one of the wooden drawers carefully pulling it open.

Looking at the drawer's contents, Waylen's almond eyes seemed to carry just a tad bit more emotion with them before blankly slipping them into his pockets. 

"Is there something else I should be fearing?"

Apparently so. There is a whole lot more I should be fearing. Is red responsible for the incident in the yard? With so many dirtied weapons, it almost matches the crime scene outside. Why would anyone need so many weapons, extremely lethal ones barely tucked away?

Just in the distance appears to be the first bedroom. Unlike the area of blue, there was no library or music room. Just a shit ton of weapons at every corner. As if different forms of entertainment are at play.

However, out of the corner of his almond eyes Waylen could have sworn he saw an enchanting doorway. 

The front door by the courtyard aggressively swings open, sending vibrations through the old wooden floors. The maids readily report, there whispers as discreate as when he made his way through the front door. 

***

Xavier pauses, his confused face even more confuzzled. His flamboyant state seemingly flying away from his bedazzled body, leaving him entirely.

Calm and collected he asks them, "Did the estate even bat an eye?"

"No sir."

"Then neither should you." Xavier finishes, sensing the little amnesiac literal feet away from his worst nightmare. 

"Sir, he's armed." Another maid reports, suspicious that this lord didn't blow up on him. Xavier almost always had an explosive temper, especially at night. An enemy is waltzing around the lord's private quarters, and he isn't doing anything about it. 

If another maid opened their gossipy mouths one more time he'd end them. Plant a miniature bomb in their head before having them stand at the head of the table, so everyone may have front row seats to the fireworks show later that evening. Once everyone awakes from the estates state of induced slumber. 

They act as if there was ever a time here that person hadn't be armed. He had been swinging blades at his neck ever since he arrived. What difference would it make if he picked up a few more? It's his own fault if he ends up dead. In the end, he is the one who initiated the separation of the twins. He is the one who straight up kissed a stranger. The last thing Johnthan Riggs wanted to see this evening. 

Thinking long and hard, Xavier opens his mouth before calling out to him. "Waylen, come back down here. If you stay up there any longer, your sister won't ever return to this place." He tries to threaten, but it doesn't sound the least bit serious. 

The candle's flames flicker on and off in protest, exposing his lie on the spot. Forgetting something major about the condition of the two siblings, exposing another major secret. Johnthan Riggs is really going to murder him now.

Waylen descends the staircase quickly, wanting to see his sister again so that he may confront her about the phone call. To be met with the sight of the silver haired man, his long slender fingers gripping his own white, pale wrists. Guilty, confused and worried. Not at all like a lord who leads the estate. Not at all like a man who would house so many weapons in the open.

"Enjoy the scene in front of you." Waylen repeats absent mindedly, his tone direct and emotionless. A tone that he would never normally speak to Xavier in.

"Don't speak like that Waylen." Xavier orders, staring into his almond colored eyes, watching the colors fade in an out. Realizing what was happening, he quickly made his way over to the man before it was too late. Knocking him out quickly in a single strike. No wonder the caretaker had put Waylen in that awful wing. To protect him from this place before his body is ready to adjust. 

On the bright side, Waylen wouldn't be able to piece together what he saw here. He will have to return, maybe then the estate won't be so sensitive.

But he couldn't exactly bring him to that wing back in blue. The last thing he wanted right now was to hand over the little amnesiac to the caretaker. Naturally, Xavier would accept the consequences for this action, bringing the man back up the stairs and to the guest bedroom. He would have put the amnesiac in the main bedroom, however it was so dirty the look of disgust on Waylen's face would be so traumatizing it's best going with the cleaner room.

It felt weird to remove Waylen's eye-catching three-piece suit from his body, so he didn't. Currently it felt weird too and frankly it wasn't his place. Laying the down the knocked-out man, fully clothed, tucking him in tightly beneath the red sheets. At the other side of the bed is a couch, he had found memories of this couch. Quietly heading to it without any reluctance, falling asleep in a matter of minutes. 

The man he kissed is sleeping in his bed. The man he kissed is sleeping in front of him, still very well armed. Goodnight, little amnesiac.