Work Text:
Phone Call Between Joshua and Clive Rosfield
11 April.
“Well? How does it look?”
“Tragic…”
“That bad, huh?”
“It has been abandoned for about ten years”
“Yeah… I guess I was overly optimistic. The location doesn’t help either, seaside town practically means more problems.”
“I might have to stay for longer than we thought”
“I can come help you, mother was crazy to think you should deal with it on your own”
“Clive, you’re busy too. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want you to be alone.”
“Hm... I don’t believe I’ll have a lot of time to think about that”
“Fine… but let’s keep in touch. It may not help you a whole lot, but God knows I’ll be at ease.”
“Of course, Clive. I’ll even send you pictures of the progress.”
“Deal. Talk to you later, then.”
Joshua Rosfield's Journal
11 April.--The vacation home from my childhood memories didn’t quite match the place I suddenly found myself in. It was almost difficult to believe it was the same exact entrance hall where I used to sit by one of the large windows to lounge in the warmth of the summer sun. As I stood by the door, my gaze found more shadows than anything else. Some of the heavy curtains had ripped here and there, allowing some sunlight to stream into the large space, yet it was hardly enough to make the place truly recognizable.
Instinctively, I lifted my gaze towards the chandelier, visibly covered in dust even from where I stood. I was sure there were lightbulbs in there still, but I knew I shouldn’t get my hopes up about them being in any state to actually work; that, assuming the power was properly restored once the keeper managed to get to the electricity box. Mr. Wade was already working for our family when I was a child, a part of the staff that kept the house and gardens in perfect condition whether we were staying here or not… of course, until the separation of our parents, after which all of the staff was laid off except for Mr. Wade who was asked to take care of basic maintenance tasks of the facade, porch and front garden to keep it looking acceptable enough to avoid any complaints from the neighbors. The last thing our parents needed on top of a disastrous divorce was having acquaintances accusing them of letting their personal turmoil become everyone else’s problem. All of this, I learned through my brother only recently, as my memory of the years we did use the house isn't all that clear.
Even after the divorce was finalized and all the assets were distributed, the seaside vacation home remained unused for far longer than it should have. Mother seemed to despise the place. Yet Clive said that it didn’t stop her from claiming it for the sake of getting every last property she could. Of course, when Mr. Wade eventually contacted her to let her know the neighbors had started to ask questions, she was beyond upset. Unwilling to allow Clive to take care of the situation and unbearably mortified by the notion of returning to the house herself, she agreed to let me come. If not to see that any necessary renovations were made, at least to show that we were taking care of the matter.
The street was quiet. As quiet as it had been all those years ago when the house represented happy days of leisure for me and my brother, and when the lack of background noise from a hectic city felt… well, peaceful. As an adult, and with the house looking so dark and dull, the silence felt unsettling to me. As I stood there, suddenly I realized I could no longer hear Mr. Wade outside, and found myself wondering if the man was still nearby at all.
I was starting to lose all hope about the power being restored when suddenly the chandelier’s lights flickered a few times before finally illuminating the place. I sighed in relief, only to feel myself tense up at the sound of Mr. Wade’s voice outside.
“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?!”
Dion Lesage's Diary
11 April, noon.--The weather changed. When I first looked out the window this the morning there were gray clouds in the sky. The sea loses its subtle turquoise glow and looks more navy blue whenever this is the case… not that it looks any less beautiful, but the thought of making a trip down to the pier certainly feels less appealing for most. Father said the house across the street has a wooden staircase in the back garden that ends all the way down in the sand, and that the owners were fools to even have it built, as no one in their right mind would want to have direct access to that beach. I, myself, have never touched those waters. The sea here is more of a luxurious backdrop, as the water is too deep and has far too many rocks to make swimming safe. Not for leisure, at least.
I shall stay indoors today. The town feels even emptier when the sun isn’t shining. On days like this, everything is slow… even for a small town. I’ve brought books to entertain myself, and a day without scheduled activities is in all honesty far from upsetting. Even when we stay here, Father always seems to have business plans. In the form of visits from his associates, often. I am usually asked to take part in their meetings and whatever entertainment Father has prepared. Despite these activities, it never feels like anything other than work, as he refuses to allow me to send an invitation to my own friends. They’d be unnecessary distractions, he says.
2 PM.--Lord help me, the most strange thing happened. I never thought there could be a thing in this peaceful town that’d be frightening. Well, and there isn’t. Yet for an instant I thought I saw a ghost.
From the tea room on the second floor I looked out the window and saw a figure before the house across the street. Ever since our former neighbors stopped coming, I’d never seen anyone near the house except for the keeper, a man who visits the place a couple times a week, always in the early morning. This was not the keeper.
A tall, slight figure… one that I don’t think I’ve seen before stood there. Upon closer consideration… I realized, of course, that it was no ghost, but a young man. Close to my age, it seemed. A realtor, perhaps. Yet the particular shade of blonde of his hair seemed familiar. I still remember the family that used to stay there when I was a child, there were two brothers, one of them blonde.
He seems to have walked inside. The urge to go and confirm if this man is who I suspect is making me restless.
Text Messages between Joshua and Clive Rosfield
[35 pictures attached]
Mr. Wade and I just finished inspecting all the rooms…
It’s not as terrible as I feared, but I don’t think 2 days will be enough.
Fuck, I’m sorry, Joshua
I can still come help you, if you want.
Mother would be furious.
She doesn’t have to find out.
How do you think she heard about the neighbors complaining?
She’d find out.
It’s alright, Clive. Mr. Wade is going to help with everything.
I also… spoke with someone.
Someone? Who?
The neighbor…
The one from across the street.
That old man was always insufferable and sketchy as hell.
No, I didn’t see him. It was his son.
Ah. Yeah… you and him played together once or twice.
I'm not sure I remember that… but he seems really nice.
Don’t mingle with him Joshua, didn’t I just tell you the old man was sketchy?
This isn’t the old man, Clive.
Don’t care. If Mother was clingy with you, his father was on another level.
Stop, Clive. We haven’t even seen them in over ten years. He was very polite.
Just… keep me posted, alright? Be careful and just try to focus on the house so you can return home soon.
Joshua Rosfield's Journal
Later that evening.--It’s so late it might be Friday by the time I actually go to bed. I also might be putting it off on purpose… as it feels strange to be in this house by myself. It’s our home in a way, and Mr. Wade helped me clean this room so I could sleep here, but it doesn’t feel familiar whatsoever. It’s a safe, peaceful neighborhood, and Mr. Wade says not much has changed. I locked the door. Somehow, it’s still unsettling.
Reading wasn’t helping at all, so I thought writing this down might.
Something much more pleasant did happen earlier. Apparently, our neighbors from across the street are still the same family from all those years ago. Clive said we did meet them back then, but I don’t remember that clearly. The son's name is Dion, he’s my age, and he approached to ask if I was a Rosfield. It sounded like he did remember us even though he didn’t say much more. He was very polite and very, very unfairly good looking. God… Clive said I shouldn’t talk to him, so of course I didn’t tell Clive he invited me to have coffee with him tomorrow. He said there’s a lovely bookstore and café near the pier.
The house does need a deep cleaning and some renovations which will take at least a couple of days. I think an afternoon having coffee with our neighbor is more than justifiable.
Dion Lesage's Diary
5 PM.--The keeper from the house across the street glared daggers at me. I was only able to explain myself once the young man I saw earlier stepped outside. He is, indeed, the boy with reddish blonde hair from back then. Joshua Rosfield, the youngest son of the family.
I knew I was out of line when I lingered to make conversation. I suppose I got carried away given that his unexpected return to this town is quite probably the most exciting event of the past couple of weeks. Yet, I must add he is quite an affable person. He smiled with what seemed genuine friendliness. I do remember thinking when we were children that his presence felt… warm. He has, without a doubt, an effortless charm and graceful beauty.
He agreed to meet tomorrow afternoon for coffee at Tomes’ Café.
12 April.--There had been only a few hours of proper sunlight in the morning, then gray clouds covered the sky and the air began to feel somewhat chilly. I stood before the café wearing a jacket, having expected the temperature to drop more than usual. Through the large window of the establishment, I noticed the place was mostly empty. There was a young couple in one table, and a lady with a book in another, leaving a few tables available to choose from.
My vision focused on the reflection of an approaching figure on the window, coaxing me to fix my posture and turn around immediately, perhaps unnecessarily fast, to find Joshua walking towards me. Strands of blonde hair moved slightly with the wind, yet Joshua seemed unbothered, and I couldn’t help but notice the endearingly mussed hair didn’t make him look any less beautiful. He was wearing black, a burgundy sweater being the only garment creating contrast. He looked effortlessly elegant.
“Dion, hello. I’m sorry, have you been waiting for long?” he said.
“Not at all,” I answered right away reassuringly, and was glad to see the other’s expression soften in relief. “Let us go inside, this weather is perfect for coffee, isn’t it?”
I stepped forward and opened the door for Joshua, offering a soft smile that I could tell didn’t go unnoticed by him. If there was doubt or hesitation, it all seemed to fade away when our eyes met. I couldn't help but wonder then, if Joshua experienced something similar to me, because I would be lying if I said I didn't feel my heart race for an instant.
Inside, the air became instantly warmer, the pleasant scent of coffee and a hint of paper and ink appealing to the senses. It seemed to bring a smile to Joshua’s face. It was relatively quiet, with only the soft chatter of the other customers and music that was playing just loud enough to provide an enjoyable background noise. There was a distinct quality to the sound, and I noticed Joshua looking around until his gaze found the source of the music. A vinyl record player.
“Where would you like to sit?” I asked, mindful of not disturbing the pleasant serenity around us. I noticed Joshua taking in the details of the place, and it made me happy that he seemed to find it appealing. Having chosen a table, he sat down, with me joining him after taking off my jacket.
“What a nice café, I feel like I could come here every day for an afternoon cup of tea,” he said, and later on mentioned it inspired a sensation of the world outside being a distant realm. I often felt the same.
Sitting across from Joshua, I was able to better appreciate the sky blue irises that had caught my attention since the previous afternoon when Joshua approached to greet me. They were lovely, and yet… his eyes looked slightly tired, with a hint of dark circles contrasting against the smooth, light skin of his face.
I gave a slow nod. “I feel quite the same way. I do it often whenever we are in town, although I must say this is the first time someone has joined me…” And then I hesitated, worried it might be rude to ask if Joshua was tired. “Have you–- Well, has your stay in town been pleasant so far?” I inquired instead.
“Afternoon, gentlemen. What can I get you?” Vivian, a young woman with silvery hair approached our table, a small notepad and pen in her hand. We placed our orders, with Joshua asking for a french vanilla latte, and I couldn't help the way my eyes widened as I found myself smiling in amusement. “Great minds think alike. I’ll have the same thing, please,” I said, because that was indeed my usual order. Curious.
And so I stole the first quiet laugh from Joshua’s lips of the afternoon, and in consequence decided that I didn’t want it to be the last.
Any concerns about our conversation turning awkward given the unexpected nature of our reunion quickly went away as we easily discovered a few mutual interests. Reading, from philosophy to science fiction. Modern and contemporary art, except cubism.
“Have you visited the museum of antique Rosarian history? It’s one of my favorites,” Joshua’s words were full of warm enthusiasm despite the way he kept his voice soft, and it was then that I noticed a particular glimmer in the other’s blue eyes. Somehow, it tempted me to say that I hadn’t been to that place yet, even if it wasn’t true, perhaps in hopes I could suggest we should visit it together, given our shared interests. But I was practically blushing at the mere notion of attempting such a thing, so I didn’t.
Before we knew it, we finished our cups of coffee, but the conversation barely paused. We didn’t need anything beyond looking at one other for a moment to know we didn’t have any intention of leaving just yet. Cappuccinos were next. I added sugar to mine and Joshua mentioned that despite him not being used to it, he wanted to do the same and discover why it was that it was my preference. I felt silly for the way it made me smile.
“May I ask you something?” Joshua said suddenly while I sipped my cappuccino.
Hyper-aware of his attention on me, I set my coffee down carefully, worried it might look rushed. “Yes, of course,” I said.
“Do you really remember… when we played as children?” There was a subtle shift in Joshua’s expression. For an instant he almost looked troubled.
“I do. Your parents invited my father to join them for afternoon tea at your porch. You and I sat in the front yard, although your mother did tell you not to leave her sight, so we watched the clouds and the birds, and you showed me the tricks your puppy was learning at the time… all under the watchful eye of your brother, of course,” I paused to study Joshua’s reaction and quickly became concerned that I might have made him uncomfortable. “Is… something wrong?” I asked.
Joshua shook his head, and I could see him trying to offer a reassuring smile. “No–- No, it’s just that…” he hesitated, lowering his gaze. “I don’t remember a lot of things from back then; not in detail, at least. And hearing that… well, I wish I remembered.”
The longer Joshua avoided my gaze, the more tension grew in my shoulders. Fortunately, our eyes met again soon enough, and I thought my eyes must have deceived me because I swore I saw a pink flush spreading across Joshua's cheeks.
“I’m sure it wouldn’t have taken me this long to come back," he concluded.
Warmth invaded my chest. My heart raced. And Lord, I smiled, feeling a veil between us being lifted.
Our cappuccinos lasted us but the blink of an eye. There was a sweet taste in Joshua's company, and coffee barely felt like a necessary excuse to linger around each other anymore.
I gestured subtly for Vivian to bring the check. When she did, I felt something gently nudging at my foot under the table, and I couldn’t help the way my gaze searched for Joshua’s, only to find him smiling expectantly. Joshua insisted to pay for our coffees and I, emboldened, agreed only under the condition that he allowed me to show him the other section of the establishment. Vivian's delicate eyebrows arched in amusement. She’d watched me visit the café every spring for the last few years all by myself. She’d always been nothing but polite, and she’d watched me talk with the owner quite a few times, so I could only assume that the knowing smile on her lips meant she would tell Tomes all about this later.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Joshua said once Vivian picked up our empty cups and left for the kitchen. By then, our conversations had acquired a different pace, with more pauses that felt far from uncomfortable, less pleasantries despite the kind tone we shared, and perhaps a mutual toeing of the line between amiability and something more.
I led the way further into the shop, crossing a small but cozy reading area and into a larger room with wooden shelves full of neatly organized books. It was still somewhat small for a bookstore, but Joshua said it was one of, if not the, most interesting he had seen. The books were all second-hand, but that was far from unappealing to him. In fact, it only seemed to feed into his enthusiasm to begin exploring the titles.
“I don’t understand how there aren't more people here…” Joshua mused out loud as his blue eyes scanned a row of books, all romance novels. Paperbacks, hard covers, special editions.
I took a moment to look around, only noticing then that there was indeed no one else but us. This sudden realization made a sense of anticipation begin to bloom in my chest.
“I hear the café is popular with the locals, but most of them prefer to stay in their homes on colder days… and many take their coffee to go,” I explained, taking a few steps forward to join Joshua by the shelf he was inspecting at the moment.
“Have you been coming here for a long time, then?” he inquired, although I had a feeling he already knew the answer.
I merely nodded, which made Joshua lift his gaze from a row of books and turn his head to look at me. The lighting in the room had a warm quality to it, accentuating the unique shades of golden, reddish, and perhaps a hint of pink in Joshua’s hair. It suited him, that warmth.
“By yourself?” Joshua added, and his tone almost sounded concerned. He didn't seem to believe it to be the case.
Another nod, and a long pause from the both of us followed. Joshua’s eyes acquired a particular softness, which I had the privilege of witnessing in real time, and I likely would have continued to gaze into that brilliant sky blue had I not noticed, slightly anxious, the prolonged silence.
“My father sees our time here as a mere… change of scenery, given that most of his associates have no issues with coming here instead of our usual residence in the city. My acquaintances, however, aren’t as welcome,” without meaning to, my voice had gone somewhat quieter.
Perhaps, had the circumstances been different, Joshua would have taken that opportunity to inquire further about my father. Usually, people couldn't help it, but Joshua seemed much more willing to focus on the fact that he was the first to spend an afternoon with me in that place. He said as much, and I confess I was speechless in the best of ways.
The isolation, high expectations, loneliness… Joshua understood because his experience hadn’t been all that different for many years. He mentioned it was relatively recent that he gained more autonomy, but he remembered all too well what it was like. He took a step closer and reached for my hand. His skin was incredibly soft, yet I felt him stutter when there was a small, involuntary jerk from me in response to his touch.
“I’m–- I’m sorry…” Joshua started, but I shook my head and reached for his hand in return.
“I just… I wasn’t expecting it, but it’s not unwelcome,” I reassured him while gently drawing his slightly smaller hand closer. “You’re warm,” I murmured despite myself, only to breathe out a brief chuckle at my own remark. I truly was hopeless.
But Joshua’s smile was far from judgmental, or disappointed. It was kind and accepting. It was inviting.
“Thank you, Dion, for inviting me here and sharing this with me. This will sound silly, but… I really wish I’d been here all these past years. Every spring would have been something to look forward to,” and who knows, had things been different, just how much closer we’d be already.
To yearn for the time that was lost. I felt quite the same. Joshua’s smile acquired a bittersweet edge as this new feeling began to settle in his mind.
And I, without stopping to think about it, slowly brought my free hand close to his face. Joshua blinked, but made no attempt whatsoever to move away. I brushed my thumb over a beautifully defined cheekbone. I could feel warmth invading Joshua’s skin, dusting his skin in soft pink.
“You’re here now,” I said.
Text Messages Between Joshua and Clive Rosfield
12 April.--How are things going over there? You haven’t sent pictures today
What happened with the neighbors?
Did they leave you alone?
Joshua?
You’re not hanging out with this ‘polite’ guy, are you?
Joshua at least tell me you’re fine, I’m starting to worry.
I’m more than fine, Clive.
God, don’t do this to me, Joshua!
I didn’t mean to make you worry. I was busy.
Right. So he’s more than just polite…
Joshua Rosfield's Journal
12 April.--The house is looking much cleaner, and the staff that Mr. Wade brought to help with today’s tasks had finished replacing the old curtains by the time I was back from the café. I helped vacuum and dust the furniture and surfaces. I’m feeling utterly drained.
Still… I can’t stop smiling. I had coffee with Dion, and I’m certain this would sound crazy if I told anyone, but he doesn’t feel like a stranger at all. Clive said we played together a few times when we were children. I barely remember any of it and it’s a true shame.
He’s polite even though Clive thinks I’m only being reckless. But there’s much more about him that I have, admittedly, failed to mention yet, lest Clive make his way here to see it with his own eyes; Dion listens attentively, he is considerate, he is charming, he is sweet. Jill would say he is chivalrous, like a prince.
Maybe I’m being irresponsible, but after spending time with Dion today, I feel much better than last night. I’m nowhere as restless, and I feel like I could have a better night’s sleep. He was concerned I wasn't resting well and I confessed the house can be unsettling in the dark. We exchanged phone numbers, and he asked me to promise that I would message him if I felt restless again.
After the café, when we reached our street, I didn’t want to leave his side. I think he hesitated too. “I shall see you soon, then,” he said. And I already feel like I can’t wait.
***