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[little_words]

The silver plated collar necklace draped over Noir's collarbones and dipped down his chest extravagantly, weighted down with the single, heavy sapphire pendant seated in the middle. His deep blue eyes peered at his own reflection nervously as all around him his newly acquired "helpers" - Noir refused to think of them as anything but that - pinned his clothes fittingly against his form, brushed lint from his pants, straightened his hair, etc. They fussed over him in hushed tones and tutted over how slim he was, with one elderly woman pinching his sides and commenting on his hips. But there was fondness in her tone, and her eyes were anything but malicious, so Noir didn't find himself too bothered by her words.

When they were finished they took his arm, one helper on either side of him, and guided him gently down from the raised platform he'd been standing on and over to where the large, folded mirrors sat in a half-circle of reflections so he could get a closer look at himself. Once again his deep blue eyes looked upon his appearance, and he felt his throat swallow dryly at what he saw of himself.

Everything had happened so fast after he'd received the letter of inheritance and had suddenly found himself with more than enough money to pay off his family's debts. At the advice of the few people he called friends (who even then he'd withheld information from, so as to keep his life as routine as possible), he took care of any loose strings of financial problems he had and separated himself cleanly from his work, moving across the city and into the mansion on the outskirts of town provided by his deceased relative. With no dependents or pets or anything tying him to the city, this was an easy move, and within a week he'd settled into the spacious nine-bedroom building and tried to make sense of what to do with himself.

With no debt to pay off, his business with Deucalion and his company was done. Relationship aside, there was no need for them to keep in contact and Noir didn't trust Deucalion's... acquaintances not to end up shaking him down for his newly-acquired money. It was probably the reason why he'd ended up taking care of his family's debt in the first place. He was ready and willing to be free of the man, despite his lingering doubts and the way that his chest hurt at the thought of never seeing Deucalion again. It was better this way.

The mansion itself was so impressively decadent Noir had nearly collapsed when he'd gotten out of the car to see it. He didn't know anything about square feet or precise measurements or anything like that, so everything he'd been told had gone completely over his head except for the sheer thought that it was big.

Upon arrival, he'd been driven through a heavily secured and manned wrought iron gate, and then taken up past a long, winding driveway surrounded on either side by dense shrubs and trees. It cleared out once they'd reached the the mansion, the building itself flanked in its entryway by two sets of curling stone stairs that hugged the front of the building up to the landing and the heavy, ornately carved wooden door at the threshold. Though the mansion boasted nine bedrooms, there were no stairs and everything was on the ground level. Noir had been told that his great-grandmother had had the house built this way explicitly so that her husband wouldn't have to go up and down steps. Aside from the ones getting in and out of the house, of course, but by then they'd had a slew of servants - "helpers" - who took care worldly errands for them.

All in all, the entire estate was.... exaggeratingly larger than Deucalion's house had been. Noir felt a small sense of pride at that, but he quickly quashed it down with the thought that this wasn't a competition. He wasn't even going to see the man again, not if he had any say in it. And Deucalion would... he would...

Noir's reflection in the mirror slumped shoulders, and even he could tell that he looked upset. The nature of his relationship with the man was... complicated. But it was for the best that they went their separate ways, right?

He looked down at the phone in his hands. It was a new one, with a new number unknown to anyone save the odd phone calls he'd receive from misdials and the like. It was a certain thing that Deucalion wouldn't be calling him, hounding him day and night and wondering over where he'd disappeared to. Should he have told him what was happening? Maybe break it of with him as cleanly as he'd broken off from everything else?

Noir bit his lip and turned his phone facedown. The helpers around him raised eyebrows, but otherwise said nothing, and the room fell into a depressing silence.

************

It was odd, not having to work for a living. His days were filled mostly with exploring the mansion and discovering the heirlooms and trinkets his great-grandparents had left behind. Old photographs, scrapbooks filled with newspaper headlines from days gone by, a dusty trunk of clothes... they spoke of a different era, and of family he never even knew he had, and he didn't quite know how to process it. Right now it felt as though he'd been granted this wealth by complete strangers, and his feelings regarding this were... mixed, to say the least. But at the very least, he could learn about who they were, and try to come to a decision over what to do with his newfound wealth.

It was a few days into his new life that he received the call. Martin, the household chef, had made him a rather filling meal of toast and eggs, complete with a grapefruit beautifully sliced like a flower. Noir was seated outside, enjoying the sunlight on his perpetually pale skin and the sounds of birds calling from far off in the distance. The backyard was a vast open space sprawling with lush flowers and beautifully landscaped gardens. A manmade stream bubbled along the rocks in the streambed, and a small cobbled path took one on a sightseeing tour of the most vibrant flowers and the most peaceful corners. And in the distance, looming large and imposing like a silent, wooden guardian, a picturesque gazebo dominated the far end of the garden, surrounded by tall hedges for privacy.

Noir bit into a slice of toast with a pleased hum, and let his gaze rest on the far hedges with a wistful, peaceful look on his face. If anything else, at least this place was quiet.

"Master Lune?"

He felt himself flinch and look over. Gerard, another longtime butler of his grandparents, stood with Noir's cellphone outstretched in one hand. He must have left it in the bedroom this morning, a habit he'd developed over the past few days of having no one call or text him. Noir murmured a word of thanks and reached out to take it, but his fingers froze inches from the screen as it lit up with the word 'RESTRICTED'.

It started to ring.

"It's been like that since you've left your bedroom." Gerard explained, though trailed off when he saw the stricken look on his young lord's face. He dipped his head in apology. "Forgive me, sir, for the interruption." And then he was turning as though to make his way back to the house. Noir quickly outstretched a hand to catch the old man's sleeve, and reached out with his other for the ringing phone. At Gerard's hesitance - which was a short-lived, uncertain thing, for who was he to tell Noir no - the brunet only offered an apologetic look and a soft smile.

"It's okay, I'll take it. I know who it is."

Deucalion was the only one who ever called him, and because of the nature of the man's work he'd always kept his number hidden. He knew Noir's, of course, and always made sure to either be at his side in case of emergencies or somewhere close by. That was one of the reasons why Deucalion tended to frequent the flower shop Noir had worked at once upon a time; the man had said as much to Noir's face when asked during one of their arguments.

He should have known Deucalion would track him down sooner or later. This thought should have bothered him, but still his lips were tugging up into a faint smile and his heart was fluttering in his chest as he pressed the receive button and lifted the phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

There was complete silence. Noir's smile began to fade when he became aware of the sounds of soft breathing on the other end of the line. Deucalion always had something to say. He knew what he wanted and more often than not ended up calling Noir to tell him where to be and how to dress - or he would detail his plans with him for the night in whispered promises that sent shivers down the boy's spine.

Maybe he hadn't been heard the first time? Noir cleared his throat and tried again, a little louder this time. Even so, there was uncertainty in his voice, enough that even he could hear it.

"... hello?"

Again, nothing. Only heavy breathing, which seemed to pick up and became suddenly heavier, suddenly more desperate. A sick feeling began to stir in Noir's stomach and he caught Gerard's worried eyes from the corner of his vision, but Noir schooled his expression into something nonchalant, and chuckled softly into the speaker.

"I'm afraid you have the wrong number. Have a good da--"

And then a voice, raspy and scratchy, wheezing out a single word that made Noir's skin break out into goosebumps:

"Mine."

The line went dead, and Noir stared at the phone blankly. Had that been Deucalion? Was he upset with him for disappearing like that? A part of him believed it was, but then another part was saying no, it couldn't have been... Deucalion had never been furtive about how he felt on Noir's freedom, nor had he been secretive about proclaiming his possession. Whether it was on the streets or behind closed doors, Deucalion had made his feelings on the matter very, very clear.

Going off of this information alone, it would be easy to think it had been the man on the phone just then. However.... Deucalion also did not shy away from confrontation. When he was angry, there was no mistaking it. He had no issues with stating to someone's face that he didn't like them, or telling a complete stranger what he thought of their actions - a scenario Noir had been witness to on more than one occasion, particularly when he'd been working and a randy, drunk guest had tried to cop a feel while Deucalion was watching - so the fact that he would say that and then just hang up....

But then, if it hadn't been Deucalion...

"Master Lune?"

Noir realized he'd been furrowing his brows and swiftly smoothed his face out, turning to offer Gerard a reassuring smile. He slipped his phone back into his pocket and picked up his plate before getting to a stand, feeling very suddenly like he would rather finish his breakfast inside.

As he entered the mansion, with Gerard following dutifully at his heels, he couldn't help but find his eyes stuck on the trees lining the walls, and the way their branches rustled as though hiding a secret.