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It first happened one night, a long time ago, when Wesley said something he shouldn’t have. They had failed to compromise with a well-known and established drug ring. This alliance could’ve pushed them to a more respected level, and they both knew that. Wesley, for the most part, didn’t mind. He enjoyed the company of his employer and their few hired men, but mostly Wilson’s.
That night, they rode in tense silence in the back of a limo. Wesley contemplated saying something, but knew it would ultimately fall on deaf ears. Fortunately, Wesley’s internal debate came to an end when Wilson suddenly spoke.
“Wesley, what is my schedule for tomorrow?” Wesley hurriedly fans away his previous thoughts to bring his employer’s schedule to the forefront of his mind.
“You have…one meeting with Dalson Real Estate.” The meeting is to negotiate the price on a run-down apartment complex near the docks of the Hudson. The purchase of this building also means a lot to them.
“Cancel it.” By now, the limo had stopped in front of their stop: an apartment building in Manhattan. Wilson lived in the penthouse while Wesley lived a floor down. Wilson was hesitant about letting Wesley live on his own, considering his history and age at the time, but Wesley assured him everything would be fine.
Wilson made quick work of leaving the car and entering the building, leaving Wesley baffled as he closed the door on his side of the limo. Wesley chased after Wilson, who seemed to pay him no mind as he stepped into the elevator with him. Wesley kept his cool and stared forward, as did his employer.
“Sir, may I ask…why?” Wesley trusted his employer, he just couldn’t stand not knowing something.
“You shouldn’t concern yourself with this Wesley. It’s best we return to our homes and talk tomorrow.” The doors of the elevator slid open to permit Wilson to do just that. But Wesley knew how hard they’ve fought for a chance to speak with Dalton over that specific apartment complex. Heck, Wesley was the one who fought tooth and nail to get his employer that meeting. He wasn’t mad, he just wanted an explanation.
“Sir, if I may-”
“You may not. Goodnight, Wesley.” Wilson entered his penthouse and was surprised to see Wesley do the same.
“Sir, I am just as upset about this as you are. But we shouldn’t let this mistake influence us to make another one. I think we-”
“I did not ask for your opinion, Wesley. Now, I would like to sleep.” Wesley could see how his employer’s hands tightened into fists. He could see how his shoulders tensed up. How should Wesley get through to him?
“I…yes, sir. Goodnight.” Wesley made no move to leave. Wilson’s stance relaxed as he sighed and cocked his head to the right. He turned around to face Wesley but refused to stray his eyes from a set spot above Wesley’s head.
“Wesley. I think we have come full circle. I have returned to the position I was in when I…met you. I have considered all of our options. I think…if our enemies are hungry, we should throw them a bone.” Our enemies…oh. Oh.
“Sir, the Russians are not our best bet right now. We should-”
“Wesley, this is something that should have happened a long time ago. We can’t let your…grudge hold us back any longer.” Grudge? Grudge? It’s true that the Russians have been in a depression caused by their motherland’s strengthening economy, but that should mean nothing to them. If anything, it would be the perfect time to eradicate them once and for all.
“Sir, you seem to have forgotten what we did to them. If there’s any chance in hell they’ll be willing to meet with you, it will be to return what you did-” Wesley’s rant is cut short by an angry shout that chills Wesley to his core.
“I have no choice, Wesley! If we want to make it in this world, we have to be willing to do-”
“No! We have a choice, it's you who won’t- “ In hindsight, Wesley should have known. His employer had a short fuse that didn’t tolerate anything from anyone. Wesley knew better than to think he was the exception.
Then why did it hurt so much to be reminded?
A fist collided with his face and sent him flying to the cold, white floor. That was the first time. His shattered glasses fell to the ground with a small clack. Wesley looked up at the man towering over him. He could cry from the frustration he felt. But he won’t. Because he’s better than that.
Wesley stands up straight and stares down.
“You’re right, Wesley; I do have a choice, and it’s a choice I’ve decided to make without you. Don’t let it pass your mind that you are my employee, not my equal. If I tell you to do something, you do it!.”
Wesley felt like a little kid getting scolded in front of the class. He knew what he had to do.
“I’m sorry, sir. Thank you for…reminding me of my place.” Wesley studied his employer’s loafers intently to avoid letting his emotions show on his face. It seemed Wilson could tell he was avoiding him in his own way, because he put a hand on Wesley’s shoulder and lowered his head to allow them to talk at eye level. They stared at each other silently. Wilson studied Wesley’s face while Wesley waited for further instructions.
“Wesley, it was not my intention to…frighten you. I’m…sorry for hurting you. I’ll see to it that your glasses are replaced immediately.” Wesley nodded, but Wilson did nothing else. He continued analyzing Wesley’s face until, finally, he crossed the space between them. Wilson enveloped Wesley in a tight hug that, frankly, only made Wesley uncomfortable. Wilson’s hugs were…weird. They were always too tight and too long. Wesley sighed.
They parted ways with a goodnight, sir and a goodnight, Wesley. As soon as he was in the elevator again, Wesley left a voicemail to Dalson Real Estate about how terribly sorry he was about having to cancel the meeting he’d been looking forward to. He hung up and closed the door to his apartment. Once inside, Wesley struggled to keep his emotions inside. He did it anyway, though, because he’s better than that.
In the dim light of his bathroom, he could see the blooming bruise on the entire left side of his face. He took a cigarette and a lighter from the bathroom cabinets and headed to his balcony. The cool night air stung his face even more. Wesley decided he liked the pain radiating from his eye like waves. It distracted him from the painful, hollow ache in his chest that ate his heart years ago. How long ago was a mystery. It could have been the first time he hurt someone, way back when he was a kid in Russia working as an indentured servant to a wealthy family. Maybe it was before: when the Union fell and his family resorted to selling him for…how much?
That’s not fair of him. He knows his family didn’t have a choice. Well, they did. It was just a choice that was made without him.
Wesley takes a deep inhale of smoke and holds it in. He exhales.
No, that’s not how it went. How did it go? He has to get his memories in order. He has to…fuck. Wesley realizes he’s through with his cigarette when a slight burn reaches his fingers. How much time had he spent here just thinking?
Wesley grabs another cigarette. It’s not like he’s needed somewhere.
Now, where was he? Right. The Union fell and his family struggled. Calling them family felt wrong, though. He and his mother had moved in with his grandmother after…after…goddammit. Wesley takes a drag.
He and his mother lived in a city at one point. His guess is that hard times fell on them and they had to move in with his grandmother. Wesley was not fond of his grandmother because it seemed she was not fond of him or his mother.
His poor mother. He would rejoice when she managed to get out of bed. His mother was the only thing keeping his grandmother from unleashing her fury onto him. But with his mother being out of it most of the time…Wesley exhales and takes another drag.
Wesley had a teacher there. He loved him like the father he never had. The teacher loved him too. Sometimes too much, though. He'd rather not dwell on that. He informed Wesley of a job as a servant to a rich family. It’s only an hour or two away, he said. Wesley refused, obviously. He refused because he couldn’t leave his mother. He refused until they were eating bread for breakfast, lunch, and dinner- if they still had any left by the end of the day, that is. By then he couldn’t refuse anymore. Wesley takes a long drag. Looks like it was his choice after all.
From this moment on, Wesley thought, he'll learn to shut up when asked to, even if he may forget now and then. It was okay, though, since his employer would always remind him of his place. Wesley loved Wilson, even if he knew Wilson loved him…differently. He would continue to refuse his employer until he couldn’t. For now, though, Wesley can continue smoking knowing he has all night and morning to do so. The glowing combustion of the cigarette burns Wesley’s fingers yet again. He flicks it off the balcony as he did the last one. It's okay, Wesley thinks. He has an entire pack left to contemplate.