gargoyle bf: Ausilio (sfw)
gargoyle bf; a meet-cute.
The city is vast, although from the window of your tiny apartment it looks tiny; a little grey maze way like looking into the glass of an ant-farm. Which is exactly how you, with your zero sense of direction and rapidly draining cell phone battery, find yourself clutching the patisserie bag a little tighter in your fist. You’re annoyed with yourself, and with the tall buildings blocking out the light from setting sun and making it darker, faster. You bite your lip, annoyed, and peer down the dauntingly narrow alleys around you. There’s a loud thump that makes you jump, but no matter how much you squint down the alleys, or up to the roofs, you can't see anything. There’s a shout and then loud laughter in the distance that makes you pick up your pace, ankle twisting a bit on the cobblestone.
You take a couple of side streets, still trying to find the main one that will help you orient yourself, you keep your stride confident, although you feel yourself blushing a bit as you start to get upset that you’ve let this happen. As if traveling to a new city alone wasn’t already a stupid idea, you didn't even bring something to keep you phone, your only way to keep yourself safe, from dying. There's another noise, like something heavy dragging on stone, which brings your eyes up to the darkened sky again. Odd. And then, something catches your eye.
In the warm light of one of the streetlights ahead, a paper is fluttering down to the ground. Brows furrowing, you step toward it, curious. You don't see any open windows, and it’s not very breezy, so you don’t know where this paper could’ve come from. You pick it up with curiosity, and the paper is soft against your fingers, in a way you’ve never really felt before. You turn it over, running your fingers over the texture; all the edges are worn and ragged, except for one smoothly cut side, as though it’s been cut with a razor out of a book. On the other side is a beautiful and rather meticulously drawn overview of what you can only assume is the city. There are no words written on it, but the buildings are immaculate, and in fact, you think you recognize the spires on one from a cathedral near your apartment.
You'd think nothing of it, really, other than how peculiar it was to find this gem in an alley, except…. Except that on some of the alleys, drawn like a path, is fresh ink. It’s soft blue ink, and it starts with a small circle, traces it's way through the streets, and ends with an X; and X right near the cathedral that’s across from your apartment. You press a nervous finger to the X, and can’t help the exclamation that happens when it comes away wet with ink. You jerk away from the map as though the paper could possibly threaten you. You whip around in a circle, eyes darting around, but there's nothing and no one in sight. You clutch the paper close, eyes following the path again, teeth pressing into your lip hard.
The city is ancient, and surely filled with ancient magic; you tell yourself; and truly you don't feel threatened… so you take the gift for what it is, and start following the path provided, hyper vigilant and breathing as carefully and quietly as you can muster.
Sure enough, you end up outside your apartment building, standing on the stoop and staring intently at the spires of the cathedral. You look at the map again, then back across the streets. You eyes settle on the first thing that catches them; the profile of a rather bored looking Gargoyle on the church. His elbow is on his knee, and he looks out over the city as if babysitting a particularly boring child.
“Thank you.” You call quietly; someone had to be looking out for you, just like the church’s metaphorical watch dog.
You end up pinning the map to the wall in your bedroom, and whirl of your fingerprint saved in the ink reminds you of the wonder you felt as the paper drifted to the ground.
You spend a lot of time exploring, and a lot of time simply sitting in your window, eating amazing treats and wondering at the beauty of the city. You’re lonely, though the locals are extremely welcoming and friendly; and you end up talking to a lot of pigeons and statues under your breath as a result.But you’re happy, for the first time in a long time, and content.
About a week later, as you learn the streets and get more confident in the city, you go to your normal window seat and notice something wedged in the window sill. You wrench it up with some difficulty, the old wood sticking, to find a little folded square of paper. You feel your eyes widen, and you bring the paper into your room, unfolding it with nervous fingers. Inside is a sketch of you, in a rather cute outfit from a few days ago, as well as quite a few detailed closeups of your hands, your eyes, and you curled up in the window. There are also, around the edges, little sketches of food and drinks you’ve had recently.
It’s beautiful, though it does make you a little nervous, both to be the center of attention and to have it at your window; but there’s no balcony, which is both terrifying and reassuring. You trace your fingers along the curve of your own legs, and then around the rim of a rather delicious latte you’d had, you think, just yesterday. You get an idea, and head out quickly; hair a mess; to the deli you’ve become fond of. You have to job a bit when there aren’t people nearby, but you make it just before they close.
As you stumble in through the door, you crack open the window again, and set out a still warm loaf of bread and an iced cup of rose tea. You also balance, carefully, an immaculate slice of chocolate cake and some strawberries. You hold the edge of the plate carefully, and lean out the window.
“Thank you for the drawings, they’re amazing. I noticed you seemed to like the food I’d been having, so I got you some. Please, enjoy.” You call out, quietly, into the night. Then you turn away, leaving the window open and sit again in your window seat, waiting on baited breath. For what feels like hours, you wait, until, suddenly, the window shakes a bit, and there's that familiar scraping sound. You get goosebumps, and can’t bring yourself to turn your head yet. You swallow, hesitate, and then gather all of your courage.
“I-I hope it's still warm. I hope you like it.” You bite your lip and wait, feeling a bit stupid.
“It’s too much, but thank you. I had not wanted anything in return.” You can't help but gasp; the voice that carries into your window is nearly a whisper, but it’s a deep baritone, and so, so gravely. It rumbles through you like leaning on a speaker.
You shake your nerves, and turn to see a large, dark hand reach to slice off a piece of bread with two claws in a pinching motion. You watch, shocked, and follow that dark hands as it rains the bread chunk to a stone mouth; one that opens to show a large thick tongue and rows of sharp teeth, two fangs large and thick and pressing into a thin bottom lip. He looks bored, his brow sculpted into a neutral look, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips as he tastes the bread. It’s the Gargoyle, you realize, and with a careful shift, you can see past the curve of a large wing and see the empty space where he once sat. As if sensing your gaze for the first time, his head turns slowly toward you and he looks suddenly bashful. You take the moment to push forward, afraid he’ll flee.
“Your art is amazing, I’m flattered that you would draw me… and thank you, again, for the map.” You can hear the words shake a bit, but you’re proud of yourself for getting them out.
“Oh- it’s not- not really. But thank you; I just- I watch. That’s all i can do during the day, so at night, well, I can't really do anything at night either- so I-I draw what I've seen, and who’ve I seen. I- I noticed you when you moved in so I remembered you when you got lost that night.” His voice also seems nervous, which sounds odd in his deep voice. His tone also sounds bored, but it wavers with nerves as well, as he stumbles over his words. You’d bet if he could- he’d be blushing. You smile, and he continues, rambling.
“And I- I can’t really eat; I don’t need to so it doesn’t matter but- I can actually taste and- well, obviously, I can't just go buy it so I- well, I just really appreciate this. Would you like any?”
You shake your head, and the grin on your face nearly makes you cheeks sore. He shuffles on huge feet, and you feel grateful he’s in a little toga-like garment, as you stare at his firm muscles.
“No, thank you. I just realized I haven’t introduced myself, I’m sorry.” You reach out a hand, and watch as an emotion almost like surprise flits over his strong features. He takes your hand gently, as though he thinks he might crush your hand, cradling it like a babies. With a shock, you realize he probably could. His hand is cold, but the texture is much smoother than you expected.
“My name is Ausilio.” He grins at you, in return, and suddenly, the cloud of loneliness melts away, and your hand in his feels like home.
