Thomas had slept until the sun was already up. He was still on the bed, shirtless, eyes shut, enjoying his dream and new environment, until the wooden window of the house was opened. The light wasn't flashing directly into his eyes because the window was over his head. He was facing the door and not the window.

Thomas eyes fluttered opened. He shut them again, covering his head with the blanket. He was, too, tired. Too, tired to wake up by 10:34 am. He needed to complete the eight hours of his sleeping routine with an extra four hour. The walk he did had drain all his energy.

"Wake up, sleeping Prince," Maxwell said, pulling the blanket off of Thomas. "This isn't your Palace."

Thomas groaned. He mumbled curses as he turned his head to the wall, showing his back to Maxwell. He was lying on his side, his arms folded across his nude chest.

Maxwell watched him make himself comfortable, smirking. He thought for a minute then smiled a devious smile— the kind people do when they are about to do something crazy.

Maxwell bent over the bed, turned Thomas on his back. He dug his left hand under his back, the right under his butt, and lifted him up bridal style.

Thomas had been lazy to get up. He had even been, too, lazy to react when Maxwell turned him over. But when he was lifted, his eyes opened wide like a security dog's.

Their eyes met instantly. Thomas realised that Maxwell had beautiful yellowish brown eyes. His eyes seemed to change colors, from yellow to brown and vice versa, the harder Thomas stared. He looked even more beautiful than Thomas had recorder. He did have pimples, but they beautified him.

Both of them have stared at each other as if they were falling in love with each other. The kind of look the two main characters who will fall in love, in a movie, shared was what they shared.

Maxwell slowly turned around and released his grasp, letting Thomas to fall on the wooden floor. He began laughing hard, holding his knees, as if he hadn't been staring at Thomas like he was going to kiss him.

Thomas rolled his eyes, annoyed. He lifted himself up. He cursed in a very low tone, making his words sound like gibberish. 

"I'm sorry, Tommy, but there was no other way you was going to wake up. I tried the easy way," he said, stopping his stupid laugh.

Thomas ignored him. He went back to the bed to search for his shirt. He had placed it on the head of the bed, but it was gone.

"Where's my shirt?" He asked Maxwell.

"In the washing machine," Maxwell replied, walking over to his mini closet. He threw it open.

"Why? What am I going to wear?" Thomas asked the question one after the other in split seconds, still annoy.

"They were stained. Had you gone climbing trees?" He asked, searching through his closet. Thomas thought Maxwell was talking to the clothes in it.

He hadn't gone tree-climbing. He had gone climbing walls and windows. The raining season usually got the walls wet, but the dry season got them dusty.

"So what am I going to wear?" He asked, avoiding the climbing tree topic. He didn't want himself remembering that he had been played and rejected. He was moving on. He had the choice to move on the moment he climb down Jacob's window.

"This," Maxwell replied, holding up a black shirt that had 'strong' imprinted across the chest in bold red letters. "But after you take your shower. Follow me."

Thomas followed him out of the room. Maxwell opened the door that was opposite his and ushered Thomas into the bathroom.

"Why is the bathroom this side?" Thomas inquired, looking around the bathroom. It had some modern designs, like the tiles in the tub. But most of the other wares were archaic.

"Ask your ancestors," Maxwell replied. Thomas furrowed his brows. "They built the house, not me," Maxwell answered to the facial expression. He closed the door.

There wasn't much of comfort in the bathroom, but it was much better. It didn't had a running shower, so he had to use the bucket that sat in the tub. Water was already in it. It was hot.

He used the purple sponge in the soap dish. He used some kind of a yellow soap that had a nice smell to take his shower. He scrubbed his skin. There was no shampoo for his hair. He poured the water over his head.

After wiping his skin, he walked out of the bathroom into the corridor with Maxwell's towel around his waist. He wasn't very sure it belonged to Maxwell because it smelled different. Different from Maxwell. It looked new. Smelled new. White. 

Thomas opened the room door and saw Maxwell with a tray in his hand. He had put a black cowboy vest over his white Italian shirt. Black shining trousers, and an over-used black sneaker that still looked fresh. His left hand was at his back, the way waiters do in a restaurant. 

Thomas watched him, lips apart, water dripping from his head. He spotted the shirt that Maxwell had shown him neatly folded on the bed with a blue jeans beneath it.

"Where should I place your food, prince Thomas?" Maxwell asked, dramatising a prince's servant dressed like a waiter.

Thomas ignored him. He was still angry that Maxwell had let him fall on purpose. Good thing he didn't feel any sort of pain.

He picked up the shirt from the bed and threw it on. It was short; a little bit small. With the towel still around his waist, he put his legs in the trousers and carried it up to his waist before removing the towel.

He had wanted to ask Maxwell to give him privacy, but he didn't want to feel bossy, though he wouldn't mind doing that after Maxwell had threw him down on his butt.

"Please take me to grandpa. Now," he said to Maxwell when he was done dressing.

"Grandpa demands that you have a proper shower— which you've already had— and a proper breakfast— which you've not had yet— before meeting him," Maxwell said to him, keeping up the palace-guard posture.

"OK, what did you make?" Thomas asked him, looking at the tray. He could clearly see the glass of pineapple juice and the sandwich on the tray. "I don't like sardine in my sandwich," he lied.

"I didn't know. Wait for me to make another one before taking you to see grandpa." Maxwell had seen the lies clearly.

Thomas didn't want to wait. He had never seen his grandfather before, so he had to eat what Maxwell gave him.

Thomas had always wanted a grandparent. But when he had grown to start wishing for one, three of his grandparents were already dead. Only his mother's father was alive, so he had begged her to let him see his grandpa. She hadn't agreed. So he had to manuever to get his grandpa's number.

Grandpa didn't want to see him. Thomas had told him several times to come visit or give him his address. He had refused everything. Gradually, Thomas forgot about him, until last night when he needed him.

"Why were you out in the streets at that time of the night?" Maxwell asked in a caring tone.

Thomas had wanted to start telling Maxwell, but he chose not to. "A problem shared is a problem solved," people say. That's not right. Share your problem with the wrong person and watch it be used to create another problem.

You tell people your secret, you enslave yourself to them. Make one mistake and they'll start telling the whole world. Not everyone does that, just that the minority is lesser than the majority. 

"I don't think it's any of your business," he replied. The statement was meant to send Maxwell away.

"You think it's none of my business?" Maxwell chuckled. "I had to get my ass up in the middle of the night to come get you, and all you have to say is it's none of my business. Show some gratitude, Tommy."

"It's grandpa I owe gratitude, not you. I called grandpa, not you." He sounded, too, mean than he had expected himself to. He could read Maxwell. What he was reading was telling him Maxwell wasn't happy.

"You're an asshole."

"How do you call a person who lifts another person up just to throw them down on purpose?" He had one of his brows slightly higher than the other.

Maxwell rolled his eyes. "I was just playing with you," he stated.

"No, you were being a cute asshole," Thomas said the words faster than usual. They had rolled off his tongue like jam at the edge of a spoon.

Maxwell smirked. He smiled. He grinned. "What did you just call me?"

"An asshole?" Thomas searched through his memory to recall the exact words he had said. All he remembered was he had called Maxwell a asshole. Was Maxwell going to tease him because he used 'a' instead of 'an' before asshole? He didn't know.

"No. That's not all."

"That's all I can remember." Thomas shrugged.

"You called me cute," Maxwell reminded him. He remembered immediately that he had said the words so fast that 'cute' must have slipped out unknowingly.

"As much as I did call you an asshole." He put the tray on Maxwell's thighs. Maxwell was giving him a hyena's vibe with that stupid smile. "I've had a shower, and eaten like grandpa demanded, take me to him, now."

Maxwell became serious again. He wasn't smiling or flirting. He told Thomas to wait for him to take the dishes in the kitchen, and for him to inform grandpa that he was bringing him.

He came back few minutes later and signaled Thomas to follow him. They took a left turn deeper into the hallway. The lights were still on because the sun wasn't providing the hallway with much light. He followed Maxwell down a dark staircase that ran deeper into the house. The house was indeed bigger on the inside like Thomas had thought. The staircase seemed to be leading to a basement.

It wasn't a basement. It was like a whole new world under there. It was like they had vanished to a new world. Downstairs, there were maids cleaning and guards stationed at various corners. They didn't wear suit. They wore similar clothes like Maxwell— cowboy vests, white Italian shirts, shining trousers and shoes. They had weapons in their harnesses. Guns, knives.

Thomas kept his eyes on Maxwell's head. Maxwell nodded to a thickset guard who stood in front a big white door. The guard stepped aside and let them in. They went into a new corridor. There wasn't any doors on the left and right wall. Straight ahead of them stood a single door.

Maxwell opened the door slowly and they walked into the room. There was no window, only the lamp that provided light and AC that provided comfort.