The fear did not weaken, instead, strengthening. It was bolstered by the fear that if he hesitated in responding to the call that HE would be angry. That was something he did not want. If he got angry at him...that could mean many things. All of them bad.
Still, his hand refused to move forward. Angry at himself, he retreated his hand, standing awkwardly. Feeling as if he should put his hands in his pockets, he did so. This did not relieve the storm of emotions roiling within him.
Why should he be afraid? He tried to console himself. After all, there was nothing to be afraid of. In fact, he should be glad to enter the office. To enter HIS presence again. Nothing could make him happier...he shouldn't be frightened. That should be the least of his emotions.
The normal elation he felt at the thought of entering his presence was overcome by the fear again. This was strange...usually he would lock away such fear and continue, with the blind obediance and answers that were required of him. That was his life. That was what he was here for.
At least, to HIM.
To this man, frozen by fear, there was much more to the office. To the man who inhabited it. There was an undying devotion, a willingness to do almost anything. Anything for him. He would be glad if he could just be in his presence.
But...still...the fear persisted.
He didn't like to think deeply. That made things difficult. Whenever he tried to ponder things, he found that the only thing that happened was that the problems seemed more complex and difficult to solve. But he found that unless he could overcome this fear and move forward, he would find himself at the receiving end of HIS wrath.
Perhaps it was the feeling he got from him. He knew, in his heart, in his soul, that he was deeply in love. Blindly in love. He had known it for a long time. He had read about love but had never truly experienced it. He knew it was here. He knew what it SHOULD be like. And this wasn't it. He had read from numerous books that love was a two-sided affair. It required the participation of both partners for true love. He knew that instinctually and from the many reports he had heard of fractured marriages where one side had broken down. He wanted the real kind. The kind where his affection would be returned. Where he would be worth something...where he would elevate who he loved on a pedestal and be elevated in return.
He knew that that would never happen. He knew that that man...that man who sat in the office, probably not fretting the least about what happened about him, could care less. He was nothing to him...a maid to help him, a tool for him to use when he himself could not do something. And like all tools, he was thrown to one side when he was done. He wished that once, just once, he might get some respect from him. Some kind of sign, some words or gestures, that meant he was worth something. Something...anything that would justify his devotion. Help him feel as if he was loved as well.
Why couldn't he have fallen in love with someone else? He knew he had chosen the wrong person...he knew from the beginning. He couldn't help himself. He had had flings before, surely, but none rose feelings like for him. None could make him feel as he did in his presence. No one ever came close to HIM. He knew that now, no one ever would.
Why couldn't he get SOME kind of affection back? Something to tell him he was worth something. Anything...he was so desperate. He was so lonely...
It was his fault. There was no denying that. He had many chances...many chances to reveal how he felt. Everytime...he would get so close, then back away. He would feel the words rising within him, but he would never let them free. Because he was afraid of what would happen if he knew. He had been around him so long...he knew how he would react. He was frightened...because he knew that HE would be angry.
He had planned it out so many times. So many times, he just wanted to lift this burden, just once. To let all his feelings free...he planned it out so clearly. At his home, there was a gun. He knew that if he did let this burden fall from his shoulders, HE would react angrily. HE would be furious...he knew he would be fired. If that happened, then he had nothing to live for. He would have nothing left...no job...no life. He would go home and quietly end it all. He could not...would not live without being with him everyday...knowing he had displeased him. Knowing that he had ruined his one chance...if he HAD a chance to begin with.
How he wished he could let these feelings free! Just once...just once and he would be fulfilled. Just once, if he could do everything he wanted to...without protest...without anger. Without reprimand...without the hatred or fear or imperviousness of HIM. Why did he love him? He didn't know...he just knew that he did. He didn't know what it was about him...it wasn't his personality...surely. Sometimes he frightened him...but there was something drawing about him. Perhaps it was the lure of power? No...he had no ambition but to be loved by him. Perhaps it was the sheer danger of the situation...the simple feeling of the edge...so close and so far. It tortured him...and at the same time, made HIM even more desirable. He couldn't stand it sometimes...he marveled at the fact he could remain in his presence and not lose control of his emotions...
Yet everyday, he stood in the same place, in the same manner, with the same voice that betrayed nothing of what he felt. He wished he could tell him...tell him and have him listen. He had tried before...but HE was always distracted. He was always doing something else, or not regarding him seriously.
Did he know how much his words stung him at times, made him feel as if he was being ripped into shreds? Didn't he realize that he could have someone who cared about him, would give the world for him, if he only asked? If he only payed attention? HE could have the affection that he had so dreamed of...had constantly told him about, longing for company. Not wanting to be alone. Oh, how he longed to tell him...he could never be alone again...if all he would do is listen and ask...and accept...
Didn't he know how he felt? Wasn't it obvious? From all the signs, from all the things he had done, HE had yet to even seem to care. He had kissed him once...a moment he would never forget. And yet, it seemed as if to HIM, it had never happened. He never spoke of it...neither did. Some unknown thing within both told them that it was not to be spoken of. But he wanted to speak of it...he wanted to tell him how he felt...how he had enjoyed it...how he wanted to do it again and again and again...but he knew he couldn't...because the repurcussions were to great...and he did not wish to risk his anger for feelings that he didn't even know would ever be returned.
He did not wish to leave his presence...ever. So he was stuck...he could not tell him how he felt, yet he could not leave him. He felt such agonizing pain, staring at him day after day and thinking things to himself. Thinking how much he longed for him...longed for any signs of affection of any kind. Anything...he wished for anything to soothe the racking pains that went through his heart as he watched him. He wasn't sure if his wish would ever be granted.
He could hear HIM calling him again, using the same tone of voice as always. It was the tone that spoke of need and desire. He needed him...even if it was for some mundane task...he needed him. If only...if only....his mind whispered to himself...he so longed to hear his name called like that...called like that over and over again in the heat of the night...
Knowing that such thoughts should not be entertained, he tried to banish them. He knew that he did feel this way, but he felt some kind of guilt. It was as if he shouldn't...as if HE was some precious thing he could never touch...never dream about. But he did dream about him...all the time. And he did touch him...brush his hand occasionally...
He could still feel that day...that day when he felt he was trapped...and there was no time left...that he had let his feelings, the strong raging feelings that constantly tore at him, free and had kissed him. He had foolishly tried to explain it away afterwards, but found his efforts meaningless. His heart was not in it...his heart was a few moments before, in the embrace that lasted only a few blissful seconds. He wondered whether he could have possibly known how he felt. He wondered why he was cursed to this endless chase around something he was not sure he could catch. He wish he could tell him...he wished he could get it all over with...and he wished that, if someday he did, that it would end in the way he had always wanted. He wanted to be his partner...not his slave. Although he felt deep within him some kind of thrill from being so obediant...so subservient...a slave to his master...it was from what he imagined. He wished that he...his master...would one day order him to do what he had dreamed of...but now...all he could do was serve and wait. Wait for one day...when he would reveal how he felt and follow his master's directions...and wish...wish that they were the ones he had been dreaming of for so long.
Again the voice came, and he forced his hands from his pockets, finding himself still pausing. The fear and emotion he felt left him trembling, and he pushed his glasses upwards. He took a deep breath, and heard it again.
"Smithers! I need you!"
He placed his hand on the doorknob and turned it, resigning himself to his fate.
"I'm here, sir."