Chapter Text
In hindsight, everything went loose the day big pharma mogul Leopold Frankenstein was found dead in his Gstaad residence at the tender age of 83.
The news were followed by the entire media tsunami that was expected of it: morning news showing black and white photos of his appearance at his company’s year-end gala dinner with a little mourning ribbon photoshopped on top, web articles resuming his trajectory taking his company to pharma and finance dominion, smaller profile pieces on his two nepo babies' incursion in biomedics and Wall Street, bootlickers at fashion magazines suddenly assuring he had been an ‘icon of severe elegance’ on the counted times he’d gone to galas with his fellow rich pricks, his company took a bit of damage within the stock market as the board decided which of his two nepobabies would be the one to take the reins… The usual.
However, the day things changed for you, that one came a few months after, during one of those mornings where money was tight but caffeine was needed.
So, in you went to the nearest convenience store to grab something cheap to keep your eyes open through your work day. And hey, if it came with a gossip magazine in the staff’s effort to free some space from the racks by the cashier, well, some reading material for your commute was always welcome.
You didn’t expect it’d be a gossip report on nepo baby supreme and tech billionaire Victor Frankenstein after he had been officially appointed as CEO of daddy’s company.
While the bus moved, you tried your best to focus on the wobbling lettering as you took small, scalding, sips from your cup. The ever-extravagant man had apparently held his usual yearly Meta Mankind event to show off whatever money-and-oxygen-wasting ego project he had to show his investors to keep money flowing.
Because despite his assurances on how his immense financial success was all built on the efectiveness of his products and how future-forward these were, one needed to be a monumental idiot to fall for his ‘meta-meds’ promising superhuman strength and virtual immortality through regeneration. Just as his army of dimwit supporters did basically.
The first paragraphs were the whole profile which most people knew of. Victor Frankenstein, oldest son of late pharmaceutical magnate Leopold Frankenstein, made papa’s fortune exponentially larger when he dropped out from MIT bio-engineering and began selling what he called meta-meds which honestly were only a few words away from advertising he could cure cancer and stop wrinkles from developing on your face.
Apparently what had won him the vote over his younger and definitely-saner brother, finance and socialité hearthrob William Frankenstein, had been the technological partnership between him and weaponry-giant Mercury controlled by Heinrich Harlander. The immediate injection of capital had been what had swung the entire board to his side.
However, the article dove deeper into something you likely weren’t sure to find in just any other stock report: an anonymous but close source assured amongst the many secrets Leopold had kept under the tightest confidentiality and which had been only unveiled after his death, had been the destination of a very specific check he had been sending for over twenty years under the concept of ‘child support’.
Your eyes opened wide and continued devouring the words, your tongue not even burning anymore at the boiling coffee.
Instead of the expected information on how Leopold had apparently sired a third kid after his late wife had passed, you almost choked on the coffee when the magazine brought up the rumour of a young woman from the cleaning staff at the Institut Le Rosey in Switzerland having to take a maternity leave and then never coming back… exactly during Victor’s third highschool year in the institution.
The speakers announcing your stop finally plucked you out of your gossipy read, which at that point had turned way darker than you liked.
You didn’t mind the world criticizing Victor Frankenstein. God knew he and his climate change denial buddies deserved some pointed fingers, maybe a few slaps on the face whenever they spat their breeding kink disguised as concern for a population collapse as well.
But you did feel for the alleged child, clearly shunned away from birth.
“As if that man needed any more red flags plastered on his face” you muttered to yourself while making your way to the library where you worked.
Yours was a far cry from a fancy job, dusting off shelves and making sure the books were properly classified, but you better than most knew how the current job market sucked ass. Any incoming money was better than no money.
So you went by the rather menial morning routinely tasks: turning on the heating, starting off the old PC at the main desk, make sure there were no stuck coins inside the self-service printer, taking out the night dropped-in books from the mail-like box facing the street and making sure there were enough paper towels in the bathrooms.
It wasn’t like you had a lot of people coming in, most people nowadays relied on the internet and the only constant services they used from the facility were the printer and scanner.
Sometimes there were a few kindergarten teachers who’d come in playing Mother Goose with their small flock of children who would come and have a Library Day to learn how to use the system and library etiquette. You couldn’t help the pride those days would give you when you saw each little one holding up a colourful bedtime book.
College students would come by seasonally as well, clearly appreciative of the ever-silent facilities with power outlets and wifi available. It was how you’d be aware of midterm and finals taking place and you’d only ask for each of them to take out a book per week so you could meet the quota.
Today however, it seemed like a rather uneventful day which only required your attention to fix the returned books until the desk phone began to desperately ring with the alert of a call.
“Shit” you mumbled under your breath, almost choking on your drink when you saw the caller was none other than your boss, coughing a little to collect yourself “Ahem… Hello?”
“Hello, has anyone inquired about the janitor position we put up last week?” he asked as soon as you picked up the call.
Ah, the ever-charming shit he always was. You sighed tiredly and craned your head over your desk and to the paper sheet still pasted over the glass entrance door. None of the paper bits ripped away.
“Not a soul” you answered monotonely.
“Excellent! I’ll be there in a few hours with someone to cover the position” He assured on the phone before hanging up.
Well that sounded far too chipper, you thought with a huff.
And he decidedly looked way too chipper when he arrived at the door a couple of hours later, guiding a bearded elder man with unlikely politeness.
"... can you imagine? Next season you'll see, they'll all regret it and agree Richards was the man to fix the team's downslide" he assured, making the elder man chuckle. Sports talk, you guessed.
The white cane the man moved from side to side before each step made you bolt to the door and open it for him when you realised his blindness.
"Oh, thank you child" the man said with a smile
"No problem, sir" you replied
Just as your boss made sure he was sitting on one of the entrance couches, a girl no older eight bolted through the door, holding a sheep plushie with a bright yellow ribbon around its neck.
"Is it here, grandpa? The library? Is Adam really gonna work here? It's so big! Can I see if they have the one with the pinguin that wanted to fly? Please, grandpa?" she began throwing questions by the milisecond, making you chuckle and your boss blink, clearly overwhelmed.
"Anna Maria, libraries are supposed to be silent" the old man chastised gently "And you're supposed to politely ask the young miss if she can help you find your book after Adam and I are done talking with her"
The little girl formed an 'oh' of realisation with her mouth before pouting in disappointment and taking a seat by her grandfather.
"If you want to, you could go look for it yourself" you offered, crouching down to meet her eyes as she smiled in excitement at the proposal "The children's section is upstairs to the right"
The words hadn't even fully left your mouth when Anna Maria had already bolted upstairs after a quick 'Thank you miss Librarian!' that made you giggle. She had even let go of her lamb plush which now lied on the carpeted floor.
You fondly shook your head while crouching to pick the toy up when a much larger, scarred hand did it the same moment you did.
Out of instinct, your gaze was up searching for the owner of that hand crossed all over by purple scar tissue. You don't know what you expected to find... but it definitely wasn't the most beautiful pair of deep eyes that stared back at you with the same tenderness a doe would behind a curtain of thick lashes.
"Oh... Sorry" you mumbled, awestruck and standing up like a spring.
"I'm sorry" he replied at the same time in a rumble of a voice you swore you felt rather than heard.
He was tall, that was the very first impression you got of him. That and the fact he conducted his existence with a very palpable caution, one you had only seen in people who were sick and didn't wish to exhert themselves too much. Perhaps the scars and discoloured burnt patches crossing his face had something to do with it.
It was fortunate your boss calling for his newly-hired janitor to come for a tour of the library prevented you from appearing rude by staring at his tragically beautiful face like a dumbstruck highschooler.
You tried to get back to your usual chores around the library, trying your best not to eavesdrop your boss' obnoxiously loud voice in the silence of the library explaining the tall man's new cleaning responsibilities, the salary that was just as meager as yours, the products which were an absolute no-no around old printed media and the like.
"So Adam is going to be working here?" little Anna Maria asked with excitement when she and her grandfather were leaving after registering three different books.
"He is!" your boss chirped as he helped the blind old man to walk out, leaving you alone with the new janitor as they went away between more talk about the new sports season.
You fidgeted for a moment, an awkwardly shy ambience settling between you both which you politely broke by offering your hand and name to the tall man.
"Adam De Lacey, a pleasure" he replied in slow, measured words.
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As days went by, you realised his was a rather oxymoronic presence: incredibly tall and impossible to forget once one had seen his face, yet he would conduct his daily duties like a shadow, barely making any noise as he carefuly dusted books, wiped shelves and work tables. The only moment you recalled him making any sort of noise was when he turned the vacuum cleaner on or off or when he would use the microwave in the office to warmup his lunch. Oh, and when he'd say a polite 'Goodbye' at the end of the day.
It seemed his presence in the library was going to be as silently inconsequential as if could be... had it nor been for midterm season begining and overworking the poor old furniture in the studying room.
Most stubborn high-school and college kids would try to argue them being more careful than most so you would allow them to come into the building with their tall coffee orders, soda cups or wet snacks but you were relentless on the matter.
And there was a good reason for that as an unfortunate kid proved it when the chair he was sitting on broke down with a crack, the soda cup he had sneaked in inside his backpack spilling over the carpet when he fell over it.
You could only sigh at the apologies, the puppy eyes when he was handed the library fine and the commotion caused by the entire thing before going to find Adam in the literature section upstairs.
Since both of your jobs weren't exactly the most action-packed, you would've guessed he'd take advantage of the fact he wasn't dealing face to face with the incoming visitors and plug in to some music as he worked.
However, when you found him, he seemed far more enthralled by Jane Austen's words in the Sense and Sensibility volume he was holding in his hands, his dusting cloth forgotten in the shelf place corresponding to the book.
There was something about the sight of a man of such large proportions and the heaviness the scars gave his face as he so reverently held a romance volume that made your insides tingle with the softness of a butterfly.
You quickly quelled the sensations with a quick pat to your cheek, hoping the warmth you felt on your fingertips was nothing but an illusion and not a damn blush.
"Um, Adam?" you called softly after a few coughs to make your presence known.
The way he flinched, like a kid caught in the middle of mischief, made your heart tighten.
"Oh... Sorry! I-I just meant to clean the shelf a-and..." he began stammering in apology, hurriedly closing the book and putting it back in its place.
You let out a small chuckle, trying to ease down his tension.
"It's alright" you assured smilingly "I do that almost everyday when I empty the night box. It's kinda inevitable when working here, temptation's everywhere"
His shoulders relaxed slightly at your words but you could still see conflict in his doe eyes.
"That... Um... That's the 2007 illustrated by Hugh Thomson, right? A really beautiful edition" you recalled after a look at the cherry red tome, earning a look wide with surprise from him which made you laugh "Don't be so shocked, I spend a lot of time here. And miss Austen is quite popular still"
That earned you the very first laugh you had ever heard from him. Short and deep but still quite musical.
"It's not difficult to see why she's still popular" Adam replied with a smile which you were sure would've been wider had it not been from the almost-imperceptible wince of pain that crossed his features when the stitches on his face stretched a milimiter too much "Do you need something?"
You nodded, explaining what had happened and quickly going downstairs to evaluate the damage. He knelt to readily begin placing some of the heavy-duty tissues he always carried with him on the purple soda splash but seemed far more interested in the broken wooden chair, his scarred fingers tracing the splintered.
"That is going to take a pretty long while to replace" you sighed, crossing your arms when he turned to look up at him with questioning eyes "It's not like this is the most popular place to go to when internet is faster, so our budget has been shrinking and the bureaucracy to make changes takes longer"
Adam nodded in understanding, his fingers tracing the ends with an almost clinical eye.
"Can I take it?" he asked with a tilt of his head, the strand of almost-platinum blonde on a side of his ponytail showed a little more than usual.
The question puzzled you for a moment but you quickly assumed he just meant to take the broken wood to the trash deposit outside and, since you truly didn't think there was any further use for the broken piece of furniture, you agreed after taking a few pictures for the report you'd have to write to beg your boss for a chair.
The surprise came the following morning when you went into the study room to place a small sign indicating the unavailability of one seat.
Except not only was it perfectly available. It was easily the prettiest chair of all now.
The broken part had been glued together so expertly it was impossible to tell where it had split, the almost flat cushion was now fluffy with new stuffing and the fabric was bright after a thorough wash, the wood had evidently been oiled with something which gave it back it's original warm colour and the film of polish on top had been so carefuly applied you could see your reflection staring in bafflement back at you.
"I-I researched the model" a deep voice startled you, making you turn to see Adam sheepishly standing by the entrance "What few catalogue pictures I found from the 80s looked like this"
The implication of his words took a few seconds to fully sink in your brain, your eyes opening further in surprise if that was even possible.
"... you made this?" the question made Adam stir sheepishly under your bewildered gaze like a schoolgirl.
"I-I just repaired it" he gently corrected you
"Just?" you parroted with a smiling scoff, almost offended on his behalf "Adam, you basically turned back time! Look at this! It's so beautiful! I bet the kids are gonna fight for this seat now! How did you do it?"
Your hands enthusiastically caressed the renewed wood, poking the now-fluffy cushion like an excited child as Adam's eyes observed you with fondness, his fingers fidgeting with one of the front pockets of his jumpsuit uniform.
"I know a little about carpintry" he replied modestly.
"I'm sure this is a lot more than just a little carpintry" you assured with a smirk "How much does the library owe you for the repair?"
Adam seemed panicked at the question, eyes wide as he denied with his head and shook his hands in flustered desperation.
"N-No, no! I-I just... I-It was just a repair... Part of my job if you think about it" he assured nervously.
You couldn't help but to give him a smirk, knowing he wouldn't agree to receive any money.
So you went for something else.
"Alright, how about you let me buy you lunch today?" you offered brightly
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