Chapter 75: The Weight of Gold

The morning was quiet, but for Leo, the silence felt heavy. He stood in the center of his dressing room, a space larger than the entire apartment he had shared with his mother years ago. The walls were lined with mirrors that reflected his tired face from every angle.

He walked toward the long rows of suits and shirts. He ran his fingers over the fabrics. Silk so thin it felt like water, wool so soft it shouldn't have been durable, and leather that smelled of expensive wood and old money.

"I didn't choose any of this," Leo whispered to the empty room.

He pulled a navy blue blazer from its velvet hanger. He looked at the tag. It was a brand he had only seen in glossy magazines back when he was a starving student. He held it up against himself. It fit perfectly. Of course it did. They had his measurements. They probably knew the circumference of his wrist better than he did.

"Do I even like blue?" he asked his reflection. He couldn't remember. It felt like his own tastes had been bleached out of him, replaced by the "refined" choices of Ivan and Dmitri.

The door opened softly. Ivan leaned against the frame, holding a silver tray with a cup of steaming coffee. He looked relaxed, his hair slightly messy in a way that probably took twenty minutes to style.

"You’re up early," Ivan said, walking in. He set the tray on a small marble table. "I thought you’d sleep in after the stress of yesterday."

Leo didn't put the blazer back. He gripped it tighter. "Ivan, when did this suit get here?"

Ivan glanced at the wardrobe. "Last Tuesday? Or maybe Wednesday. Dmitri thought the color would bring out the gray in your eyes when you’re tired. Do you like it?"

Leo turned to face him, his face pale. "That’s the problem, Ivan. I don't know. I don't feel like I’m wearing clothes anymore. I feel like I’m being wrapped in packaging."

Ivan’s smile faltered just a little. He stepped closer, reaching out to touch the sleeve of the blazer Leo was holding. "It’s the best quality in the world, Leo. We only want you to have the best. Is it uncomfortable?"

"It’s too comfortable," Leo snapped, pulling the jacket away. "It’s so comfortable that I forget I’m wearing it. I forget who I am. I look in these mirrors and I don't see Leo the painter. I see a high-end doll that you two dress up every morning."

"That’s not fair," a deeper voice interrupted. Dmitri stood at the entrance, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked at Leo with a mixture of pity and annoyance. "We provide for you because we care. Most people would kill for this wardrobe."

"Then let them have it!" Leo shouted. He grabbed a handful of silk ties and threw them onto the floor. They landed without a sound, a pile of colorful, expensive snakes. "I want to go to a store and pick out a shirt that is slightly too big. I want to buy something because I think it’s ugly but funny. I want to make a mistake, Dmitri!"

Dmitri walked into the room, his boots clicking sharply on the polished floor. He ignored the ties on the ground and stopped right in front of Leo. "You think this is about clothes? This is about control. You’re upset because you realize that we know what’s best for you better than you do."

Leo felt a surge of heat in his cheeks. "You don't know what’s best for me. You know what’s best for your image of me. You’re building a cage out of gold thread, and you expect me to sing because the cage is pretty."

Ivan stepped between them, his hands raised in a peace-making gesture. "Leo, please. We aren't trying to stifle you. We just... we want everything around you to match the beauty of your work. You are a masterpiece. You shouldn't be framed in trash."

Leo looked at Ivan’s face. He saw the genuine affection there, and it made him feel sick. It was the kind of affection a child has for a favorite toy.

"I’m not a masterpiece," Leo said, his voice dropping to a low, jagged tone. "I’m a human being who bleeds and gets dirty and makes a mess. But you won't let me make a mess, will you? You even have the staff clean my palettes before I’m finished with them."

He looked at the rows of shoes—polished, gleaming, never touched by mud.

"I feel like if I stopped moving, you’d just leave me here in the corner of the room as a decoration," Leo continued, his eyes moving from Ivan to Dmitri. "Would you even notice the difference? As long as I looked good in the suit?"

Dmitri sighed, a heavy, weary sound. "You’re being ungrateful, Leo. It’s a boring look on you."

"Ungrateful?" Leo laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. "I’m terrified! I’m looking at all this gold and I realize I can't find the exit anymore. I don't even know which shoes to put on to walk away, because you bought all of them!"

Leo grabbed a heavy glass cologne bottle from the vanity and slammed it down. It didn't break, but the heavy thud echoed.

"I want my old sweater back," Leo whispered, his voice suddenly breaking. "The one with the hole in the elbow. I knew who I was in that sweater."

Ivan moved to hug him, but Leo stepped back, his back hitting the cold glass of the wardrobe door.

"Don't," Leo said. "Every time you touch me, I feel like you’re checking to see if the fabric is still soft. Just... leave. I need to get dressed. Even if I don't know who is doing the dressing."

Dmitri stared at him for a long moment, his eyes dark and calculating. "Fine. Wear the blue. It really does suit you."

They left the room together, their movements synchronized. Leo was left alone with his mirrors. He looked at the navy blazer in his hand. Slowly, with trembling fingers, he put it on. He buttoned it. He straightened the collar.

He looked like a million dollars.

He felt like nothing at all.