(no subject)
Hyacinthe was back. I wasn't sure how I'd managed to get myself made up and all the way to Mrs. Redman's ball, after the conversation we'd had, but go I did, and ended up enjoying myself in spite of it all. The next day I woke up late, alone in bed, and knew it was time to do the thing I'd been dreading for quite some time. I had to tell Joscelin about what had passed between Hyacinthe and me.
First came the task of finding him, which meant I would have to leave the house. He was doubtless out practicing his forms, and it would fall to me to find the spot he'd chosen to perform them this morning. Or so I thought-- just as I was putting my feet into my shoes, I heard steps on the ladder, heavier than Alcuin's tread. Instantly my stomach started to boil; I'd not expected this, to be accosted before I'd had the long walk to prepare what I was to say. So it was that he found me standing foolishly in the middle of the main room, looking like a guilty child. "Good morning," I said, as he looked curiously at me, and I thought desperately if there were a way I could manage not to make a complete mess of what was already certain to be an unpleasant conversation.
--
I look at her quizically; I did not expect her to be up so soon, nor to be standing in the midst of our home looking as if I've caught her out at something. "Good morning," I say slowly, stepping fully into the house and setting about removing my arms to clean them.
--
Having little to do while he worked, I sat abruptly down on the chair in the corner, leaning my forearms on my knees. I watched him, for once feeling as brooding as I usually teased him for being. Now the order of things as I'd imagined them had been upset, I was not sure how to begin.
I found my voice as Joscelin straightened, giving me that worried look, and before I knew what I was doing the words began to pour out of me. "I know you know something is amiss," I began, looking up at him honestly, though my hands were wringing themselves together. "And I am certain you have known it for some time. I have not spoken til now only because I was trying to... to handle things myself. But it has not worked out that way, and now I fear I may have done something that will hurt you very badly when I tell you of it."
--
I watch her from the corner of my aware, more than aware of her movements, of her careful glances at me. As she speaks, I lay down my arms, just the slightest of clicks as they move together and settle against the floor.
"I have known there is something amiss, yes," I say, choosing my words carefully. How could I not? I know her well; too well, sometimes, I dare think. How could I not notice that something was not quite right with her. "I was wondering when you would choose to share it."
--
It only confirmed what I'd already known; that he'd suffered in silence these long months, waiting for me to come to him when by rights I should have done so from the first. Mayhap if I had-- but no, I told myself, I could not dwell on may-have-beens. I needed, if anything, to force myself to face the truth of what I'd done-- some of it ugly, some of it simply misguided-- but all likely to affect Joscelin either way.
"I only didn't speak because I didn't know what to say," I said, then shook my head, because it was an easy answer-- too easy. "That isn't entirely true," I amended. "I knew if I said what I had to say it would hurt you, and I didn't know if the trouble was worth that risk-- but it's grown from a small matter to quite a large one, and I'm afraid..." my voice caught on a lump in my throat, and I shook my head again, clearing it. "I'm so afraid you're going to hate me," I finished, a tiny desperate laugh in my voice.
--
I sit back in my chair and regard her in silence for a time, contemplating. Contemplating what it could be that is the matter.
"I have never not known you to speak your mind," I say finally, "even when it's something that could get you killed." My hands twist together in my lap before I still them. "I would know, if you please, what it is you fear will anger me so."
--
I took a slow breath, trying to keep my voice from shaking. "I know you have come from a time much in my future, but it is heavy on my heart the things that happened between us in La Serenissima. I know you do not bear it easily, what I am, and even less how my heart can sometimes be divided..." I trailed off, swallowing, and ground the heels of my sweaty palms against my knees. "But it is divided, and I must be honest and tell you so. It is not fair to anyone for me to hide, and especially now..."
I paused again, then, not finding any way to say it kindly, said it baldly instead. "I slept with Hyacinthe. It was my doing, not his-- 'twas for that he shunned my company all those weeks in the winter. He did not want to betray you, but I cannot deny I love you both in equal balance, and I would not leave him alone. But I fear now I have done this without warning," and now the tears began to spill down my cheeks, but I paid them no heed, simply sniffed and kept on, "I fear, so much, that he was right, and 'twill be the end of us, and of your friendship with him. I did not want it to be this way," I cried, "but I did not know how to speak to you, or to anyone, I have kept it to myself except for Alcuin, and I am so sorry..." I ran out of words, and with a shuddering breath pressed my lips together, forcing myself to silence while I waited for his reply.
--
I listen to what Phedre has to say, and I feel my heart plummet with every word of hers. I sit in silence for some time, probably too long, to be honest, but I do not quite trust my voice, do not quite trust my words to say what I actually feel. In all honesty, I cannot quite say that I'm surprised that this has happened, I simply am surprised it's taken this long. This is a different Phedre than the one I left at home, the one who travelled to hell and back with me and came out the stronger for it, the Phedre who freed Hyacinthe and then lost him again to Sibeal. This is... this is not that Phedre.
I close my eyes, dipping my head and trying to steady myself for this conversation that I do not wish to have. “We've always found the way to hurt each other the most, haven't we?” I say finally, opening my eyes to look at her. “Anyone else, I would grant you because I know - I know your love for no one else is true as it is for me, no one else save Hyacinthe. Well and so, and now it has happened, and--” I sigh, leaning back in my chair. “And so, what do you wish of me, Phedre? Do you wish me to turn a blind eye to the fact that, of all the people on this place, he is the only one--” I stop speaking then, pressing my lips into a firm line. I am not ready for this rush of words, and I stop them before they can continue.
--
"I don't know," I said, my voice thick with tears. "I don't know what I want. I don't want to lose either of you-- but I can't, I can't choose." My lip trembled and I bit it, breathing slowly in and out again, focusing on that even rhythm the only thing that kept me from losing control completely. "He does not want any of this trouble," I murmured, wondering if it was even right of me to speak for Hyacinthe, but feeling certain I could not avoid it. "He wants me to be with you alone, and for him to remain our friend as he always has. But I cannot help what I feel, Joscelin... he feels it too, and would deny it for your sake. You are his dearest friend, and I have not only upset our relationship but come between the two of you as well." A fresh wave of sorrow swept me at that, and more tears slid down my face.
"I want you to forgive me," I said miserably, my voice barely audible, "and not to leave me. Beyond that.... I do not know." It was not entirely true; I knew what I wanted, but I would not ask it of him yet. I had already asked Hyacinthe and received a doubtful answer; I could not take the same from Joscelin now.
--
“I will not lose you,” I say, “but I cannot share you, either.” Not with him remains unspoken. For the first time in so, so long, I feel this same awful ache I felt every time I tried to convince myself I could do without her. “I know-- I know you cannot be anything other than what you are, but I do not relish the hurt as you do.” It is a terrible thing to say, but we've ever the trick of it in the end, and perhaps I do not hold my tongue as well as I wish.
“He may not have started it, but he has a hand in this as well, and you know it. He cannot deny you any more than you could deny him.” I stand up, pacing slowly about the chair. I do not know what I want from her any more than she knows what she wants from me. “You cannot honestly tell me it won't happen again. It's not as though I can just... merely shrug this off and go on without this fear looming over my head that I will lose you to him.”
--
"I would never tell you it won't happen again," I said, my head jerking up toward his and my voice grating against my own ears. "I cannot promise that, and will not lie to you any more than my silence has already done. " I let my head fall down into my hands, and took several breaths in silence while he paced. "I do not know what to do, Joscelin. I would say you need to speak to him, but I fear that as much as I fear anything else in this mess. If the two of you were to fight over me, I could not bear it." It would drive me away, but I did not say that aloud.
--
“And speaking to him would accomplish what, exactly? I already know how he feels for you, as it's the same way I feel. It is not a lie to say that he would lay down his life for you as surely as I would mine.” My hands grip the back of the chair as I stop my pacing, looking down at her. “He would tell me the same as you: that he did not wish it to happen, that he did not wish to come between us, but that it has happened, and that seems to be where we are all at a loss, to know what happens next.”
I close my eyes; I am not the young man with a hot temper that I once was. I am better than this. “I will not leave you. I forgive you for what you have done, but not that you have lied to me over it, and a lie by omission is just the same as if you'd lied straight to my face, Phedre.” I try to keep my voice calm, but there is a tremble in it, anger or sadness, something I cannot identify. “He is the only one here who could stand between what you and I have fought so damned hard for, Phedre, and that is what makes this so difficult.”
--
I lifted my hands, helpless. "I know this, all of it," I said. "What I do not know is what to /do/ about it all." Rubbing my hands over my face, I dropped them into my lap once more and said softly, "I would gladly give you time, all the time you need, to think on it and decide.... decide what you want." If he was to give me an ultimatum, I would have him do it knowing what the fallout of both choices would be. Sitting there, unable to drag myself from my own self-made misery, I could not think of anything he could offer that would be a way out-- for truly, that was what I wanted, for all three of us; a way out of the mess and into a life of harmony, however that might be reached.
--
“I do not know what I want,” I say, my voice matching the softness of her own. In truth, I do know what I want, and I simply want this madness to cease. I want her, and I want her to be happy, and if for Phedre to be happy she must also have Hyacinthe, then so be it, but I am not prepared for that yet, I am not so gracious as to be able to share her. “I will take time, then,” I say, crouching to the ground to pick up my arms, methodically putting them back on, blindly moving in motions I have done hundreds of thousands of times before. “And mayhap I will come back and have found the sense in all of this.” I glance at her as I cross the room, grabbing a cloak from the cabinet and swinging it across my shoulders.
--
I watched him numbly, wanting so badly to go to him, but knowing it would yield me nothing to do so. It hurt, oh it stung like salt in a wound, but I made myself still, the pounding of my heart fiercely painful in a way (he was right) only I would savor. Nor could I tell him I loved him, for it would sound like mockery when he knew, now, he was not the only one who held my heart. So I let him go, watching the set of his shoulders and the line of his mouth, seeing him disappear down the ladder and waiting til I heard his footsteps vanish to let myself cry. And cry I did; I dragged myself to our bed and curled around a pillow, sobbing, hating that I could not escape my tendency to trouble even here.
First came the task of finding him, which meant I would have to leave the house. He was doubtless out practicing his forms, and it would fall to me to find the spot he'd chosen to perform them this morning. Or so I thought-- just as I was putting my feet into my shoes, I heard steps on the ladder, heavier than Alcuin's tread. Instantly my stomach started to boil; I'd not expected this, to be accosted before I'd had the long walk to prepare what I was to say. So it was that he found me standing foolishly in the middle of the main room, looking like a guilty child. "Good morning," I said, as he looked curiously at me, and I thought desperately if there were a way I could manage not to make a complete mess of what was already certain to be an unpleasant conversation.
--
I look at her quizically; I did not expect her to be up so soon, nor to be standing in the midst of our home looking as if I've caught her out at something. "Good morning," I say slowly, stepping fully into the house and setting about removing my arms to clean them.
--
Having little to do while he worked, I sat abruptly down on the chair in the corner, leaning my forearms on my knees. I watched him, for once feeling as brooding as I usually teased him for being. Now the order of things as I'd imagined them had been upset, I was not sure how to begin.
I found my voice as Joscelin straightened, giving me that worried look, and before I knew what I was doing the words began to pour out of me. "I know you know something is amiss," I began, looking up at him honestly, though my hands were wringing themselves together. "And I am certain you have known it for some time. I have not spoken til now only because I was trying to... to handle things myself. But it has not worked out that way, and now I fear I may have done something that will hurt you very badly when I tell you of it."
--
I watch her from the corner of my aware, more than aware of her movements, of her careful glances at me. As she speaks, I lay down my arms, just the slightest of clicks as they move together and settle against the floor.
"I have known there is something amiss, yes," I say, choosing my words carefully. How could I not? I know her well; too well, sometimes, I dare think. How could I not notice that something was not quite right with her. "I was wondering when you would choose to share it."
--
It only confirmed what I'd already known; that he'd suffered in silence these long months, waiting for me to come to him when by rights I should have done so from the first. Mayhap if I had-- but no, I told myself, I could not dwell on may-have-beens. I needed, if anything, to force myself to face the truth of what I'd done-- some of it ugly, some of it simply misguided-- but all likely to affect Joscelin either way.
"I only didn't speak because I didn't know what to say," I said, then shook my head, because it was an easy answer-- too easy. "That isn't entirely true," I amended. "I knew if I said what I had to say it would hurt you, and I didn't know if the trouble was worth that risk-- but it's grown from a small matter to quite a large one, and I'm afraid..." my voice caught on a lump in my throat, and I shook my head again, clearing it. "I'm so afraid you're going to hate me," I finished, a tiny desperate laugh in my voice.
--
I sit back in my chair and regard her in silence for a time, contemplating. Contemplating what it could be that is the matter.
"I have never not known you to speak your mind," I say finally, "even when it's something that could get you killed." My hands twist together in my lap before I still them. "I would know, if you please, what it is you fear will anger me so."
--
I took a slow breath, trying to keep my voice from shaking. "I know you have come from a time much in my future, but it is heavy on my heart the things that happened between us in La Serenissima. I know you do not bear it easily, what I am, and even less how my heart can sometimes be divided..." I trailed off, swallowing, and ground the heels of my sweaty palms against my knees. "But it is divided, and I must be honest and tell you so. It is not fair to anyone for me to hide, and especially now..."
I paused again, then, not finding any way to say it kindly, said it baldly instead. "I slept with Hyacinthe. It was my doing, not his-- 'twas for that he shunned my company all those weeks in the winter. He did not want to betray you, but I cannot deny I love you both in equal balance, and I would not leave him alone. But I fear now I have done this without warning," and now the tears began to spill down my cheeks, but I paid them no heed, simply sniffed and kept on, "I fear, so much, that he was right, and 'twill be the end of us, and of your friendship with him. I did not want it to be this way," I cried, "but I did not know how to speak to you, or to anyone, I have kept it to myself except for Alcuin, and I am so sorry..." I ran out of words, and with a shuddering breath pressed my lips together, forcing myself to silence while I waited for his reply.
--
I listen to what Phedre has to say, and I feel my heart plummet with every word of hers. I sit in silence for some time, probably too long, to be honest, but I do not quite trust my voice, do not quite trust my words to say what I actually feel. In all honesty, I cannot quite say that I'm surprised that this has happened, I simply am surprised it's taken this long. This is a different Phedre than the one I left at home, the one who travelled to hell and back with me and came out the stronger for it, the Phedre who freed Hyacinthe and then lost him again to Sibeal. This is... this is not that Phedre.
I close my eyes, dipping my head and trying to steady myself for this conversation that I do not wish to have. “We've always found the way to hurt each other the most, haven't we?” I say finally, opening my eyes to look at her. “Anyone else, I would grant you because I know - I know your love for no one else is true as it is for me, no one else save Hyacinthe. Well and so, and now it has happened, and--” I sigh, leaning back in my chair. “And so, what do you wish of me, Phedre? Do you wish me to turn a blind eye to the fact that, of all the people on this place, he is the only one--” I stop speaking then, pressing my lips into a firm line. I am not ready for this rush of words, and I stop them before they can continue.
--
"I don't know," I said, my voice thick with tears. "I don't know what I want. I don't want to lose either of you-- but I can't, I can't choose." My lip trembled and I bit it, breathing slowly in and out again, focusing on that even rhythm the only thing that kept me from losing control completely. "He does not want any of this trouble," I murmured, wondering if it was even right of me to speak for Hyacinthe, but feeling certain I could not avoid it. "He wants me to be with you alone, and for him to remain our friend as he always has. But I cannot help what I feel, Joscelin... he feels it too, and would deny it for your sake. You are his dearest friend, and I have not only upset our relationship but come between the two of you as well." A fresh wave of sorrow swept me at that, and more tears slid down my face.
"I want you to forgive me," I said miserably, my voice barely audible, "and not to leave me. Beyond that.... I do not know." It was not entirely true; I knew what I wanted, but I would not ask it of him yet. I had already asked Hyacinthe and received a doubtful answer; I could not take the same from Joscelin now.
--
“I will not lose you,” I say, “but I cannot share you, either.” Not with him remains unspoken. For the first time in so, so long, I feel this same awful ache I felt every time I tried to convince myself I could do without her. “I know-- I know you cannot be anything other than what you are, but I do not relish the hurt as you do.” It is a terrible thing to say, but we've ever the trick of it in the end, and perhaps I do not hold my tongue as well as I wish.
“He may not have started it, but he has a hand in this as well, and you know it. He cannot deny you any more than you could deny him.” I stand up, pacing slowly about the chair. I do not know what I want from her any more than she knows what she wants from me. “You cannot honestly tell me it won't happen again. It's not as though I can just... merely shrug this off and go on without this fear looming over my head that I will lose you to him.”
--
"I would never tell you it won't happen again," I said, my head jerking up toward his and my voice grating against my own ears. "I cannot promise that, and will not lie to you any more than my silence has already done. " I let my head fall down into my hands, and took several breaths in silence while he paced. "I do not know what to do, Joscelin. I would say you need to speak to him, but I fear that as much as I fear anything else in this mess. If the two of you were to fight over me, I could not bear it." It would drive me away, but I did not say that aloud.
--
“And speaking to him would accomplish what, exactly? I already know how he feels for you, as it's the same way I feel. It is not a lie to say that he would lay down his life for you as surely as I would mine.” My hands grip the back of the chair as I stop my pacing, looking down at her. “He would tell me the same as you: that he did not wish it to happen, that he did not wish to come between us, but that it has happened, and that seems to be where we are all at a loss, to know what happens next.”
I close my eyes; I am not the young man with a hot temper that I once was. I am better than this. “I will not leave you. I forgive you for what you have done, but not that you have lied to me over it, and a lie by omission is just the same as if you'd lied straight to my face, Phedre.” I try to keep my voice calm, but there is a tremble in it, anger or sadness, something I cannot identify. “He is the only one here who could stand between what you and I have fought so damned hard for, Phedre, and that is what makes this so difficult.”
--
I lifted my hands, helpless. "I know this, all of it," I said. "What I do not know is what to /do/ about it all." Rubbing my hands over my face, I dropped them into my lap once more and said softly, "I would gladly give you time, all the time you need, to think on it and decide.... decide what you want." If he was to give me an ultimatum, I would have him do it knowing what the fallout of both choices would be. Sitting there, unable to drag myself from my own self-made misery, I could not think of anything he could offer that would be a way out-- for truly, that was what I wanted, for all three of us; a way out of the mess and into a life of harmony, however that might be reached.
--
“I do not know what I want,” I say, my voice matching the softness of her own. In truth, I do know what I want, and I simply want this madness to cease. I want her, and I want her to be happy, and if for Phedre to be happy she must also have Hyacinthe, then so be it, but I am not prepared for that yet, I am not so gracious as to be able to share her. “I will take time, then,” I say, crouching to the ground to pick up my arms, methodically putting them back on, blindly moving in motions I have done hundreds of thousands of times before. “And mayhap I will come back and have found the sense in all of this.” I glance at her as I cross the room, grabbing a cloak from the cabinet and swinging it across my shoulders.
--
I watched him numbly, wanting so badly to go to him, but knowing it would yield me nothing to do so. It hurt, oh it stung like salt in a wound, but I made myself still, the pounding of my heart fiercely painful in a way (he was right) only I would savor. Nor could I tell him I loved him, for it would sound like mockery when he knew, now, he was not the only one who held my heart. So I let him go, watching the set of his shoulders and the line of his mouth, seeing him disappear down the ladder and waiting til I heard his footsteps vanish to let myself cry. And cry I did; I dragged myself to our bed and curled around a pillow, sobbing, hating that I could not escape my tendency to trouble even here.