The Colors Disappear

[bunny]

HENRY HAD ALWAYS FEARED THIS DAY.  He wanted to believe that Alfred -- that Wetherby -- was a braver man, that in spite of the choking pressure hold of the Ton he would persevere. Henry was foolish to believe that Alfred would fight for them, for him. He learned that he was not worth it in the end, that this was a fleeting relationship.

He stands there speechless when Alfred looked into his eyes and says, "it's over, Granville. Don't make this harder than it is." 

"Oh! Oh, is it hard for you? Because you make it seem as if it is the easiest thing in the entire world --"

"How is that fair? You knew I would have to take a wife! It is still required of me, or the people will start talking. We cannot handle scandal. We will not survive the gossip." 

"I thought you would find someone like Lucy! That you -- do you not love me? I feel completely lost, like I have been lied to this entire time."

"What we had was beautiful, Henry. I shall treasure our time together as long as I live, but that time has passed. I am sorry." 

With that, he leaves. Henry feels as though he has been sucker punched. The air leaves his lungs, and he stumbles back until he falls into a chair. His hands tremble, and he is lost as he stares at the emptiness that Alfred left. He had been shouting, so it would not surprise him if the whole party heard his outburst. How devious to do this in such a public setting, but Alfred was always dramatic. His brows furrow, and he feels sick to his stomach. How does he go on when his whole world has suddenly ended? He and Alfred were supposed to last until the end of their lifetimes. They would retire to the country when they got too old, and they would be together -- and history would dub them as "good friends." Henry has never loved someone so fully as he loved Alfred Wetherby, and now there is an empty hole in his chest. His lips purse together as the tears burn his eyes, and he can hear some knocking on the door. . . There is music outside and talking. Perhaps Henry had been quiet enough and someone was trying to use the room. But no, no, he will be alone. If he is to be alone, he must get used to the feeling.

"Go away," he says, his voice cracking as he raises it. He is weak, as though Alfred's words physically wounded him. 

Tagged: Benedict Bridgerton

[Benedict Bridgerton]

I'm not bound by                                  

Benedict had just arrived at one of Henry's parties; these events turning out to his favourite ones. He was getting used to the environment, though still found it quite incredible that such parties existed. Never the less, quickly upon interest he removed his coat, getting comfortable and relaxed. Usually it was Henry who greeted him at the door, but today, someone else had answered and while Benedict had not thought much of it -- assuming that the man was otherwise occupied -- it was not until he passed a closed door that he paused, recognizing the host's voice. While Benedict had not formally met Mr. Wetherby, it was clear that that was who he was speaking to. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ Benedict remained by the door, able to make out most of the conversation due to the raised voices. He leaned against the wall, not because he was trying to eavesdrop but . . . because he felt the need to protect what was happening in there. He knew first hand how easy it was to barge through a closed door with the expectation of a vacant room. And it was evident that these two needed their privacy. So Benedict kept a watchful eye on those around him. Most went about their own business, either consciously ignoring it or not hearing it. Benedict stepped a bit to the side when the door opened and Alfred hastily walked out. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ The Bridgerton's gaze fell to the ground in sympathy. He recalled how Henry had spoken of his love for Wetherby . . . surely, this was not easy for him. Lightly knocking on the door, he heard Henry dismiss him. Benedict paused, contemplating whether to comply or not . . . but he knew he could not leave him alone at a time like this. So, he would risk it. Taking a breath, he entered the room, closing the door behind him. He looked over Henry, his heart aching for the man and what sounded like the conclusion to his relationship. A relationship that he had spoken so fondly and ardently about. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ Truth was, Benedict did not even know what to say in this moment, aware that there was not a great deal he could say to help the situation. Other than offer his support towards a man who had been nothing but kind, generous . . . and so much more to the second Bridgerton son. "I'm sorry," he told him sincerely, taking a small step towards him, prepared to leave if Henry told him once more to get out, but hoping that he would not let himself be alone at a time like this where he was so clearly hurting. Tag bunny

                        the rules of society.

[bunny]

FOR A BLISSFUL MOMENT, Henry believes he will be left alone in his sorrow. That time has passed. He sinks down in the chair, trying to remember how to breathe. In through his nose, out through his mouth. It will be all right. This feeling is not foreign to him; he has been broken before. Plenty of times. He is a man in his prime. There will be others. And -- perhaps -- he will no longer seek LOVE. The dreaded word, that feeling that betrays even the strongest men. How hilarious it is to recall the words he said to Benedict at the opera: You have no idea what it is like to be in a room with someone you cannot live without and yet feel as though you're oceans apart. Did Alfred truly not feel the same way? It terrifies him, the notion that Alfred could live without him, that he did not have that same love and desperation. Is Henry a fool? A bumbling idiot who romanticizes even the notion of love? He would do better to just pretend, like Alfred will. To become a man that Lucy could be proud of -- to give her children. To forget about these silly dalliances, this time in his life that his father was convinced would end when Henry found his senses. 

When the door opens, Henry looks up like a lost deer in the woods encountering a hunter. There are tears trickling down his cheeks; his eyes are spiteful, for he tries not to cry. It is Bridgerton. Benedict Bridgerton. Why is he here? Well, of course, he was invited to the party -- Henry always extends an invitation to him. He's grown fond of their conversations, of the hours they'd take to study composition and light. But why here? Why now? (And have you been entirely faithful to Alfred in your mind, Henry? Or have you been fantasizing about the man before you?) He swallows, feeling as though there is a rock lodged in his throat. 

"Bridgerton," he manages after a moment, though it is still difficult to find his voice. He is surprised by the man's apology. What has Benedict done? Nothing. He has been a good friend. Henry purses his lips together as he watches the tentative step forward. He considers. They are alone. There is no need to hide here, and yet Henry cannot allow himself to give in to this pain. Not like this. He has been so put together. He is a pillar, the foundation of many. It is hard to show his crumbling façade. Henry takes out his handkerchief and blots at his eyes briefly. "I am fine." He manages out, sounding stronger. More put together. He can do this. "Come, I do not wish to ruin the party." He smiles tightly as he goes to stand. 

Let it be known that Henry Granville is a fool.

Tagged: Benedict Bridgerton

[Benedict Bridgerton]

I'm not bound by                                  

It truly pained Benedict to see Henry in such a state, never having seen him as such before. Of course it made sense from what Benedict overheard of the conversation, but it made it no easier to witness. Feeling helpless, knowing there was nothing he could do to help ease the pain his dear friend was feeling. Benedict could not say he knew what it was to love and lose that person that one held so dear . . . and to see the tears that stained Henry's cheeks, the expression upon his features . . . unfamiliar to Benedict yet recognized. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ Yes. How Benedict truly wished he could do something to ease Granville's hurt. Instead, he just watched him as he moved to stand, and Benedict crossed a bit more of that distance between them. Instinctively, he reached out a hand to gently touch Henry on the arm, as if to stop him as he was also standing in front of the older male. "You once told me that there is no judgement here," he softly reminded him. While he knew that Henry was talking on a grand scale, whether it be related to art, behaviour, conversation topics, etc . . . Benedict was now applying these words to Henry and his emotional state. Perhaps, making it sound more personal for it was only Benedict who stood before him and still, wanted him to know that there was no judgement from him. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ "If you need a moment, take it," he softly urged, not wanting Henry to feel as if he had to back out there right now. "Take more than one even. Take as long as you require," he added in the same tone of voice, encouraging him to just let himself feel what he was, instead of having to put up a front, and not fully realizing his hand was still gently on the other's arm. Benedict would guard the door if need be and protect this space for Henry, or remain with him should he not wish to be alone. Benedict was quickly realizing that there was not much he would not do for the man before him . . . though perhaps the depth of reasoning behind that was still undetermined in the second Bridgerton son's heart and mind. Tag bunny

                        the rules of society.

[bunny]

HIS BROWS FURROW when Benedict approaches, when Henry feels the hand upon his arm. Although he was convinced he'd pulled himself together, more tears trickle down his cheeks. The painter inhales a deep breath as Bridgerton speaks, as his own words are thrown back at him. He smiles bitterly. Does he not know there are still fronts? That even in the backroads of society, there are still façades and roles to play. Henry needs to be stronger for everyone else. . . He looks into those familiar eyes, feeling some comfort in them. 

Bridgerton has become a good friend. They have found some common ground after the confusion of that one night, months ago, when he'd been caught in the middle of doing the dirty with his former beloved. Ah, the thought of Alfred sends pain through his chest once more. It feels like the air is trapped in his throat, his lungs burning to try and breathe. His lower lip trembles. If you need a moment, take it. He had been taught by his father to keep a stiff upper lip, especially when confronted with pain. (And oh how his father caused him such pain in a lifetime.) It is hard to be in touch with his own feelings on this level. He cannot remember the last time he experienced this kind of heartbreak. 

Henry keeps his eyes locked on Bridgerton's, frozen in time there as he keeps inhaling sharply. The man's hand is still warm and comforting on his arm, trying to ground him. "Fuck," he whispers under his breath. "Fuck," he says again, and then he's gone, giving into the cascading sadness in his heart. The river rapids pull him underneath his despair. The sobs build quickly, and he presses his face against Benedict's chest without hesitation. He grips at his shirt and cries. He doesn't know how long he stands there bawling his eyes out, but it is comforting to have Benedict there. No, he does not have to hide his feelings from him. This is a safe space between them, and Henry is extremely grateful for Bridgerton's friendship in this moment. 

Tagged: Benedict Bridgerton

[Benedict Bridgerton]

I'm not bound by                                  

Truth be told, Benedict was unsure how the artist would react. They lived in a society where they were forced to swallow their emotions, and appear as if everything was fine and well. To suppress inner thoughts and feelings and appear as the perfect gentleman. It was precisely why Benedict loved coming here, for within the walls of Henry Granville's house . . . he truly felt as if he could breathe. And, he wanted the same for his dear friend. To just allow himself the ability to express his emotions with the knowledge that Benedict would not judge. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ Benedict was forever indebted to the man before him for bringing him into this world, introducing him into this part of society . . . and it was a debt he knew he would never truly ever be able to repay. So, the Bridgerton second son almost felt . . . relieved, when Henry did not continue the façade and instead, buried his head against his chest. The trembles of his shoulders felt, and the quiet sobs filling the otherwise silent room. That familiar ache in his heart for what Henry was enduring, what he was going through and Benedict's inability to ease any of that pain . . . was strong inside of him. All he could do in this moment, was be there for Granville, however he needed him to be. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ So Benedict raised his arms to wrap around the other male, in attempt to comfort him, engulf him in some semblance of warmth amidst the pain he was inevitably feeling. Yes. This society was truly the downfall of many a man, despite how strong and courageous they were. Granville's state was a clear example of that. So all the younger male could do, was give him support, attempt to comfort him . . . and continued to hold him, his voice quietly and sofly reassuring him. "It's ok." The words meant to say that it was ok, to let himself go in this moment . . . to not have to suppress anything and to let it all out, as Benedict had encouraged him to do. As Henry now did. Tag bunny

                        the rules of society.

[bunny]

HENRY IS LOST TO BENEDICT NOW, at least for the time being. He is deep beneath the waterfall of loneliness now. He can see the look in Alfred's eyes as he dismissed Henry. It is still so fresh, and the artist is in shock. He cries quietly into his chest, not wanting to draw more attention to this room. His sobs are violent, ripping through him as he tries to catch his breath. It is an end Henry could not see coming, but is this not how it always ends? How many relationships had been lost to the rules and ways of the Ton?

Maybe men like him were not supposed to be happy. Maybe that was his curse. Maybe that is why God hated his kind. . .

But how could something so beautiful, so pure, be evil? Alas, the happy feelings would never stay. 

Henry had always been so sure, but this time hurts the most. Alfred Wetherby had been his soulmate. They were different, yes, Alfred was more of a sporty type while Henry preferred to be surrounded by paints in his studio, but they were suited for each other. He remembers the glow in Wetherby's eyes during sunrise, while they lay naked in the grass of Alfred's country home. . . nothing else in the world mattering except for the golden flecks in his eyes and the smile on his lips. All of that had been so -- so -- wrong. The memory burns him, and he presses in closer to Benedict. Henry would never have that again. 

Perhaps it is dramatic to think that way, but Henry is getting older. How many more opportunities will he have to curb this loneliness? When will he be too old to find love? Already it is so difficult. He will have no problem finding partners to bed, but will another Alfred even exist? Would it even be worth it to try again, when it would end in heart break once more?

Would someone ever choose Henry?

Benedict's arms are warm and comforting against him, and he feels himself being pulled from the coldness of his heart. His breathing gets a little easier, and he melts into the grip. He listens to Benedict's heartbeat, and it soothes him away from his crying, encouraging him to breathe at a more normal pace. Henry keeps his eyes closed, just enjoying the hug. It is unexpected -- all of Benedict's kindness had been unexpected. "Thank you," he says quietly, embarrassed by the display of emotion. He does not pull back from his grip, even though Henry knows he should. He finds he does not wish to move. Not now, perhaps not ever. 

"I wish they would all leave," Henry murmurs after a moment, lips brushing against Benedict's shirt as he speaks. He has no intentions of moving from this spot until Benedict pushes him away. "I cannot face them. . . I. . . I don't know what to do." He admits quietly, and he's looking up at Benedict, vulnerable and desperate. "Alfred and I. . . I thought we. . . I don't know what to do. I don't know who I am now. I feel. . . betrayed. I feel. . . broken. Beyond repair." He laughs helplessly, a few more stray tears sneaking down his cheeks. "That sounds so pathetic. You must think so little of me now. A man getting his heart torn apart by another man." 

Perhaps he will pull away. Henry tries, moving to wipe his eyes. He needs more alcohol now. "Thank you for that, Bridgerton. I am terribly sorry you saw that display. . . it was unbecoming of me. I -- erm -- " He pinches the bridge of his nose. "I will be all right. You can go back out to the party. I don't wish to ruin your night further with my dramatics." 

Tag: Benedict Bridgerton

[Benedict Bridgerton]

I'm not bound by                                  

Benedict was willing to remain here for as long as Henry would have him, and it did not seem that the artist was quick to dismiss the Bridgerton's company -- much to Benedict's relief. He did not want the man to be alone right now. He commented on how he wished they would all leave, not wanting to go out there to face them. Unsure what to do. "Do you want me to ask them to? Leave, that is." Surely, he could ask Lucy to dismiss guests from the house if they would not listen to him. For he knew, that he was not the host but in this particular instance, Benedict would do whatever he could so that Henry could feel safe in his own home. So that he would not have this, worry of someone walking in or having to go out there and see so many people about their business as they always were at one of his parties. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ Henry then spoke of Alfred . . . expressing how he felt which only caused the young male's heart continue to ache for the other. Benedict did not know what it was like; to love someone so vehemently only to feel, betrayed by them in the end. Nor was it a feeling that he wished for anyone to experience, especially Henry. For all the man did for others, for all that he did for Benedict . . . he was the least deserving of such a feeling. If only there was a way Benedict could ease him of this pain. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ It was not until Granville referred to his words as pathetic, and that Benedict must think so little of him, that the second Bridgerton son could no longer remain silent. "No," he immediately refused. "Not at all," he added on. "I admire you, Henry," Benedict continued to say, drawing back only so that Henry could see the sincerity in Benedict's eyes; so that he knew that he meant every word. "What you do, takes courage." Familiar words that Henry had once said to him; ones that resonated so deeply in Benedict. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ "To follow your heart despite what society expects . . . it is inspiring." Something that should be admired; something that should be considered an inspiration. "I wish it did not result in this so that you may be spared of such pain, but I continue to admire you and aspire to be as you are." Brave to combat societal norms and provide opportunities for others to do the same. It led back to Benedict's previous thoughts where he felt a debt of gratitude to Granville. For without Henry, the younger male would never have experienced this sense of . . . freedom. His arms still around Henry, the artist's words continued to apologize and grant Benedict an exit should he wish to take one. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ But such things were not even considered for a moment in his mind. "Do not be sorry. I have no intention of leaving you in such a state, unless you prefer it." Benedict would only leave if Henry wished to be alone, but would not go if he thought that he was ruining Benedict's night. "Is there anything I can do?" Benedict asked, deep down knowing he probably couldn't, but felt the need to inquire never the less. "Is there anything you need?" He further inquired. A slight smile formed on his lips, though it lacked full joviality for this was of course, far from a happy moment. "Apart from perhaps some company," he added on. Tag bunny

                        the rules of society.

[bunny]

"NO, NO," he says, giving a little wave of his hand. "We shouldn't. . . ruin their fun. The night is still young. I can. . . bear this, I suppose." He sounds miserable as he says it, but the last the thing he wants is to ruin everyone else's nights. He remains there in Benedict's arms, quieted as Benedict disagrees with him about being pathetic. The display seems a bit silly to Henry, but he had been in love. And . . . and Ben is being so very kind to him. 

Henry cannot help but look into his eyes, lost in them as he speaks about courage. Ah, leave it to Benedict to throw his words right back at him. He appreciates it. He's appreciated Ben's friendship for quite some time now, and to be comforted by him. . . to be in his arms. . . Henry's heart is fluttering a bit. Perhaps not all is lost. Perhaps there is a light at the end of this overwhelming darkness. Bridgerton continues on, talking about inspiration and admiration.

"I fear it will only continue to end in heartbreak," he admits quietly, but perhaps not. You know who would not hurt him? Benedict. He even tells him not to apologize. . . Henry is suddenly torn, and he looks away from Benedict's eyes. They are so intoxicating, and he cannot let his mind wander while he is feeling so sad. Is there anything I can do? Is there anything you need?

How gentle of him. How thoughtful. Henry's not thinking straight, not after his ordeal tonight. Impulse wins out to reason, for he has not even had alcohol yet. When he says, "You," it shocks even Henry. But he is looking back up at those eyes once more, those eyes he has admired for some time now. . . and he leans in to kiss him. Using Benedict as a rebound, as a way to forget, was not right. The kiss is light, tentative, but still it is full of desperation. He is desperate.

And now he may have made a terrible mistake.

Tag: Benedict Bridgerton

[Benedict Bridgerton]

I'm not bound by                                  

Benedict wished to do all that he could to help Henry during this time, but when he told him not to dismiss the guests, Benedict simply gave a small nod in compliance. How very generous of him to not wish anyone else's evening to be spoiled. But then, that had always been Granville: a generous man. He had be quite generous to Benedict himself. Offering him his home to come to of course, but also, generous with his time. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ The time he spent with the Bridgerton son to teach him, mentor him, and just . . . be in his company. It continued to make it painfully tragic that a man so kind and willing to help others, was hurting so much in this moment. For he was most undeserving of it. Would that there was a way that Benedict could ease him of his pain, wishing he could take it upon himself to spare the other of enduring it. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ So when Benedict had asked if there was anything he could do or anything Henry needed, the younger male eagerly awaited his answer. Willing to do whatever was within the realm of possibility, whatever was within his capability, to help the man before him. But Henry's response, was not what Benedict had expected . . . at all. Benedict remained frozen in place, watching Henry as he leaned forward to close the distance between them. Benedict's eyes remained open during the kiss, all too aware that . . . he had imagined this moment far more than he cared to admit. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ And now, with their lips touching, it had awoken something within Benedict. Something he could not describe not identify. He had been struggling with this inexplicable . . . feelings he had whenever he was around Henry. Unable to understand what they meant or what they even were. Now, with this kiss . . . it was abundantly clear and the thought, left Benedict uncertain as to what to do. But he finally closed his eyes, soaking in the kiss as his lips ever so carefully, tentatively returned the kiss. Not deepening it, but not remaining completely still either. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ But as much as this seemed to sate inner . . . desires that Benedict had been harboring, he also knew that this was not about him. This was about Henry. And how he approached the subject would need to be done with the utmost care. He could not bare further hurting Granville with yet another rejection such as the one he received from his former lover just moments ago. His arms lowered from Henry, as Benedict eased out of the kiss, belatedly opening his eyes as he needed a minute to process what had just happened. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ Processing . . . the fact that he now knew what it was that he felt whenever near Henry. The unfamiliar stirrings and inner desires. Finally, he met the other male's gaze once more, swallowing and being gentle in his words. Softly spoken, and hoped to convey the lack of rejection in them. "You are hurting right now," he told him, putting a hand on Henry's chest, over his heart. "And you need time to heal." No promise in his words, nor certainty of what this kiss meant. Was Benedict just mere convenience for the man? That he just so happened to be here at the right moment? Benedict did not know but he what he could determine . . . was that Henry was hurting, and Benedict refused to do anything to make it worse. Though, there was that unsettling fear that his words may have done that very thing that Benedict was trying so hard to prevent: hurting Henry. Tag bunny

                        the rules of society.

[bunny]

BENEDICT RECIPROCATES, and that is when Henry realizes he kissed him. Fuck, he thinks, but he does not pull away. How could he do something so foolish, so selfish? But he cannot understand why Bridgerton is returning his kiss. It does not make sense. Should Benedict not push him away and curse him into oblivion? Or have the parties finally rubbed off on him. He stops himself from touching the other further, instead trying to decide when to pull away. 

Henry's heart is racing, and he keeps his eyes shut: he cannot handle Benedict's rejection. Why had he said You? How selfish that had been! What was he thinking? But perhaps he had not been thinking, and that was the problem. He fully expects Benedict to leave him alone, to never look back. He opens his eyes shamefully when Benedict pulls away finally. They shine with fresh tears, and he worries about the state of his friendship. 

He is a mess.

You are hurting right now. Benedict sounds so soft, and his gaze is gentle. He is being incredibly considerate, considering Henry's actions. He is lost. The waves of despair are cascading over him again as the anxiety takes hold. Henry breaks their gaze, eyes darting around as he tries to think. "I'm sorry," he says first. "I -- I don't know what came over me. I should have not done that. I'm so sorry, Benedict." He puts a hand to his lips, feeling the ghost of Benedict's on them. It had felt so good when reciprocated. It had felt like Henry had always imagined. He feels the hand on his chest, and he sniffles again --

It is not long before he cries again, trying to catch his breath. "I'm sorry," he needs to get drunk and go to sleep, or go to sleep and get drunk. He does not know the order. All he knows is pain. "You -- can leave, if you must. I will not stop you. That was out -- out of -- " he hiccups, " -- out of line. I'm sorry."

What a living nightmare of a day.

Tag: Benedict Bridgerton

[Benedict Bridgerton]

I'm not bound by                                  

Benedict watched as realization swept over Henry; the artist recognizing the . . . forwardness of his actions. Yet, Benedict knew it was not just the forward nature of what he had done. The Bridgerton son felt more confused than before, despite his ability to conceal such a feeling. It was more rooted in his mind, in his heart. In, his desires. Kissing Henry had perhaps caused a realization of his own and he was unsure where to go from there. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ It was after all ironic. For had it been anyone but Henry, or had Henry not been in this heartbreak . . . it would be Granville himself that Benedict would have gone to for guidance. For advice. But alas. As Benedict thought before, this was not about him, this was about Henry. Benedict's own feelings and realizations would need to wait. Or, perhaps never be addressed at all and forever remain undisclosed. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ "It is fine," he assured Henry, a small smile on Benedict's lips as he tried to ground himself in the moment, and not what the kiss had inspired within him. Henry regretted it, of course he did. Words of apology and regret. Benedict had never thought he would share a kiss with the man -- though thoughts had entered his mind -- and yet, the first one that they had shared . . . had been a result of heartbreak. Yes. That was what prompted Henry in this moment. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ Benedict just happened to be here and, he needed to remember that. For he would continue to be here for Henry. That much had not changed. "Heartbreak can leave a man unguarded and . . . " What was the word that he could use that would soften any risk of rejection. For that was not how Benedict felt towards this, event. "Regretful." Yes. That was a safer word for it was practically spoken by Henry himself. Regret. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ Benedict raised a hand and gently rested it on Henrys's upper arm, just below his shoulder in an attempt to continue to reassure him. "Think nothing of it." For Henry's own piece of mind, Benedict did not wish to add onto his emotional pain. "I only wish I could spare you of your pain right now." It was difficult; watching a man who was always so composed, now emotionally compromised as the tears trailed down his cheeks. "My offer to be in your company remains. Nothing will change that. But . . . I do think you should at least sit down, or rest. It is a difficult night." For the heartbreak he had suffered. Benedict needed to be here for Henry and help take care of him, after all the times that he had done so for Benedict. Tag bunny

                        the rules of society.

[bunny]

OH, IF ONLY BENEDICT could live in his mind. Henry only regrets the kiss because it was done in a moment of haste, of weakness, of desperation. . . but these feelings for Benedict have been building for quite some time. Perhaps when the grief washes over him, he will be in a better place to consider that love is not gone. Or he can realize Benedict is like most men, and that he has no romantic interest in him. Huh. That thought terrifies him in a way that he didn't expect, but it is good to think of something other than Alfred in that moment. It is fine.

"It is decidedly not," Henry responds in spite of himself. "I will be more in control of myself now." He goes to sit in the chair now, to relax there and perhaps sink right into the floor. That sounds ideal. He looks up at Benedict as he speaks and feels the hand upon him. It warms him. . . it feels like life is being drawn back into him. He is so tired, and it shows in the bags beneath his bloodshot eyes.

"... I do not regret kissing you. I only regret that it should have been now." Oh, dear. He is just going to lie everything out there tonight, isn't he? 

Henry wipes away some more tears and closes his eyes, trying to find some kind of solace. Benedict wants to stay here with him, and -- he is a good lad. He reaches to touch Ben's hand. He gives him a squeeze. "I think I am better off alone... It will give me time to think. But I will go up to my room and try and sleep it off. Should you be interested, I will meet you for lunch tomorrow afternoon. So you can see how I'm doing." He exhales another shaky breath. He just needs to let himself drop, he thinks. Let himself give into that loneliness and fear and confusing feelings. And then he will come out the other side of it -- a changed man, of course, but that was inevitable. 

Tag: Benedict Bridgerton

[Benedict Bridgerton]

I'm not bound by                                  

Benedict felt . . . confused. Conflicted. Uncertain. The kiss had certain awoken something within him; something that he was unable to name and yet, dangerously curious to explore. But not now. Not like this. Henry's words of . . . reassurance perhaps, only further confused him. Had it happened under other circumstances-- no. Perhaps it would not have. Perhaps Henry's devastated state prompted such a thing and Benedict could not let his mind linger on any what ifs, when he himself wasn't even certain as to what was happening. As he himself was trying to come to terms with these, inner feelings. Thoughts. Desires. Henry told him that it would be best he be alone, and of course Benedict would respect that. Immediately. ◈   ◈   ◈  ◈  ◈ "Yes, of course," he told him, deciding that perhaps it was best -- safest -- not to remark on his other words. Instead, the younger male gave a small smile when Henry gently squeezed his hand, offering him to lunch tomorrow. "Perhaps the following day," Benedict stated. "I should imagine you require a great deal of rest tomorrow, particularly from company." Particularly from his company. So perhaps, in a few days time . . . they could meet. And, would they act as if nothing had happened or would this moment be remembered? Never the less, Benedict kept all thoughts, questions, and uncertainties in his mind. As he previously established internally, this was not about him. "Take care of yourself, Henry," Benedict told him, giving him one more small smile, before exiting the room and . . . exiting the party, for his desire to enjoy in its festivities, suddenly waned. Tag bunny

                        the rules of society.