To my Dearest Friend

the rush of being known

Émile pov

I fill the glass to the brim with rosé. I untie my cravat and look at myself in the mirror. I bat my eyelashes at myself and smirk. I put my light blue suit on my bed. I look out of the window, the wealthy people from the 8th arrondisement are all heading to bed. I like living here in the 8th arrondisement, everything is near. I grab my geurlain lipstick, I dare do a lot of things but lipstick is something I only do in the privacy of my own home, altough it looks go good. But imagine the outrage when I a son of a duke would wear lipstick! I look at myself in the mirror, I've never liked the way I look, yes, I like my sense of fashion but apart from that I feel like something alien surrounded by people who would never understand me and tonight I saw him, another stranger, alien as he is he felt so smimilar. With all the people I know who have told me they're like me and I'm like them they have never understood I was not only talking about that, I have always felt like nobody truly knows, understands or takes the time to to understand me. I can't explain it very well. My brother barges into the room 'Merde! Luc, how many times have I said that after ten o'clock you need to go to your own apartment when I'm not here!' My brother's name in Michel Luc claude Polignac, my father's name, one my mother chose and one my father chose, just like me I am called Émilien Jacques Marceau Polignac. I just like Émile more than Émilien it sounds less arrogant to me, I don't like my name because it has never really reflected me. My brother is a typical Luc, Happy, mischievious, funny but still very polite.  What does Émilien say about me? Nothing really, but I am digressing a lot. 'I really don't care about your petty rules my dear brother.' 'I will always be your elder Luc, so you should really listen to me' 'Can I sleep here?!' Da girted you a beautiful apartement. Just a sleep there.' 'But that's not in the 8th arrodisement.' 'Is it not good enough you spoilrf marquess?' He smiles at me and bats his black eyelashes he knows I can't say no to these puppy dog eyes. I always thought it was utterly strange how my brother han black hair and I have white hair, well my sister has black hair too so the only strange thing in the family is me really. 'you can stay here but tomorrow you won't be sleeping here', he exclaims a grotesque yes to celebrate his victory over his big brother. I adore him. What a darling he is.

London. A fantastical place where this wealth began. It's hard to imagine it. For my grand tour I've been to Italy and the other countries in the mainland of Europe. I speak English fluently but I can't imagine the place despite having read books about it my thoughts are disturbed by my doorbell. I know who it is.  I smile and run down the stairs. "Stay in your room Luc, don't come out untill morning not even for emergencies!" 'Whos coming over?' 'none of your business my dear brother.' I open the door. There he is, Augustave. One of my many admirers. 'come in darling' I say. He hand me a bouquet. 'You shouldn't have! You know I'm more a man of passion.' He blushes. I take his hand and lead him upstairs. Why am I so indulgent?