To my Dearest Friend

Dancing

I had known Yves for a year. I had never been at his home. I remember the first time he invited me. We were so happy with eachother, everything was perfect for us. I was nervous as the carriage neared Boughton house. Before I really saw the massive palatial mansion I saw Yves waving his arms around like a lunatic . I know that I laughed about it 'you're here!' he exclaims as I step out of the carriage. 'I can't wait to show you around' I nod. I'm happy to be here with him. He shows me his sister, a beautiful young lady who would later on become a good friend of mine too. His mother, whom I've always liked and his stern father. After that he began showing me around the estate, I was amazed. I was affluent of course, but this? these paintings were iconic, these halls were bigger than most things you would be able to rent for a bal.

'This is my favourite place here.' Yves says as he opens the doors to a room. I gasp. The whole ceiling is painted. The cherubs are looking down at us out from their golden clouds. 'This whole room is a pillar of baroque culture! And yes I agree I'm not a fan of baroque either but...' I shut him up by saying 'It's so beautiful." he smiles, this is perfect. 'We give our balls here sometimes.' I nod. "I get that. It's beautiful' Yves closes the doors. 'What are you doing darling?' I ask. he smiles. 'Would you like to dance with me?' My face lights up. 'What style?' 'German waltz?' (for all non-victorians it's known as the Viennese waltz.) 'How does that work with two men?' 'You're thinking too much.' Yves says as he puts his hand on my waist. He is right. If I just follow his lead it's not that difficult. And there we are, dancing without music to the beat of our own hearts. I would give anything to be able to do that again with him. To be so blissfully simple, to be so beautifully in love. We were so true, we were real, we were normal when with eachother. We were the only ones who would ever understand each other.

The sun is setting as we're fantasizing about the time Yves will own this estate. We're talking how we wouldn't throw those old fashioned balls when Yves says 'What if we just invite anybody? even if they're controversial. That would be so interesting right? seeing the snobs and the lone wolfs in one room. Maybe even enjoying the same things.' 'When you own it we should throw the party of the century.' He smiles. 'We should, beautiful.' he softly kisses me. I knew I would do a lot for this man

I make sure my stiff high collar is looking good before grabbing my gambler. I remember the last time I wore something other than a top hat and decide to go with a top hat. I only wear my gambler to be inconspicuous or if I know I won't see anybody I know. my father has always commented on my appearance. I look too flamboyant with my long hair, gamblers are not in good fashion, they're too casual, stiff high collars are better than wingtips or short ones. It's never good enough. I descend the stairs in front of my house, 'Yves.' I hear. I turn around. It's Oscar. 'The editors have read your manuscript. They think it's golden. They think you should publish it as soon as possible. They would like to meet you. I have not given them your name just yet just so they do not have a bias against you, you are already rich enough for many of the people in the writer world.'  'Thank you Oscar, I cannot describe how grateful I am. Do you think you can strike up a deal that they need to publish the book even when they do not like the writer?' He smiles 'For my best pupil I can do a lot.' 'I thank you for that Oscar, maybe we should do something together. Just to talk about everything.'

'You're late Brey.' 'I know the Akiva.' 'I thought you were known fo for being punctual.' 'I am Mal but a friend of mine needed to tell me something important.' 'What is it?' I smirk. 'My book will probably be published.' he looks up from his microscope and his serious face makes way for a smile that resembles the one of a child. 'Congratulations brey!' he says giving me a firm hand. 'Nothing is official yet.' 'Still!' 'So what am I learning today?' 'We're studying the finding of Paul Ehrlich.' 'A german?' He nods. 'Oh, Yves I would no not wear a Vatermorder when you have lung problems.' 'You wouldn't do a whole lot I would do.' (For all non victorians a Vatermorder is a stiff high collar that were sometimes so tight they suffocated the wearers.) ' don't worry, I'm not wearing an tight one Mal, I am not totally daft.' 'I have read the book you recommended. I must say it was rather strange considering it would physically not be possible to stay young.' 'Okay Mal, now read it again without thinking about it, read in metaphors. can you do that?' 'Sure. Does the books make more sense that way?' 'So much more. You could even meet the writer.' 'I prefer to find things out by myself.' he answers. 'I know' I say laughing. Why is this so easy? I adore the ease of our academical dreams and the way we challenge eachother in all ways possible, philosophical, political academical, theological.