The Photo of Dorian Devereux

Alive and kicking

You couldn't call Dorian a lonely person, not at all. But nonetheless, he was solitary to some degree or perhaps solitary was not the right word. He was, different, perhaps a bit lonely, he has always been quite isolated so he is unapolegetically himself, some would call him eccentric but that doesn't seem to be the right word to describe him either. i've come to understand that there are no good words to describe Dorian, so it seems rather useless to try.

Eden smiles as he looks how Dorian dances on the table and sings along to "Cemetry gates". Dorian has no sense of embarrasement as he jokingly dances which makes him only more intriguing, he is blisfully unaware what kind of appeal he truly has as he shakes his curls and theatrically twirls. His beautiful silk peasant blouse swaying with every move as he turns on his black high heel boots under his black trousers. Eden can't help but smile. Eden has taken Dorian to an indie club, a small one, as Dorian is not used to partying at all, unbeknownst to Eden Dorian still has a curfew, but who would ever confess that? Dorian jumps off the table and grabs Eden's hands. "Come on dance with me!" He exclaims as he twirls Eden around. Eden blushes and tries his best to deny the offer but dorian sways him across the dancefloor. Eden can't help but laugh as Dorian messes up the words but confidentally sings them. Eden closes his eyes for a moment and imagines that every night could be like this.

Both of them are blissfully unaware that they (especially Dorian) look heavenly to the other people in the club. They are something the people envy, the beauty, the happiness, the purity. They seem like their lives are perfect, they enjoy every day and that there's nothing but joy in these people. We never now what truly goes on in people's minds, in their pasts. But one thing is for sure, at that moment both of their smiles were genuine, they were true.

They are standing aganst the bar, trying to catch their breath and looking at the dancing people. Eden looks at Dorian and sees the beautiful lights of hope in his eyes, lights of adventure, lights of wonder. He grabs the camera that's always ready and secretly photographs him. Dorian takes a deep breath and looks up. "I wish I could do this every day." Eden smiles, "That wouldn't be very good for you." Dorian shrugs, "Perhaps........" He looks at Eden. "Have you ever been in love?"

The photographer knows the answer very well. He looks at the boys lips and tucks the dark hair of the beauty behind his ear. "Everyone has been in love at least once Dorian." The photographer says with a bittersweet smile. The green eyes looks deep into the soul of Eden, wondering who it might have been that this photographer has loved. "Love must be beautiful." Dorian says with his painfully beautiful smile. "Love is beautiful, but......" Eden doesn't finish his sentence, he does not want to destroy his hope, he does not want to be an influence. 

Dorian drums on the bar and bops his head to the music but when he looks at his watch his face turns pale. "We probably should go home." Eden nods and they walk into the light summer wind. It's very dark and the beautiful streets are lit by the old-fashioned streetlights. "How beautiful it would be to live." He says while jogging a bit in front of the photograper and turning around. The phtographer laughs cynically. "We are all living my dear Dorian." He shakes his head. "You have no idea how many times I have existed, not to live. I feel alive Eden, do you evern know what that means? I want to fly up to the sun and further." "You'll fly too close to it." The cynic answers. "Yes, and I will have cherished it's light!" He exclaims as he runs around the photographer and sways him around. The photographer can't help but laugh. Dorian stops all of a sudden. Holding Eden's head in his hands and looking him deep in the eye with the beautiful stars or sun in his eyes. "We are so alive, so tragically alive." He says as he gives the photographer a kiss on his cheek and bids him goodbye as he steps on his bicycle.

The photographer is left with the realisation of the warm lips on his cheek. He gently touches his cheek and looks down, how he wished he could feel alive without Dorian. But it seems that at this particular moment. The lad is the only thing that makes his life surreal enough to be real. Eden catches himself smirking in a dreamy way as he thinks about the lad. He takes a deep breathe feels tears of strange happiness on his face.

Dorian arrives at the extremely big, intimadating manor, it's even worse when there's hardly any light. But Dorian is hopeful that when there is no light his grandfather might be sleeping too. Although he knows better, there's no way his grandfather would let this go unpunished, Dorian puts his bike down and takes a deep breathe before using his key. The silence in the house is incredibly unsettling, the green carpet muffles the hesitant steps of the lad. Dorian bites his lips with a hopeful smiles as he silently runs up the stairs but when he is halfway up them he hears the orutund voice of the person he is terrified of. "You are late Dorian." the boy nods. "Yes, sir." "Cellar." He commands. the boy nods again and turns around with his tail between his legs. The old man follows him to the large door of the cellar that has been the stage to all the boy's nightmares. Dorian's face changes as soon as he sees the dark interior of the cold cellar, the hard stone floors and walls remind him of a prison. It has always been one, the only light is the light that appears when the day begins and the sun shines through the old tiny windows at the very top of one side of the wall. Dorian knows how this works, he walks into the cellar and sits down against the wall without windows, so he might see a little hope in the morning. "Think about your actions." The man says. Dorian nods and looks at the walls that seem to get closer and closer. He takes a deep breath and looks slightly up so he can rest his head on the concrete walls. He closes his eyes but he cannot prevent a tear from escaping as he thinks about that one time. He cradles his own wrist as he tries not to shiver in the damp setting.

"don't close the door please!" The boy begged while he runs up to the heavy wooden door and sticks his wrist in the narrow crack to prevent it from closing. But the old man doesn't hesitate and keeps closing the door as the boy screams in horror while both of them hear the fragile, thin, child's wrist break. The boy is horriefied by the crack his own bone produces and it is followed by a scream in utter pain. And still as Dorian is consumed by fear and pain he tries to keep the door open. "please, please......please." He begs as she tries not to give up. "I beg you sir, I am sorry, I am sorry! I will fix everything, I will never do it again, I will listen to you." "YOU ARE A DISGRACE, you cannot fix that." The boy falls back as the man pushes him away with his cane, like he is some kind of animal. The rest of the night all the boy does is knocking on the door begging to be let out, till he gives up and hums himself to sleep with a symphony of I am sorry.