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Never Forget The Importance of Style

 

 

 

 

3. No regrets

There was a blackbird outside, hiding somewhere among the well-kept bushes, invisible but definitely not inaudible. Especially now, this early in the spring when the nightingales weren't around yet, its song penetrated clearly even through a closed window. Calling for a mate...

Leone let his forehead rest against the windowpane and closed his eyes. A muscle in his cheek tightened as he clenched his teeth and willed the stinging tears away. No crying, he told himself. It wasn't merely a decision, it was a promise. But damn it, he'd not realized what a shock it would be to come here again, to see the place and really understand that things would never be the same.

He swallowed thickly and blinked, but the park still swam before his eyes, though the day was warm and dry. Then he heard cautious steps and pulled himself straight once more.

"Leone?"

Always as soft-spoken... "Yes?"

"Care for a brandy?"

"Sounds like a good idea," he sighed and turned around.

Halesch nodded, two glasses already in hand, then took a half-full bottle from the cabinet and turned towards a small table and armchairs placed in a window niche. Leone crossed the room to sit in one of the chairs, watching as Halesch poured the brandy and placed the bottle on the table between them.

"Thanks." Leone accepted the proffered glass and turned it slowly around to release the aroma, seeing in the corner of his eye Halesch's anxious look. He gulped some, let the alcohol roll around his tongue, smooth and heavy. Halesch sipped some brandy too, glance darting nervously to the younger man and away again.

After some long moments Leone trusted his voice enough to have mercy on the man. "Have you got everything settled now?"

"Uh - yes, oh yes." Halesch swallowed. "Everything is all right. And... and you?"

"Don't worry about me." Leone smiled a little; it had come out more sharply than he'd intended. "I got the letters, and besides, the solicitors came to see me in person to make sure I understood every detail. It's all clear as day, the money is in the bank and in trusts, and I know how to access it when I need to."

"Good." Halesch nodded, then moistened his lips and seemed to brace himself for the next question. "You - you aren't sorry that I got this house?"

"Halesch, I knew you'd get it," Leone said emphatically. "He told me so himself. And I wouldn't have wanted it anyway. As soon as school's over, I'll travel... south, I think. I keep hearing what a great place Reál is."

"Right." But Halesch was still fidgeting with his glass. "I just, you know, I'd want you to still consider this place your home. I mean, once school finishes, you'll be coming here for a while to relax, won't you? It's not as if you'd have to leave right away, Leone."

"I know." Leone turned to look at the man directly and managed a warm smile. "And I think I will come, too, once the term is over."

Halesch smiled back, but the dark shadows under his bright blue eyes made it a mere tired memory of the smiles Leone had last seen just a few months earlier.

"Are you sure you'll be all right here?" he asked suddenly. "Hadn't you too better travel a bit, or something?"

"I'll be all right," Halesch said forcefully. "I don't want to go anywhere."

"Just a thought." Leone's throat was tight again, and he tried to swallow the lump that made breathing so damn difficult. He wasn't sure whether or not he ought to press the point, though. He kept seeing Neméath everywhere, hearing the man's silky voice, expecting a surprise touch or a laughter any moment, seeing the dusting of gray in slate-colored hair and the laughter lines around dark eyes. What would it be like to actually live here, week in and week out, without Neméath?

Leone almost shuddered and quickly tossed back the rest of his brandy. It burned in his throat, but at least that was a solid reason why his eyes should be stinging again.

"Made me promise to finish my studies," he said, half to himself, then snorted a little. "As if I'd have any intention to drop out." His voice nearly broke and he bit his lip hard. "And he also made me promise I wouldn't cry - damn him..."

"Nothing wrong with that." Halesch stood up and stepped closer, and Leone's arms rose to wind tightly around his waist. Halesch hugged the youth close and felt his shoulders shake.

"Easy for him to say so," the man murmured softly. "But we're here to miss him, and it's all right to cry."

Leone breathed in the soft, cool scent of the older man's cologne and tried not to sob aloud. He hadn't cried when the letter had arrived, asking him to come home because Neméath had caught pneumonia and was severely ill. He hadn't cried upon seeing the deathly pale face of his lover, not while he'd stayed next to Nem, held him, kept him company. He hadn't even cried when the increasingly labored breathing had finally stopped for good. Oh, Leone had cursed, raged, broken things in the solitude of his room, but outside it his composure had held. But now, on the mid-term holiday, for the first time in Nem's house without Nem himself, he broke down.

For several minutes neither of them spoke. Halesch just held Leone who buried his face into the man's jacket, arms locked behind Halesch's back. At last Leone pulled slightly back and dug a handkerchief from his pocket.

"Sorry," he said, voice muffled by a sleeve. "Fuck, what a baby I'm being."

"No you're not." Halesch suppressed a wince at the profanity. "You were here with him, to the very end. It was hard on you."

Halesch stopped to swallow a few times. How he hated all the hostile, conspiring fates that had sent him away to visit an elder relative, just far enough that the message had simply taken too long to arrive. He'd left immediately and yet reached the house one day too late. He'd found only a very pale, very quiet Leone who had completely clammed up and returned to school within two days of his arrival. Halesch could understand that only too well. "You cared for him. Don't think he wouldn't have cried if you'd died on him, no matter what he might say."

Leone gave a tiny, wet chuckle. "I guess you just might be right," he said.

"I know I am." Halesch squeezed him a little. "Oh, he was cynical and arrogant and all that, and for some reason liked to appear downright heartless at times, but I think we both know better."

"Wouldn't I know?" Leone laughed and sniffed at the same time. "I mean, just look at me - I'm nobody. He had no goddamn obligation to look after me the way he did. He could've just picked me up, had some fun and then told me to toddle off... but no, not Neméath. He makes a gentleman out of me, puts me into a damn expensive school, and when he's goddamn dying he tells me that I must finish my studies and by the way, he's left me about half of all his money! Yeah, sure, there's a man who doesn't much care for anybody or anything... I might almost believe him, too!"

Halesch smiled sadly and sat down, once more grabbing the bottle of brandy. "How about a refill?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes, please." Leone watched the swirl of red-brown liquid and gave a soft snort. "Oh, boy. Here we are, about to down our second glasses of brandy, and it's barely afternoon ... tsk, tsk, what would Nem say?"

"This is a special occasion." Halesch's voice was quiet. "We're both still so raw from it, and we're here together for the first time, just the two of us."

"At least we're getting drunk in style," Leone observed and examined his glass against the rays of light that fell on them from the window. "On his favorite brandy... Hal, let's drink to Nem."

The older man nodded. They raised their glasses in a quiet salute to the man they both missed and then drank, looking into each other's eyes.

Leone studied Halesch closely, fascinated as ever. The man was almost forty, but there was something very ageless about his clean-cut features. He'd probably still look much the same in another twenty years or so, ever refined and sharp, but with a few more lines around his eyes and mouth and a gray tint to his fair, silky hair. He looked like someone straight from an Old Donjati painting. It was no wonder, really. His family was old and proud of its lineage, most likely one of those that had developed such pride into a rather morbid obsession after the Occupation .

Leone remembered how Neméath had sometimes told him about the 'tree families', derisively labeled thus because of their unhealthy interest in family trees and in keeping their bloodlines free of less sophisticated or - heaven forbid! - foreign infusions. The man's generous mouth had twisted in distaste as he recounted the stories of repeated marriages between close relatives and with the occasional member of another, equally pedigree-conscious and inbred clan. Leone remembered asking if Neméath's family had practiced it, too, but the man had only shrugged. At least not for several generations, not that Nem would've heard of. Halesch, now, of course it could've just been a coincidence that he looked so classical; but that his entire family should boast equally thoroughbred features? Nem had snorted a little and looked meaningfully at Leone. Such an astonishing likeness to each other - that was suspicious, to put it mildly.

Leone shook himself out of his reverie. It seemed that his thoughts kept running in loops and invariably coming back to Neméath. No wonder, really. This was the place where they'd lived together. And, well, in any case Halesch couldn't be held responsible for whatever his ancestors might've been up to in the past. Leone looked again at the man and smiled when blue eyes turned questioningly to him. He liked Halesch, a lot. They had always got along well, ever since they'd shaken hands on that memorable Saturday, after he'd caught Nem and Hal kissing in the drawing room.

That had been only last year. And yes, he would be happy to come here after the final term, to think about what he'd do next and to spend some time in this house that had become his home.

They sat for a long time in the darkening room, silent. Towards the evening the old butler padded in to light the lamps, but the two men waved him gently off, and finally Halesch slowly stood up.

"I think I'll be going to bed," he said.

Leone nodded and pushed himself to his feet. "Where do you sleep?" he asked suddenly.

"In my own bed, of course," Halesch replied.

"But this house is yours now," Leone pointed out. "Shouldn't you be using the master bedroom?"

Halesch seemed to shrink a little. "I couldn't... not now. Maybe later. It's Nem's room."

"The longer you stay out of it, the more difficult it'll be to take it over eventually," Leone said with conviction. "Then it will be forever Nem's room. But do you think he'd like that? He wanted you to have this house. As if you wouldn't remember him well enough even without keeping a ghost room."

Halesch shuddered; Leone's eyes glowed in the darkening room.

"I couldn't," the man repeated, but without real passion.

"But I want to sleep there," Leone said in a low voice and stepped closer. "I want to sleep once more in Nem's bed. I just don't want to sleep there alone. I never did, you know."

Halesch stared at the younger man, breath catching. To him, Leone had always been something of a puzzle. The handsome youth of whom Neméath had spoken so fondly, calling Leone his 'pup' or 'colt', or by some equally animalistic nickname. The young man whose stories from the school had made Neméath laugh aloud, and who'd been in the habit of leaving little bruises and scratches in the most alarming parts of the older man's body. More than once Halesch had been shocked at seeing them, but Neméath would just smile languidly and purr that the pup tended to get somewhat carried away, sounding both amused and pleased with the situation.

Halesch had never been able to see anything puppyish in Leone. The youth had always rather reminded him of a cat, sleek and powerful, with intense eyes and sharp claws. He felt oddly apprehensive to be standing face to face with Leone, and it jolted him to realize that his hand, without any conscious command from his brain, was rising slowly to touch Leone's face. He watched it as if in a dream, saw it entangle in fair brown hair, saw his fingers twirling rough, straight bangs.

Leone simply waited. He didn't resist when the hand cupped the back of his head and pulled his face downwards. He didn't resist when their lips pressed together, and after a moment it was his tongue that darted out and pried the man's lips open, boldly demanding more.

It was a long kiss, deep and hard and desperate. It didn't remind Halesch of Neméath; the man could sometimes be determined and unyielding but never so rough, not even at their most passionate moments. Leone's hands were hard on his arms, lips greedy and hot, tongue plundering his mouth in a frenzy. And gods help him, but he realized that he needed this, after spending weeks alone in this house where everything whispered of the man he'd loved so deeply.

Leone was taller than him, just like Neméath had been, and the two also resembled each other in build. And yet Halesch was thoroughly aware that this wasn't Neméath but Leone, the young one, third in their odd triangle. Not that it had exactly been a triangle - for didn't a triangle have three sides, three lines connecting three points? Whereas here Nem had been the pivot connecting the two of them to each other.

But now Nem was dead, Leone was kissing Halesch's breath away, and Halesch felt himself responding almost violently to the heat in that kiss. Thanks to Nem, he knew a great deal about Leone, and one thing he knew was that Leone liked sex. His body was rapidly drawing its own conclusions of the situation.

Leone was hard as soon as their lips met, and Halesch's fingers digging into his scalp and shoulder didn't exactly serve to cool his fervor. He had spent enough nights trying to recall in detail every single time he'd wrestled in bed with Nem, remembering the man's skilled touches and slow, long kisses, the taste of Nem's skin, the feel of Nem's cock inside him. Now he was ready to burst at the seams, and here was Halesch - another one who'd known Nem, touched the man's body, wrapped his legs around his hips. Leone's arms tightened around the slim older man who clung to him, fingers splayed to get a better hold, trying to glue his body to Leone's. One of them growled low in his throat.

Leone pulled apart to breathe, and Halesch's dilated eyes slitted slowly open. He blinked a couple of times and shook his head, one hand still clutching Leone's hair. The other crept to tug at the buttons of the younger man's slacks, to push him towards the love seat, but Leone's fingers closed hard around the wrist.

"No," he rasped. "In the bed. I want to sleep in Nem's bed."

Halesch nodded dazedly, stepped away and walked into the hall. Leone followed him upstairs and to the wide, decorated door, then pressed down the handle and opened the door into the large, dark room.

It had been aired every day and still smelled of Neméath's familiar cologne. Such a faint and yet clear scent, enough to make Leone almost choke, but he pushed the door open and stepped in. The curtains weren't drawn, a sliver of moon poured a stripe of cold light on the floor and made the tall mirror on the wall glitter. In a few steps Leone stood next to the large canopied bed, pulled off the coverlet and threw it onto the floor, revealing a carefully made bed. As if it were still waiting for the master of the house to settle between smooth, pressed sheets.

Leone swore hoarsely, spun around and practically threw Halesch down across the duvet.

This is the bed where Nem died. The words pounded inside Halesch's head. He squirmed underneath Leone, pushed himself up enough to give better access to the hands tearing at his clothing, screwed his eyes tightly shut. His smooth fingers clawed the sheets, interlacing with long tanned ones, and together their hands dug into the rumpled bed. This is the bed where Nem died. With minimum preparation Leone pushed into him and Halesch moaned into the pillow in rhythm with the thrusts, desperately wanting to black out. Wanting the sting of nails digging into his palm, the painful intimacy of the hardness striking him inside over and over again, the squeeze of thighs, the roughness. Wanting to hurt.

Halesch came with a gasp, spilled himself on the sheets that had been so fresh and cool not long ago, then arched and pushed his hips up. Leone's hand closed with a crushing force around his knuckles and Halesch bit his lip, moaned again to spur the younger man on, and felt how Leone convulsed on top of him, cock pulsing. Leone clung to Halesch, then slowly collapsed to rest against the man's back, forehead pressing between the shoulder blades. His fingers loosened their bruising grip at last, but Halesch squeezed them tighter between his own and wriggled minutely to ease himself into a more comfortable position.

Leone was surprisingly heavy as he lay there, breathing hard, still deep inside the other man. Halesch felt tears soaking through the back of his shirt and raised his head enough to rub it against Leone's. Leone returned the gesture, eyes closed, and stifled a moan.

He could practically feel Neméath's long-fingered hand stroking his neck, his back, his buttocks. The image that had been haunting him - pallid face, sunken eyes and hollow cheeks, the waxy feel of skin under his hands, the coldness of death - fluttered and paled, floated away. Leone felt once more Nem's body against his, hot and sated, saw again Nem's smile, the arrogant curve of an eyebrow, the tiny line in the corner of his smirking mouth. Nem was there with them, very much alive, chuckling low at the sweaty clothes they hadn't had time to discard, at their hands clutching each other, at the way their bodies pressed together, still joined. That's my boys, Nem whispered. Live to the full, and no regrets. That's the way to do it.

Leone almost smiled as he pulled out just enough to cuddle next to Halesch once more, lips moving with a soundless 'thank you'. He didn't know who he was thanking, but at least he knew that tonight he would sleep without dreaming.

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