To my Dearest Friend

Dancing

A few years earlier

I take a sip of the wine. I don't like the taste of it but my father said it was expensive so it must be good. I don't know. My parents are talking to Cyril's father. It's the first time our parents meet as such. Oficially than, I think they might've met back in the day or on a ball but not in a private setting. I look at Cyril in the corner of my eye. He doesn't seem completely alright. When I met Cyril was very dependent on alcohol. He said it helped him with his mood swings. How extremely ironic, in the years to come I would see why he did it but at the time I never understood it. He leaves the room. We're in his manor so I don't know where he might be going, granted I've never been here before but he hasn't been to ours either. but I wait a few minutes before excusing myself and following him. I find him drinking a glass of whiskey. I walk towards him. 'Cyril, Are you alright.' He doesn't answer. I crouch down so my head is abit lower than his, he's sitting on a pretty low chair. He smiles. 'Hey gorgeous.' I smile. 'You shouldn't drink so much, you even smell the alcohol on you.' I put away the glass. When I turn around again he's standing in front of me. Looking at me with his intense and oh so beautiful eyes. 'Do you know how beautiful you are?' I chuckle nervously. 'Well thank you.' He grabs my collar and kisses me. I can't breathe for a moment. I wish he had done that than why does this feel wrong? I smile and softly whisper 'I wish you had been sober.' 'I love you, sober or not sober.' he answers. I shake my head, 'you're too drunk Cyril.' I feel tears in my eyes. 

I lead him to his room. I take off his bow tie and other unnecesary things that might hurt him when he's sleeping. I put him to bed. He's already half asleep when I leave the room, I sigh. 'Cyril, I will not tell anybody, I promise' I sigh again and whisper. 'I love you too.' I hate that I love him, why is this so hard?

I can't sleep. I keep thinking about the kiss, Will he remember. Do I want him to remember? I don't know I don't know. Why is it so hard. I hate it.

The next morning one of our staff members wakes me up. 'There's somebody for you Yves.' I put on my dressing gown and go downstairs. I walk down the stairs and there's Cyril. I feel myself stopping for a moment. 'There you are.' Cyril says smiling. 'Yes ,I am.' I say. I look down expecting an apology or something but instead he says. 'I meant what I said and did Yves.' This time kiss him. I feel infinitely happy.

A few weeks later

Cyril and I are looking at the debutantes dancing. We both have already debuted. But we go to the debutant balls each year. I must have seen him there when I debuted, it was the same year. Now that I think of it he might have been that one handsome one. We look at the pairs dancing. They look happy. I sigh. I wish we could dance with eachother. I love him too much. I wish I could love him in front of others. 'I wish we could dance like that' Cyril whispers, as he hands me my champagne. I nod. I softly and briefly touch his hair. An idea pops into my head. I smile- 'Who says we can't?' He looks at me, clearly confused, 'Tomorrow, six o'clock, don't be late.' I say as I go to a beautiful girl to ask her to dance.

I'm waiting at him near the stables. He arrives. 'There you are, you are late.' He laughs. 'What in the world are you wearing?' 'lower class clothing. you'll get it eventually.' 'I really don't' 'Just put on these clothes. Or are you too nervous?' I say. He looks at me, He knows he can't say no anymore now. I tie my hair back in a bun. He switches clothes. 'come on.' We get on our horses and ride towards London.

We put our horses in a stable from the city residence. We walk through the streets of the poor neighbourhood. 'What are we doing here?' He asks. I smile. 'Wait.' We stop in front of a dancehall. 'What is this?' He asks. I smile, 'You'll see.' We enter the building and we're met by the music of several fiddles and the stomping of feet on the ground. Cyrils face changes expression, his smile light up the room. 'We can dance here, not like we could do at a ball but it's something.' 'It's perfect!' It really is as the fiddles play, our minds forget our worries for a little while. Everything seems perfect for a while. Be are together, together we are, and we will be. The dancing is also more freeing here. It's just moving the way you feel. It's so easy is it not? We are free, we are beautiful, we are us, we are precious. He is precious.

'Think about it Yves, If we weren't part of aristocracy we could be together, we could go dancing every night. I could love you freely' I Smile, I'm holding his hand. 'It's not that easy Cyril, all acts of loving you are actually illegal. We could land in prison if we don't get killed by an angry mob before that.' I joke. He laughs when I feel something wet hitting my face. It's spit. 'Goddamn sodomites.' I turn around. The young man who said it is clearly drunk and more of his teeth are missing than there are still in his mouth. 'Excuse me?' I ask, politely even. 'You heard me Fairy." 'What gives you the right to talk to me like that?' 'Ah, you're not from around here. See society boy, we just tell the truth here.' 'Well than I hope you also tell your mother it was an awful mistake to have a kid, or wait is she dead?' I ask. 'Don't go there you toplofty bastard.' 'At least I have a father who means something!!' 'you're going to far watch your words or..' 'Or what? you seem all hat and no cattle (All talk no action)' I say before I feel his fist on my cheek. I instantly see red. I will not be beaten. 'Let him be!' Cyril says. But of course I don't listen. I don't stop punching till he's laying on the ground. Cyril grabs me. 'What have you done!' I look at my hands. They are coated in warm red blood. Cyril checks the heartbeat. I feel myself geting whiter as Cyril doesn't say anything. 'Is he alive?' He nods. 'You're lucky. You are daft.' he says while slapping me on the back of my head. 'Let's get out or here.' He says and we begin to run.