The Letters

Knock, Knock, Knock.

    Knock, knock, knock. Constant Matthews heard a knock on the door. He peered at the entrance, his stomach churning. Constant was always nervous these days. He was scared to death at the thought of someone finding out his secret. He was terrified of someone somehow knowing. Constant knew his family wouldn't hesitate to give out his whereabouts if they knew where he had hidden himself.
    Nonetheless, he let out a soft-spoken, unassuming, and well-mannered, "Who is it?" Constant Matthews was raised to always do this when someone came to his house, knocking on his doors.
    "It is I, Etienne." The accented voice was slightly muffled through the door, which wasn't helped by the fact that Etienne always spoke quietly in public.
    Constant felt a smile forming on his face, for it had been so long since he was last able to see his closest friend. Constant opened the door a crack, peeking through that gap to see if this was somehow a trick, or a daydream. He couldn't even trust the voice of his only friend now. Etienne stood there, however, joyous as ever. This simple fact managed to astonish Constant. He opened the door fully, eagerly greeting Etienne.
    "It's been so long, my friend. Do come in!" Constant offered, giddy at the sight of Etienne. It had seemed like forever since Constant had someone to talk to. Etienne was the only person he ever spoke to, and even then, most of the time it was through those letters. How long had it been since he had an actual conversation? Constant was wondering this to himself as Etienne wandered around his new house, taking in and admiring the quaint little features it had. A small, round table, two wooden chairs, and a window that sunlight beamed out of were all so beautiful in Etienne's eyes.
    It'd probably been months since Constant had spoken to anyone about his true thoughts. Maybe years? Constant's mind still wouldn't stop thinking about that. This craving for attention is pathetic, he concluded to himself. He had to stop thinking so foolishly.
    "This place is lovely," Etienne chimed into Constant's thoughts, "It's not much, but it really is nice."
    "So, you can speak English just fine?" Constant quipped sarcastically, "Your letters seem like the scrawlings of a child!"
    "I can only do my best, Constant," Etienne argued back, slightly embarrassed by his lack of knowledge on this new language that Constant seemed to have mastered.
    "I am well aware of that, but it still will not cease to amuse me."
   "Anyways," Etienne's conversation sprung to another topic, "You seem to be upset in the letters you write me. I look them over, and cannot find a trace of cheer. What thoughts plague you? I wish for you to confide in me." This offer was tantalizing to a stressed Constant, who hadn't spoken his mind in months.
    "I crave seeking solace in you, my closest friend. However, I fear you leaving me, stranding me with nowhere else to turn. I have done wrong, and I have sinned. What I have done is unforgivable in every sense." Constant declined help once again.
    "How can I leave you with nowhere else to turn if you don't turn to me in the first place?" Etienne asked. His tone of voice seemed genuine, and it was clear that the last thing Etienne wanted was to quarrel.
    "Why do you give me this kindness? I am unworthy! Give this kindness to someone who deserves it! A loving wife, children! Any other kin. I don't deserve it." Constant couldn't speak anymore, and he curled up in the small, wooden chair by his table, defeated.
    "Constant," Etienne started, pulling the second chair up to Constant, then sitting beside him, "I have never met anyone more worthy of praise than you," Etienne made an attempt to comfort Constant by putting a small, feeble hand on Constant's slightly shaking shoulder, "Why do you shiver? Fear? Anger?" Any bit of roughness in Etienne's voice evaporated. Constant didn't speak for a while, so Etienne did his best to observe Constant's face and body language. It was the least Etienne could do. Constant seemed to be shaking, and his breathing was quick, and taken in short, quiet gasps. Constant was red in the face, and he had broken into what Etienne assumed was a cold, nervous sweat. Constant was looking at the ground, and his eyes were glazed with tears.
   "Constant Matthews, can you hear me?" Etienne spoke with a sudden urgency in his voice, grasping Constant's hand in his own, "I am staying right here, next to you."
    Constant let out a whimper, acknowledging the gesture. He couldn't bring himself to do anything else besides squeeze Etienne's hand more firmly. Etienne helped Constant onto his feet. Constant let out a sniffle before blinking away tears. Etienne intended on finding a comfortable chair, or Constant's bed, as he didn't know any other way of stopping this reaction that Constant seemed to be having.
    "Don't look at me," Constant managed to choke out before he couldn't stop himself from bawling rather loudly. He used his best effort to attempt to muffle himself, but it was in vain.
    "You will be okay, Constant," Etienne whispered, disobeying Constant by keeping a watchful eye on him.
    "Let me stay alone!" Constant shouted, "Let me be!"
    "I am going to help you," Etienne could have been talking to a small child in the tone of voice he used, "I am bringing you to your bed, where you will tell me about what is on your mind."
    "No!" Constant yelled, flailing while pushing Etienne's hand away, "No!" He voiced his refusal again.
    "I plead for you to stop that," Constant stopped, doing as Etienne ordered. Etienne started to walk down a small hallway to the left, Constant leaning on his shoulder.
    "Go," Constant pitifully sniffled the simple demand.
    "I will not leave until I know what's wrong," Etienne looked to the small room to his right. It had an unmade bed, a closed closet, a desk, and a chair next to it, scattered with incomplete and crumpled up letters. The floor was covered in letters, much like the desk.
    "No," Constant turned away from his mess of a room.
    "Constant," Etienne sighed, trying not to laugh for a few seconds, "You seem to have neglected cleaning."
    "I never had to clean before, Etienne," Constant admitted, ashamed.
    "You should learn to make it a habit. Living in a place like this cannot be healthy," Etienne shook his head, "Then again, you have been extremely upset, as is easily apparent to anyone," he guided Constant to the chair near the desk, and swept the scrunched up papers off of it. They fell to the floor, making a quiet, short sound, "Sit here, please," Etienne sat Constant down on the chair. Constant could only nod in response.
    Etienne proceeded to make Constant's bed. The task was completed by him with relative ease. Unlike Constant, Etienne had always been responsible for cleaning, cooking, making money, and other various activities that Constant never needed to do. The slaves and his parents always did the work, but Constant left that all behind. While he mindlessly watched Etienne clean up his room, Constant felt an urge to go back, to turn around and beg on his knees for his parents to take him back. He could go back, and live with all of the luxuries that he was so dependant on. Constant hid his face in his hands. He knew that that wouldn't happen. He knew he was going to start crying all over again.
    "Etienne," Constant whined for his dearest friend, and his only comfort. His legs were tucked against his chest, his face buried in his arms.
    "What is it you need?" Etienne asked, still focused on cleaning. With one more motion, the bed was made, and Etienne turned around to see Constant, "What brings you such sadness? There, there," he cooed to Constant calmingly, walking next to the chair where Constant sat. Constant used Etienne's support to make his way to his bed. Constant was trembling badly.
    "My stomach hurts," Constant complained.
    "Is there any way I can help?" Etienne asked. Constant lie down on his newly made bed, curling up.
    "There is not," Constant looked up at Etienne, "I miss my home."
    "You're going to be okay. Would medicine make you feel better?"
    "No. I want to go home," Constant insisted again.
    "I apologize," Etienne combed through Constant's hair with his hand, "I cannot do anything to help you if you don't know what it is I can do."
    "I know."
    "You are being," Etienne searched for the right word, but ended up with, "Very quiet."
    "I'm sorry," Constant shrugged, unsure of how to respond.
    "No need to apologize."
    "I want to go home," Constant started gasping for air, his face a bright red, "I-" his voice cracked, "I made a mistake."
    "You keep saying that in your letters. I believe you are just hard on yourself, especially with the circumstance."
    "No. If I told you everything, if I told you the circumstance, you would leave me, too," Constant turned away from Etienne, lying down on his side.
    "If I cannot do anything to help you, I will leave, as you said you wished earlier," Etienne turned to the exit the room.
    "Wait," Etienne kept walking, "Wait!" Constant was shouting, tears falling down onto the bedsheets.
    "Constant Matthews," Etienne sighed, "Why do I stay by you?" Constant let out a wail in response, and Etienne continued "Please tell me what is on your mind, I beg of you."
    "I will. What else have I to lose? With my death, I will be found in hell, anyways," Constant's voice sounded truly hopeless.
    "I doubt that. You may be over thinking this," Etienne rushed back to Constant to dry his face, "Here," Etienne handed Constant his handkerchief, "I want you to take a deep breath after you wipe your face, then we will talk." Constant looked up at Etienne before concentrating on not crying. There were ten minutes filled with nothing but pure silence, with the exception of the occasional sniffs from Constant.
    "Okay," Constant managed to get himself together eventually. As Etienne instructed, he took a deep breath. Constant's heart was racing, "I can tell you anything you want to know."
    "Let us start at the beginning of your story. Why are you not living with your parents, in your old house?"
    "They were going to have me married, whether I wanted to or not," Constant started, "I refused them, and they asked why, so I told them why I didn't want to marry."
    "May I know the reason why, as well?"
    "I-" Constant hesitated, "You should leave."
    "No, no, it's okay," Etienne had already gotten so far, and all that progress could be lost, "Please, continue."
    "So, they do not put up with my greedy nature, and they throw me out. If I show my face there again, I'm going to be yelled at, or punished, most likely."
    "Constant! You tell me when these things happen from now on, okay? You do not, under any situation, keep events that could put you directly in front of danger from me! I can help you," Etienne looked terrified at the thought of Constant dying.
    "And how would you help?" Constant retorted.
    "You could at least talk to me," Etienne responded, a hint of anger showing in his voice, "No wonder you've been so shaken."
    Constant, with no warning, pulled Etienne into his bed, hugging him tightly, Constant's arms clinging to Etienne's shoulders. Etienne, although surprised, wrapped his arms around Constant. Up close, it was apparent that Consant hadn't been keeping up with his hygiene. He smelled of sweat and dirt, and his house was just a mess. Etienne felt that this was absolutely pitiful, and he did pity Constant a lot.
    "Can we stay like this?" Constant glanced up at Etienne with pleading eyes.
    "Will it make you feel better?" Constant nodded, "In that case, yes. I want to talk, still, though."
    "I said something awful, I think awful things, and I just feel awful," Constant explained.
    "I know," Etienne said in a gentle voice, "It is okay. You're here with me. You did say that the truth is that I am in danger," Etienne started to ponder, "Why am I in danger?"
    "You have every right to know what I said, and what I think regarding you," Constant swallowed nervously, "That's why I will have to tell you, yes?" He shrugged.
    "You are not required to tell me anything, and I am not permitted to know anything you do not wish to tell me, even if it is regarding me," Etienne closed his eyes, loosening his grip on Constant.
    "I don't want you to hate me for my actions," Constant looked away from Etienne out of guilt.
    "I will not," Etienne reassured Constant, turning Constant's face back towards him, "I could never."
    "You certainly could," Constant said, doubting every word Etienne spoke, although Constant wished he didn't.
    "You can think that," Etienne replied, "But that does not make it true."
    "You are in danger because you are-" Constant hesitated for a second, thinking of ways to phrase his next words, "You are part of the reason I don't marry." Constant fondly, but gently ruffled Etienne's light brunette hair.
    "And what do you mean by that?" Etienne blushed at the gesture.
    "I don't want to say," Constant's face flushed with embarrassment and shame. He withdrew his hand from Etienne's hair, and back to his side.
    "That is okay," Etienne gazed into Constant's eyes, which were nervous. Constant was avoiding any eye contact at all.
    "No," Constant disagreed, "It isn't."
    "How so?" Etienne asked Constant, curious about his refusal.
    "Etienne Jay, I love you," Constant announced confidently. By the look on his face, you could tell that he almost immediately regretted it.
    "Oh," Etienne was shocked, and he flushed a bright red, "Hey," Constant turned away, "I do not hate you."
    "You don't?" Constant was confused. Who wouldn't hate him for putting someone in a situation as grave as this one?
    "Of course I don't," Etienne paused for a second, "In fact, I'm glad you told me."
    "Please stay the night," Constant held Etienne's hand in his.
    "As you wish," Ettiene responded.