Lord Liverchester

Chapter 26

The spring-like weather never let go into full fledged summer. Dorian was thankful, reminding us often of his hatred for being too hot. Hotter days brought out the worst in him, such as complaints and bursts of violence. Those days were the first time I saw him act out. It was inexcusable behavior, but I can understand that he was uncomfortable and couldn't find relief. I was thankful for the cooler days, those which were marked by gentle winds and birds singing. All of us could sit outdoors and soak up the sunshine. We spent months like that. I counted the days, but sometime at the end of October I lost count. I grew closer to Dorian in ways I never thought possible. We laughed and cried, and spent a great deal of time wrapped in each others arms. I hadn't suspected we would get closer. I had heard of many couples growing apart, even early on in relationships. It must have been a myth that even the most loving people got sick of each other after some time. Dorian and I shared everything, creating an atmosphere that was livable for two people. We survived most of the pandemic safely at his estate or in my cottage, and every night held some amount of magic. When the leaves started changing color, he would stand in the doorway of either bedroom and watch over me, and whether he knew it or not, I was always looking back at him. He would wake me up with his early morning rising, his weight causing the bed to shift significantly. Before he went to read the morning paper he left me to keep sleeping, his gentle footsteps creaking over the wood to the door. Most mornings he would smile, and I could see his eyes slowly scanning over my body. Then he would leave, stomping down the steps or disappearing down the hall. I would see him again whenever I chose to rise, usually not long after he was gone. I would stay dreaming for a while, basking in the warmth he left behind. I would move to hold his pillow, breathing in the woodsy pine and musk that was there. The longer this went on, the more I started to understand that I was safe and secure. A lot of my fears dropped to the wayside and spending time by myself without Dorian became easier. We became separate entities but I still missed him if we were apart for too many hours at a time. I remember running down the stairs in my cottage one morning, just the same as all the other mornings. He was there on that bright autumn day, sitting at my table with a cup of coffee he had made for himself and a stack of old newspapers he was reviewing. He pretended to keep reading but smiled when he noticed my presence. I sat with him, moving the chair closer to him. It was nearly time for breakfast so we would be leaving soon to search for someplace with a good menu. The cottage was still lacking enough food to sustain either of us, but now that the lockdown was over and the pandemic had passed, we were free to go out for meals. This was perfect for Dorian. For months he had been so sure the winter would be harsh that year and it would be hard for him to hunt or find food on his own. Every winter he had a habit of going into survival mode, living off of his body fat and nearly hibernating through the cold. This year would be no different.

Today was cold but warm enough to go for a walk. Dorian paced outside while I got dressed, a simple action that didn't take a ridiculous amount of time. I didn't wear as many layers as he did, just to keep myself comfortable. I used to feel under dressed while standing beside him in his immaculate waist coats and tailored jackets or coats. I could now understand that our style just differed from each other. The bigger concern was whether or not I would be warm in just a blazer. Dorian could still have to offer me his coat, though I'd try to refuse it. It helped immensely on those colder days. Today I would use layers to my advantage. I hopped down the stairs and back into the bright kitchen once again, and it really felt more like home. More memories had returned and I felt safe and more grounded than ever. The world no longer felt like it was ending. I went out to stand with Dorian, looking up at the sunny leaves of the trees. His hands were in his pockets and he was lost in thought, pulled from it when he heard my footsteps crunching over the leaves. In no time we were walking side by side, communicating just by looking at each other. There was a smile hidden in his thick beard, his eyes full of peaceful love. The autumn air was barely having an affect on too many of the plants. Little flowers still bloomed in spite of the cold, some of them able to thrive more than ever. Dorian led the way with his good sense of direction, knowing where he was going but not verbalizing where our final destination was to be. He had a knack for surprising me. There was a path stretching out in front of us, the gravel winding through the trees and over hills. It disappeared far into the distance, and we would walk it all the way. The trees that surrounded us were green and covered in ivy, a few just dead wood made alive again by the surrounding plants. Dorian didn't have to say much, stumbling over the hill and stirring up dirt from the gravel. I liked watching him, the length of his hair falling over his face before he ultimately tucked it behind his ears. It was now long enough to grace the very tops of his shoulders, waving and curling beside his neck. He looked back to make sure I was still following, stopping so I could catch up by just a couple inches. We walked slowly together over the flat, rough terrain. Now there were flowers everywhere, an explosion of life and color. It was odd for there to be so many this late in the year. Our stroll was leisurely as Dorian stopped often to inspect the hill. There was no hurry, since no matter when we arrived at our destination, we'd still be very hungry. Dorian squatted down to breathe in the collective scent of the flowers, balancing himself with no problem; his thighs were strong and his legs were sturdy. He motioned me closer, gripping the stem of a pink flower gingerly between two fingers.