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The fall air is crisp and clean and damp. Rain will come soon, if the grey clouds swirling overhead are any indication. Fall leaves crunch beneath Henry's feet, and he breathes in deep. The tweed jacket he wears is itchy, but it keeps him warm against the October chill, along with the red scarf wrapped around his throat. A gold ring glints on his friend's finger, one he gave him long ago. "Pretty things should be enjoyed," he had said, down on one knee.
"Meg married," he begins in a strong, clear voice, making sure his accent is undeniably American. "Amy gone to Europe. And now that you're a graduate, you'll be off on a long holiday. I'm not good, like Beth, so I will be restless while I am still here."
"You don't have to stay here, Joe," Alex- no, Laurie, stay in the moment -says. He looks handsome, now, in his puffy white shirt and well-fit vest. His curls have no product to tame them down today, wild and getting in his eyes and rustling in the cool breeze.
"Why? Should we run off and join a pirate ship?" He stops, and when he looks over, Alex -damnit -Laurie is not beside him. He is stopped a yard behind, hands in his pockets, a peculiar look on his face. There is a question behind his eyes, one that scares Joe as he watches Laurie shake his head. His smile drops, as practiced. "No. No."
"It's no use, Joe--"
"Please, don't." he starts walking again, determinedly staring at the ground, while Laurie follows.
"Joe, we've got to have it out--"
"No, Teddy, please--"
"I have loved you ever since I have known you, Joe." he stops, and Laurie looks so passionate, so desperate, he stays rooted to the spot. "I couldn't help it, and I tried to show and you wouldn't let me, which is fine, but I must make you hear now and give me an answer, because I cannot go on like this any longer." His hand is extended out, and Joe only stares at it.
"Teddy, please don't."
"I gave up billiards, I gave up everything you didn't like and I'm happy I did, it's fine and I waited and I never complain because I..." there are tears in his eyes now, fat ones covering up that beautiful brown shade. "because I figured you'd love me, Joe." he pauses. "And I realize I'm not good enough, and I'm not this great man--"
"Yes, yes, you are!" He grabs Laurie's forearms, holds him in place. It hurts, to see him so upset, to see the corners of his eyes and the tips of his nose red. But what else can he do? "You are too good a man for me, and I'm so grateful to you, and I'm so proud of you, but we cannot. I cannot love you, not as you want me to."
Thunder cracks above them, and rain begins to pour. Laurie is undeterred. "Why?" he has the stupidity to ask, and Joe nearly explodes.
"You know why! You know why I cannot."
"I can take care of you, Henry."
"Teddy--"
"I have money, I have a name, we can leave this place and be together where no one will ask questions. I can't love anyone else, Joe, I only love you." He backs away, Joe's hands slipping from his arms, reaching out, desperate.
"We can't," he pleads. "it would be a disaster. I'd hate high society, you'd hate my scribbling, and we'd both be miserable and wish we'd never done it."
"Why does everyone expect it, then? Why does your family and my grandfather expect it? They don't care because they know we love each other, so why does it matter?. So just say yes, and. And let's be happy together, Joe!" He extends his hand again.
"I can't. You'll see that I'm right, eventually, and you'll thank me for it. You'll meet some lovely, accomplished girl who will love you and adore you, and she'll make a fine mistress for your fine house, but I will not."
"I love you, Joe," is all he says, and he's not listening, not paying attention to what he's saying.
"And you'd be ashamed of me," he tries to reason.
"I love you, Joe."
"And we would quarrel, because we can't help it even now."
"I love you, Joe."
He could throttle him. "I cannot give you children. I cannot give you any of the things you want--"
"All I want is you."
They pause a moment, to breathe. Laurie's white shirt is soaked through, revealing freckled tan skin beneath. His curls have flattened down from the rain, and Joe cannot tell what is making his face wet. He hopes it's the weather, and not tears.
"You don't know that. You don't know if that will be true two years from now, when we are stuck with each other."
"It will be true," Laurie argues. He steps forward, encroaches on Henry's space, fine shoes getting caked in mud. "It is true now. It will be true two years from now, and it will be true two hundred years from now. I love you, Joe. You are all I want in this world. Please, say yes."
Joe pauses. He considers the scene before him. Alex, in the rain, pleading, his hand still outstretched. The ring on his finger still shines gold, even in the near dark. He considers his lips, pink and plump, open as if to speak. They're not stretched in their usual smile, and it breaks Joe's heart to know he's the one who took away that smile.
"Please," Laurie says, and Henry cannot take it any longer. He is done hiding his feelings, sneaking glances from across the room, stealing secret touches in candlelight. He wants this, the two of them, every day, even when they're in the rain and will certainly catch a cold. He takes that outstretched hand and kisses him, and decides he will keep kissing him for the rest of his life, if he can, and it was stupid of him to believe he'd be able to resist.
They will not be miserable with each other. They will not grow bored and regret, they will not realize they made a mistake. They will love each other for eternity, and even after then, people will remember them and the love they shared, and they will live on in memories and books and songs. Lovers will write poems to each other and long for a love such as theirs. That is how sure he is, how certain he is, as he kisses him in the rain.
And then the director yells cut, and this is all not real. He is Henry, not Joe, and he is kissing Alex, not Laurie. Alex, who hates him. Alex, who removes himself from Henry's touch quickly, acting as if he's been stung. Alex, who Henry really didn't want to work with again, but who, he admits, is perfect for this role, a queer re-telling of Little Women. Alex, who Henry is hopelessly, irrevocably, in love with.
"So...what's your favorite kind of music?" Henry asks.
Alex avoids his gaze, focuses on the towel he's wrapping around his shoulders. "Please don't talk to me right now." And yes, Henry was a complete jerk, and yes, he deserves it, but it hurts still, and a little part of him snaps.
"You're not a very nice person, do you know that?"
Alex only rolls his eyes, and Henry does not speak to him again until the director yells action.