Chapter Text
Henry Winter was a withered soul strolling in his own world far away for me to embrace; he was an everlasting willow never yearning to be kindled by the sun or embellished by spring drizzles; he sprouted silently in the dim corner of the world, detaching his heart from the people who stood too close to realism. As Iddlic as I was, I could not reach him no matter how far I mounted to his private purgatory. No matter how much I tried to extinguish my glacial but miraculous love for him, the candle of tenderness always managed to find a way to flare up my world, burning it to ashes, leading me to find sentiment in its destructivity.
I am nothing but a fool, a fool devoted to all that is picturesque, a fool who bathed himself in fire because its flames resembled a scarlet pimpernel, a fool who fell in love with a perilous blizzard, one that I drowned in so profoundly that I could no longer recall the taste of a summer’s strawberry.
It was Henry Winter himself; he was the blizzard, my blizzard alone, and I will forever be devoted to him. In between the lines of dreams and demise, he was my flaw, the fatalist of all.
I did not intend for this to take place, I’m not the purest man in the world nor am I the most befouled, I would’ve never walked down this lane to disaster wilfully, but now I’m here, and the end is nowhere near.
The rain plummets soundly as I awake in his arms, tracing his bare skin under the shadow of a moonlit night. He kisses my head, trailing my curls, as I hum at his sudden delicacy. "Go to sleep, Richard." I look up at him, staring directly into the clarity of his eyes. He caresses my cheek, and for a second the sound of drizzles dominates our silence. I attempted to break our stillness, but he shushed me and kissed me deeply, laying me back down on his bed. I cherished the chillness of the room while embroidering the pillows. I looked up at him once more as we both lay still, and I reached to graze his hand for what might’ve been the last time. I never knew when the denouement of our tenderness would take place until now. Bunny’s murder occurred about ten hours ago and that I knew was going to demolish everything we had built over the past several months, I knew now, that this was truly our last moment of paradise.
There is so much I want to say, but I don’t know where to start.
It all began with my weeping under the winter moon, Henry’s hands rapidly wiping the maroon blood from my forehead as I helplessly lay beneath him, whimpering at the rapidity of his movement. The scent of his jacket over me warmed me enough to breathe steadily again, but it did not decimate the slumber that took over me.
My hospital stay was only memorable due to his faint voice reading to me in times my lungs ached so tremendously I couldn’t stop the tears hurtling down to my hospital gown. He didn’t spark conversations with me, but his tall presence crowding over the side of my bed was enough to fulfil the emptiness that had wounded me all of winter break.
I lived for his touch. I whispered his name night after night. Though I was intertwined with wires and my lungs were betraying me, he heard every stifled utterance begging him to never let go, and he never did. I knew even in a hospital bed that this tender was temporary; every pigment of it would stain the history books, and every picture of it would be ripped into dozens of shreds. There was no doubt in that matter, but I was bound to kindle it for as long as it endured.
I didn’t expect to end up sleeping in his own single bed once discharged from the hospital; Henry had his own private world that the rest of us would never catch a glimpse of, no matter how hard we tried to unlock the secrecy of his routine. Nobody but Camilla ever caught the slightest glance of his mysteries; he let her into his tainted paradise in a way so slight that it could barely be depicted, and I knew I was bound to seek an aspect of his life I could never have dreamed to see months prior, a strand much more significant than the one Camilla traced.
I was expecting a motel to await me after my discharge, one nearby Hampden so I could continue working for Dr. Roland as usual. I didn’t know one of the biggest pieces of heaven had landed right into my life to whisk me away from what would’ve been coarse bedsheets and flickering lights instead of homemade breakfasts and kisses in my temple.
I could list every song that was played on Henry’s record player during our nightly affairs, with a book in our laps and cherry cigarettes between our teeth. Henry never played any music during dinners with the Greek class that took place in his dining area; we never used those opulent chairs and silverware that Bunny intensely gushed over; we ate in the pantry, our conversations evolving from complete stillness to exhilarating apprises we yearned to share with one another. It was more personal that way, just him and me, two chairs for us alone, not five empty ones beside us commanding our silence.
We grew much closer than expected. We enjoyed being around one another, and that fact made me feel an everlasting warmth inside. We bonded over late-night checkers games when we couldn’t sleep. I watched in awe as he played many pleasant tunes on his piano every rainy evening. In fact, he taught me how to play Clair de lune, since I was very much engrossed by its harmony. He guided my hands to the appropriate keys, and that foreign timidity immersed me. He must’ve noticed how flustered he'd made me; I caught him lightly grining a few times, exceeding the number of times he chose to clasp my hand, even in times where his counsel wasn’t needed.
It was one of those stormy nights, filled with pellets of hail, where we shared our first kiss. It all began with a somewhat daft conversation about what had specifically happened to me while living in the warehouse. I’m not sure how it drifted to the rather private subject of love. "I don’t think I could ever love someone in such a way; I don’t think I even wish to," he said. I didn’t feel much surprise, but I was curious to push the conversation further nonetheless. "Why don’t you want to fall in love?" I asked, reaching to embrace myself; the cackling fireplace added a spectacle atmosphere in a dramatized way. He looked away, facing the pictures hanging on his wall. "The idea of losing my control over someone never struck me as appealing," he responded with a sigh. I could see why he didn’t find this subject appealing. "You’ve loved people in a way that isn’t romantic, am I correct?" I asked looking towards him. "I love Julian like a father; he’s the only person I could truly ever have any love for." he admitted. It didn’t strike me as a revelation; we’ve all formed a close bond with Julian; dare I say I myself loved him more than anybody or anything.
"What about you, Richard?" It took me a few seconds to register what he was asking me. I chuckled, "No, no, I haven't, and I don’t really plan to." I had always planned to keep my perception of love hidden deep inside the crate; if anyone were to know how I had really envisioned it, I would seem like a much different person than I am now, and the more I grew older, the more I realized that I didn't need to live by other people's perceptions of me. "I don't see why not; you're easily the most appealing person I’ve ever come across at Hampden." My eyes widened at his statement. I glued my eyes to my lap, not daring to lift my head up, not for a short while at least. "I’ve always viewed love in such a tender way." I could tell he was engrossed in the mystery now. He didn’t respond and allowed me to continue. "I think I could love someone one day if I truly started showing some tenderness to my own self" the fireplace only seemed to flare up further. "It’s too foreign to me, what love really is like; I wasn’t much of a candidate for high school relationships" I sucked in a breath, "yet somehow I've always known it wasn’t a woman who filled the void of my intimacy; I’ve always known it, and the more I think of it now, the less it seems shameful and the more it feels right." I heard him breathe in soundly. "I think I’m really fond of myself despite the things people like Bunny say about me, I think if anybody asked me about my bravest love, I would answer myself." I finally registered all I had told him and looked back at him, fearful of what he’d think of me. I saw nothing but a warm look of appreciation that I had never seen before. Something much more prominent than relief took over me. All of a sudden, the orchestral version of Clair de lune began to play, illuminating the room.
The slow music filled the air, luring our eyes to meet under the gold flecks of the chandelier. We didn’t break that trance for a long time; I felt the intensity rise, and the walls suddenly seemed maroon instead of pale. The room got dimmer, and we lost ourselves in the lucidity of each other’s eyes. Before I knew it, he spoke to me for the first time in what seemed like an hour: "Richard?" I look back down to my lap for a second or two, "Yes?" I responded, He didn’t say anything for a while; he only shifted closer to me. I felt my feet shiver against the leather of the couch. He moved so close there was barley an inch separating our shoulders; he looked down at my lips with desire as I faced forward, avoiding his tempting gaze, afraid If I looked back at him, this dreamy atmosphere would shatter. "Richard," he repeated my name in a whisper, and I broke my silent promise not to face him and looked at him directly one more time. I noticed how chapped his lips were from the low temperatures still overwhelming all of Vermont; I craved to feel them, and I wouldn’t have to pine for much longer before he crashed his lips onto mine, sliding his tongue to easily dominate mine. I felt his undying need for control sprout as he grabbed a tight hold of my cheek while I found my own palm stroking the back of his hair, earning a soft groan from him in response. I felt a shiver pierce through my body and let out a whimper. As I recalled Henry’s compelling taste of cigarettes and cherries, his free hand left my waist and slid up my chest to where my heartbeat was intensely swift. I steadily pulled back from him as his pristine hand made amends with mine; his eyes were now purified, and he studied me curiously. Neither of us shot a smile, but we were both swimming in an abiding delight that couldn’t be worn out. What made our first kiss much more thoughtful was when Henry embraced me after I pulled away. Pulling me to his chest and generously threading my hair, I felt tears swell up in my eyes. I wasn’t so sure if it was from the kiss or the conversation we had before it. That was the first time I truly felt safe in his arms, and it wasn’t due to his heroic act of saving me from the depths of a blizzard.
We spent the rest of the night talking more openly, with Henry giving me recommendations on books I should buy since I had miraculously enjoyed his collection to the extent where I was engrossed in all his annotations. We talked as well about the Greek class; it wasn’t my intention to bring them up, but as usual, their names held more input than the topic itself. I didn’t dare ask him about Camilla; I was afraid of his possible reaction and not much of his possible answer. It was just a kiss after all, and I felt it within me that things would exceed further after those moonlit hours; however, I was oblivious to my own senses and convinced myself that my investment in Henry’s formal life had already been blemished by my involvement and intimacy, ignoring the growing implication that I would be viewing much more than that sooner than anticipated.
Early mornings were one of the more candied parts of my day. Henry cooked us both a simple but grand breakfast that didn’t fail to have me devouring it every time. It was generous of him to waste nearly an hour preparing a meal for me. I had expected to do these chores myself after a bit of recovery, but Henry never failed to surprise me by still taking the authority to prepare every meal we ate. My slight recovery allowed me to work with Dr. Roland again; it was a relief this time because I got to keep myself busy instead of spending all my time lousing around Henry’s affluences. I still felt like a heavy lift on Henry despite our intimate exchange; his discreet work and schedules seemed so important to his manner that I didn’t wish to cause a provisional disturbance on them. My salary increased the more tasks I was able to finish successfully; I worked more hours, and Henry, despite his industrious conduct, seemed to notice it. He didn’t confront me about it for the first week, until a gloomy Tuesday came by.
I came to find him sitting with a glass of wine placed on the table in front of his seat. He held his usual Montblanc pen, tracing lines in his notepad, he looked up at me and I saw his tensed posture relax. It was a quarter past eight; I was much more delayed than normal, and I knew then that a confrontation was going to be the prominent feature of our dinner conversation. "Hello, Richard" he said rather delicately; no hint of anger was visible in his tone, but truthfully, no certain emotion ever was. "I’m sorry, I’m long overdue; you can go ahead and start dinner without me," I mumbled hastily. I made my way to the bathroom door at the start of the small corridor. "Wait," said Henry, standing up and walking towards me. He rapidly reached for my arm, startling me. I nonetheless obeyed him and stood still. "May I talk with you?" His intonation was much more fragile now: "Yes, of course." I tried to say it clearly, but instead I stumbled moderately. "Well, take a seat." His expression was serious, so I once more followed his instruction and took a seat on the same couch we first kissed less than two weeks before.
He sat down with his elbows above his thighs. He looked at me, and before he could find the right words to say, I asked with concern, "What is the matter?" He didn't answer me right away, and that only perturbed me further. "Richard, you’ve been working a lot these past few days; may I ask why you find the need to stay out for so long?" I felt a sudden tang of guilt. "I understand if you’re determined to have your salary increased, but you’ve been working longer than even myself; I don’t think that’s quite appropriate given the circumstances of your health," he continued. I tried to speak, but he raised his hand, gesturing that he wasn’t done. "If you tend to get your own place, I can help you with that." Is that what he really thinks? "If that is your objective, I would much like to know why you feel the need to move out from here; what is it about the place that dissatisfies you?" That past tang of guilt grew to become an entire gourmet of remorse. I finally had the chance to state what was really true: "Truthfully, Henry I only spend so much time at Dr. Roland’s because I do not want to burden your home with my recurring presence, I found that if I kept myself busy, I could spend less time crowding you while you worked, and by no means am I dissatisfied; your place is wonderful, and you’re the best roommate I’ve ever really had, I'm grateful for all you’ve done since your return; I really am Henry; thank you" I gave him a reassuring smile by the end. "I’m glad you think well of me, Richard," he said simply, and for a second, a smile crept up on the side of his mouth. That was just one of the many treasures of that memorable night.
I was the first to lean in this time, catching the addictive scent of his cologne and letting it consume me while his tongue collided with my own, enthralling the familiar tang of red wine that will never tire me. My legs shifted to wrap around his torso, his fingers tugged at my hair, pulling it lightly, I softly whimpered as I felt his tongue rub against mine. He pulled back a moment later and caressed his fingers down my cheek. "You look so beautiful" he whispered.
That was the first night we slept together, the first time he cuddled me until sleep overtook me like it never did before. I was closer to heaven than I had ever been before. I was as elated as a kingfisher on its way to a long-awaited cascade. I'll never be able to find that heaven again; all I know is that the name "Henry Winter" was revered and carved into every trailing branch of its tranquility. I rested my head on his chest, my fingers tracing some leaves and squares in his palm, while he occasionally kissed my forehead until a deep slumber transcended him.
That precious night was perhaps the beginning of our tender tales. I saw something so vulnerable in his gaze when sunrise approached the following morning. We were twisted in the bedsheets of our own little world, enthralled by the walls separating us from all that is sorrowful and leaving the two of us to explore every bruise and birthmark imprinted in our skin, while the rate of our breaths interlaced, leaving us stranded in the hollow halls of our minds, soldering our thoughts and daydreams. The only thing we treasured the same was our everlasting love for the morbid relish of beauty. My name, however, did not stand in his pillar of affection as it did in mine.
We started taking morning walks not too long after. We woke up to find numerical drizzles hung upon every rooftop of the street. The dawn was disappearing from our sight, overtaken by the crispy essence, but I caught a glimpse of his smile, and his face shone with every luminescence obscured by the vanished sun, and there he was lighting up every dimness struck upon my life.
"I do wonder," Henry began as we sauntered past the damp concrete of the sidewalk. "Hm?" I looked at him in awe as he grinned and asked, "What did you think of me when we first met in the library?" I was slightly caught off guard until he continued, "I remember our exchange about Homer and my bargaining questions irritating you, but honestly, how did you ponder me?" I sucked in a light breath. "I wouldn’t say I was irritated; I was rather more intimidated by your overall attitude, that big umbrella, and sharp glare; you charmed me much more than the rest." He raised an eyebrow and shot a conceited look "did I?" It wasn’t much of a question and more of an assurance to himself. "You were the one who crowded my overall perception of the Greek class, one of the many reasons why I tried everything possible to join," I said, looking forward to a step between the conjoined sidewalks. I didn’t have to analyze his expression again to know that he took great pride in my confession. "If Bunny wasn’t there to introduce me to you, you would’ve never approached me." I meant to say it as a joke, but I was now filled with great curiosity if that was the truth. He wasn’t taken aback by my statement; he only looked down at the gray path and responded, "If you were anyone but yourself, that might’ve been true. Though you were very distant from me before joining the class, I still took a few peeks at you when you first arrived to Hampden." I held back a light gasp. "Something about your appearance intrigued me; I knew from the start you’d be with us somehow, most significantly with me in many ways." I didn’t know if I felt more flattered or embarrassed, but the grin plastered all over his face definitely unfolded a little smile from me.
Unfortunately, these restful walks came to a temporary closure, and my health worsened again due to the crisp conditions numbing me whole. Henry never glanced away from me; I was influencing his attention much more solemnly than before. The only perk of being sick was my ability to grasp Henry’s recognition and thoughtfulness much more; he was a lot kinder when I was in a vulnerable position. Not that he was ever directly mean, but there were so many lines I couldn’t cross and many questions I’d have to keep to myself. For instance, the topic of Italy was a rather sensitive one to him; the trigger on his face when any question about the matter arose was daunting, and his formidable manner served as a reminder never to cross that red line again.
He has a private tender for me, one that was all mine, one that will remain no matter how violently the walls tumble down on our little life, tainting every petal of memory without a warning or one last moment of solace. Due to the circumstances, I couldn’t return to Dr. Roland for a very long time. I’d have to spend my days in bed and my nights reclining on the leather couch. Henry spent less time completing his mysterious priorities, which I assumed were with Julian. I wasn’t sure if he just had less work to complete or if his concern for me pressurized his routine. Either way, I was overjoyed that I got to see him more. He would come back around six and cook us an early dinner; after that, he would lounge on the couch with me writing with a notepad in hand once again. Except this time I had my head on his lap as he tangled my curls occasionally while completing his poems. Yes, indeed, Henry Winter wrote excellent poetry. He refuses to call himself a poet, which I found fair knowing his attitude. I had the privilege of hearing the verses plummet from his tongue like honey as I would grab his free hand and plant kisses on his knuckles in a slow pace. Some of these poems were rather intimate, to say the least, and of course some of them were influenced by me, with my name carved into just a few collections. He gave me a copy of those poems that I protect with all my ability, though I would never share them with a soul due to their confidential subjects. It was entirely private to the two of us; not a single person could figure them out and consume them like we could.
I kissed every inch of his hand, my lips planted their mark on every finger. His hand was much bigger than my own, I worshipped it with my lingering pecks and my grip on his wrist. The words he uttered lured me into a daze, everything felt like a warm dream one I would have if embraced by his bare chest and warm presence.
We never grew exactly inseparable, but to say we weren’t close would be a fib. We enjoyed each other's company, so much of our needs were fulfilled when together, and I somehow grew to think highly of him more with each passing day.
The more Henry started to open up about what happened with him and Bunny during their Italy trip, the more things changed, for the worse or for the better, and I cannot be convinced with either if not both. Putting my trust in Henry wasn’t an easy quest, but there was no need for me to trust him for him to take full advantage of my devotion to him and the Greek Class. Was I aware of such a big power imbalance between us? Certainly. Was I aware of the mind games Henry played with me to get to his final goal: to successfully murder Bunny and get away with it? Not even a little bit; I was oblivious to all the ongoings of the Greek Class; I hadn’t come to know about the bacchanal until late April, but even then I was naive to the fact that Henry would make sure to get out of it innocent even if it meant framing and fraud had to have an involvement.
It was a weekend dinner, and I had begged Henry to allow me to cook at least one. After much convincing, he agreed. We decided on pasta, and he was in charge of preparing the sauce while I did the rest. One thing was proven from that experience: I was a much better cook than Henry. He didn’t admit it obviously, but he asked me to cook more often without any pining from my side. Cooking was never that special to me until I did it with Henry Winter, and the experience was worth more than a chest of diamonds. I remember Henry dipping his finger in the tomato sauce and then moving that finger to spatter my cheeks with it. I was much too invested to pay his movements much attention until the red spatter was smudged all over my face. I was much too glad that the sauce tasted well enough for him to smear it over my lips and then lean in to warm my tongue with his.
It was an honor to see him in such a playful manner; even when those moments rarely occur again, they still took place once upon a time. Once and even half was enough for me; even a quarter of Henry would be a tremendous glory. Though I now knew I never had him at all, he was never in my grasp for me to feel the loss, because after all, you cannot lose something that isn’t yours.
The end of the winter break finally approached, and I couldn’t tell if Henry was happy to see me finally move out and earn his privacy back knowing that he is notorious for being a very classified individual that only ever opened the doors of his paradise to his Camilla and no one else. However, I was already here, lounging by the seashores of his rapture. What did that mean for me? Was I meant to be here, or was I never in the same paradise at all?
Anyhow, the process of moving out wasn’t so simple with Bunny crashing in during the midst of my departing process. I couldn’t spend much time with Henry during the final days before classes began; Bunny took up most of his time, and since I wasn’t as valuable at the time, I wasn’t dearly heartbroken over his prioritizing Bunny over me. After all, we weren’t in love, we weren’t together, and he had no reason to dedicate his time to me more than he already did. I was grateful that he even remembered my presence at all, but I did wish a couple of times that our relation was much more constant than it really was.
He allowed me to borrow his car back to drive back to the dorms when the dorms finally opened. That was it, it was back to reality for me, back to the cramped room and Judy Poovey’s company. Not that Judy’s company was anything but elating, I had just ignored a lot of reminders about my dorm life when at Henry’s.
Not much happened between us when classes first began, until the day he confessed everything about the bacchanal to me in Francis’s living room after he invited me for a drive. All the betrayal I had felt when finding those plane tickets washed away as soon as his familiar gaze landed on mine, and we were talking again, though our conversation this time was not such a jovial one. We were alone, and he was opening up about everything. Something about it drove me straight back to the hole I had fallen into when he first jumped to my rescue back in the warehouse.
We started exchanging glances during class, something about our exchanges felt close and somehow in a way reminded me of the foreign feeling of safety and maudlin. It was the night Henry came to my dorm during the late hours of night, asking me to help him calculate how many mushrooms would surely kill Bunny. It was a chilling reason to say the least, one most people would be petrified of. However, he was Henry and I had missed him to the point of melancholia. I couldn’t help him, just as I thought he would leave disappointed he looked at me eagerly and gave me a slight smirk, I knew what was bound to happen, it had happened hundreds of times and I want it to happen a billion more. He reached for me and kissed me hungrily gripping my hips painfully pushing me onto my bed. The kiss was rapid and vigorous he pulled away as he planted kisses down to my neck. I sighed softly as he trailed his hand underneath my shirt “oh how I’ve missed you” he whispered as he stripped me entirely.
He didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around my waist after we’d cleaned up; Henry always made sure to take care of me well, and this time was no different. He hummed as I planted kisses up his torso. We lay there beside the window as the moonlight reflected its silver luminosity. "You know," began Henry, grabbing ahold of my right hand, "I think you should come back home," he said soundly. "Home?" I asked confused my voice just as silent as his. "To me, Richard, move back in with me," he said. He looked me in the eyes now, and I could tell that my silence had disturbed his tranquility. "How wonderful is it to have a home?" I said with a smile and kissed his hand; he smiled widely for the first time. He kissed my forehead ecstatically, and I felt my demeanour melt as he grazed my bare shoulder.
I didn’t exactly move back in with him fully; I did move most of my necessities to his apartment, but I did leave plenty of things lingering around my dorm. Something in me knew this couldn’t be permanent, not when a murder could potentially take place in less than a month, but I couldn’t deny him. I didn’t want to reject going back to the home I grew to love so much. Not even my childhood home felt as sentimental as the pale walls of his apartment.
Thankfully, the weather was much more friendly now, so as expected, Henry went back to his old gardening hobby. I must admit, I found it charming how he grew his roses with so much determination. I’d find him in the garden of the apartment complex every late afternoon; he wouldn’t come back until he’d fully witnessed the sunset. That was another thing I found charming about him—his liking for watching the sunrises and sunsets.
It is humiliating to admit that I often dreamed about this being permanent. Henry and I graduated from Hampden, moved to someplace like New York, and got our own place, where we’d wander the city together and drink heavy wine every New Year’s Eve. With all honesty, I didn’t imagine us as lovers; there are many instances where I imagined Camilla coming along with us or Henry finding somebody whose erudite manner intertwines thoroughly with his own. I would love to live in a place that Henry and I could both call home without it being only literal for one of us.
I walked down the marble staircase, relishing the silence of the apartment complex. I made my way to the garden, and as expected, there he was, in his gardening outfit, reaching to put on his gloves with a shovel by his thigh. The sprinklers were on this time, their droplets being the only sound audible. He turned around and looked at me curiously. I didn’t join him as often as I should've, but that evening I made a profound change in my routine. He was much too focused to keep his gaze on me. He leaned by the flowerbed; I sat beside him, and my eyes quickly moved to his gloves, realizing I was missing them. "Henry, do you still have those extra gloves?" I asked, and he took off his left glove and handed it to me. "Unfortunately not, but you can use this one," he offered. He was at such serenity that I couldn’t help but feel emotive. "Thank you," I responded with a smile. "Well, I suppose you could give me a hand with this," he said, handing me one of the shovels. "Dig here; I would like to grow a dandelion on it," he patted at the exact spot and grabbed my hand gently to place it on the mud so I would recognise it.
I obeyed him and started my work while he trimmed one of the rose bushes. We were silent, with only a few exchanges but never any lengthy conversation. I much preferred it this way; for once I could tell that Henry was at pure peace, and I wouldn’t dream of ruining an experience that’s meant to be radiant for him. We were done for the day, and there came the best part: watching the sunny gradients drift away. Henry and I always watched the first crack of dawn together but never much dusk. This wasn’t exactly our first time, but it definitely was the most significant so far. I was surely covered in mud by then, while Henry somehow managed to stay pristine. He looked at me and his eyes widened. "You've got some mud on your face." I quickly reached my hand to wipe it away before he jerked my arm away lightly. He grazed his hand on my left cheek, wiping it away before he bent further to kiss me. I was taken aback for a moment before I serenely kissed back. My shoulders arched, causing me to bend closer to the drizzling sprinkler right behind me. My hands gripped his neck tightly for support as he leaned me back, kissing me deeper. I melted to his touch as he clutched my waist, and by then the sprinklers were soaking the back of my hair. I pulled away lightly as we both realized the situation, which thankfully pulled a chuckle out of him as he leaned to kiss me once more. This time we both leaned under the sprinkler, I gasped slightly at the glacial temperature of the water, allowing Henry to slip his tongue in, massaging ours together.
We lay there, drenched in the grass, watching the sunset dim the horizon. Admiring every tone of purple to the gradients of orange, everything felt like a mellow dream, and I’ve yet to convince myself otherwise that every moment alone with Henry was something to cherish like a wishful dream. It might’ve been at that moment, while caressing my fingers under his gardening shirt and tracing letters as usual, that I realized how happy I really was. Even in a muddied, dampened state, I was still overjoyed to have him by my side. It might have been that same exact second that I realized what was happening to me, what exact feeling took over me, and the agonizing path I was walking towards. Love. I remember everything feeling blurry and feeble during that minute. It was impossible; how had I allowed myself to get to this point? It was now me who felt like it was a great opportunity to flee to Argentina.
It came as a shock to Henry once I got up and disturbed our ease; he sighed at the loss of contact as I stood back up to my numb feet. "I should be getting back," I said plainly. His eyebrows narrowed in confusion. "Back to where?" He asked vaguely. "To the campus, I’ve got to finish off some tasks for Dr. Roland." I knew he didn’t believe me, but he was not one to argue about such things. I left immediately, not willing to change out of my damp clothes. I didn’t borrow his car either; I only walked and avoided looking at the now-fading sunset. My hands threaded into my own hair, covering the view of my face. There were too many thoughts to describe all of them at once; regret, fear, and jollity mostly crowded my delusions.
I arrived at the campus; I didn’t bother stopping by Bunny’s or even Judy's, though I did miss her dearly. She didn’t have a clear idea of where I'd moved, but she did suspect it was with someone from the Greek class. I made my way to Dr. Roland’s office, and just as I thought, it was empty, but without any work for me to even do. That only made me realize how stupid my fib really was. I made my way to the burgundy couch and collapsed on it. The tears that almost swelled up in my eyes were tarnished by the sleep that overpowered me.
The door creaked open, and I softly woke up; however, I didn’t budge. I only faced the couch, but I was most definitely conscious enough to know what was going on. I felt a jacket land on me like a blanket and a large hand graze my shoulder. Sleep took over me once again in almost an instant.
I finally woke up; it was still very early, maybe around six. It came as no surprise when I found Henry’s jacket wrapped around me and Henry himself sitting on the desk and writing in one of Dr. Roland’s notebooks. He noticed me get up and lifted his sight away from whatever he was writing. "Good morning," he said plainly. I rubbed my eyes. Why was he here? "Why are you here?" I asked rather stridently. He didn’t seem to mind my tone: "I wanted to help with your work." I knew that wasn’t the honest truth, but what I didn’t know was exactly why he was choosing to lie. "Well, I’ve finished them." I said, standing up. "Yes, I figured," he said, standing up at the same pace. I said nothing to him as he walked in front of me. "Shall we go home?" He turned his head back to me. I knew then that there was no way I could disregard I silently followed him out of the office and to his car.
I remember the car ride being silent; there was nothing left to say, and none of us found the need to talk despite all the secrecy. I only brushed a strand of his hair away from his face as he drove. I earned a smile from him due to that simple gesture.
He became much more gentle with me after that; his manner toward me was much kinder. I wasn’t sure if it was because of my slight outburst or if I was gaining a more affectionate place in his judgment. He started showering me with many gifts, such as ideal cotton pyjamas and new formal ties, and he even got me my own record player after noticing my love for them. I had to admit that when I stayed beside him, he kept me from all harm, and that was one of the many things that only led me to sink further into my adoration for him.
Our heaven didn’t stay so sunny, for Henry’s modest plan to get rid of Bunny slowly became a reality. It was a simple plan: we gather all by the ravine on the hours most likely Bunny would cross by, and afterwards we’d push him off and make a run for it.
The day before the murder was rainy, and Henry and I sat on his balcony late in the evening, inspecting the dusk once again with cigarettes between our lips. Henry’s smoking increased during this time, and I had no doubt it would increase if Bunny really were killed off successfully. The sunset was beautiful, but the man sitting by me was much more captivating. Henry reminded me of the Aurora Borealis; they were both glacial but pleasing in every way. I think if I were to ever watch the northern lights in the future, the memories with Henry would dominate my thoughts as a whole.
Henry never much liked recordings and cameras, but I loved storing events and looking back on them after many years, and recalling all the thoughts and feelings I felt through them. That is why back in February, when I found an old camera lounging around the apartment without having been used, I asked him if I could borrow it. He instead bought me a new one, insisting that his was just too rusty to use, but I knew that it worked moderately well. I was elated when I finally held the new camera in my hands, and I didn’t hesitate to use it often. I recorded Henry playing the piano a few times, and he forcefully told me to never show it to anyone. Other footage includes our morning walks, mostly in the rain, and some of our gardening hours in April. I didn’t overuse it to the point we didn’t have personal memories only stored in our consciousness; I only recorded some footage once in a while when something was just too beautiful to see just once.
This was one of the many occasions where the camera was necessary. The dusk was too beautiful during the rain, and Henry's writing once again on his notebook only made the scene more visually appealing. "Henry?" I called for him; he didn’t look up at me, but I captured his audible attention. "Hm?" I took a small breath, inhaling the scent of rainwater. "Why did you invite me to live with you?" I asked, and I didn’t stop there without providing context. "I mean, you’ve always been such a private individual, I would’ve expected you to hate living with anyone," I said. He still couldn’t break his gaze from the notebook. "I find life more tolerable when I’m with you, Richard." he admitted. No words had meant so much to me as these, and I know that’ll be the case till the day I perish. He looked up at me and noticed how flustered I’d become. He took ahold of my cheek as I placed the camera down on the table and left it recording, and he kissed me so softly that I couldn’t help but reach to brush the bridge of his nose lightly. He pulled away after a moment I had wished would be everlasting and pecked my forehead.
It is difficult to grasp that not a full day later, this would all be gone, all the warmth, the contentment, and the delicacy would all be tarnished and unable to ever be repaired, and I had nobody to blame for it but myself.
I remember our walk back home after the first crack of moonlight, when everything had been done, Bunny was surely dead, and the snow was falling more rapidly than ever before. Everyone would be scurrying to sleep the rest of the day away to avoid thinking about Bunny’s dead body by his shattered glasses and the intimidating height of that cliff.
I don’t recall much about the ride home with Henry and I alone in the car, I only remember being slightly tipsy and emotional. Not due to Bunny’s death but due to the fact I knew this was going to change our relationship as a whole. Unfortunately for me I was in too deep to leave it numbly and never look back to these months. The moment Henry opened the door to his apartment I felt tears swell up in my eyes. This might be the only time I ever step into this place alone with him, the place I was privileged to call home for nearly five whole months of my life which unsurprisingly were the best I had ever lived.
Henry noticed immediately when the tears started plummeting to my cheeks. "Richard?" he called for me softly. I couldn’t fathom the words to respond; I only cried and felt my knees buckle. Not a few seconds later, my legs betrayed me, and I collapsed lightly to the ground. "Richard…" He got down on his knees and wrapped his hands around my left shoulder as I leaned my head onto his upper arm with my hand on his knee. I sobbed on his jacket sleeve, my tears staining his suit as a whole, but I was much too vulnerable to apologize for that. I couldn’t hold back the sobs that came out of me; they spilled like a waterfall or a loose sprinkler, and there was nothing in me that could stop it. Henry didn’t shush me or even thread my hair like he usually would on any occasion. That only caused further sensitivity to rush out of me. I was really losing him; this was it. This was the end of it all, and it was frightening to see how the shelter we built under us was now tearing more intensely by the second. "I love you." I choked out a sob as those three words spilled from me impulsively. It didn’t take me much time to realize what I had done; I looked up terrified only to find Henry more fearful than I. He looked at me with wide eyes, not in shock but in some kind of deep disturbance. I realized then that both of our sweet dispositions were shattered. There was nothing left to do or say from us both; my tears had stopped and his embrace had been pulled back. He only stood up and walked away from me into the bedroom. While I regained my balance, I stood in the living room, unsure if I should leave or stay for one last night.
I gathered up my courage and walked into his bedroom. He had already stripped his shirt off and was getting ready for bed. I didn’t make my way inside and stood by the door, unable to grasp a word or two. "It’s late; you should come to bed," he said, getting the sheets ready and slipping into the bed. I didn’t even attempt to say another word, and I followed to my usual side of the bed without bothering to change out of my own suit. I thought myself I was lucky not to be told to sleep outside or pack my stuff.
Now I’m back to the present, the soft sounds of his breaths echoing as I recall all these moments a few more times. "Go to sleep, Richard." This seemed like the perfect sentence to utter when leaving heaven behind and descending back to the violent reality you thought was now behind you.
I slowly stood from the bed, making my way to his desk. The car keys neatly placed in the top drawer, I wasn’t ready to go, but I couldn’t delay my departure much further; it was the end of it all, and he knew it better than myself. I look at the man who once lay next to me one last time. I knew he was awake and conscious of what I was doing, and I choked out a silent cry as I twisted the doorknob cautiously. Tears were already streaming heavily as I looked at the living room one more time. Everything was so still; the furniture held as much admiration as they did the first time I saw it. Nothing seemed dimmer or darker, and that was precisely the case in Henry’s life. Nothing got dimmer or brighter with me in it; I was a vessel, and there was no use for me any longer.
I exited the apartment, not allowing myself to look back at the door, hoping it would flutter open with him assuring me to stay and that nothing has changed nor ever will. I was certain that it was impossible, so I accepted the chance of peace without it ever having been offered to me. I ran past the entrance of the complex, startled by the thunderous rainfall that had exceeded the previous night. I could tell it was around three in the morning, and the dawn wouldn’t rise for a while. It pained me to realize that I would have to watch it alone this time. I wasn’t so worried about my belongings being stranded back at Henry's; there was no doubt he’d drop by to return them to me or have Francis do it instead. I quickly got in the car, unable to survive the thunderous conditions with my whole body being thoroughly soaked. The sobs came streaming down unendingly, and I slammed my hands harshly onto the steering wheel with my head down, screaming as vigorously as if I had been stabbed. I rushed my hands through my hair, blinding the sight of my swelling eyes and reddened cheeks. I collapsed onto the steering wheel again; this time, however, it was my head that was damaged and not my knuckles, which pierced a new aspect of pain.
I sat in that car for nearly an hour, not daring to drive away. I wondered if Henry might have gazed out the window confusingly to see the car still parked. I didn’t pay attention to the cars driving by and the peculiar people who walked by at this hour as I usually did.
I finally fell into a state where driving wouldn't be so destructive. Despite the agonising feeling in my chest, I started the car quickly and drove off. I didn’t navigate straight to Hampden; I took a few long roads to surpass the time before dawn, even stopping by in a small field for a few seconds to smell the luring scent of rainwater in an attempt to ease my nerve, which I do admit did for a few short minutes before another a bigger wave of strangling melancholia drowned me once again.
I do have to admit after that stop my drive did get much more peaceful. The dusk rose beautifully and the heavy rainfall was now just a light drizzle. I drove soundly to the parking lot of Hampden college. Just as I was about to drift into dismay a familiar figure emerged from the light haze, eternally kindling what was left of fog.
“nescio quare non feci relinquere eum ante”
“Forsitan eum nimium amavi derelinquas sine eo amandum me retro”