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Nigel frowns, glancing sideways at his beloved as they stand by the lake. Captain Higgintoot doesn’t seem all that focused on the ducks though, which is the first alarm that rings in the Readcoat’s head; Isaac loved ducks. He kept fiddling with his ruffle, picking at it in a way that would no doubt ruin the delicate fabric if their spectral states had not prevented it. He had been late to join Nigel as well, which disturbed him; Isaac was many things, but tardy had never been one of them.
“Everything alright, dear?” Nigel asks, heart fluttering a bit at the pet name. None of his relationships, had been the types where those kinds of endearments were permissible, so he delights in using every opportunity he can when with Isaac.
“Hm?” Isaac blinks. “Ah, my apologies Nigel. I’m just a little distracted by a conversation Samantha and I had earlier.”
“Oh?” He inquires. “Did you wish to discuss it?”
“I - perhaps it may be good to get another opinion on this. I’m really quite torn.” Isaac confesses, looking downwards.
“You can talk to me about anything.” Nigel assures him. Isn’t that what one was supposed to do in a serious relationship? Comfort and offer a listening ear. He thought so.
“It’s about the book.” Isaac tells him.
“Ah.” Nigel straightens up.
He would admit he had mixed feelings about the project. On the one had he understood Isaac’s desire to be remembered, to feel important, but on the other… the reminder of his beloved’s traitorous politics were never easy. He had had a private discussion with Samantha about that in fact, with her assuring him that she would not be shying away from any of the controversy surrounding the founding of the nation; she wanted the book to be as true as possible.
“Samantha wanted to include the fact that I was - I am…” Isaac gestures meaningfully with both his arms.
Nigel tilts his head, not quite understanding. As much as it pains him to say, they’re not quite to the point that they can understand each other with nothing more than a glance, a gesture. But Samantha said time and work would get them there, and as the only person on the property with a successful relationship he was inclined to trust her advice.
He steps forward, just on the edge of the Captain’s personal space and catches one of his flailing hands in his own. “That you are what, my dear?”
Isaac swallows, a faint blush forming on his cheeks. “Attracted - attracted to men.”
Nigel blinks. “Oh.”
He pauses, thinking. Apparently same-sex unions were not viewed with the same scrutiny that they used to be; in this country at least. To a certain extent. Well people were not executed by the United States Government for being gay, but it wasn’t all that simple. Nigel still was having some trouble wrapping his head around the complexities of it all.
“They would allow her to publish that?” He asks quietly.
“Apparently,” Isaac huffs. “She suggested that it may even appeal better to certain audiences if she did. Mention that.”
“You do not wish her to?” Nigel questions.
“No!” Isaac flaps his hands. “Perhaps.” And then quieter. “I do not know.”
“I see.” Nigel hums, taking a step back and staring back out at the lake, attempting to gather his thoughts.
He’s not sure how he would feel himself, if the options were reversed. If it was to be his private life that Samantha would be sharing for the whole world to see. However isn’t that what a biography was? Sharing private parts of yourself for others to identify with? He wasn’t sure, he hadn’t read many before, preferring poetry.
“I was confused.” Isaac says, unprompted. “Before I died. I don’t think I truly… understood what I was. Who I was.”
“The world did not give you a chance to.” Nigel points out.
“Is it fair then? The book is supposed to be about my life. My achievements. Not… the things I missed.” Isaac sighs. “The things that were out of my reach.”
Nigel hesitates before speaking, gathering his words carefully. “But would it not be dishonest of her to not speak to your… struggles as well?”
Isaac scoffs. “I assure you there were enough struggles in my life without having to delve into my bedroom.”
Nigel purses his lips. It was hard to notice at first, most likely by design, how closely the other man held his cards. He withdrew from the others, secrets wrapped in secrets, anecdotes designed to parcel out information that he wished for others to see. One of the things that had first attracted him to Isaac was the way that the other man conducted himself; but now he’s dying to see what is underneath.
He places a hand over Isaac’s. “And would you allow her to write about any of those?”
Isaac does not meet his eyes. “I did not think this biography would be so…personal.”
Nigel raises an eyebrow. “And what did you believe it would be?”
“Like one of those textbooks! The ones David used to bring over the summer but never read. I thought it would include a list of dates and achievements and military triumphs and - perhaps some exerts from some letters or something. I didn’t think she’d wish to talk so much about Beatrice or how it felt to lose my sisters or my mother of the uncertainty of the time or the difficulties of the war or what happens in my bedroom! Why do they need to know that?”
He sighs. “Samantha is quite unconventional. Perhaps you should have anticipated this.”
Isaac grumbles. “And its not as though her writing is bad, per se, on the contrary, I believe I’m rather lucky in that department… but the narrative she’s using - sometimes it feels as though she’s writing a tragedy rather than a biography.”
“Was it not?” Nigel asks before he can stop himself.
Isaac freezes, face contorting in a scowl. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Nigel steps back, as though to avoid his ire. “I - I cannot speak for you, but I do believe I refer to the constant… hiding. The fear and the feeling of the gallows upon your back. Feeling so terribly alone because of the facade you wear - knowing that if you let it down, even for a moment, they may kill you. And that’s not even getting into the war.”
Because no matter what side of the battle you were on, no matter if your convictions were right or wrong, if you were noble or dishonourable, war did not care. And on top of that the turbulent times that they had been living in - uncertain what countries would rise and fall with the dawning light. If felt like forces above them were reshaping the world and they were left, scrabbling like ants in an attempt to survive the upheaval.
Isaac nods, almost imperceptibly. “That is… all true. I suppose. But that’s not - it wasn’t. My life wasn’t a tragedy. I laughed. Sometimes. Had good food. Friends. Sort of. I—“
He shakes his head, staring at the ground. Nigel reaches out again, fingers brushing his blue coat. “That can all be true. As it is that you - we - are lucky to have this second chance here and now. But it can also be true that you did not live the life you should have. The life you could have, if you were allowed to be you.”
Isaac sighs and stares upwards, as though looking for an answer from the Heavens and purses his lips.
“Perhaps,” Nigel starts slowly. “This book is not just your chance to be remembered. But also your chance to come to terms with your life. Some of the things that you were not able to process before.”
“Perhaps.” Isaac sighs. He purses his lips. “What’s the point of this then? To air all my dirty laundry for the world to know?”
Nigel hums. “Or maybe this will allow others to see your story, and to see themselves in it. To see that they are not alone in their struggles, and even someone with all of your achievements can feel this way. I wonder if things may have been different if I were to have seen more people like us in books.”
“You really think so?” Isaac whispers, eyes shining.
“I do.” He steps towards him again. “And if this book is to be about you, I believe it should be about all of you. All of the wonderful person that you are.”
“But will they like that? Like me?” Isaac mutters.
“Those who matter will.” Nigel says, placing his hand on Isaac’s forearm. “And those who won’t do not matter.”
Isaac smiles, a shy little thing, but genuine, like the sunlight peeping through the clouds. “Okay. Alright. If you think so, I’ll talk to Samantha about it.”
Nigel smiles back, and leans in slowly, if to test the waters. Isaac does not lean away. He seals the action with a press of their lips, Isaac’s hand resting on his waist, pulling him closer. And so they embrace, in broad daylight, because they can.