Chapter Text
There’s something inherently cruel about our passions. They sneak up on us without mercy, without warning.
My passionate curse came to me in the form of a man- Dorian Gray. He was a young, exquisite man who just moved to the city into his Grandfather’s house, which he inherited. He was barely stepping into his adult life, and was as curious as he was gullible.
“I met him at one of Lady Brandon’s parties.” I explained aloud. My friend, Lord Henry Wotton, lay on the Persian couch in my studio, puffing an ungodly amount of cigarettes. He listened to my story with a casual interest. “It was a tedious thing, filled with rich, stuffy people and their facades. People at parties are always wearing facades, whether they wish it or not. Nothing sets me on edge more than someone pretending to be something else.”
“Which is why you love the theatre.” Said Henry.
I paused. I sat at my easel, rendering a collection of fruit I’d arranged on a table before me. Henry liked to watch me paint. More accurately, he liked to ramble at me while I painted. Today marked a rare occasion, because I was the one rambling.
“Must you always tease me?” I said.
“Oh no. Nothing is more authentic than actors. The audience at least knows that none of it is real, so the actors relax, drop all facades, and become the characters in a real, authentic way. Liars and pretenders are trying to trick you. They don’t want you to see them. But actors- real actors, want nothing more than to be seen.”
“Right, well regardless, I was at one of those parties, when I felt someone staring at me. I turned around then, and that’s when I saw him. I have never beheld so much beauty in a single person, and doubt I ever will again. Immediately, I was overcome with-”
“Ecstasy?”
“Terror.”
At this, Lord Henry actually sat up on the couch. I continued.
“You mentioned theatre. You know the moment when the protagonist enters, and everything seems to go still, and you know- you just know you’re looking at someone important? That they’re about to change everything? That was Dorian Gray. At that moment, I felt my fate shift into a new course. If I ever was to render something in his likeness, it would easily be my best work.”
“So why don’t you paint him?”
“I can’t, Harry. There will be too much devotion in it. God, I don’t want to scare him off.”
“But you said so yourself, it might be your best work.”
“I’ll give myself away! Every line, every stroke, every color, will scream of my affections, and everyone will know what I am. He’s a siren, Harry. I long to immortalize his beauty, but it would only lead to my demise.”
Harry shrugged, and lifted yet another cigarette to his mouth. “Michaelangelo got away with it, didn’t he?”
“It’s no use. Passions are the cruelest part of modern society.”
“Oh, don’t say that, Basil. Passions are the only things I live for!”
“That’s why your life is in shambles.”
Lord Henry only laughed. There might have even been a witty response at the other end of it, but just then, the manservant announced Dorian’s arrival.
“Oh dear.”
Henry got to his feet. “‘Oh dear’? What’s this ‘oh dear’ all about? I actually get to meet this Adonis you worship so much, and now you grow pale. Just what happened between the two of you?”
But before I could answer, in walked Dorian Gray.