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William sought peace in unusual activities; such was the case when he followed his brother into the bathroom and sat down beside the tub to wash his hair. As he parted Albert’s damp strands with his fingers, which seemed even darker from the water, and spread a thin, fragrant mixture through them, he closed his eyes, his hands working mechanically. He paid attention to touch Albert gently as he massaged his head. He made an effort for the shampoo to lather evenly and cover the entirety of his hair.
A pleasant scent filled the bathroom. It simultaneously reminded one of flowers and lemon; William often associated the sweeter notes with his brother.
He threaded his fingers into his hair longer than necessary before opening his eyes and beginning to rinse Albert’s head, crowned with neat foam, with the wash jug. He was careful, trying to make sure the soapy lather would not run into his eyes or nose, but despite all his efforts, his brother coughed softly. William set the jug back onto the nearby washstand and waited until Albert was able to breathe properly again.
“Forgive me,” he said gently, head lowered, smoothing the wet brown strands from Albert’s forehead. “I was too lost in thought.”
“My dear Will, that is as necessary as if I were to apologize for breathing, by which I happened to draw in some water as well.” The teasing in the elder Moriarty’s voice was unmistakable, yet the lines on William’s forehead only smoothed out slowly.
Albert took his hand and stroked his fingers before sliding lower in the tub. He looked up at William: his tilted head and the wavy hair spread upon the water made him resemble Millais’ Ophelia, though his younger brother would have preferred to disregard the parallel.
“Please, help me finish.” Albert smiled at him, and the accursed expression disappeared from his face. “I admit, I much prefer your fingers to my own.”
“In your hair?” William leaned down and, with a playful motion, smoothed his hand once more to his temple to continue the rinsing. His light tone might have deceived anyone else, but Albert, who looked straight up at him, also saw his unchanged, emotionless gaze. It unsettled him more than if William had looked at him hungrily; at least then he could have been certain of what he was thinking, but when his gaze remained unreadable, he was always a little afraid of what might surface in him in the end.
“In my hair as well,” he emphasized, and turned into his palm as William, after his nape, again massaged the crown of his head, then his temple. “If we were not here, I could fall asleep from this,” he sighed and looked away, surrendering himself to the pleasure William caused.
“Here, however, I cannot allow it,” William continued to tease him. Running his damp fingers along Albert’s forehead, nose, and lips, he disturbed once more the calm his brother had sunk into. “Sit up, please,” he said, caressing Albert’s chin, “I would like to wash your back.”
“It is unnecessary, Will.” Albert obeyed and sat up in the tub, but looked at his younger brother with doubt, who, sleeves rolled up, had taken a seat beside him on a low stool. “I do not want you to do such things… I do not know what you enjoy in this.”
“I like speaking with you,” William said, turning toward him and taking the sponge in hand to begin scrubbing Albert’s snow-white shoulder, “and we are rarely able to be alone together more peacefully than this. The circumstances are secondary, but I like being close to you,” he smiled faintly, once again embarrassing Albert, who no longer insisted on looking at his younger brother beside him at all costs. “I calm more easily than if I were alone,” he admitted, his words softened by the sound of the trickling water.
Perfumed rose soap merged with the stifling steam that isolated them from the outside world, and William leaned closer to catch the scent of Albert’s skin. He did not touch him, yet Albert felt his closeness, and despite the warmth of the water, it raised goosebumps on his skin.
He sighed softly and allowed William to take one of his hands to scrub it as well with the foaming sponge. He held his fingers so gently, as if inviting him to dance, and Albert let him do whatever he wished with him. For a moment, he entrusted himself entirely to him, though in truth, he had wanted to guide William.
“Are you restless?” Albert lifted his younger brother’s hand and brushed it with his lips, light as a breath, before allowing him to continue soaping. The glance he caught in the meantime was still difficult to interpret, but when William closed his eyes, his face softened and became more alive. He no longer resembled those marble angel statues that had stirred both fear and reverence in him at once.
“I am tired,” he said quietly, without lifting his head, and tightened his hold on Albert’s hand. Albert turned toward him, touched William’s chin, and when his younger brother opened his eyes, he looked straight into the scarlet pair, catching a momentary honesty within them.
He had wanted to say something else. What he felt was mental and emotional exhaustion, something he considered not only difficult but unnecessary to put into words, yet beside his brother he was at least not as ashamed to show it as he would have been if Louis or anyone else in the world had seen.
He was weak and sought replenishment in Albert’s presence, all the while knowing that by doing so he placed even more burden upon the elder Moriarty’s shoulders, and William would have wished to spare him from that.
It was the result of his conflicting desires that he sat beside him in the bathroom and tried to bathe him with servile care. He wanted to press his face to Albert’s damp cheek, to lose himself in the scent of flowers steeped in citrus; or, if that was impossible, simply to lie down beside him and let the water take care of the rest. Such thoughts, however, he carefully locked away and did not allow them to take shape.
“I know that you, too, are tired, so allow me, dear, to take care of you. It calms me if I can.” William tilted his head to the side and tried to smile at Albert. He did so with such naked, vulnerable honesty that his brother was unable to contradict him.
He caressed William, letting beads of translucent droplets roll down along his face, and allowed him to continue soaping. When William asked for his other arm, he tried to suppress his quickened breathing and speak in a calm, even voice:
“Please, come here to me,” Albert said as he drew up his knee in the tub. “I believe there is still enough space for the two of us. In any case, I have already soaked your clothes.”
There were damp patches on William’s shirt where the water had run beneath his rolled-up sleeves, and small droplets darkened the fabric in his lap. However careful he tried to be, he had splashed himself with the sponge as well.
William nodded and let Albert unbutton his shirt, then stood and, with his help, slipped out of his trousers. He left everything on the stool and lowered himself into the pleasantly cooled water opposite Albert, resting his chin upon his brother’s knee.
“We were children when I last sat here beside you,” William chuckled. “Now, I fear, I cannot stretch out my legs.”
“Perhaps you are right.” Albert, too, could not suppress a faint, embarrassed sound that was easy to mistake for laughter. “I did not think it through, I simply wished to be near you.” He took William’s arm and stroked it gently. “I always choose the most unsuitable time and place for it.”
“It is not as bad as in the kitchen.” William’s eyes glimmered with a playful light. “Or when we went riding.”
Albert did not let him tease him for long with their earlier risky closeness and kisses. He leaned forward, bent down to the head resting against him, and kissed William on the forehead; with its unexpectedness, he managed to silence him.
“To be honest, I am quite often tempted by the thought of all that we might have done in the stable,” he whispered into William’s blond hair before placing another soft kiss upon his forehead. “But now you truly need not concern yourself with that. Rest, Will. You deserve it. And now turn around nicely.”
Albert spoke to him as kindly as when he adjusted his clothes or carried William’s afternoon tea to his bed. He wished to take care of him, and set aside the deeper nature of their relationship; William was far too vulnerable for that.
William’s lips brushed his knee before he obeyed and turned his back to him in the tub. Albert took the sponge from him and first rinsed him with the gradually lukewarm bathwater, then covered William’s slender body with rosy foam. Slowly, carefully, he bathed him, just as earlier his younger brother had washed his hair, and he felt his entire body gradually begin to relax.
Albert eventually set the sponge aside and smoothed his palm along his younger brother’s back, gently tracing the line of his spine, his ribs, and his waist as he drew him into an embrace. William nestled between his parted knees and slid lower, resting his head against Albert’s chest. His hair was soaked, blond strands clinging to his neck and to his brother’s chest. His skin, where it was not covered by the water, had risen in goosebumps, but Albert stroked him until warmth spread through him again. He held William tightly, who pressed him against the side of the tub with his own weight, yet their bodies fit together perfectly, so it caused discomfort to neither of them that he had drawn him into his lap.
Albert laced his fingers together over William’s stomach, and his younger brother placed his own hand over them, stroking them gently once or twice.
“Thank you,” he said softly, looking up at Albert with half-lidded eyes. Drops of water shone like diamonds upon his blond lashes, which quite dazzled Albert. “Without you, at times, I would be entirely lost.”
“Do not say that.” Albert caressed his younger brother’s face. He pressed his lips together so as not to say what William’s remark stirred within him: Will, you were lost because of me. He did not wish to believe this, did not wish to think of it in such an undisturbed moment. Yet his muscles tensed involuntarily, and William, who was pressed closely against him, felt the changes stirring within him.
“And you must not think that I am mistaken, please.” He stroked his thigh, at which Albert flinched and drew a sharp breath, and William smiled. “You are wonderfully good to me, Albert. Without you, I could not remain whole.”
Albert wanted to believe him, for he would have been happy if neither of them poisoned the bath with bitter thoughts. He held William closer and drew him higher in his lap, enough to reach his head. He kissed the crown of his head gently, buried his nose in William’s hair, and for a short while simply breathed calmly, without thought. William drew Albert’s embracing arm around himself, for he had begun to feel cold, and pressed his head beneath his brother’s chin.
They remained in this intimate stillness until the water had entirely cooled. Then William quietly sat up, rose to his feet, and wrapped a towel around himself before helping Albert out of the tub as well.
He dried him and wrapped him in a robe, then finally wound a smaller towel around his head, and allowed his brother to do the same to him. The upper floor was silent, the sounds of their bare feet swallowed by thick carpets as Albert, holding William’s hand, led him to his bedroom.
There, he once more surrendered himself to William’s will: he sat at the edge of the bed and allowed him to kneel behind him, then begin drying his hair without saying a word. He sank into his thoughts and impressions, and Albert did not disturb him. It was more than enough, the way he touched him, or how his breath brushed against his ear.
Slowly, carefully, he dried Albert’s hair, then set the towel aside and placed a kiss upon his brother’s bare shoulder. Little by little, William slipped the robe from Albert. After his neck, his lips traced along his back with such lightness that Albert could not tell whether he was truly kissing him, or whether what he felt was merely the play of air.
“It steadies and holds me if I can take care of you,” William whispered between his brother’s shoulder blades, touching his skin first with his nose, then with his lips. “In the same way, it gives me ground if I can speak with you, Albert,” he continued, embracing the motionless Albert, “or if we are simply able to be silent together.”
“Which would you like now?” Albert did not even turn his head. He did not wish to unsettle William, who rarely allowed himself to be seen so unsteady.
“Whichever you need more.” William’s fingers disappeared beneath the robe, causing a faint tingling to stir in Albert’s stomach.
“If you do not wish to, you do not have to speak,” he said softly, when he felt his hand come to rest upon his stomach, and William’s face press against his shoulder blade. “If you do not wish to, you do not have to do anything.”
“Let me remain like this.” Now that they could not see each other’s faces, William found it easier to speak. “I need your calm, Albert, and I can so rarely have it.”
“All that is mine is yours, whatever you desire,” Albert whispered, looking at William’s fingers interlaced upon him. “Everything you wish, I will strive to give you.”
“It is already mine.” William smiled. “Now I simply do not wish to let it go.”
