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Dorian had been asked if he’d like a portrait of him countless times, but he’d never accepted any of the painters’ offers. He wasn’t too keen on the idea of standing still for hours, and seemingly, neither was the one painter who he’d actually allowed to paint him. He did stand at his canvas most of the time, but would often lean against the wall and occasionally pull up a chair for himself. Dorian didn’t really understand why he had allowed Basil to paint him, he just seemed so taken by him, almost desperate to have him on his canvas. If he were a woman, Dorian would almost think that there was some sort of infatuation from Basil towards him.
As awkward as he was, Basil did seem capable of making friends. There was another man in the room besides the painter and the muse. He didn’t seem to serve much of a purpose besides giving a couple quips here and there, so what else could he be besides a friend? Dorian thought him quite charming, Basil warned him that Lord Henry’s charisma was only a facade.
“Are we almost done for the day? I’m getting tired,” complained Dorian.
“We’ll stop in a moment,” said Basil, noticeably speeding up, which resulted in him tripping and falling flat on his face.
In an attempt to help, Dorian dashed towards him. He asked if he was ok and offered his hand as support. He must’ve hit his nose, as it was now bleeding and once he was up Dorian ran for some tissues.
“Oh Basil, you’re so clumsy. I could tap you and you’d fall,” laughed Lord Henry.
“I suppose so,” he chuckled awkwardly while holding his hand to his nose so as not to get blood everywhere.
Eventually Dorian came back with the tissues. Basil took a handful and sat upright while tilting his head back and pinching his nose.
“I suppose we’re stopping for the day?” asked Lord Henry.
“I suppose we are. I’d expect that to be good with you Dorian,” said Basil.
“Absolutely, I've been waiting for this to end for the past five minutes. I only wished it hadn’t ended in such a gory manner,” laughed Dorian.
Then Lord Henry went over to the painting in order to examine it. His face showed disapproval.
“It’s only the beginning stages,” said Basil.
“Clearly, why you’ve barely done a thing,” said Lord Henry.
“I’m going as quickly as I can,” said Basil, his voice tinged in shame.
“Maybe you’ve spent too much time staring at Dorian over painting him,” Lord Henry teased.
“I have not!” said Basil, forgetting about his nosebleed and standing up only for blood to drip on his nice white shirt.
Dorian offered him some new tissues and Basil took them, turning his back to Lord Henry in the process. They sat quietly for a moment. Basil seemed to be staring at Dorian, but he figured that it was only so that he could examine his features for when the next painting session came around. Finally, the silence was once again broken.
“I think it’s stopped bleeding,” said Basil, taking the tissue away from his nose.
“That’s good at least,” answered Dorian.
Then with a surge of interest, Dorian said: “I never did ask directly, why were you so insistent on painting me?” Basil began to get all flustered.
“Sometimes when you have an eye for art, why you just become enamored with those that seem to be calling to be painted,” he said as coyly as possible.
“What about me was calling to be painted?” asked Dorian.
“Why Dorian, I’d hardly expect you to be one to fish for compliments. I figured you would get enough in your day to day life,” laughed Basil.
“Compliments are like opium, the more you get them, the more you need in order for it to hit the same,” declared Lord Henry.
“That’s the most straightforward thing you’ve said all day,” laughed Dorian.
“I’ve told you not to take anything he says to heart, but it seems as though you’ve already disregarded my warning,” said Basil.
“How could I not? He’s so charming,” chuckled Dorian.
“It’s all a facade,” warned Basil.
“We’re all facades, you certainly are Basil,” said Lord Henry.
Basil got quite quiet.
Now this interested Dorian. Maybe this was ultimately why he let Basil paint him, because he felt like he did more than simply inspire Basil, but he couldn’t sense what exactly he did, or was currently doing. What he did know was that Basil didn’t seem too keen on the idea of being called a facade and was now stating that he needed to get back home to water his plants. Lord Henry was trying to convince him to stay, saying that he needn’t take offense, and that he knows better than anyone else that he never really means what he says. Basil wasn’t hearing it and began to get his coat while Lord Henry protested that he wasn’t ready to leave.
“While you can stay for a bit without Basil, I really don’t mind,” offered Dorian.
“I wouldn’t suggest that,” said Basil.
“I think I will,” said Lord Henry.
Basil began to look very nervous.
“Oh don’t be like that,” said Lord Henry. “I’ll walk you home and then go back later.”
Basil let out a sigh of relief, thanked him and then offered him his coat before heading out the door. Both of the men waved goodbye to Dorian, with Lord Henry assuring him that he would be back soon and Basil making sure to set a date for the next painting session. With that the two men left and as Dorian closed the door, he found himself wondering as to why Lord Henry seemed to have to walk Basil back home. Maybe the two were homosexuals he finally concluded. They certainly bickered like a married couple, and weren’t artists typically like that? Besides, it explained Basil’s annoyance at the facade comment, as well as his constant worrying that Dorian would become too close to Lord Henry. He looked out his window to see Basil very awkwardly making his way down the giant hill in which Dorian’s house stood with Lord Henry seemingly ushering him along. Looking out, his landscape really did seem a mess, and he concluded that he should hire someone to clean it up sooner rather than later. He retired to his living room, wondering if he should tell Lord Henry and Basil that he already knew and that they had nothing to be ashamed of, it might make them more comfortable (especially Basil, who seemed to be the more closed off of the two). As quickly as ever, Lord Henry returned.
“Did you forget something?” asked Dorian.
“Did you forget that we agreed I would stay a bit longer?” countered Lord Henry.
“But you’re back so quick?”
“I didn’t walk all the way home, I only had to walk him down the hill,”
“Is it really that bad out there?”
“Not at all, Basil’s just clumsy.”
With that the two men continued their conversations well into the evening, with Dorian disregarding every warning Basil had given him. Lord Henry was fascinating, with equally fascinating ideas. No wonder Basil had taken a liking to him, and no wonder he a liking to Basil. For Basil really was quite charming in his own way. He was sensitive with a bit of a feminine side, a true artiste some may say, and Dorian couldn’t help but think of him even when he was gone. Eventually Lord Henry left, and Dorian went to bed.
When Basil got home he was so tired from having to stand all day. He collapsed on to the couch and then immediately groaned when he realized just how hungry he was. He really did not want to get up, but he’d also like for his stomach to stop screaming at him. He eventually motivated himself to get a snack before heading back to the couch. He was a bit worried about Dorian being left alone with Lord Henry, for many reasons. Lord Henry wasn’t someone you should spend your time with unless you were very sure of yourself. Otherwise he’d sniff out even the smallest of vulnerabilities and use it to make you question everything. Basil wasn’t too sure if Dorian had the self assurance to be immune to Lord Henry. In fact, he didn’t know if he had any self assurance at all. That was the one thing that Basil didn’t like about Dorian, the one and only thing. Everything else was perfect, more than perfect even. But he himself knew the dangers of being a pushover and really did not want Dorian to suffer the same fate.
He thought he might be in love with Dorian, he knew he was in love with Dorian. He had known it ever since he saw him. His interest was more than just an eye for art, it was an infatuation, and it scared him. When he had first started to feel obsessed he didn’t know what it was. When he’d brought it up to Lord Henry he had said that Basil must’ve been in love. To which Basil promptly broke down on the couch. Oh it was the answer, he knew it was, but why must it be? Upon seeing his reaction Lord Henry immediately asked “is this about a man?” to which Basil began to cry harder, giving Lord Henry his answer.
Some time had passed and the picture was nearly done. It was taking quite a bit longer than any portrait of anyone that Dorian knew, but he supposed that all artists take different lengths of time. Besides, he didn’t mind much, he liked talking with Basil and Lord Henry. So much so that the sessions were becoming less of a chore the longer that they went on.
“I say Basil, you’re the slowest painter I’ve ever met,” chuckled Lord Henry.
“I’m also the only painter you’ve ever met,” said Basil, sounding quite annoyed.
“See that’s the problem with artists, they all think they’re so unique. I’ve met plenty of painters,” said Lord Henry to Dorian.
Dorian couldn’t help it and chuckled quite a bit. Basil wasn’t all that amused but kept a good front. Eventually the portrait was finished. When Dorian saw it he looked horrified. He began going on about how the picture will always remain the same as he will eventually grow old.
“Dorian, this is why I’ve told you not to listen to anything that he says!” cried Basil (the he of course, was in reference to Lord Henry).
Dorian looked up at him, eyes full of tears, looking so pathetic and Basil couldn’t help but see a bit of himself in him.
“Dorian, we will all grow old, and I’d expect when it’s your turn you’ll want a reminder of your youth,” said Basil in an attempt to comfort him.
“But I shall be distraught when I remember that I will never get it back!” cried Dorian.
“Well that’s the nature of nostalgia, but there’s also happiness when reminiscing on one's youth,” said Basil.
“Oh Basil stop, Dorian’s right, the only thing worth having is youth and beauty after all,” said Lord Henry.
“You know you don’t really believe that,” said Basil.
“I believe everything I say,” declared Lord Henry.
“Really now, if you said the sky was red would you believe yourself?” asked Basil.
“The sun sets, does it not?” answered Lord Henry.
“You know what I mean,” said Basil.
Basil then sat on the ground with the crying Dorian and Lord Henry began to worry that maybe Basil really could manipulate Dorian away from his grasp. He couldn’t let that happen, Dorian was so malleable and really could be exactly as he wanted him to be, he just needed to get him back on his side.
“I’m always sure of myself, and be sure of this Dorian, the only things worth doing are for yourself,” he said as he walked out of the living room. Dorian and Basil exchanged a glance of confusion. It wasn’t until they heard the door slam that Basil began to panic.
“Hey wait!” he cried, going towards the door hoping that he wasn’t just leaving him here. To his utter dismay Lord Henry was already halfway down the hill and it didn’t look like he would be coming back up. Feeling defeated, he sat in the doorway and screamed “why would you do that?!” Dorian came up behind him.
“Did he leave?” he asked.
“Unfortunately,” answered Basil.
“What a jerk, I don’t understand why you’re still with him,” said Dorian.
Basil turned to look up at him, confused as ever.
“With him?!” he asked.
“Well I figured since you two always come and leave together,” said Dorian, feeling embarrassed that the assumption he had kept for all of this time may have been completely wrong.
“I’m not with him,” laughed Basil. “…Would you have minded if I was?”
“If I minded, do you think I would have let you in my house?”
“I suppose not.”
“Well… I suppose now you’ll be leaving too?”
Basil didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to leave, not even that, he didn’t know how he was going to leave. He couldn’t get down the hill himself and he didn’t know how to tell Dorian that, or if he even wanted to. This was one of the worst things for Basil when dealing with… this. Unlike Lord Henry, he wasn’t one for an uncomfortable conversation, and that’s always what these tended to be.
“Are you ok?” asked Dorian.
“I can’t get down the hill myself,” he said, hoping that there would be no follow up questions.
“Why?”
Basil’s first reaction was to say that he just couldn’t and leave it at that, hoping that Dorian would agree to help him down, but then he thought about it for a bit. It might be good to actually talk to someone about this. Besides, this wasn’t a random stranger asking why he walked so “weird,” this was a friend, and Dorian would probably benefit from some details in case they were ever in a similar situation again, and maybe… weirdly enough… he kind of wanted to talk about it?
“I’ll tell you. But first let’s close the door, there’s so many bugs coming in,” he said.
“Oh of course. Can you get out of the doorway?” asked Dorian.
“Oh uh,” stammered Basil, seeing if there was anything that he could grab on to.
“Would you like my hand,” offered Dorian.
“Thank you,” said Basil as he got up.
Then Dorian shut the door and they walked to the living room. When they were both seated at the couch Basil began to have second thoughts. It would be so much easier to just say that he couldn’t and leave it at that. But once again, he reminded himself that this was in fact Dorian, a friend, and it would be good for the both of them if he were to talk about it.
“I have cerebral palsy,” he started.
“What’s that?”
He looked down uncomfortably but continued anyway.
“When you have brain damage as a baby and… it’s hard to explain because everyone has it differently but um… for me, I have really bad balance. I can walk but it’s a bit harder? This cane’s not just for show, I actually have to use it. It takes me longer to do… things?” oh he was a horrible explainer, there was a reason his chosen medium was painting and not writing.
Dorian didn’t really know what to say, he worried he may say the wrong thing. It did explain a lot though, and also left a bad taste in his mouth regarding some of Lord Henry’s comments… and actions. Eventually Dorian felt as though he should say something, so he said exactly what he was thinking.
“Ok, thank you for telling me. Would you like me to help you down the hill?” which was the exact answer that Basil needed.
“If you wouldn’t mind.”
“Of course I wouldn’t. I don’t know how much help I’ll be though.”
“As long as I can grab your hand it will be fine,” said Basil hopefully.
And with that, they grabbed their coats and headed out the door. It would have probably been easier for Basil to just go himself as Dorian had absolutely no clue what he was doing and whenever Basil fell, he fell too. Eventually it turned into a sort of game, how long could the two stay standing. In all honesty this was some of the most fun the both had had in a long time.
“Oh my goodness, you’re the worst at this,” laughed Basil after the two had just taken their 3rd, 4th, 5th fall?
“Ok ok,” laughed Dorian, standing himself back up again, “would you like to try again?”
“Are we just going to fall again?” asked Basil.
“Probably,” answered Dorian.
They then continued down the hill in the most chaotic of manners.
“Did you actually believe that me and Lord Henry were together?” asked Basil.
“Regretfully so,” answered Dorian.
“I can’t believe you would think that, I’d never go out with that bastard,” laughed Basil.
And as they fell and laughed their way down the hill, Dorian began to get very glad that Basil didn’t seem to be spoken for.