contact part deux

[bouchonne]

if this were modern times byerly would probably make you listen to total eclipse of the heart before you were able to leave a message

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[cozen]

[ This succinct and accurate summary of his advice causes Bastien’s dance steps to slow and then stop altogether, so he is only standing in the middle of the floor holding Byerly around the waist.

He’s not quite tall enough to press his face into By’s neck. He has to settle for his collarbone. ]

[bouchonne]

Bastien -

[ Oh. Byerly stops too, and feels a pang of guilt. He’s not sure he’s ever gotten a reaction this strong out of Bastien before - And he’s not sure whether he wants to take it back or double down. Make Bastien comfortable again or tease out a bit more of this honesty. ]

I was joking. A bit. [ He runs his hand through Bastien’s hair, and pulls a face at one of the other dancers who’s making a judgmental little noise at them not moving on the dance floor. ]

[cozen]

[ Bastien nods. By was joking; By was right. In any other situation, Bastien would be appalled to catch himself trying to turn Byerly into him. In this one—he is still appalled, in a more helpless way.

Like he said. He doesn't want By to change. He thinks he might have to anyway.

He resumes some movement. Little steps. Face still pressed to shirt. He can't hear where everyone else is in relation to them, the way he used to, and if he were here with anyone else at all, the disorganized sounds of footsteps nearer and closer would bother him. But Byerly he trusts to watch his back. ]

Do you remember when you made Lord Jauquin so mad he passed out?

[ A cardiac event that is only funny because Jauquin survived (for the time being; fifteen years later, he is the late Jauquin). And because he was an asshole. ]

[bouchonne]

Yes.

[ He laughs a little laugh at the memory. He might be a bit kinder - the man is dead, after all - save that the man was also a real shithead. ]

Though really, I like to think he made himself pass out. An animal can avoid a hunter’s trap if it is clever, after all.

[ And he rubs up and down Bastien’s back - unsure what has caused this turn in the conversation, but quite willing to talk him through it. ]

[cozen]

Or at least avoid running into it four times in a row.

[ He turns his head so it's his cheek pressed close instead. He's smiling; it's audible, even if By can't quite see at this angle. The laugh and the back rubs have pulled him back from the precipice of dire. ]

It was great. It was—I like you, you know. You're funny and you're clever and you make everything interesting. Every time we talk for more than a few minutes it becomes a little adventure. What's over that hill, what's in that cave.

[bouchonne]

I like you too.

[ Even if he doesn't quite follow the reason for all this, this odd sentimentality, he answers it; his voice is warm and soft. ]

Sometimes it feels a bit like we're lads together. Not that either of us actually were able to really live out that sort of boyhood. It's being lads in the way we'd have wanted it to be.

[cozen]

[ A grin, now. ]

I can certainly think of a few people who'd agree that we're acting like children.

[ For example: everyone who's ever had to listen to them carry on over the crystals. ]

But I intend to carry on until we die.

[bouchonne]

Mm.

[ By scratches Bastien's scalp, and then asks, gently: ]

Are you doing all right, mon amour?

[cozen]

Mhm.

[ He smiles. He is all right. On the whole. But, fine, it's kind of a sad smile. ]

I just want you to know that I like you. I don't want you to be me. I don't want you be anything but yourself. It's only—what I want, it's not all that matters.

[bouchonne]

Bastien, I would love to be you rather than myself.

[ His smile is a little sad, too. But more wry. ]

[cozen]

[ The flattering thing would be to say that he would love to be Byerly, in exchange—but he wouldn't. Obviously he wouldn't. He'd have no tolerance for feeling so unhappy so often, for one thing.

So a truer thing, equally or perhaps more cheesy: ]

I would let you be me for a few minutes, I suppose, so you could see how great it is to be with you. But that's it.

[ Gross.

Quiet, though. Still a little melancholy. ]

[bouchonne]

[ He lets out a fond little huff of a laugh. It's a kind thing to say. ]

Well, then. As long as you're still you, I suppose I'm contented to be myself. Under no other circumstances, though.

[ Then, with a kiss to his temple - ]

I have chosen everything that I'm doing, my love, and what I want to be. You have not bent me towards any aims I would not have had otherwise.