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Balance (Combeferre): October, 1831
I mentioned the idea to Aimery perhaps a year before I ever broached the subject with Julien. I had learned from the incident with Jehan -- it would have been reckless of me to ask him clearly, foolish to surprise him, and idiocy to expect that he would comply. Aimery found the idea attractive, though not, perhaps, as attractive as I thought it was. It may have sounded like yet another adventure to him, uncharted beds, unkissed friends. I mentioned it in a fit of desire and madness, and did not bring it up again for months. When I finally got up the courage to say something, he gave me a crooked smile. "It'd be great fun." I sighed. "Yes, but it won't happen." "True." He kissed me. "It would still be a lot of fun." I could not explain to him that that was not exactly what I had in mind for the evening's leisure I proposed. Every evening that I spent with Aimery was one that I was not with Julien, and one, perhaps, on which Julien felt slighted and abandoned. If he were to comply with my unlikely scheme by allowing Aimery to share our bed for a night, that would be the best evidence available that he was not angry with me for what he might see as my infidelities. I worried sometimes that he was not as content as he might be, and that I troubled him. There were nights that I spent with Aimery when I wished halfway through that I were home instead, when Julien was sure to be asleep, when he would have been irritated if I woke him and hurt that I had obviously been making love to someone else not an hour beforehand. I had not yet left Aimery's in a fit of guilt, though I had considered it several times. I was giddy when I asked Julien, overtired and suffering from the effects of too much coffee and too much studying. We were at home; it was perhaps one-o'clock in the morning, and we had burned too many candles that night. It was apropos of nothing. I was making a diagram of the muscles in the shoulder, he was writing an essay on the value of adopting a new calendar when one changes the governmental structure of a country. I interrupted him with my feckless question. He blushed. "What?" I asked him again. "Audric! I don't know. I -- why?" I grinned at him, too stupid with exhaustion to realize that he could be furious with me. "He's a dear friend, n'est-ce pas, and it would be a most convivial evening." Julien frowned. "That's not a recommendation." "No? Perhaps you should spend more time in our Amis' company if you can't recognize the value of friendly relaxation." He stood and blew out his candles, glaring at me. "I'm going to bed." "I'll join you. I can't look at this diagram another minute." I snuffed my own candles and slipped into bed beside him, though he had turned on his side. He ignored me when I embraced him. "Beloved, talk to me." "This is not a game," he said, and his voice was cold. "Of course it isn't." I stroked his hair, which sometimes mollifies him. He shook his head. "I'm serious." "I didn't say otherwise." He hunched his shoulders. "I don't know how you can blithely ask such things." "Ah, love." I kissed his ear lightly. "I ask because I know it would be extremely pleasurable on all sides, and it would --" I searched for words for a moment or two. "It would cement our already strong mutual friendship, and reassure all parties that there is no significant amount of jealousy between us." He turned onto his back, which was progress from my point of view. "Do you honestly think it needs cementing? And if I were significantly jealous," mordantly, "I assure you I would tell you so." I winced. "I didn't mean that." "Then what did you mean?" "I don't know. I'm going to sleep before I get any more ridiculous. Goodnight, chéri." Julien sighed. "Goodnight." He did not speak of it again, and neither did I, until several months later, when I came home early one morning from Aimery's. My clothes were somewhat rumpled, and I was in a hurry to get to class on time. I gave Julien a brief smile and then went to my desk and began collecting the books I needed for that day's classes. "Good morning," Julien said quietly. "Good morning," I said, but I was too distracted to look at him. "Did you sleep well?" he asked me, in what was almost, almost a neutral tone. I stopped sorting through papers and turned to look at him to find out why he sounded odd. "Are you all right?" Julien shrugged. "Why wouldn't I be?" "You sound as though you're upset." "I didn't sleep well, that's all." He looked under the bed for his boots. I felt immediately guilty. "I'm sorry, chéri. I should have been here." He shrugged again. "You can do what you like. You know that perfectly well." I put a hand on his shoulder. There was something insincere about his tone that troubled me. "I don't mean to discomfit you." "Who said I was discomfited? I just couldn't sleep." Julien looked out the window. "I need to get dressed, Audric." "I'm sorry," I said again, backing away. "I -- I won't, if you ask me to stop," though, however many times I had told him that, he did not seem to believe me. Julien sat on the edge of the bed. "So you've said." "I meant it." I turned back to the desk and arranged a stack of books as he spoke. "I would do almost anything you asked of me, particularly if it would make you happier." Julien sighed. "It doesn't bother me," he said, a little more slowly and clearly than usual, "that you sleep elsewhere." I looked over my shoulder at him for a long moment. "But you don't like it. You would rather I didn't. You don't understand why I do." "What bothers me is that you want to." He looked up. "Are you going to change that at my asking? --I understand perfectly well. Because I don't like it doesn't mean that I don't understand." He went back to lacing his shoes. "Give me a little credit." "If you understood, I doubt that it would bother you." I frowned. "And -- I don't think that I could stop wanting to, but what would it matter if I wanted to if I said nothing and did nothing to act on that desire?" "God. Philosophy at half past eight in the morning." He stood. "You'll do what you like. If you'd rather be there than here, I won't keep you. As I've told you God knows how often. --Finish what you were doing, will you? You have to be out of here in half an hour. And fix your damned collar." "Julien." I held a hand out towards him, tacitly asking for his forgiveness. "If it upsets you that I leave -- and it clearly does -- I..." I bit my lip. "I wish I could explain -- or show you." I had tried to explain before, and had gotten nowhere. If I could only show him what I felt for the two of them, how the affections complimented each other rather than interfering with each other -- "That again?" Julien glanced over, and for a moment his lovely face was cynical. My stomach twisted strangely; I did not understand why he was so upset with me. "If I thought it would content you, I would almost be willing." He turned away again. I winced and looked at the floor, thinking of another way to explain myself. "I love you. Nothing that happens between me and anyone else changes the fact that I love you, and it doesn't weaken what I feel for you. I wish you could see that I don't do this to hurt you, or to escape from you, or to make up for deficiencies in what we have, because I don't recognize that there is anything lacking in this. Only -- you are not the only person whom I love." "Clearly. --I'm sick of talking about this. I'll see you tonight, if you aren't occupied." Julien left, not looking back at me, and not quite slamming the door. I could think of little but him all day. He would forgive me; it was only a rehearsal of an old argument, so well-worn that we knew how it began and how it ended. But I had changed the rules and the context by proposing an adventure of a sort that Julien has never appreciated, and there was a chance, however small, that he would not forgive me. Perhaps he had despaired of me, and decided at last that I was too depraved to be his lover, let alone his friend. Such speculations tormented me. I brought home a bag of his favorite sort of apples as a peacemaking gesture, and when I arrived home before him, I tidied things up a bit by moving all of the laundry into one corner, and all of the books on the floor into the shelves again. He came in half an hour after I did, and he was more subdued than usual. It worried me; our arguments rarely lasted through a day of classes. I had hoped he would have forgiven me by then. "There are apples in your desk," I said, by way of greeting. I glanced up from the book I was reading and gave him a tentative smile. "And -- did you have a good day?" "It went well enough." He did not quite meet my eyes. "I didn't mean to upset you." I looked away from him. He had rejected my overtures. He sighed. "I know. It doesn't matter." "It does matter." I set down the book and stood. "I don't understand why you think it doesn't." "It was a stupid argument, that's all." He took his coat off and tossed it over the back of a chair. "I'm sorry." I frowned at the wall. "I hate fighting with you." "I love you," he said quietly. The knot in my stomach loosened. I offered him an embrace, which he accepted. "And I love you. I wish we didn't fight about this so very consistently." He sighed again, and he sounded irritated with me. "So do I." I kissed his cheek. "I'm sorry. I wish I could explain it all in a way that wouldn't make you angry." "You don't need to explain it at all." Julien pulled away gently, and something in my chest clenched tight again in fear that he might still be more angry than he seemed. "You know what I think. What you do about it is your own business." I sighed. "But --" "What?" I touched his shoulder and tried to explain again. "If I could make you see this the way I do -- you would know that it hasn't much to do with making love at all." I gave him a tentative smile. "It's friendship, as reliable and strong as any friendship can be -- which is why it distresses me so when you are upset. Aimery is my friend, as much as you are, not in any way that could replace you, but close to my heart nevertheless. I wish you could feel as beloved, as confident as I do -- when you are not upset with me, and when I know, utterly and implicitly, how much you both love me." He looked at the floor, either upset with me or chagrined. I could not tell which. He said, "You were right. I don't understand." I kissed his forehead. "Beloved, there was no reason you should unless I managed to explain, which I have not done well. I have tried, in my poor way, to make you feel loved, to find people who would care about you and support you in what you need to do." I touched his hair, which he would not have allowed if he were still angry with me. "I fear I've done better at finding myself friends, and that was not entirely my intent. I wish that I could show you how strong I feel when I know I am loved." He embraced me. The pressure of fear eased in my chest. "I love you." "And I love you. You know that!" He was vexed, but more with himself than me, it seemed. "Yes, I know." I kissed his cheek. He kissed me back, pulling me close to him. "Sometimes I think I've never understood anything." I ran my fingers through his hair and said in a soothing tone, "I'm sure you understand a great deal, love." "Don't." He pushed at my shoulders, startling me. "Don't humor me." It took me a moment to respond. "I'm not humoring you. You understand intricacies of law better than I ever could. If you do not understand intricacies of friendship and love, then perhaps you will let me explain, or show you." There were tears in Julien's eyes that had not been there a moment before. "You do. Every day." "Oh --" I felt my throat close a little with sympathetic emotion, and I kissed him lightly. "Beloved." "Je t'aime," he whispered. I embraced him, and he sighed into my shoulder. I asked, "What's the matter, chéri?" "Nothing." He kissed me again, and I understood. Whatever irritation he felt had gone; the argument was over. We made love, hiding all the while from the chilly autumnal air. Though I held him close, he pulled me closer. I did not realize until then how much I had distressed him, and that, though my nights with Aimery made me feel balanced and safe, they made Julien feel that I might leave him without warning. I tried to show him again how much I cared for him, and if kisses and caresses could show him anything, perhaps I succeeded. But I had kissed him and whispered adoring words to him many a time, and he still did not trust that I would not leave him. He would not force me to stay; I would not give up Aimery's company unless Julien asked me to do so. I needed to reassure him another way. Afterward, when we were still pressed together, holding each other rather more tightly than usual, I kissed his cheek. "I would like to show you what I see in -- in the nights we do not spend together." He gave me a somewhat dazed look. "What?" I kissed him again. "Let me -- let us show you. Please?" Julien blinked and looked away for a moment. I bit my lip, hoping against all evidence that he would have changed his mind. Then he said softly, "All right." I smiled, perhaps a little too brightly, and embraced him. "It should be splendid, my love. I promise you that." It did not take nearly as long to organize the event itself as it did to convince Julien that it might be an interesting way to spend the evening. When I told Aimery, he laughed. "It would be lovely, if you could convince him." "No -- I have." He blinked, then grinned. "Have you, now. Did you have a day in mind?" I kissed his cheek. "Saturday, probably." "All right." He shook his head in disbelief. "I don't think I want to know how you convinced him." I smiled. "Carefully. Gently. I'm not entirely sure." "Fair enough." "But --" I frowned. "I think it would be better if you didn't tell the others?" "Oh?" I knew, too well for my own comfort, that the sort of evening that we planned was a common pastime among our fellows, and I doubted that any of them would think less of Julien or myself for participating, but it was better to be safe. "I don't mean that we should lie," I said, choosing the phrases carefully. "I would rather that they didn't know. That's all." Aimery gave me a bland look for a moment and shrugged. "All right." Although he had been somewhat doubtful, he did as I asked. On Saturday, after the meeting at the Café Musain, Julien and I walked home together. Aimery joined us a few minutes later, so as not to seem as though he was accompanying us. It was heaven to hold them both in my arms, and be held by them. It eased something in me that I had not known was tense. My dear friends, my sweet lovers -- I felt as though I had come home from a long journey. That feeling only grew as the evening progressed. And seeing them embracing -- Julien pale and fair, his features so finely sculpted, and Aimery with his dark curls and a mischievious curve to his lips, just before he kissed Julien -- it was enough to make my heart skip. Julien is beautiful, and Aimery is handsome. Together, they are painfully lovely. If I had not been able to insinuate myself into their embrace, I would have had to look away from them or look for a sketchpad to capture the perfect loveliness of the way they looked together. They did not object when I touched Aimery's arm and kissed him lightly, though my intrusion marred the beauty of the moment. My only regret was that I could not kiss them both at once, a mad regret, perhaps, but still one that I felt keenly, as though I were denying them something they expected. They were less patient than I was -- Julien from nervousness, perhaps, and Aimery from the eagerness that I often find so charming in him. Julien pulled me toward the bed sooner than I expected, and Aimery began to undress me. I had worried that Julien would decide, five minutes into it, that it was truly immoral and that he could not bear to be a part of such proceedings, but even he seemed susceptible to Aimery's charms. Perhaps he does not think much of pleasure in the abstract, or even in the particular, for he has chided me before for preferring to make love rather than spend all of my energy on more substantial pursuits, but that night was different. It was a cold night, but three bodies under two blankets make a great deal of heat. They began by undressing me, and between Aimery's deft fingers on my shirt buttons and Julien's practiced touch on my trousers, they were finished with the job more quickly than I could have done it alone. I clasped Julien's hand for a moment before I began helping Aimery out of his clothing. Julien shifted over to help, and Aimery kissed him. I paused to watch them. Aimery chided me, "You'll never be done at that rate." "All in good time," I said lightly. He kissed me, but that was more familiar than watching them together, and I did not stop. Julien and I did not take terribly long to get Aimery's clothing off of him and onto the floor. Before I started undressing Julien, in his turn, I kissed him thoroughly -- to reassure him, to encourage him. His eyes were wide afterward, more than a little frightened. Aimery reached past me and touched his cheek. "I'll go, if you want." I tensed. It was an improbably noble offer for him to make while he was naked in our bed. If Julien accepted, it would be over, and I would feel guiltier than ever for having tried to talk him into something he found unpleasant. But he sat up and leaned past me to kiss Aimery with the same passion he had had for me a moment before. I sighed in relief and appreciation. I clasped Aimery's shoulder, hoping that that would convey my thankfulness. I could not have asked what he did, for fear that Julien would have been uncertain but willing to go along with things unless he were given a chance to refuse. It reassured me to know that we had his explicit permission. When they broke the kiss, both a little dazed, their eyes not entirely focusing, I took the opportunity to kiss Julien again. He has always made it more than a little difficult for me to concentrate while making love with him -- he is so lovely, and far more responsive than most people, even our friends, would guess. I was thinking even less clearly than usual with Aimery pressed against my bare back; it was difficult for me to unbutton buttons and kiss Julien at the same time. I could not have explained to them how it felt to lie between them, skin to skin, arms around each other and breathing the same air. Julien's willingness to go through with this mean a great deal to me. It was my forgiveness for every night I had ever dallied with Aimery, for loving someone else, even for daring to ask if Aimery could share our bed. I could have fallen asleep, perfectly at peace between them, except that I was aroused by their presences, and all the more so now that we were all naked. Julien shifted a little, and in that moment, I felt as though I had begun a new romance with them, but with them together instead of having separate love affairs, one with each of them. I felt sure that Julien, however many concessions he had made that night, would not be glad of any more outrageous suggestions on my part. I fell silent. They sat up and kissed, lingering. Aimery ran his hand down my chest. "And dear Audric," he said to Julien, as though they had been conversing, "shall we make love to him?" Julien blushed. I wondered if I should have warned Aimery to be careful what he said, but surely he knew how delicate Julien's sensibilities could be. But he looked up and said, "Isn't that why you're here?" Aimery chuckled and kissed him again until they were both out of breath. "I think we should, then," he said afterward. I did not want to begin anything; I was sure that I would have known what Julien wanted if we were alone, but this was not a situation in which I had any experience with his desires or responses. He did not seem to know for a moment, but for the first time that evening, I did not worry whether his hesitation was the beginning of rejection. He put his hand on my chest for a moment and gave me a sternly appraising look, as though I were not his lover. He turned away and rummaged under the bed. I felt Aimery chuckle, ever so softly, but I was most surprised. I was not expecting what Julien offered when he turned to face me and gently guided my hand between his legs. That was how he preferred to ask for things while we were in bed: a light touch on my wrist, tangling his fingers in my hair, trailing one hand over the small of my back. I had never mastered the art of tacit requests, but when I asked him in words, he was nearly always embarrassed. This particular request was also somewhat unusual. When he handed me the cold bottle, I was sure of what he meant, but it was not something he wanted very often. Perhaps it felt more unnatural than other acts, because it required more than just our bodies, or perhaps it made him feel too vulnerable, or perhaps it seemed effeminate to him. I had never asked where his reluctance came from; it upset him enough when I asked him how he would like to spend the evening without my inquiring why some acts were taboo. It was a great gift to be allowed to touch him so intimately. He was determined to enjoy this, though the oil was cold at first and made him gasp. I murmured to him that I loved him, and I kissed him. I was lost in the joy of touching him; I hardly realized when Aimery took the bottle from me, and I did not know why he did it, at first. He seemed to have taken his cue from Julien's quiet. He generally asked for permission, or inquired what my preference was of a particular evening, but that night he pressed a cold finger inside me and made me shiver in Julien's arms. Julien blinked. I explained, "Aimery." "What, chéri?" Aimery asked. He thrust another finger into me, and it was shockingly cold for a moment. I bit my lip to prevent myself from crying out or overreacting and surprising Julien. "You're both wonderful." It was supremely intimate to be between them as I was then, with Julien allowing that unwonted act and the familiar pressure of Aimery's fingers inside me. I could not quite concentrate hard enough to synchronize my movements with Aimery's, but when Julien turned his face away from me for a moment to stifle a moan in the pillow, I knew with certainty how much it had affected him. I kissed him gently, determined not to rush him, though he did not seem pleased at my careful pace. Aimery said softly, "God, you're lovely," as though he knew I had been thinking the same of them before and was returning the compliment. I withdrew my fingers from Julien's body. He sighed and gave me a wide-eyed look; he still wanted what he had offered me. Perhaps he did not want it as badly as I did, but that was no great surprise. He said, "Please," and his voice was more of a sigh than anything. I looked away from him for a moment to find Aimery's wrist. "Aimé -- I need --" I wanted him inside me, but I could not say that. It would have bothered Julien. But Aimery knew what I meant. He handed me the bottle first. Applying the cold oil to myself cooled a fraction of my ardor. For a moment, I knew something more than the heat of wanting them. "Je vous aime," I said. Aimery squeezed my shoulder; Julien kissed my cheek. They clasped each other's hands and Julien gave him a look that was so sweet that it would have pained me if I had not been pressed between them close enough to feel them both breathing. I shivered, more from emotion than from cold. Julien kissed me and said, "Please," again, softly. I granted his request -- with a certain amount of caution. He was less used to such things than I was. He trembled a little and kissed me again. If it had been any other night, I would have stopped when he shivered and asked him if he was certain that he could enjoy what we were doing. I might have asked him then, but Aimery nibbled on my ear. "I'm at a disadvantage," he said softly. He was behind me; Julien and I were both on our sides, making room for three in the bed. He asked me, "Will you let me do this?" I wanted him to very badly, and after a bit of rearranging Julien and I both found the right places to put our legs, and Aimery thrust inside me. I had meant to be careful with Julien, but I could not think well enough to calm my movements. I was lost between them, filled with one and buried in the other. Every movement, however small, was rapturous. I felt as though my skin had disappeared and I was nothing but sensation. It seemed for a few delirious moments that I hardly existed, that I was nothing but the heat and desire between them. I must have said something in the midst of it, I must have made some noise, but I cannot remember anything but a sense of perfect balance. They were my heart and my soul, my dearest friends, and for a night I had them, and it was perfect. I had less endurance in that delightful situation than I would have liked, but then I would have liked for it to go on all night, and that would never have happened. I cried out at last, and Julien kissed me. I caressed him as tenderly as I could, making a belated, dazed apology, making him sigh against my lips. "So beautiful," Aimery breathed, and after a few moments he, too, stopped moving. The peculiar illusion of being bodiless while my body was deliciously content persisted for several minutes before Julien had to move. We disentangled ourselves and he made a distasteful noise. "We should bathe, but it isn't warm enough." "We can clean up, at least," I said. He was right about the bath, but I did not have the courage to get out of the warm bed and face a tub of tepid water. Julien got up, moving smoothly enough that I was sure I had not hurt him, and fetched himself a shirt. He wet a washcloth in the pitcher that we kept by the window and winced at the cold. Aimery moved away from me with a sigh. "That looks like a good idea." He kissed my shoulder. "Are you getting up?" "In a minute. Julien, would you bring me a shirt?" "Of course." He found the shirts that Aimery and I had been wearing earlier and brought them over. I caught his wrist as he gave me mine and kissed the back of his hand. "Je t'aime." He gave me a brief, uncomfortable smile and handed me a relatively clean washcloth. I put on the shirt and got up, then put the washcloth to good use. Aimery pulled on his shirt, then got up and embraced Julien. "Thank you, mon frère. That was lovely." "I suppose so." Julien looked away from him. "Do you have anywhere to be in the morning?" "Not at all." "Would you spend the night?" Aimery smiled. "Gladly." I embraced them both. The pitiful washcloth was on the laundry pile; I had dried my hands on my shirt. "It's cold, mes aimés. Shall we go back to bed?" Julien pulled away to blow out the candles. "Let's do that." I slept more soundly that night than I had slept for a long while, especially on nights I spent in Aimery's embrace. But that night, it was all right. Julien had forgiven me. I felt shriven, washed clean of any taint of betrayal, and above all, I felt loved.
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