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Parting: May, 1829
It is perhaps an hour before the meeting in the Café Musain is due to begin. The warm breath of May suffuses Paris with a sort of blurry glow as the evening begins to settle over buildings and streets. Feuilly has three streaks of purple over his left temple, and one of green over the right -- he has been painting lilac groves. He nods to the concierge on the ground floor of a building, then goes up several flights of stairs and knocks lightly on Courfeyrac's door. "Yes?" cheerfully from within. "It's me. May I come in?" "Of course, Daniel." Feuilly walks in and shuts the door behind himself, then stands in front of it. "Good evening." Courfeyrac is already on his feet, coming over to greet him with a hug. "Evening, yourself." Feuilly hugs him more tentatively than is his wont, and lets go more quickly than usual. "Um. Aimery?" Courfeyrac looks at him quizzically. "Yes?" "I -- won't be around, as much as I have been." Feuilly looks at the floor. "I'm sorry." "Oh?" Courfeyrac reaches out to brush gently at the smudges on his temples, affectionately. "Why's that?" "Her name's Rosalie," Feuilly admits after a moment or two. "I'm sorry." Courfeyrac blinks, then laughs. "Is it, now." "Yes. I --" Feuilly hugs him without the reserve of a few moments before. Courfeyrac returns the embrace tightly, smiling. "That took you long enough, didn't it?" Feuilly blushes. "I had other things on my mind -- and other places to be." "Of course you did." Courfeyrac grins at him. Feuilly touches his cheek. "I don't mean to abandon you." Courfeyrac kisses his fingers lightly. "Ah, mon ami, I know that." And then, irrepressible, "Is she pretty?" "Not as pretty as you are handsome," softly. Courfeyrac blinks, then chuckles again and kisses him lightly. "And if you're as gallant as that with her, small wonder she's fallen for you." Feuilly makes a small discontented sound. "I'm sorry," he says, again. "My dear fellow, whatever for?" "Brushing you off like this." "It's all right, Daniel. For heaven's sake." Feuilly frowns. "All right. If you say so." Courfeyrac caresses his cheek briefly. "Come and see me every now and then, that's all. Let me know how you're getting along." "I'll see you at the meetings, of course." "Well, yes." Feuilly looks away. "I think perhaps it would be best if I didn't visit." "Ah." Courfeyrac is quiet a moment. "All right, then." "I ought to make some attempt at fidelity, n'est-ce pas?" Feuilly half smiles at him. Courfeyrac smiles back, it seems genuinely. "There's a thought." Feuilly bites his lip. "I'm sorry." "Daniel. It's all right, mon frère." Courfeyrac goes to sit down on the bed, and holds out a hand to him. "Sit with me a moment." Feuilly sits down an arm's reach away. "If it's all right, it's all right. I suppose." "Don't worry so much." Feuilly puts his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. "I suppose what I really came to say is goodbye, then." "Only to this that we've had." Courfeyrac reaches out to smooth his hair lightly. "And does this matter so much?" "I don't know. Does it matter to you?" "Not half so much as the rest, love." Feuilly sits up and takes his hand. "Good." Courfeyrac grins crookedly, and squeezes his fingers. "Good, then." "We should probably go." "Yes, probably." Courfeyrac makes no immediate move to rise. "I -- damn." "Je t'aime," softly. "Brother. It's all right. Shall we go?" "I want to kiss you," Feuilly says, giving him a nervous look. "But if I do that, we'll be late." Courfeyrac smiles a bit. "Will we, d'you think?" "I should think so." "Well." He looks at his hands a moment, uncharacteristically shy. "I don't think there's anything important to discuss tonight." Feuilly gets up. "Still, we should go." Courfeyrac takes in a breath, and lets it out again. "All right." After a moment, he stands. In another moment, Feuilly goes to the door and looks at the knob as though he's never seen one before. "Where are your keys?" he asks. "On the desk," absently. Feuilly nods, then gets them and locks the door from the inside. "Better." Courfeyrac glances at him, bright-eyed. "Oh?" "We don't miss meetings that often." "That's true." Feuilly's shoulders are slightly hunched. He doesn't quite look at Courfeyrac. "And it's only the once." "Also true." Courfeyrac crosses the room quietly and takes him by the shoulders. "Mon ami-- mon chéri." "I'm going to miss you," Feuilly says, giving him a level look. Courfeyrac smiles. "Not for very long." Feuilly embraces him. "I'll miss this." "Ah, Daniel," kissing his rumpled hair. "It will be worth it." "I hope so." Courfeyrac pats his shoulder. "Have confidence." "I do." Feuilly kisses him. It is quite obvious that whatever the rationale for this affair with a young lady is, it has nothing to do with diminished passion. Courfeyrac returns the kiss wholeheartedly, pulling him close. "Je t'aime," Feuilly says after a few minutes. "I should tell her I'm busy. I should --" "You should let me make love to you," pressing a series of kisses along his hairline, "so that when the time comes, you're certain what to ask of her. What does she look like, by the way?" Feuilly shivers. "You can't do that and ask that at the same time. I can't think." Courfeyrac pauses. "All right, so come to bed and then tell me." "Aimery --" Feuilly takes a deep breath. "Remind me, beloved, not to introduce the two of you." "Oh?" Laughter brightens his tone. "Why not?" "I don't think I could bear to share a bed with you," using the plural. Courfeyrac tugs him in that direction. "No? What a pity." "Chéri --" as he sits on the bed. "I don't want to be too intimate with her, too quickly." "All right. I'm sorry. I'll behave myself." Feuilly mock frowns. "Don't do that." "All right, I won't. What's your coat doing still on?" "Getting in the way." He takes it off. Courfeyrac shifts to assist him with his pants, meanwhile. Feuilly shakes his head, laughing. "Impatient, are we?" "I thought we were," caressing him. "Unless I'm vastly mistaken--" "And here I thought we had all night." "All right." Courfeyrac lets him go, keeping only a hand on his shoulder. "In your own sweet time then, lover." Feuilly embraces him and begins unbuttoning his waistcoat. "I suppose it doesn't much matter how quickly one sheds clothing." "In this instance, no," kissing his ear. "Might as well get it over with," with a resigned sigh. Courfeyrac laughs. "Such a chore." "Not an unpleasant one." Feuilly nibbles his neck lightly. "God, Daniel," on the crest of a sigh. "Hmm?" "You're lovely. Wonderful." His fingers fumble with Feuilly's collar. "D'you know that?" Feuilly blushes. "Thank you for saying so." "So sweet, so gentle, so damned handsome-- God, Daniel." Courfeyrac sounds quite impassioned. "Aimery, please." "What, cher?" "You don't have to compliment me." Feuilly kisses his cheek. Courfeyrac returns the kiss. "Ah, but I do. I couldn't bear for you to leave in the morning, not knowing how you delight me." "And if you succeed in assuring me that I delight you, what makes you think I'll want to leave?" "The struggling vestige of my common sense," easing him out of his shirt. Feuilly embraces him again. "Ah. Tell it to go away." Courfeyrac sinks back against the pillows, pulling Feuilly down with him. "No need. You're seeing to that nicely." "Ah, good." Feuilly kisses him yet again.
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