Telling Professor Brooding about Jean-Loup had been as rewarding as he had hoped. She was genuinely excited for him, and he had been able to gush and be excited and to miss his boyfriend as much as he wanted to. He would always be grateful for the safe space which she had given him to do that, and to explain the million other things that had led to this point and to express all his feelings about them. He was grateful for that space, but he had outgrown it.
He was sixteen, and in love. That coloured every element of his being. It was running all through him, in his blood, starting in his core and stretching out to the point where it reached his fingertips and made them tingle. And he was apart from the person that he loved, and that made him ache. It was evident, or rapidly going to become so, in how he keenly he scanned the morning's flock of owls, or how he was already prone to sighing. It was going to come through in a million gestures that were not prompted by the external world but reflected the entire new universe that had taken root in his soul. It felt like he wasn't the same person any more. A huge part of himself had been given away, but he'd received new secrets, new feelings, new experiences to replace them all with. He couldn't imagine keeping it to himself, or letting it out only in measured doses in Professor Brooding's office. It was too big.
He also didn't want to keep it to himself, even if he thought he could have.He deserved his friends to be happy for him, to comfort him when he missed his boyfriend, to share this with him like they would have if he'd followed a more expected path. He hoped they'd come with him down this one instead. He was going to be seventeen in a few weeks. That was a landmark. It a point that offered him a certain degree of autonomy. Yes, he still had two years of school, and it would be uncomfortable to say the least if his friends stopped speaking to him, but it was the symbolic step into adulthood. It was time to start being the person he was going to be for the rest of his life, and he needed to know who wanted to be part of that.
He wanted to start with Tatya. After every conversation that they'd had about the stifling pressures of adulthood, she was the one who he thought was most likely to understand. He also needed to clear up once and for all whether her family were pushing an agenda of them being more than friends, and put a stop to it if so.
Only a day or so into term, he caught her after class, letting the rest of the advanced group disperse around them.
"Tu va faire une promenade, sœurette?" he asked, wondering whether he seemed tense. He had drawn into himself a little the way he did with less familiar familiar people. Which, whilst it might not have been completely out of character, was rarer in general these days, and definitely did not characterise the way he typically behaved around Tatya. "Whilst the evenings are still nice, we should enjoy," he added, trying to seem natural. "And I want to talk to you," he admitted, before she could either call him out on his awkwardness or fail to pick up on it and ask someone else along. He needed, in utterly the most unromantic way possible, for it to be just the two of them.
13Dorian MontoirI'm not like other boys (tag Tatiana)140115
"Then we walk, we talk," agreed Tatiana, falling into step with her friend, fiercely glad that Russian culture was sensible enough not to show as much outward emotion as American culture seemed to, even though she knew that merely settling into a neutral expression with Dorya might itself read a bit strangely.
Behind it, she was nervous. He did not seem quite himself, and she had not forgotten the conversations at her party or on her actual birthday. Now, he seemed a bit...she couldn't put her finger on it, as she was not brilliant at detecting these things even with people from her own culture, but there was something slightly unusual about his demeanor. He almost seemed Russian himself, which was not like Dorian at all, especially not with her.
Grisha had been joking, of course, when he had called Dorya her 'boyfriend', and she had told Dorian so as much when he had written over the summer in concern about it. She had not told him about another conversation she had had with her brother, one where Grisha had seemed concerned that she might be leading Dorian on somehow - that if I saw people behave like you two and did not know them, I would think 'oh, there is a young couple in love.'
Grisha had not been disapproving, to her surprise. He said he would not insult her by assuming she did not have the sense to decide if a young man was worth liking for herself, but that for whatever it was worth, he saw nothing particularly wrong with Dorya. He was not Russian, of course, but he could not help that, and being with him seemed to make Tatiana happy. He seemed to think Mama and Papa would agree with all this - which was a nicer way of saying they would rather she married a foreigner than no-one at all - and had seemed overall pleased with the situation, until he had realized that Tatiana was staring at him as though he had gone quite mad.
Looking at Dorian now...she could see there was nothing displeasing about the arrangement of his features or proportions. He was a good-looking boy. And it was not as if she minded being close with him physically, either - indeed, she disliked things like the code of formality at parties which said she couldn't be when she took a mind to be. She tended to think of the concept of romance as stupid, but she liked how they did things to make each other happy - was that the same thing, or a different thing? She also liked to do things to make her sisters happy, or her brothers, or her mama and papa, but there was a slight difference in doing that with a friend, but where did that difference become yet another thing? And did it involve the fact that...she enjoyed snuggling with Dorya. The idea of vigorously kissing him, however, was another thing altogether, and a far less interesting prospect than it was with some of the other handsome young gentlemen she had danced with over the past couple of years. All of which combined to make her confused and annoyed and thinking everything was very stupid and she wanted to go back to being a girl again, when everything had made sense.
Outside, she looked around almost furtively, then removed her hairpin, allowing her hair to fall down in its old manner, or something close to it. She shook it out and ran her fingers through sections of it as an improvised comb. "There," she said, satisfied. "Now we us again - no pin stick in my brain," she said. She still was not used to the weight of her hair being up, though now that it was down again, that felt almost strange too. "No heavy keep me from pay attention. You are all well, Dorya? What is it you think on?"
16Tatiana VorontsovaThat's not necessarily a bad thing.139605
So. Here they were. Walk, unsurprisingly agreed to. And now they were outside and Tatya was giving him the floor and her full concentration. Just… how to begin.
“Very nice,” Dorian agreed, as Tatya let down her hair, hiding his surprise behind a fond smile, which was easy enough to find. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised at Tatya breaking the rules, but he really hadn’t expected to see her like this again. It was a privilege theoretically reserved for her future husband. He held back on saying anything about the gesture, or reaching out to pet her hair, conscious that either thing could be misinterpreted. He swallowed hard, thinking again of the impression they made on other people - of whether Tatya meant anything by this. Because she could say it was just like their old selves, only it wasn’t because there was now something forbidden and deeply intimate about this.
Hey, Tatya, speaking of things that are forbidden and deeply intimate…
He thought about the way they were with each other, and what Professor Brooding had said about Professor Hawthorne liking both men and women. He had not needed her to answer for him how one knew or whether he might - he could sit and imagine brushing Tatya’s hair back, and that should so naturally have led into sinking in and kissing each other. And he couldn’t picture that. Maybe because she reminded him of his sister, but which had come first - he had initially assumed that he didn’t feel that way about Tatya because he thought of her as a sister, but had he put her in that box instead because he was unable to feel differently about her?
So, you know how the thought of us kissing has always been, well, just… weird?
It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought through how to say this a million times already. It was just that, of all the ways he’d thought of starting this conversation, he’d never settled on a set of words. He’d more played it out to give himself the happiness of imagining her telling him it didn’t matter at all, or to torture himself imagining the worst. Those conversations could both begin the same way. The words he chose felt important and simultaneously like they could do nothing for him either way - that the decision would come from her mind not what he chose to say.
“I’m fine,” he assured her. He was better than fine. He was happy, elated, in love. He was worse than fine. He was separated from his boyfriend and terrified of the conversation he was about to have. So ‘fine’ was not a dishonest answer if you took an average between those two things…
“A few things,” he admitted regarding what was on his mind. “When you said ‘Grisha is an idiot’ in your reply… Did you mean that he was teasing you, and what he said was a joke, or that he thought... that was really the case?” he clarified, those both being plausible definitions for Tatya’s choice of words in his mind, “That’s not the main thing,” he assured her because he didn’t want her to think he was worrying himself this much over that. Her letter had, specifically said ‘Don’t worry’ right before ‘Grisha is an idiot’ and he had really done his best not to. Still, it felt important to clarify and… and it sort of led logically on. Or maybe it could do. Or maybe he was stalling. But it felt like the way in, and he wasn’t sure that second guessing his own motives for whatever he was saying was going to be constructive right now. Not that that had ever stopped him before, of course.
Of all the things Tatiana had imagined Dorian might wish to discuss privately, her lummox of a brother (she thought with utmost affection) was the last thing she might have imagined. Of course, he did say that it was not the main thing, but....
“Later I talk to him,” she admitted. “At first he think that, but I tell him this is not so.” She paused. “He is surprise. He thinks you in love with me. I tell him we have much love with us, but not - that love. That you say souerette to me. Grisha says he does not care, but I should be - “ she lapsed into Russian, a saying involving rabbits and lions who were not hungry right now, as she tried to figure out how to express the basic idea in English or French. “Should be - not to hurt. Which I want not to do,” she said.
This, at least, she could say with confidence. She could not fathom Dorya hurting her - especially the way Grisha had implied - if she did hurt him, but the last thing she wanted to do in any case was to hurt her friend. She profoundly resented the world for intimating that she had no choice - that the quirks of fate which had made some parts of her body different from some of his meant that they could not be Dorya and Tatya anymore. She wanted to go to his bunny kingdom, maybe the dragon who kept the world out, when necessary, but which was a vegetarian the rest of the time.
“Grisha, he is idiot,” she said. “And does not know us - though he likes you,” she added. “So. What is main thing?”
16Tatiana VorontsovaI think it is best to be us.139605
Dorian was about to protest that no, Tatya really did not have to go and talk to Grisha later- and then realised that this was an event that had already happened, later to his letter, and lacking a past tense verb ending. Grisha had thought they were dating. Dorian allowed a multilingual litany of swear words to cascade through his brain, as Tatya said something about rabbits in Russian. He tried to follow, presuming he would be the rabbit in whatever she was describing, but he wasn’t quite sure he was getting it. The English did little to make it clearer because he really hoped no one had hurt anyone here. Tatya certainly didn’t seem hurt, and she didn’t seem mad at him for the inconvenience he had caused her, and though he was utterly mortified, he supposed that was the only outcome that really mattered. Nonetheless, he felt he owed her an apology.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “I did not mean to make awkward with you and Grisha. Or to make false impressions to other people. I think… I am so accustomed to being us. And that we know… it is not like that,” and he didn’t even need to check that Tatya hadn’t had any false hopes or odd ideas - he just knew - and that was such a relief, “It let me relax. I didn’t think that I had to worry about other people thinking this...” because I was too busy guarding my reactions with other people, worrying what they’d read into that… Tatya’s attitude had steadily been, to a degree, ‘screw other people and their expectations’ and he felt like she wasn’t mad - like the sacrifice of not being themselves was, to her, not worth it. That made him feel warm, although he didn’t want to continue behaving in a way that gave other people the wrong impression. She may not have wanted suitors but he didn’t want to be the reason she didn’t get any. Unless she specifically asked him to scare them all off, of course, but it should be by her own choice rather than by accident. “I would not want to hurt either,” he added, just to be on the safe side.
And then, they were back to the main thing. To the fact that he had brought her on a walk to talk to her about something, which meant there was an expectation to do just that. He tried to gather his thoughts, tried to feel out how to introduce the subject from where they were…
“You already know that I don’t have those types of feelings for you because I see you like a sister,” he stated, carefully. “But that’s not the only reason,” he added, to make it clear he was still holding the floor, that he was getting there, he just needed to take a moment, “The other thing…” his voice tightened a little, “thing is…. I-have-those-feelings-about-other-boys,” he finished in a rush. And did not burst into tears. This made it a step forward from the tear-soaked admission he’d given Professor Brooding, although from the look he was regarding Tatya with, it was plain he was terrified about what he’d just said and now would never be able to take back.
13Dorian MontoirThen you need to know who I am140105
Tatiana still had trouble with English when people spoke too quickly. When they did that in a mostly French accent, it was harder than ever, as French accents were rather...slushy, though she wouldn't say as much to Dorian, of course. She frowned slightly in concentration as she sorted through what Dorian had just said at high speed, checking words, thinking back through what he had said at a more normal pace, checking her knowledge of idioms....
"I think I do not understand what you said," she said finally. "It sounds like you say that you want boys for your wife?"
Her tone was not accusatory in the slightest. It was, in fact, far closer to apologetic. After all, only girls could be wives, which meant it followed that only girls could be loved like wives. They could not exactly be each other's wives, either, because marriage-love was about having babies, and though girls had to do all the hard and unpleasant parts of having babies, she knew that men were definitely involved in producing them. As best as she could sort out from the way Mama had explained things to her when she was fourteen, the same feelings that made her wonder what it would be like to kiss boys were those that made boys want to share a bed with her, which led to babies, which seemed altogether unfair to her. It was bad enough, she thought, that being a girl meant being afflicted with the Curse while boys were not without boys apparently also getting to enjoy their end of adult things while girls had to have babies - though Mama had not put it that way, of course. Mama said that married ladies enjoyed the same things their husbands did and then had the extra joy of getting to have babies, which to Tatiana sounded like a hell of a poor deal for married ladies. Mama could say that children were blessings and joys all the wanted; Tatiana knew enough to know that having them was, for women, painful and messy and that sometimes it killed people. That was about as far from her idea of a joyous occasion as she could imagine.
That, however, wasn't the problem right now. Right now, there was whatever Dorian was saying, which didn't make sense. She couldn't puzzle out any other meaning from his words, but what she thought she heard was quite impossible. He could not get another boy pregnant, so therefore he could not have that sort of feelings about one. That would be like Tatiana wanting to dance with her head on the floor and her feet in the air.
"You talk too fast, Dorya," she added, now with a smile, though still apologetically. "My brain hears too slowly."
16Tatiana VorontsovaThat seems like a reasonable demand.139605
Not understanding. That was, he supposed, an outcome he should reasonably have been able to see. There was not just the language barrier, which Tatya’s summary suggested she had successfully navigated, but more the cultural barrier, which made her suspect she had misunderstood. In his head, it had always been a black and white case of acceptance vs non-acceptance. He should have considered this. After all, he himself had questioned what on earth was happening when he’d started wanting to kiss Jehan. And he’d been the one it was happening to.
And so, there was the torture now that he was going to have to explain, and to wait still on her reaction. At least she hadn’t, so far, laughed, or said that he could not be saying that because it was glupyi. Just that she… literally thought herself to be mistaken.
“You heard correctly,” he assured her. “I… I suppose he’d be my… husband. But… yes. I want that relationship with a boy,” he clarified. I’m having that relationship with a boy. But, under the guise of talking about marriage etc, he could safely banish that to a future wish. There was no point endangering Jean-Loup until he knew how Tatya was going to react. He needed her to understand and accept the abstract idea first before he could dare to get specific and name names. “It happens,” he forestalled any argument from her on that point. Outside of society… Did he want to go there yet? He did not. He did not want to make clear to Tatya that how he was might rip apart all the other parts of himself and their life and their ability to see each other - because how could she not hate it if she found that out? “And there’s nothing wrong with me,” he added, and his voice was definitely not calm, and he really, really did not want to end up crying yet again over this, because he didn’t want her to think it was something to be upset about, when it wasn’t - it was just… him. It always had been. And hadn’t she always loved him? “I’m not broken or wrong. I just… I’m just like this. O-okay?” he asked plaintively. And he was still not crying. He wasn’t. He… he had slightly damp eyes but he was not crying, and he was not going to.
How could I not? Even if I am a little confused right now.
by Tatiana Vorontsova
She had not heard incorrectly. He thought he wished to marry another boy. And said this was just a thing that happened and there was nothing wrong with it and he was just...like this. Whatever 'this' was.
There were a million things she could, she supposed, have said. She could have tried to gingerly ask if he knew about the Curse that girls had every month, and that it was necessary for producing babies, which was after all the main reason for marriage. She could have asked how long he had thought this way, and who else was like this, for him to elaborate as he had. She could have just repeated that she did not understand, for truly she didn't.
She said none of those things, however, because there was a far more important problem at hand, and it was that Dorian was visibly on the brink of tears and very upset.
"Dorya, Dorya, ne plach'," she pleaded, moving closer to try to put a comforting arm around him. Don't cry. "Vse budet khorosho," she insisted, stroking his back comfortingly. Everything will be all right. "Ya - ya ne znayu - " I don't know - "I do not know - what means - how you...do that, but vse budet khorosho."
She tried to think of what to say, but could not think of what to say, or ask, or do - not in Russian, not in any language, or even any combination of languages that she knew. She had questions, to say the least, but she didn't know how to ask them, or even how to understand the answers, she suspected. But one thing, at least, had to be true - that everything would be all right, somehow.
A thought occurred to her. "Long ago - Professor Hawthorne. She tells us many words. I was then angry - tak mnogo slov! It caused confusion to me. This is what she said then? She tells you this?"
16Tatiana VorontsovaHow could I not? Even if I am a little confused right now.139605
“Wo méiyou ku,” Dorian replied, not sure if that was a promise or a protest. I’m not crying. His voice was still a tad shaky as he said it, and feeling Tatya’s arm around him didn’t seem to want to help it steady out. He managed to swallow it down. He leant his head on his shoulder, shutting his eyes and pretending, just for a moment, that this was it - it was over, and he had told her, and she was still here with her arm around him. And she had the same thing to say as Professor Brooding. It will be alright He was starting to believe in ‘alright.’ He could imagine that there were enough people in the world who would love and accept him that he could go out and have the life he wanted. He would get to a point where he was surrounded by love and kindness, instead of secrecy and fear. But he wasn’t sure what that world looked like, or how many of the people in his life currently would come with him there. He wanted so much for Tatya to be one of them, and for it to be as simple as this.
But, as her follow up point made evident, there was going to be more to it than that. Still… her tone was neutral. It seemed like she was still looking for information. Did that mean that the judgement had yet to fall? It also meant they were going back to that day, which had been so wonderful in some ways, and which was etched painfully onto his memory for others.
“Sort of,” Dorian stated, picking his words very carefully. He didn’t want Tatya running away with the idea that somehow Professor Hawthorne had put the idea to like other boys into his head. “I… I knew this about me already,” he stated. Admittedly, by all of a handful of days, but he had known it. “But yes. This idea, she was talking about it. Giving words for it. Making me realise… maybe… maybe it wasn’t a mistake or a… wrong idea. It happens often enough that there is a name for it, maybe it is… real and okay. Or… I feel this. You can look around the room and see… some people think okay, some not okay,” he sighed. Including, it had felt, like the two people next to him. He had been torn at the time, wondering whether Tatya was angry about the sheer amount of new vocabulary or the ideas that went with them. Whether Jehan had just been trying to make her feel better or whether he’d really meant it when he called it all glupyi. And he hadn’t been able to ask, in case it was the answer that he couldn’t bear to hear. He kept his head resting on her shoulder. It only counted as breaking his promise if she actually saw him cry. And the tears were only on his lashes. It didn’t count. He took a deep breath, making sure to ask his question on the slow and steady exhale. “It was just… tak mnogo slov?” he checked. “Just… the words bother you, not the ideas?”
Professor Hawthorne had told him all the things, yes - but had just given a word to what he already knew. Tatiana, her cheek against his hair, found herself nodding almost instinctively. Words were powerful - the keys that unlocked the world. When she learned a word for something, she could suddenly fill a gap in her sentences and make herself understood to others. When she did not know the words she needed, then she felt locked away, all alone in a little glass box, able to see the world but effectively cut off from it just the same.
"I not understand idea," she said honestly when he asked. "But I get angry with professor because - tak mnogo slov." She could feel herself flushing again, even now, at the mere memory of that humiliation. "So much, so fast! And not in book. Could not understand idea without words. But not..."
She struggled with words, feeling as though they were dancing just beyond the tip of her tongue, taunting her. She could not honestly blame it all on language, either, because she tried again to think purely in Russian and still found herself at a loss.
"I will think about idea," she promised. "But you knew this idea before, so - cannot be all stupid. You are not stupid." She thought about something else. "At party - you say that mamas not always right," she said carefully. "About how to be. Your mama - she has anger?" Tatiana was used to assuming, when she disagreed with her mama, that she was the one who was somehow flawed, because she did not want the right things and forgot the right things all the time. It was much easier to imagine Dorian's family making a mistake, though, after finding out about the toenail scum he was forced to call a brother. "You okay?" she asked, knowing how close he was to his mama. "At home you are okay?"
“New words and new ideas at the same time are difficult,” he acknowledged, feeling more relaxed that it had just been pure linguistic confusion. For Tatya, anyway. And that had always seemed the more likely explanation. For Tatya, anyway. Although he wouldn’t have been surprised to find that both the words confused her and the ideas repulsed her… His breath caught when she said she would think about the ideas. But she more just seemed to mean she would try to understand. She knew him to be honest and smart, and if he said this was how it was, she would believe him and take that on trust.
“Thank you,” he said, slipping his hand into hers and squeezing, his head still nestled on her shoulder, feeling safe and welcome there, as he always had done. He let himself enjoy that, just for a moment, before sitting up to deal with her last question, to see her face and gauge some of her reaction.
“Mama does not yet know,” he admitted sadly, slightly addressing this to the floor because he knew it was bad to keep secrets from his Mama. “I’m worried-” he began to admit, and cut himself off. He was worried that she would think that school had put these ideas in his head, and that she would take him away from Sonora. He was worried that she would think he wasn’t a good enough son, and would want to be rid of him. He was worried that she would still love him but she would be so disappointed and angry that her heart broke and it would be his fault. “At the moment… At the moment, I have a secret. And it is heavy. But I’m worried that if I tell, it will be not okay. You will keep it also? I don’t mean to make work for you,” he sighed, aware of the difficulty and burden that his trust was going to place on his friend, “but… I do not want them to hear gossip about me.”
I don't know - but we'll figure it out, one step at a time.
by Tatiana Vorontsova
His mama didn't know. She knew, but Gospozha Montoir did not know. Dorian's beloved mama did not know this thing that Tatiana did, which meant that his papa almost surely did not, and that Matthieu very surely did not. It was possible that even Emilie did not know.
But Tatiana did.
The gravity of the situation began to sink in. Dorian was telling her that he wanted to break the rules. That he wanted to live a life which was not the way they had been told everyone ought to live. He could not, after all, have a baby with another man, and marriage - two families came together, came to have relatives in common. That was what it was. For boys, too, they were expected to carry on the family name, which also did not work with another boy. Even if they could somehow have a baby, how in the world could they decide whose name to pass along?
Mama would say it was wrong. Dorian thought his own mama might think it was wrong. He, however, seemed to feel sure he was right, even though he did not agree with their elders. How could that be? Clearly, though, he had thought about this for a long time. Maybe Professor Hawthorne had given him the idea that it was okay, but he had thought about it for a long time on his own, and he was good at thinking. One of the best people she knew at it, actually. So....
She put that thought aside. It wasn't even terribly important. She could think about it later. Right now, though, all that mattered was...how could she tell Dorian there was something wrong with him for wanting different things, when he had never said that to her in all these years?
"I will keep your words in the bank of my heart," she promised solemnly, putting her hand over her chest. Then, just to emphasize the point, she mimicked locking a bank vault with a key with her hand before reaching back down to take his. "None will hear it. But Dorya - why do you tell me this?" She realized that it might sound like she was upset with him for telling her his secret and scrambled for a different way to say it. "I mean - you say you have thought this a long time, but you tell me now. What changed?"
16Tatiana VorontsovaI don't know - but we'll figure it out, one step at a time.139605
She was not yelling. She was not horror-struck, or calling him a bad son for being secretive with his Mama. She seemed to... understand. And he had thought there was a shot at that, that she knew what it was like to confide in a parent and have them not listen or understand, but it had seemed such a stretch to believe she would see these as equivalents.
Her words were so solemn and sincere, though the little mime lightened the mood a bit, and he wanted to cry with relief, and because it was so strange to see Tatya be so solemn and it somehow made it more vividly real, but also a little less terrifying. She understood, maybe not fully, not why he was like this or what he was feeling, but she understood that his feelings mattered, that they were right to him. And that there might be consequences to him feeling them. She understood the important bits. And she was still here, gripping his hands.
"Several reasons," he stated, pondering the question of 'why' - why her, why now? There were several strands to 'why' and several answers for each.
"I... I did not want it to be a secret. I never liked that. And now... It got very heavy, feeling like a liar all the time," he sighed, "And in a few weeks, I will be seventeen. I... We're all having to decide what kind of grown ups we are going to be. I want... this. I want my life to be honest, and be who I am. And you told me so many things about how it is for you. I know it is not the same, but you had all this pressure too. All these feelings that did not fit in. I hoped you would understand and not blame me." Which she had not. And he wrestled with the feelings that had made him keep it inside for so long, 'why now?' turning in his mind into 'why not before?' Admitting out loud that he had been scared of how she would react made him feel disloyal or like a coward. But it also felt true. "I wanted to tell... I didn't mean to keep a secret so long or- I should have had more trust," he sighed, "I'm sorry."
There was, of course, one more reason. But he felt the need to deal with what he'd just put out there, to sweep that up and put things back together, before he could tell her something that - he hoped - would shift this back to happy territory.
Tatiana shook her head urgently when Dorian apologized for not trusting her sooner. "Nyet, nyet," she said. "Je desolee - I do not mean you were bad," she said. "I am glad you trust now. It is - much ideas. You like to think. You...think how to do things, before you do. That is just when you make lists on pretty paper," she added, with a slight gasp of nervous laughter, patting his hand. "This - much idea, much words - and you are you."
She knew that she was not good at thinking, but she tried hard. Was he a liar in some way? He had not told her about this, but he had not pretended he wanted to marry her or some other girl, either. He had kept something from her before, too, with the facts about his relationship with his brother, but...he had always talked Mama, Mama, Mama, Emilie, Emilie, Emilie. She had known that he wasn't close with his brother, more or less, even before she had found out how bad it really was.
"I am glad you trust now - but I think...you do not lie. But sometimes you do not say things," she said slowly. "But - it is - you want to tell me thing, you tell me," she said. "It is not lie. Maybe I do not ask enough," she said, flushing, feeling guilty. Like she wasn't a good enough friend. Which fit with everything else around her character - that she was too loud, too hasty, too thoughtless....
16Tatiana VorontsovaI think it's not the worst option, anyway.139605
He nodded, understanding Tatya's meaning - it was in his nature to be cautious. To think it all through and to wait until he was sure about things. To get them all organised - thoughts and words in order. Too much, perhaps, sometimes, but she understood it, and forgave it if it needed forgiving.
"I am not sure this is a thing we can expect you to think of asking," he assured her. "And maybe if you had, I would have been... a little bit panic, if I had not all my own thoughts in order?" he suggested. "I am glad I tell you. I am glad I choose to tell you," he added, meaning he preferred that he had kept control of it rather than being put on the spot. He hoped he would not have lied, in that situation, but he was glad not to have had to find out.
"I think I could not ask for a better friend," he assured her, squeezing her hands. "I hope you know that you are wonderful, yes?" he checked. In an ideal world, of course, what Tatya was doing would be utterly unremarkable. People would just... accept. But they did not live in an ideal world. They lived in this one. He could, perhaps, have told her sooner than he had but... Well, it was easier to let go of the things he could not change, the ones that were already done, especially when it really seemed not to have caused any harm.
"Professor Brooding knows," he informed her, just because it seemed fair for her to know who else knew. "Émilie knows part... But she does not know this. That there is one more reason why I wanted to tell you now," and the anxiety was drifting away from his face, and any doubt that Dorian was making the right choices for himself should easily have been erased by the smile that started breaking onto his face. It was still a little hesitant, still clear that he was seeking her approval somewhat, as he broke the final piece of news.
"Over the summer... I started dating someone. I have a boyfriend, Tatya!" he grinned, wondering whether this was going to be simply information overload. But it made him so happy. It was important, and big, and he wanted to share that.
A smile flickered across Tatiana's face when Dorian said she was wonderful. "Oh yes," she said matter-of-factly, setting up a joke. "All wonder things at me - wonder, Tatya, why you do this, Tatya, why you do that," she said, cracking another smile at the end to reestablish it as a joke. Her face straightened quickly again, though. "I try be good friend - you are best," she said sincerely.
She did raise an eyebrow upon hearing that Professor Brooding knew about him already. How had that happened, and why? Was he telling Tatiana this now because the woman was blackmailing him - threatening to tell people? Or was she planning to tell, and he wanted to do it first? Was it possible she would hurt Dorya? At least Emilie knew...something...but not everything?
His anxious expression was lessening. That should have been a good thing. Tatiana was not quite sure why, then, she felt her own concern rising at the realization that he looked less anxious. She was not anxious - yet - but she was...concerned. She focused as much of her attention as she could control solely on Dorian, trying to tune out all the world around her and as much as she could of the world inside her, so she could have the best chance of fully understanding what he had to say on the first try.
This trick worked - she understood everything he said on the first try. "Eh?" she exclaimed anyway. It was just...so much information, so fast, that she felt as though she didn't quite understand even though she knew that she did. "U tebya est' boyfriend?" You have a boyfriend. "Who is? I know him?" she asked, paradoxically seeking more information as she continued to process all that she had just been given.
16Tatiana VorontsovaYou're moving in leaps and bounds.139605
“You know about him,” Dorian answered, when Tatya seemed full of questions. He and Jean-Loup had agreed that, so long as she reacted well to the idea in general, and understood the need to be discreet, Dorian could tell her whatever he wanted to. He thought his boyfriend had been a little bit surprised at the idea that there were people in Dorian’s life he felt he could tell, and a little bit alarmed at the idea, but he trusted his judgement. It probably helped that they were far away, with a degree of anonymity to each other. The main thing he cared about for now was his parents not finding out. Or not finding out again, Dorian supposed… They had not got any deeper into the subject of what had happened last time , but clearly it hadn''t been anything good. “Jean-Loup. The boy who… helped with standing up to Matthieu,” Tatya had received the outline version of that story - that Dorian had been hurt in front of his sort-of friend, and that said friend had given Matthieu a dressing down and convinced Dorian to do something about the situation. He had glossed over the part where his wrist had been broken and all the medical chaos that had ensued. But still, Tatya knew the good bits about Jean-Loup from that. That had been thoroughly emphasised.
“And who sends me notes to keep me alive during exams,” he added, Tatya having noted the instructions attached to his folder during revision, reminding him to eat, sleep, drink water and breathe.
“He tries very much to look after me,” he admitted with a smile. Boys were not supposed to need looking after, not quite so much anyway, but he thought that Tatya might be willing to understand that he was an exception to this rule, and be rather pleased that he’d found someone willing to take on that task.
Tatiana’s eyes started to slightly widen at the revelation that she did, in fact, know this boyfriend creature - or at least, knew of him. The world felt as though it were moving under her feet. This morning, Tatiana had felt surreal that most people simply rolled smoothly through their grooves, with Tatiana being someone who rolled a bit wobbly through a groove that didn’t quite fit, but which she managed in, with a few nudges. Dorian was, she knew, a bit like her - did not always feel completely comfortable inside his appointed groove - but...this was not wobbling in the groove, it was making a leap for the edge and trying to roll off to another groove entirely. To think there was someone else he already knew in that other groove….
Jean-Loup. Yes. She knew about him. He was going to be a Healer. He had helped Dorian with Matthieu. He had given Dorian good advice. She remembered the note - the one he had kept on the front of his study materials last year. Sensible advice, from a good person who thought clearly and seemed to care about Dorian. She had thought approvingly about him when she had seen the note. It had never occurred to her that it could be like that, though. Should it have? It was common enough that there was a word, as he’d said. Should she have?
“This seems so,” she agreed. “He sounds like takes good care.” She reached out and touched his cheek. “And you have happiness,” she said. “This is a good thing. A good thing,” she repeated, a little more firmly. “And I like anyone, who not likes Matthieu,” she added, more confidently yet.
She didn’t completely understand all this even as a concept. More practically speaking, she didn’t know what it meant for how they would go forward as people who didn’t quite fit. But she knew that someone who disliked Matthieu and took care of Dorian was good, and that Dorian was good. The rest...she could figure that out as she went along.
16Tatiana VorontsovaI’m catching up, I think.139605
Dorian couldn’t help but laugh a little at Tatya’s assessment of the situation, although he supposed there was also some truth to it - disliking Matthieu was probably a fairly good measure of what made a decent human being, and certainly of one who was the right sort for him to date.
“I do,” he agreed with her assertion that he had a lot of happiness right now. “So much,” he added emphatically. And it wasn’t just Jean-Loup, who made him feel so warm and so loved, but the fact that Tatya was still here, reaching out to touch his cheek and being happy about his happiness, certain, like he was, that something that made him feel this way could not be wrong. He had so many wonderful things that he had, at so many points, doubted he would ever get, or be able to keep hold of. And now he had them both at the same time. Not everything was done yet, but he had got hold of love, and it hadn’t cost him everything. He found his eyes filling up abruptly, and even spilling over slightly.
“These are good tears,” he promised, wrapping his arms around Tatya, and nuzzling onto her shoulder, relaxed and safe in the knowledge that is gestures would not be misinterpreted - and really hoping that Russians had the concept of crying with happiness. It was going to be very baffling if they didn’t.
“Ya lyublyu tebya, souerette,” he snuffled slightly into her shoulder.
Good tears were, happily, a concept which Tatiana understood. She returned the hug, stroking Dorian's dark hair as he rested on her shoulder again.
"Je t'aime aussi," she assured him.
"I like to know more about Jean-Loup," she added after an appropriate moment. "When moi sestry have beaux, they tell all about - Sonia and Anya would get scold, talking too much about boys at night," she reminisced, remembering the days before Anya had gotten married and left them all. She and Katya had not been old enough to be invited into Sonia and Anya's room to discuss boys and whatnot, so they had pretended to go to bed and then crouched down close to the door which separated the two girls' bedrooms, listening as closely as they could as their sisters gossiped and giggled until Nadezhda came in to tell them off for being awake. "So - how did you know he - ukhazhival - " She could not think of an English or French word to express the concept off the top of her head. "Wished to be?" she tried.
She asked the question partially out of curiosity - selfish curiosity at that, wondering what it was like, and how to know if a boy was interested. She also asked, though, because her only models for such things indicated that it was what a good sister did, and since she could see no reason why it would be bad, especially when Dorian seemed happy to talk, she would follow it as best she could.
She wanted to know all about Jean-Loup! Dorian managed to easily trade his happy tears for a giddy grin. He only experienced a momentary twinge of doubt, but decided she was lumping him more in with the category of ‘has a beau’ than ‘sisters.’ He hoped anyway. Tatya was his sourette but he did not want to be considered hers.
“Ah,” he admitted, grinning a little sheepishly when Tatya asked how he’d known Jean-Loup was into it. “He… more or less had to point out that he wanted to kiss me,” admittedly there had been slightly more nuance and the actual verb had been ‘taste’ but that sounded odd without the whole of the cake story. And Dorian wasn’t sure it counted as even a shade of subtext when the remark had had to be accompanied by raised eyebrows and a thumb being brushed over his lips. “Apparently, I do not have skills at telling when someone likes me,” he admitted.
He considered whether to dwell on that story or move on. Onwards involved the fact that they’d then had to work out what they were going to mean to each other. Dorian was not sure he wanted to introduce the notion of casual hook ups to Tatya. She had already had quite a lot to get her head around this conversation, and he was worried it painted Jean-Loup in a bad light – unfairly so, as it wasn’t what he’d really wanted after all. He wanted his friends to like his boyfriend. And so far the fact that he was aboyfriend had not been a stumbling block, so he didn’t want to ruin anything. He supposed he could explain that Jean-Loup wasn’t sure about how much they were ever going to be allowed to be Them, but that was all sad and depressing.
“We were at his birthday party,” he said, choosing to linger on that detail. “If boys come up to you in deserted ballrooms, and start offering you fruit, it’s probably a sign,” he joked. “And it feels like… like something in your chest, pulling you in,” he smiled, still feeling the ghost of the shiver that had run down his spine when Jean-Loup’s intentions had become clear.