A Hyacinth for His Hideousness

by Tharah Meester

The emotions remaining were hardly more pleasant. They were fear of losing Hyacinth and shame about himself – his actions, his nature, his physical appearance. All those things that sooner or later would chase his husband away. A new groan escaped his throat, and it sounded frighteningly like a sob. He covered his mouth with a hand.

  The lad must be fearless if he’s married to such an abominable creature as you and hasn’t yet tried to run.

  Vrila swallowed hard and again had to wipe his burning eyes. One of these days, Hyacinth would steal out of the house and not return. Because, who would?

  *

  Hyacinth’s decisiveness had become shaky in the face of so much chaos. Nevertheless, he knocked on the door belonging to room 306. At the same time he feared what lay hidden behind it. It was most likely some sort of craziness lying in wait for him.

  “Enter,” came the muted reply.

  Hyacinth obeyed the friendly invitation and stepped into a room covered with green carpet. Two desks stood closely facing one another and seemed to be watching the two doors leading to the clerks’ offices. Apparently, the scribes decided who was to be shown in and who was not. At the narrow desk to his right sat a young man. “How can I help?”

  “I… eh… I’m looking for Stephen Bishop.”

  “Congratulations, Sir, you’ve just found him.” Bishop beamed, stood and offered him his hand, which Hyacinth shook briefly then sat on the chair pointed out to him. “How can I be of service to you? Do you need an appointment with Mr Ellerby? Unfortunately, he’s not in the building at the moment.”

  “No, Sir, I wanted to see you.”

  That seemed to make his interlocutor uneasy. “See me?”

  “I need to ask you some questions. About a position which you once had and gave up. In a very remarkable manner as I’ve heard.”

  If Vrila hadn’t been lying, Bishop had simply disappeared under the cover of night and fog.

  The blond-haired man slid uneasily back and forth on his chair. “So? I can’t imagine what you’re referring to.” He nestled his chin on his ascot.

  “I’m referring to your employment with Dimitri Ardenovic, Sir.“

  Was he mistaken, or did the man quake at the sound of that name?

  “Can’t say that rings a bell. I must ask you to leave now.”

  “Not before I have my information,” Hyacinth responded in a firm voice, because it became clear, Vrila was indeed keeping something from him.

  “Leave now or I’ll call the sentries.” Bishop rose and his knees seemed to tremble so much he had to hold on to the desk.

  “I don’t mean you any harm, dammit! If you’re against Dimitri Ardenovic, then in all probability, I’m on your side.”

  “I’m not on anyone’s side,” the man exclaimed in rage and pursed his lips so tightly they turned white. Any moment he might throw him out, if Hyacinth couldn’t convince him he didn’t mean him harm. The truth seemed to offer him the best solution.

  “Vrila… Gavrila Ardenovic is my husband. I want to help him solve his brother’s murder. That’s why I must know what kind of person Dimitri was.”

  “What kind of person he was?” Bishop snapped at him. “He was the cruellest man I’ve ever encountered! A miserable bastard hidden inside a gentleman’s coat! To other people, he always made himself out to be a man of the finest, purest nature, but the bugger had no compassion and no conscience; I can tell you that!”

  Shivers ran down Hyacinth’s spine. He had come here to learn something about Dimitri, but he hadn’t reckoned with such a passionate response revealing a loathsome man with no soul. It frightened him to the point of giving him chills. “What do you mean? What did he do to rattle you so much?”

  “Your husband ought to tell you that. He knows best of all.”

  “What are you suggesting?” With a lurch he stood. He didn’t want to have to look up at Bishop like the lower-class man he was. “Vrila is anything but cruel or cold-hearted! I ought to know, because I’m married to him!”

  Bishop examined him with irritation and, heaving a sigh, sat down again. “You really don’t know a thing,” he asserted in a low voice. “I didn’t intend to suggest that Gavrila is a bad man. Not at all. I know he isn’t.”

  “So, what sort of man is he in your mind?” Hyacinth felt jealousy welling up because something peculiar which he didn’t like was visible in the other man’s eyes. Is that what Vrila wanted to keep secret? An affair with this blond guy? He clenched his teeth.

  “In my mind, he’s his brother’s whipping boy.“

  Hyacinth sank onto the chair since every ounce of strength seemed to abandon him. “Whipping boy?” he asked in a weak voice and braced himself for the worst, what he didn’t want to hear but had to.

  “Dimitri Ardenovic was a Stak through and through. Life here in the Empire couldn’t extract his homeland’s sick beliefs and traditions from his brain. He called his brother a sinner and forbade him any contact with people of the same nature. Gavrila hardly left the house; he’d just returned from the war and was by all appearances suffering from a profound trauma.”

  He still was, but Hyacinth kept silent since that was of no concern to Bishop.

  “Dimitri was aware of the trauma but didn’t show any sympathy,” the man continued and lowered his gaze. “He took out his frustration and anger on him, screamed at him and beat him. With everything he could get his hands on. He thought he could beat the sinful urges out of him. On the day before I disappeared that night, he’d flung him so violently against a bookshelf I heard his ribs crack. He grabbed him by the jaws and yelled at him so loudly that you couldn’t understand his words. I… I thought he was going to kill him. I went to Inspector Hathaway, but he thought Gavrila Ardenovic was old enough to take care of himself.”

  Hyacinth balled his hands into fists so firmly that even his short fingernails dug into his flesh. “Vrila said you’d been too curious for his taste. What did he mean by that?”

  “I think he was ashamed because I was witness to all of that.” Bishop shrugged lightly. “He couldn’t stand me, but I could have liked him. I have a weakness for outsiders.”

  “Is that so?” Hyacinth raised an eyebrow, but didn’t know whether that was a point against his husband or not.

  “I’m one myself and know what it means to have to fight your way through life.” The way Bishop crossed his arms over his chest made Hyacinth recognise that the guy wouldn’t elaborate any further on that topic.

  Unexpectedly, a terrible thought struck him. If Dimitri had treated Vrila that badly, didn’t his husband have a perfect motive? No, no, Vrila would never do anything so abhorrent then sanctimoniously search for the murderer afterwards. “You said, Dimitri was a bastard. Did Vrila hate him then?”

  “Not at all. The man put his brother on a pedestal. We never discussed it, as you could well imagine, but I suppose he insanely heaped the guilt onto himself. Some people do that.”

  They cloaked themselves in a silence that Bishop broke after a while: “I believe Dimitri loathed his brother not only for who he is, but also on account of his birth.” At once he sounded much less sympathetic but somewhat worried, as if he’d crossed a line and gone too far with that statement.

  “On account of his birth?”

  “Igor Ardenovic, the husband of Marshka, wasn’t Gavrila’s biological father,” Bishop continued and began to squirm in his seat. “Perhaps I really ought to keep my gossipy trap shut.”

  “Now that you’ve started the story, you’ll also tell the rest of it,” Hyacinth replied bluntly because his curiosity couldn’t bear letting the man stop talking now. “Who was his biological father if it wasn’t his mother’s husband?”

  “One evening, the lady of the house was attacked on the street and… she was violated. Gavrila is the son of a felon who’d spent most of his life in a Stakian prison.”

  He’d already experienced nausea, but now Hyacinth really feared he might throw up on the carpet beneath the soles of his shoes.

&
nbsp; It had to be terrible growing up the offspring of a rapist. He could only imagine how the unwanted child had been treated, and that thought alone was already too much to bear.

  “You won’t tell your husband I told you that, will you? I beg you not to betray a word to him.”

  Dazed, Hyacinth stood up. “I’ll keep it to myself.” With a murmur of farewell, he hurried outside to catch a breath of fresh air and to lose his struggle against shedding tears.

  What had his empathetic, his poor Vrila suffered through?

  All of a sudden, his own childhood seemed more like a stroll in the warm sunshine.

  After everything he’d heard, he now had his answer to the question why his husband had such difficulty showing emotions. Hyacinth resolved to never reproach him again for his inhibitions since he now knew Vrila couldn’t help them.

  As he hastened around the corner and intentionally jostled someone out of his way in order to disappear more quickly into the narrow side-street, he recalled how Vrila had fallen to his knees on the bridge. It nearly broke his heart to remember the scene.

  What have you done to me, you damn son of a bitch?! Are you pleased with what you see?

  Those words had been directed at Dimitri, who’d mistreated him and turned him into someone who hid his warm sentiments behind a raw exterior, having never learned to deal with affection. Perhaps he was even afraid of being hurt if he ever revealed his true self…

  *

  Hyacinth brushed the dampness from his cheeks before entering their home. He’d intended to sneak into the bathroom before he encountered Vrila. His husband was still in the bedroom, so chances were good he’d reach the door before being noticed. One look into those dark eyes and he’d immediately break out in tears again. He needed to avoid that so as not to be embarrassed and required to explain himself. He couldn’t confess to Vrila that he now knew the truth for fear of angering his husband, plus he’d likely feel so ashamed that all of their progress would have been for naught.

  When he was halfway there, Vrila came out of the bedchamber. “You got back at the right time. Lunch will be ready soon.”

  Why do you have to be so nice again, you idiot? “I’ll go wash my face and hands first.” His voice sounded much too fragile to pass for normal.

  That didn’t escape Vrila’s attention. “What happened?”

  “Nothing, everything’s fine,” he responded quickly and reached out to the door handle.

  Vrila moved faster and kept him from retreating by grabbing hold of his upper arm. With his right hand he affectionately held Hyacinth by the chin and forced him to look up. Their eyes met, and the unavoidable occurred. Again, tears ran down his cheeks.

  “Dammit, tell me what’s happened,” Vrila demanded bluntly but couldn’t conceal the concern behind his intonation. Worry-lines creased his brow, and his expression looked darker than ever.

  Hyacinth responded by sobbing and wrapping his arms around Vrilas neck. His husband took him into his arms in his own splendid way and held him firmly against himself to let him weep on his shoulder. Hyacinth grabbed onto it with his fingers and buried his face in his husband’s neck. The skin he dampened was soft and cool. Under it he sensed a vein throbbing intensely. His own heart, to his amazement, was beating at the same rate as his husband’s. How could that be?

  “You look totally shattered. Speak to me“ Vrila implored – yes, he implored him.

  Hyacinth had to shake his head defensively, because he couldn’t mention the matter to him. The time wasn’t right; deep inside he knew that. Neither he nor his husband was prepared for such a discussion and was not up to it either.

  Vrila placed a protective hand on the back of his head and cradled him in a light caress. Hyacinth closed his eyes and enjoyed the intimacy between them, which gave him more pleasure than anything else.

  Thousands of things, thousands of images rushed through his head and agitated him. Dimitri, how he beat Vrila. Vrila, how he’d held a weapon to the head of Hyacinth’s father to protect him. Vrila, how he’d defended him and drew him into his arms when necessary. Vrila, how he’d stood on the bridge and despaired. He gulped, trying to calm down.

  “You’ll tell me when you need my help, won’t you?” Vrila asked in a throaty tone. “You know I’ll never refuse you.”

  “Of course I know that,” he confirmed in a whisper and was grateful to his husband for not pressuring him further and demanding an explanation.

  Tenderly, Vrila pushed him slightly away to be able to look at him and to wipe the tears from his cheeks with unbelievable tenderness. “I hate that,” he muttered in distress and affected him with that confession. His cold façade appeared to collapse for a moment, leaving the impression of being vulnerable.

  “I’m doing just fine,” Hyacinth stated soothingly.

  Vrila gently shook his head and looked searchingly at his husband’s face.

  “Pardon me if I can’t believe you.”

  Hyacinth’s hands rested on Vrila’s chest; he felt his pulse still racing. He ran his fingers along the button-facing and in response was pulled closer again. Their bodies touched.

  Vrila placed a hand on his cheek, caressing it softly with a thumb. “How can I convince you to confide in me? I want to be your protector.”

  Those words struck him like a blow to the stomach – a very pleasant blow. “You’ve been that for quite a while.” No objection to the fact that he was a grown man and didn’t need a protector. Only the warmth it brought him to have one.

  “Perhaps I have been,“ Vrila whispered roughly and pressed so firmly against him Hyacinth could hardly breathe. “The question is whether I can ever be more than that for you.”

  His heart skipped a few beats when his husband’s expression darkened, and Vrila placed his fingers and thumb around his chin to slowly lower his head.

  Expecting a kiss, Hyacinth involuntarily parted his lips and admitted to himself how much he longed for this sign of tenderness. He desired it so deeply.

  Though indecisive, Vrila moved even closer, looked him unsteadily in the eyes. He seemed nervous but not in the least as agitated as Hyacinth.

  Before their lips met, Vrila brushed his cheek with the tip of his nose.

  It was an unintentional touch which Hyacinth sensed as indescribably sweet, causing a comforting spasm in his stomach.

  However, it seemed to irritate his husband so powerfully or brought him to consciousness that he recoiled with a start and retreated a step. “I’m sorry.” He sheepishly bowed his head and coughed lightly. “I’m eh… going to change clothes, then we’ll have lunch,” he said hoarsely, left him standing there and shut the door behind himself.

  The noise tore Hyacinth from his trance, and he gasped for air since he’d held his breath the entire time. His knees were softer than butter cream, and he had to sit down on the sofa. His heart quickened, faster than ever before and skipped a beat when it became clear they had nearly kissed. No one had ever kissed him. He ran his trembling fingers through his hair. Almighty God, Vrila had tried to kiss him! That revelation made him smile in disbelief until he remembered that he’d only tried and not done it.

  *

  Still mortified, Vrila stepped back into the salon and saw that Hyacinth had already set the table and was waiting for him.

  “I took the liberty.” The young man smiled hesitantly and avoided Vrila’s eyes after briefly meeting his obvious scrutiny.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” he muttered and sat down tentatively. Uneasiness seemed to be hanging in the air, just as that near-kiss probably wouldn’t leave his mind for days or even weeks to come. Just as unlikely as he was to forget the foolish things he’d said and now couldn’t make unsaid.

  “Why not? I leave the cooking up to you, so I can make myself useful in some other respect. Bon appétit,” he added under his breath and tasted a bite of sweet red cabbage.

  Vrila reached so clumsily for a fork it slipped from his fingers and clanged onto his plate. A slight cou
gh emanated from his throat. “You aren’t my butler. You don’t have to make yourself useful.“

  His husband grinned mischievously and looked like he’d overcome his embarrassment. “You really ought not to spoil me. That’ll make me ill-mannered.”

  Such a lovable, tender boy ought to be spoiled. In every imaginable way. According to all the laws of creation.

  He preferred to keep that reply to himself, for he didn’t want to show how mellow Hyacinth had already made him during the few days they’d been married to one another.

  “That makes no difference to me,” he responded coolly and shoved a forkful of vegetable pastry into his mouth. “Besides, you do enough.”

  His young husband’s thin eyebrows creased in disbelief. “So, what is it then that I do?”

  You make me laugh; you’re kinder to me than anyone has ever been before; you cause my heart to race and bestow on me a strange, unfamiliar feeling of affection, not to mention my desire; you are at my side when I need you; you… are here.

  “Enough,” he repeated with a scratchy voice and frighteningly constricted throat.

  For that Hyacinth elicited a joyless laugh which was no more than a weak puff of air. “I’m of so little use that you can’t even give me an example.”

  Was he mistaken, or did a bitter undertone come through with those words?

  “Stop talking such goddamn nonsense! Your help alone in hunting for Dimitri’s murderer is indispensable.”

  “Indispensable?” Hyacinth quoted him in a mocking tone. ”Now you’re the one talking nonsense here.”

  “At the very least, it means a lot to me,” Vrila responded trenchantly, and their eyes met for a moment. The young man appeared surprised by this admission and after a visible gulp, concentrated on his meal by hunching over his plate.

  Vrila became lost in contemplating his husband’s enchanting profile framed by wild locks. If his own nose weren’t so damn long, then by now he’d know whether and how those lips might nestle on his.

  He was ashamed. Due to his nose, too long for him to be able to kiss Hyacinth. Due to his inability to tell him how he felt.