Now Hyacinth set his utensils down and looked at him quite flatly. “Maybe because I like to kiss you?” With that he leaned to him once more and kissed him. This time, however, not on the cheek but directly on the lips.
It was an innocent, tender demonstration of affection that even Vrila understood. When Hyacinth drew back and smiled – in a way that no one had ever smiled at him – his rapidly beating heart felt so warm.
“You see. Nothing wasted. The pleasure is all mine,“ the young man muttered in a velvet tone and got up to help himself to seconds and to bring Vrila another dumpling.
He pushed it onto Vrila’s plate though he hadn’t even eaten his first two. With a sigh, Vrila began the work of pleasing his husband.
To his own amazement his appetite increased as he ate, and he finally had no trouble sopping up the final remains of the sauce.
“It’s snowing hard,” Hyacinth remarked, mouth full, and cast a glance to the front window. Just beyond the white curtains, equally white snowflakes swirled around. “What else are we going to do today?”
“Considering the weather, I’d suggest something that doesn’t require leaving the house. Unless you’d really like to.”
“Not at all.” Hyacinth hastily shook his head and pushed his empty plate away then took Vrila’s hand and led him over to the sofa. “Washing the dishes can wait, can’t it?”
In reply, he fell into the cushions with his young husband and drew him near so they could creep under the blanket together. Again he remembered what they’d done here a few hours ago, and he smiled like an idiot – he couldn’t restrain himself. “Mr Wiplay told me you spent a lot of time with him when you were a boy,” Hyacinth said and stroked him across the ribs while he nestled his head on Vrila’s chest.
He became tense, since he didn’t know what all Seymour had said. “Yes.”
“And after that? Did you lose contact with him?”
“During my university studies, we met each week in the library where we secretly ate cake while conversing with one another instead of sticking our noses in books.” The memory of that put a smile on his face. “After I graduated, my brother wanted me to join the Stakian military and make myself available for duty in case the worst happened.”
“How long were you gone?”
“I left Ascot at the age of twenty-five, completed basic training as a soldier and was allowed to return home at twenty-seven, since the situation at that time was stable. I came back to Ascot and looked for employment. Seymour was delighted, and I… I was as well.”
“Where did you work?”
“In the hospital on the other side of the city.”
“You were a doctor in a hospital?”
“Yes.” He gulped. “At some point I’d almost forgotten I’d made myself available for active duty. Six months after my thirty-third birthday, I received it. My conscription notice. I had to go to war whether I wanted to or not.” He wasn’t strong enough to force the bitter undertone from his voice. “Seymour and I maintained contact through letters.” The old man had never abandoned him.
Vrila was afraid Hyacinth would ask him about the war and was relieved when the young man, after a pause, skipped over that episode: “When did you return to Ascot?”
“I was thirty-nine when they gave me an honourable discharge. It was a few months after the battle near Leznijek, which Sergei told you about. I was no longer fit for duty after that… event. My psychological health had suffered enormously. I couldn’t sleep without being haunted by horrific nightmares. That led to my permanent sleeplessness. I tried to take control of the condition with medicines, but they just brought on hallucinations and a deathly fear of falling asleep. I could no longer lie down any more, sat up wide-awake all night in hospital beds, smelling of disinfectants and dead soldiers. At some point things had become so unbearable I tried to leap from the roof of the hospital. It took three men to prevent me from doing it.”
Hyacinth had tensed up noticeably. “I’m terribly sorry,” he whispered. The tone of his voice sounded oddly disturbing.
Gently, Vrila reached for the young man’s chin, lifting it up toward him. Distressed, he noticed tears that didn’t belong in those green eyes. “Hyacinth, what… why are you crying?”
“Because I can’t bear it,” his husband muttered and lowered his eyelids. The tears ran down his unusually pale cheeks. Some remained in his thick, black eyelashes and glittered like diamonds.
Vrila felt discomfort and softly whisked a thumb over the tear stains. “What can’t you bear?”
“The notion that you… that you might not be here with me now, Sir.”
“For Heaven’s sake, please don’t cry on my account,” he exclaimed and didn’t know what to do. How could he comfort Hyacinth when he didn’t even know exactly what caused him to lose his composure?
He finally drew the young man closer to press against him. He suspected his caress wasn’t worth much because he’d never learned what made for a comforting embrace. However, he made every effort to console his husband.
With his fingers, he tenderly stroked through Hyacinth’s locks while he put his own chin on the parting in his hair. The tender body in his arms trembled, and he knew it was his fault alone. “I’m sorry I told you about it. I shouldn’t have burdened you with all of it.” In his own defence he could only submit that he had no inkling how much his story would affect his husband. He’d only wanted to share it with him and had no evil intentions. How could he ever intentionally hurt him?
“No, I want to hear it. I want to know everything about you.”
Surprised by those words, Vrila allowed some time to pass before he, with his heart pounding, dared to reply: “I’ll satisfy your request as best I can, dearest one, but leave out the gruesome details. Grim facts about the war aren’t meant for your ears.”
“Don’t talk to me as if I were something deli…” He stopped short in the middle of his defiant words. “Dearest one?” he repeated hoarsely.
Vrila emitted an uneasy laugh when he recognised the term of endearment wasn’t welcome. “You misheard. I called you Josephinian.” What kind of ridiculous assertion was that?
“Josephinian,“ Hyacinth quoted him thoughtfully then raised his head to look into his reddening face. “This is the first time you’ve called me that. How do you know in the first place that I go by my middle name?”
Oh Heavens, now he’d diverted attention from his declaration of affection but had stuck his neck out by doing so. Before that, it hadn’t occurred to the young man that he… that Vrila knew it. To his relief it seemed that Hyacinth did not remember being the one who’d revealed to him the name he was called by. “I… you… probably mentioned it. Surely we must have been introduced.”
“Surely, but I don’t remember having said it to you.“ Hyacinth shook his head tentatively. Then to Vrila’s amazement, a sweet smile spread out on those perfect lips and caught his husband’s eyes. “But you definitely called me dearest one.”
“Hmm. Did I actually say dearest one?” He wrapped his confession in that dim-witted question to restrain his discomfiture.
The rosy tip of a tongue jutted forward. “Am I your dearest one, then?”
Thereupon he gently touched his husband’s cheek. “I wouldn’t know who else it could be,” he whispered wearily.
For a moment, Hyacinth’s features became even softer than usual then transformed into a mocking expression. “Just say that I am instead of being so poetically evasive,” he demanded with a grin and poked him in the ribs.
Vrila flinched. Astonished, he noticed he was ticklish and had to suppress a grin. Instead he wheezed and caused Hyacinth to become mischievous.
A gleam of triumph brightened his lovely face. “Ah-ha, I’ve discovered a weakness in my husband.” And he had quite obviously no scruples about exploiting it. A second later, slender fingers were reaching out toward him in a tickling gesture.
Vrila had to muster up all of his self-control to avoid laughing ou
t loud and pressed his lips together while he tried to stop Hyacinth but only caused their arms and legs to become entangled. “Yes, yes, you are my dearest one! Stop that now. Have you gone mad?“ He could hear the exhilaration in his own voice.
“That’s great, then, so you can laugh now. Come on, why not laugh? Do it for your dearest one,” Hyacinth demanded with amusement, however, at the same time with nearly desperate insistence. “Laugh for me.”
Vrila endeavoured to again suppress his laughter and, at the same time, fend off Hyacinth’s attack, which resulted in his being on the verge of falling off the sofa. “Stop, you’re about to knock me over the edge!” he shouted. However, when gentle fingertips skipped upwards, he lost the skirmish – against the young man and himself. A whole-hearted laugh burst from his throat, and he couldn’t even put his hands in front of his teeth because he’d lose his balance and fall on his head.
Hyacinth stopped teasing him, and Vrila recovered his composure enough to shut his mouth and to be ashamed of having laughed so openly.
With unanticipated strength he was pulled back onto the sofa and scrutinised in disbelief by piercing, green eyes. Hyacinth’s lips stood slightly open, and his gaze, under half-closed eyelids, appeared peculiarly dreamy. The young man bent forward and kissed him on the mouth.
Absolutely nothing could have surprised or overwhelmed him more, and for that reason he placed all his tenderness into the gesture of seizing at Hyacinth’s soft lips.
What that man meant to him couldn’t be expressed in words. Just as the intensity of his emotions was hardly bearable. Hopelessly and irrevocably, he’d given his heart to Mr Josephinian Hyacinth Ardenovic. A heart which he… which they all had believed consisted of cold stone.
That was a misconception, because at one moment it stood in flames, beating loudly, only to melt into fluid heat for this man in the next.
Hyacinth sighed through his lips then released himself, gave him a smile and bedded his head on his shoulder to nestle as close to him as no one ever had before.
Vrila could only lie motionless, arms wrapped around his precious husband, wondering why he deserved him at all…
Chapter 13
The following morning when, with a smile on his lips, Hyacinth entered Mr Wiplay’s shop, the old man surprised him by being fully dressed with a thick scarf around his neck and a hat on his head.
“My boy, it came to me where I remember that pendant from!” he exclaimed instead of greeting his pupil. “At least, it has nearly come to me! We need to get going right away!” With those words, he shoved him right back out the door into the morning cold and mist hanging heavily in the air. Conscientiously he locked up behind them and tried the door handle three times.
Hyacinth was overcome with excitement. “Where are we headed?”
“To the library. I remember I was sitting in the sixth partition beside the third rounded arch window. I had cleared out half the shelf, the one on the right. I can’t remember anymore what I was looking for that day but I do recall what I found instead. The symbol that the pendant was fashioned after.”
As they hurried around the corner, Hyacinth glanced back and wondered whether he should notify Vrila or not where he could be found, should his husband need him. But he didn’t want to awaken him while he was enjoying such an unexpectedly peaceful slumber – during which he’d looked so unbelievably seductive.
Smiling, he lowered his head to hide his flushed cheeks. Vrila had once again laughed for him, and that time he’d seen it – although at a peculiar angle. His laugh was beautiful and had unsettled and enraptured him, completely causing him to lose composure.
“… finally find out what there is about it, so that we…”
Hyacinth could hear Mr Wiplay beside him speaking but ensnared by his own emotions, hadn’t taken in the comments.
At last the word murderer made him cringe and recall what Vrila and he had suppressed for an evening. “What did you say, Sir?”
“I said, now we have a real chance of coming a step closer to the murderer’s heels if we can find out what the secret is behind this piece of jewellery.”
“I only hope Vrila can find closure with his past,” he replied in a murmur. At the moment he wished more than ever before to have his husband completely to himself. To himself and not clinging to his dead brother.
“I hope so as well and I’m sure he’ll be able to if the murderer is caught and receives his due punishment.” His teacher tried to sound encouraging, but something in the old man’s voice made him uneasy. Perhaps it was simply the exertion of the rapid tempo causing him to lean harder on his cane to put one foot in front of the other. “A few minutes ago you seemed quite jolly,” Mr Wiplay stated quietly and smiled at him. “Can I assume Gavrila and you have set aside your differences?”
“It’s even possible we’ve become somewhat closer to one another.” In several respects, he added in his thoughts and sensed a hot shiver run down his spine. He let out a reticent cough, though noticeable enough to make Mr Wiplay laugh.
“I’m truly happy to hear that,” he assured Hyacinth, and his eyes seemed to glow.
Hyacinth wanted to tell his mentor how grateful he was to him for standing by Vrila all those years but he didn’t want to risk another attack of melancholy. His husband’s story had moved him deeply – even more so now since he knew things about him that he would never tell anyone. The fact that his brother had been an arsehole. Or that his father had forced himself on his mother thereby bringing him forth. He swallowed hard and banished those disheartening thoughts from upsetting him. Instead, he concentrated on their plans. Vrila would be proud of him when he learned what kind of progress they’d made. Of course, that praise belonged not only to him but also to Mr Wiplay, though he was so hopeful for his husband’s pride in him he left that notion out of consideration.
Halfway to their destination, they slowed their pace. Mr Wiplay appeared to be losing strength. His breathing was laboured, and Hyacinth suggested they pause for a while, but the old man refused. “It’s so cold out here I’m afraid I’ll freeze into a block of ice if we don’t hurry.”
Hyacinth responded with a faint laugh and was relieved when they saw before them the tower of the district council building immersed in wafts of mist as its dark stone appeared almost bluish in that peculiar morning light. Next to the council building stood an equally graceful, though smaller structure housing the municipal library.
They directed their steps toward it and were hardly distracted by passers-by since the city still seemed not fully awake yet. In a restrained tempo they climbed the numerous steps, and Hyacinth opened the door for his companion who tipped his hat in gratitude.
Inside it was warm and cosy and already rather busy as he noticed with surprise. Men and women in various official garments hurried around while intent on striding as quietly as possible. No one spoke so as not to disturb the people engaged in research at the tables.
After they’d checked their overcoats, they went to the reception counter and startled a young man who’d fallen asleep over an open book. “How may I be of service to the gentlemen?” he asked in a muted voice and blinked a few times after rubbing his eyes.
Mr Wiplay presented the library card everyone had to produce to be allowed into the stacks, and the sleepy man waved them through. His head immediately disappeared again behind the counter.
“What a work ethic.” Hyacinth grinned, and Mr Wiplay chortled softly.
Additional stairs took them to the second floor, and from there they turned left. An eternity seemed to have passed before they ultimately reached their goal. Hell and damnation, how large was this library?
When they stood at the long rows of shelves and the old man didn’t seem entirely certain which one on the right side it had been, Hyacinth became disheartened. How were they supposed to find one particular volume in such a multitude of books? It seemed almost impossible. It could take weeks or months to page through every possible book.
His sigh caught Mr Wiplay’s attention. “Don’t worry, my boy. Give me a while, and I’ll remember.”
“Can I help you somehow?”
“Sit down at the table. I’ll bring you the books that look familiar to me. You peruse them and note the ones we’ve already looked through, yes?”
Hyacinth nodded. It seemed like a nearly senseless undertaking to him, but the mere possibility he might help Vrila was a powerful incentive.
Obediently he took a seat, reached for pencil and paper available at one’s disposal everywhere and busied himself when the first stack of thick volumes came, hiding him from the other patrons’ view.
*
An hour had passed, countless books paged through and Hyacinth’s patience highly strained. Meanwhile, the sun had risen, having burned off the mist but not driven away the cold. The windows had frosted over at the edges where they were held in place by ostentatious wooden frames.
The absence of curtains wasn’t noticeable since the rooms – probably for the sake of elderly visitors and of office holders – were exceptionally well-heated. Very much to his satisfaction.
He’d become weary while searching through one book after the other and coming upon nothing useful anywhere. If he returned home with empty hands, Vrila wouldn’t know he’d failed – because he knew nothing about this undertaking. Nevertheless, he couldn’t stand the thought that possibly they wouldn’t find a thing. Not merely because he’d have to forego Vrila’s praise, but also because he eagerly wished for a solution to the puzzle. It would help them all. Especially Vrila, whose happiness meant more to him now than he might have ever imagined.
Mr Wiplay placed another pile next to him. “No daydreaming, my boy. We still have a lot of work to do since my memory seems shamefully determined to leave me in the lurch.”
“Yes, Sir.” Hyacinth nodded then cleared his throat and head to again concentrate on his task.
A Hyacinth for His Hideousness Page 29