A Light Amongst Shadows

by Kelley York

  “Is it just me,” Preston says, “or has he been acting odd as of late?”

  My chest tangles itself into knots. “It’s not just you.”

  I wait until we’ve retired to our room that evening before trying to pin Oscar down about his behaviour. He wanted me to be myself, to leave it to him to handle whatever it is he’s going through. His slow decline has me thinking I need to try, yet again, to step in. “Are you all right?”

  Oscar deposits his school books upon the table. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Oh, where to start. Your moodiness, your lack of appetite? You look like hell, too, by the way.”

  Oscar pauses and drags in a deep breath, pushing a hand back through his hair. “I appreciate all the concern, but maybe you ought to focus on keeping yourself out of trouble right now.”

  I frown. “What? I’m not doing anything.”

  “Yeah, James, you are.” He turns to me, a scowl overtaking his entire face. “Runnin’ around with your talk of ghosts, not being the least bit careful if anyone else hears you. Being all good company with Esher when you’ve been warned about the type of person he is. All it takes is him to slip up once, to get caught screwing around with some other bloke, and you’ll have earned yourself a reputation for being the same as him.”

  He breaks my heart. This isn’t the Oscar I know, who is always so kind and cautious about what he says. “You disappoint me, Oscar. If any of you took thirty seconds to actually get to know William instead of relying on rumours and nonsense, then you’d know he’s a very lovely person.”

  Oscar’s brows twitch together, mouth pulling up into something furious. “And if you’d take thirty seconds to notice the way he’s been undressing you with his eyes in the middle of class, you’d realise that everyone around the both of you can see it, too. Including and especially the staff.”

  For half a second, I almost—almost—wonder if what he’s displaying is jealousy, but that isn’t the impression I’m getting. No, he sounds worried, afraid, and I feel like there’s a reason behind it that I cannot pinpoint.

  “William would do nothing without my permission. Upon which, it would be my choice and my responsibility.” I rise from my bed to step over to him. He doesn’t flinch away when I put a hand upon his shoulder, but he looks as though he might want to. “I’m your friend, Oscar, and you matter a great deal to me. I haven’t a clue what you’re going through right now—by your hand, might I add, because God knows I’ve tried to find out—but I’m doing my best to be here for you. All I ask is that you please stop taking your frustrations out on me and treating me like some ignorant child.”

  Oscar opens his mouth to respond, but I can see the anger seep right out of him. An immediate look of pain and fear overtakes him. He runs a hand over his face and turns away, slipping from beneath my grasp. “…I’m sorry.”

  Of course he is. Yet still, he’s offering me nothing to go on, and I’m feeling a bit exhausted with it all. “Mm. I think I’ll get some sleep.”

  “James,” he sighs, sinking to the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. “What I’m going through right now, I cannot… You’re the type that wants to fix things, and this isn’t something you or anyone can fix. You’re right. I’ve been taking it out on you because I don’t want to see you slip into the same pit I’ve fallen into. I’m scared for you.”

  That’s enough to give me pause and turn back to him, and it nibbles its way through my own irritation. What in the world has the headmaster accused him of? How does it relate to anything I’m going through? Is it possible that Oscar himself is inclined towards men, and I had absolutely no idea? I’d feel quite foolish if that were the case; we could have confided in one another. It would be good for us both, I should think. “I have no fear of what anyone in this place would do to me, Oscar. Nothing you nor anyone else says will change that. No matter what I do, no matter where I go, life finds a way to punish me, so at least this time, let it be for something that I want.”

  Oscar lifts his head. His eyes look glassy. Just a bit. I think he wants to ask me what that means, which is perhaps why I say it, so that he can begin to grasp how heart-breaking it is to want to know your friends and help them and being held at arm’s length. Perhaps some small part of me is hoping he’ll then tell me what I want to know.

  “I’ve got your back,” he says quietly. “No matter what.”

  “And I’ve got yours,” I say without hesitation. “Now, get some sleep. You look like you could use it.”

  Oscar wakes the next day and, by some miracle, is almost back to his usual, cheerful self. Which is an act, I’m sure, but he’s making an effort.

  To make things even better, William joins us again at breakfast, a fact that has me grinning from ear to ear. Even when Oscar has to part from me to go to class and I head to Latin alongside Preston and Benjamin, William falls into step beside us. There’s little that feels quite so lovely as him at my side, his quiet presence something calming.

  He joins us again at lunch and dinner, and although he still doesn’t speak much, the others seem to be growing accustomed to his unobtrusive presence. Even Edwin has stopped glaring at him and instead has settled on ignoring his existence.

  When William excuses himself from dinner, he sneaks a folded sheet of paper into my lap. I make a point of tucking it into one of my books beneath my chair for later reading. I catch Oscar watching me with a raised eyebrow; it’s difficult to get anything by him when he’s sitting directly beside me, it seems.

  I should wait until I get back to my room to read it, but my curiosity gets the best of me. As Oscar and I head back to Gawain, I give in to the temptation and pull the note from my book to open it. William has such elegant, flowing writing, every word a piece of art.

  And this day draw a veil over all deeds pass’d over,

  Yet their hands shall not tremble, their feet shall not falter;

  The void shall not weary, the fear shall not alter

  These lips and these eyes of the loved and the lover.

  —William Morris.

  The other half of the “assignment” I gave him. I hadn’t actually expected him to figure it out. The fact that he did, that he went through the effort to do so, has my heart feeling full to bursting.

  “What in the world is that look for?” Oscar asks.

  “What look?” I reread the note.

  “That look. You have the most ridiculous smile on your face.” He cranes his head, trying to take a peek. “Is that from Esher? I thought I saw him slip you something.”

  I’m quick to draw the paper to my chest, sticking my tongue out at him. “Perhaps, but it’s for my eyes only.”

  He rolls his eyes. “The two of you could not be any more obvious.”

  “Perhaps you’re jealous that I have an admirer and you don’t.”

  “Who says that I don’t?”

  My eyebrows lift. “Oh?”

  Oscar pockets his hands, flashes me a cheeky grin, and shrugs. Curious. Though with that silly smile upon his mouth, he could very well be taunting me.

  Later that evening, after Oscar has fallen asleep and I’ve tossed and turned myself into exhaustion, I think I hear the crying again. Soft, far away, but it makes my pulse race and my stomach twist.

  I pull on my robe and slip out into the hall, not with any intention of searching out the source of that noise, exactly, but to sneak my way upstairs instead. Coming up here is frightening all on its own, because it requires me to sneak past Virgil’s room to reach William’s door. For that matter, I have to knock very quietly, desperately hoping that he answers quickly because I have that sneaking feeling of being watched again. After a moment of no answer, I knock again and lean in close. “Dear William, please let me in before the ghosts eat me?”

  Not a second later, I hear the sound of something scraping against the floor, and the door opens. I’m greeted by William’s startled and lovely face. He grabs the front of my robe and drags me into the room. “What are
you doing? Are you mad?”

  Fear aside, I have to stifle a laugh. “Not at all. I couldn’t sleep and it was cold.”

  “I thought you were…” He trails off, making swift work of closing the door and using one bare foot to shove a blanket up against the bottom of it, which I realise he does to prevent candlelight from seeping underneath it and getting him into trouble for the lights not being out past curfew. Sneaky. He also shoves a chair up and under the door knob with the practised ease of someone who does it often. “So you decided to see if my room was warmer, did you?”

  “It would appear that way.” I wink and head right over to his bed, not bothering to ask permission before I crawl beneath the blankets.

  The blush that floods William’s face is worth the anxiety of sneaking up here. “What are you doing?”

  “I told you, it’s cold.” I smile sweetly. “Oh, you do have nicer blankets up here.”

  William stares at me like I’ve lost my mind, tempting fate like this. I suppose I might be giving him the slightly wrong impression; I’m not here to try to get my hands beneath his clothes—though God knows I’ve thought about it. Especially when he’s standing there in nothing but his nightshirt, bared collar bones looking delicious enough to kiss amongst the dipping shirt collar. “Mother insisted I have a single room because she thought it better than me sharing with another boy.”

  I chuckle. “People are rather ridiculous, aren’t they?”

  He rubs at one of his arms before shuffling over to the bed and, after a moment’s hesitation, he slips beneath the blankets beside me. Although his mattress is made of the same materials as mine, his is significantly larger and fits two more than comfortably. “I suppose it’s a fair enough concern. According to the rumours, I have trouble keeping my hands to myself.”

  “I have been warned on occasion about your sinful nature,” I purr, and it makes William’s eyes drop to my mouth and bite gently at his own lower lip.

  “It’s true that I do have a bit of a weakness for a pretty face.”

  “Is that why you spend so much time alone? Because you just cannot resist yourself?”

  William blinks, retrains his eyes upon mine, and snorts. “More like I cannot tolerate most of the people here.”

  “Does that mean you can tolerate me?”

  “As I said…” He slowly brings a hand to brush a stray strand of hair from my forehead. “I have a weakness for a pretty face.”

  I have half a mind to kiss him. “I’ll have to remember that.”

  William draws his hand back and I’m already aching for its nearness. “Hm. Why couldn’t you sleep?”

  “I suppose I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately.”

  “Care to talk about it?”

  “Ghosts. You. Well done figuring out that author, by the way.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Quite. Also, Oscar has been acting very strange lately.”

  He props himself up on his elbow, cheek against his palm. “Strange how?”

  Oh, where do I start? “Withdrawn, moody. He said he would help me investigate the spirits, but he gets uncomfortable anytime I try to discuss it.”

  William hmms. “Frances has been here a few years. It’s possible he’s simply seen one too many boys punished for ‘spreading rumours.’ There was one boy who wrote home to his parents that the head cook was serving us rat and got into trouble. The staff views it as students trying to undermine the credibility of the school. Or perhaps something more is going on. Wasn’t he summoned to the headmaster’s office a few weeks ago?”

  It’s Oscar’s personal business and I’ve not even shared information with our mutual friends. But this is William, and who in the world would he tell? If there’s anyone besides Oscar that I trust, it’s him. “He said it was because he got caught cheating on an exam last term.”

  “I wasn’t aware Frances had any issues with his marks.”

  “He doesn’t. Later he admitted that was a lie. Something about the headmaster accusing him of doing something he didn’t do. Whatever it is, King has been making his life miserable. He’s been caned or whipped or something more than once.”

  “Any thoughts as to the truth?”

  A frown tugs at my face. “He’s been quite adamant about me being careful around you. About me being caught with another boy.”

  “You’re thinking perhaps he was caught engaging in something salacious, is that it? Though why they would not automatically expel him for it is beyond me.”

  “I don’t know,” I admit with a sigh. “He won’t tell me anything. I’ve been fraught with worry.”

  William touches me again, this time his fingertips stroking down my cheek in an impossibly soft gesture that makes my entire body thrum pleasantly. “You are a wonderful friend, James. The best Frances could ask for. If he isn’t willing to talk, then all you can do is support him if and when he needs you.”

  My eyes drift shut. “It doesn’t mean I won’t worry.”

  “That’s part of what makes you a good friend,” he says softly. “Perhaps he thinks if he denies and ignores whatever it is that’s happened, he can make it go away. Not an uncommon defence, I should think.”

  Oh, I understand that all too well, don’t I? Though I won’t say as much. Instead I yawn, drawing the blankets up and over my head. “Why is your bed so much warmer than mine?”

  “Because I’ve been lying in it awhile,” is William’s all-too-practical response. “Why don’t you get some sleep, if you plan on staying?”

  I shouldn’t. The risk of getting caught is ever-present, yet the mere idea of sleeping here alongside William is far too tempting to pass up. “I cannot answer that if I’m already asleep.”

  I hear him make a sound not unlike a laugh as he pulls the blankets away from my head. He leans in, lips brushing my forehead as he murmurs, “Good night, James,” before rolling onto his back and closing his eyes.

  As I lay there in an unfamiliar room with someone mere centimetres from me, it occurs to me the level of trust I’m placing in William to share a bed with him. I watch him in the dark long after he’s fallen asleep. The delicate line of his mouth, lips slightly parted, long lashes resting against the tops of his cheeks and his normally immaculate hair all in his face. At some point, when I shift, he stirs, and his hand finds mine, weaving our fingers together.

  It’s embarrassingly easy to fall asleep this way.

  Even as I move about during the night and eventually sprawl out across him, shoving my face into his hair and breathing in deep, dear William doesn’t budge at all. I wonder idly if it’s the laudanum that does that, or if he naturally sleeps like the dead.

  I would gladly waste the day away, just like this. When was the last time I rested so well or comfortably, and without a single nightmare? But come early morning, I begin to stir because the back of my mind is reminding me that I cannot be found here. In fact, I slept far later than I meant to.

  With a displeased sigh, I begin to untangle myself from William to get up. He doesn’t budge, at least not until I rise from the bed and then he makes a soft sound and reaches blindly for me in the newly vacated spot beside him. There’s something so sweet and innocent about that gesture that makes me smile. I smooth a hand over his hair before sliding the rest of the way out of bed. “I’ll see you at breakfast, yes?”

  William only sighs plaintively, curling in on himself to go back to sleep. I bite my lip to keep from chuckling at him.

  I take great care in sneaking back downstairs. The halls are significantly less intimidating in the early morning, and noticeably quieter, save for the stirring of some boys behind closed doors. I make it back to my own room without incident.

  However, the moment I slip inside, Oscar is up off his bed with his eyes wide and fraught with worry.

  “Christ almighty, where have you been?!”

  I startle, though really, I should have expected as much. Poor lad, waking up and finding himself alone. I really ought to have warned him a
nd I hadn’t been thinking beyond wanting to see William. Though it’s still early and I’m feeling half-asleep, so coming up with a good excuse isn’t happening. “Um… With your mum?”

  Oscar frowns deeply. “I don’t care if you want to sneak out at night, but at least let me know so I can make sure I’ve got a cover story for you, yeah?”

  My smile is a sheepish one. “Apologies. It wasn’t planned. I couldn’t sleep.”

  His shoulders relax a little, some of the concern ebbing out of his face. “So, what, you went for a stroll?”

  Lying might be a wiser option; it’s not like I’m not good at it. But, well, if Oscar put his mind to it, he’ll know damned well where I’ve been. “I went to bother William.”

  Oscar blinks, taking a seat back upon his bed. His hair is quite a mess although he looks as though he’s already washed up and gotten mostly dressed for the day. I feel a little bad, wondering how long he’s been up fretting over me.

  I’m also expecting a lecture. Bracing for it, even. But perhaps our previous tense conversations did some good, because Oscar just smiles a little instead. “You really do fancy him, don’t you?”

  From the main building, the bell begins to ring. I suppose that’s my own cue to begin washing up. “Maybe,” I admit, shrugging out of my robe. “He really is quite nice to look at.” Which is glossing over all the other things about William I find quite nice. Like the sound of his voice, the feel of his hands, how utterly brilliant he is about most every subject and the way he likes poetry.

  “He’s all right, I suppose.” Oscar begins to run his hands through his hair to try to make some sense of it. It’s such an off-handed comment, really; it could mean nothing, but it feels like it means something, and I think that something is Oscar’s way of telling me it’s okay to discuss this with him, that he isn’t judging.

  I really do wish hugging were a more acceptable form of affection here, because I would very much like to gather him up and squeeze him tight. “Not as pretty as you, though.”