Claire Keane
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
🪼
blake kathryn
JVL
hello vonnie
Mike Driver
AnasAbdin
noise dept.
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Sade Olutola
Keni
One Nice Bug Per Day
Show & Tell
Monterey Bay Aquarium
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
we're not kids anymore.
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Andulka
DEAR READER
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@charlesthepainter
"Put the knife down."
† —— Sebastian didn’t listen. He didn’t put the knife down. He should, this was sinful, but he had lost control.
Charles raised his hands slowly. “Sebastian… Look at me,” he spoke, trying to get his friend to snap out of this dangerous state he’d gotten himself into. “Please, Sebastian. Put the knife down before anyone gets hurt.”
"How thrilling" - c. 1920s - (Via)
Revisiting Brideshead
† —— ”I would hope so,” Sebastian said, as if he’d expected to see Charles here all along and had taken it into account that he would have Charles here while he died. He had been given nothing over a year and that was generous, they’d said. Don’t expect anything good to happen… Don’t expect remarkable recovery. He’d been through that once, but he’d wasted his health by drinking himself ill once more.
”I do wish you wouldn’t have joined the army, Charles. After what happened to Kurt you must understand I do not think highly of it.”
Charles looked down at the mention of Kurt and he nodded. "I am truly sorry about what happened to him... Cordelia informed me at the time," he explained, although only felt struck by guilt at showing Sebastian that he'd known, yet hadn't done anything to reach out to him. The truth remained that he had never been quite sure where Sebastian was, but that was hardly an excuse.
"It seemed to be my duty," he then spoke, to take the topic away from the past and closer to the present. "I have done my painting, shown what I can do and now... I guess I must serve my country. It seemed like the right thing to do," he spoke. A good way to live with himself, a good way to move on.
Thunderstorm
† —— He was as quick as he could be. He dragged the trousers inside, then felt in the pocket for the corkscrew. He came back trembling, but smiling nonetheless. The fire, Charles and the wine would soon warm him. “Here.” He held out the corkscrew so Charles could do the work.
That he’d be so lucky as to spend a night here with Charles, without them possibly going anywhere.
Charles cheered when Sebastian came back in and quickly made room for him to sit closer by the fire, so he could get warm again. He himself was warm enough now. Even his hair was almost entirely dry. "Get it open!" he said, handing Sebastian the bottle. He couldn't wait to drink. Drinking with Sebastian was one of his favourite things. It was always so lovely.
Revisiting Brideshead
† —— Getting help from Charles was probably more damaging than the trip up the stairs would’ve been without him, as Sebastian felt the sting in his eyes. No tears fell, but he could feel them clearly, as if they should’ve been there, but weren’t by a lack of energy.
He first didn’t dare lean heavily on Charles’ arm, if at all, but the journey, along with the trip up the stairs was wearing him out and soon he found he didn’t have the strength to refrain from the offered help.
”You’re still so kind. No winter seems to freeze you.”
"You're a friend, Sebastian, even if we might not have seemed much like them in the last few years," he spoke. It seemed more than what he had wanted to say and it made his heart ache slightly. There was little he could say to tone down the weight of his words and perhaps he didn't need to. Sebastian would know what he meant, he hoped.
Charles had never really understood loyalty. He had always been way too selfish for that, but he knew this; helping his dying friend, his first friend, up the stairs was loyalty. It was loyalty and care... one that would not disappear, just because the one that should be receiving it did.
They reached the top of the stairs and he turned right, to where his father had stayed. It was a strange place to be and he hadn't visited it yet since, but it was alright. He was visiting it with Sebastian, who hadn't seen the state in which his father had occurred, the state in which he would occur himself in not too long. "I hope I will be able to see you often."
Thunderstorm
† —— He took Charles’ hand and shook it. He didn’t have any doubt that they would keep to their oath or that it was in itself unnecessary to make. It wasn’t a war he feared, it was distance, but he did not want to think of such things while secured in the garden house with Charles all to himself.
”We shall be savages!” Sebastian spoke up, while he sat up to reach for the bottle. It had warmed up since he’d taken it from the windowsill. He handed the bottle to Charles, before he realized he had to get the clothes anyway, to grab the corkscrew from his trousers pockets. “I better be quick.”
Charles chuckled and sat back down as he took the bottle from Sebastian, watching him pace quickly towards the front doors, in which the glass rattled with the strong wind and the loud bangs. "Don't get swallowed up out there," he joked. He looked ever so silly in that blanket draped over him like that, though yet, strangely beautiful.
He eyed the bottle, before watching the fire as he waited for Sebastian to come back.
Revisiting Brideshead
† —— “Is that why you’re here, fighting in the army, when you could’ve been excluded from it all, by giving your true occupation priority?” Sebastian asked, but he did not want an answer. He didn’t really need one. This was far more important than a trivial thought of courage. He did not need Charles to be courageous. He just needed Charles alive.
”I shall have to stay upstairs,” he replied. “I suppose it’s for the best. Further away from the cellar, although I’m quite certain Wilcox will be happy to make the trip for me.”
Charles nodded, though the idea of Sebastian, even like this, still desiring the cellar saddened him. Alcohol was such a wicked thing when offered to the vulnerable in such quantities. "If he isn't, I just might," he spoke. He couldn't change Sebastian now. He was on his deathbed and he didn't have much time. He might as well spend is at pleasantly as he possibly could.
"Let me help you up the stairs," he spoke, moving his hand out to Sebastian's forearm. It would be the first time he'd touched him in so long, after all the times the he'd walked through Oxford arm in arm, only to be laughed at, frown at, to be called sodomites, to be shamed. Those times were long gone, but he still held Sebastian's arm in the same way he had, as he walked towards the stairs.
Thunderstorm
† —— Sebastian smiled. He loved it when Charles finished a thought even before Sebastian had had the time to have it. “Yes, a peaceful one,” he confirmed. The rain on the roof was far louder than the crackling of fire in the fireplace, but the flickering of the fire managed to brighten up the room, regardless of the dark storm outside.
”Let’s swear never to fight,” he said, looking at Charles humorously. He did not believe they would ever fight. It seemed impossible.
”Oh let them ruin!” he spoke out then. “This is far too comfortable to get up for a pair of drenched clothes. They were never my favourite anyway, why do you reckon I was so keen to take them off?”
Charles laughed and nodded. "I swear never to fight with you," he said, holding out his right hand. "An oath."
His eyes went to the bottle, which was when he realised they had no glasses here. They were on the edge of the fountain, getting filled with rain and spilling over, over and over again. Perhaps one had fallen into the fountain, or into the grass. "Will we drink for the bottle, or are there glasses you keep here too?" Charles asked, moving to get up slowly.
Revisiting Brideshead
† —— There were many things that were a waste of time. Sebastian wasn’t sure whether anything he’d ever done in his life could be regarded as anything else. Perhaps that one summer, which wasn’t a waste of time for the very reason of purposely being one. They’d been so happy wasting time that Sebastian might have thought it possible never to do anything in his life without caring much about it; what he left behind. He didn’t have any paintings people could look at, he didn’t have stories or letters he wrote that were of any value. It would be as if he had never been there at all. Such troubles he should leave to atheists or agnostics, but he could not put it out of his mind entirely, not ever. And such was the curse of not fitting in either way.
”I know you were set up to marry Julia,” Sebastian spoke. He had to suck in air again, wait a moment, before continuing. “I know how it ended, how she ended up. Not quite the courage either… We weren’t raised to be brave, just to be good. It’s such a shame we can be neither, don’t you think?” These topics were getting rather too heavy on him and he took another step towards the doors and the hallways that lay ahead. He had already been informed that he would have to seek homage on the second floor, which meant having to walk those endless steps day in day out. He could call for a nurse, but he feared he could receive one as strict as some of the nurses that had treated him in Morocco.
Charles didn't want to respond to Sebastian's words, but that would be the furthest from courageous that he could possibly come. "Yes, that was unfortunate," he responded, so at least he'd spoken of it. He didn't want to speak of the past, nor the future, nor did he want to speak of now. He had settled what had happened as unfortunate events, brightened with love and desire in places, yet always doomed to end in heartbreak and this was the biggest opportunity he'd had to move on from all of that. He had forgiven all that had hurt him and hoped they'd forgiven him too in turn. It was a thought that had come to be after realising he would never lay eyes on any of the Flytes again, and yet here Sebastian was, the first Flyte he'd fallen for.
"I don't think anyone is as brave or as good as they like to think they are," he stated simply, while turning towards Sebastian where he entered the mansion. "I don't think many people are anything like what they think they are," he added, but it was something of a whole other philosophy and not something you could talk about upon a meeting like this. "Are you staying upstairs?"
Thunderstorm
† —— Sebastian smiled at the sight of Charles and thought that if he were to ever paint anything — not that he possessed the talent — he’d rather like to capture this sight. It was one of the best ones so far.
He moved down to the ground and then lied, attempting to find the warmest trail of air coming from the fire. Outside the storm was raging and the lightning and thunder now followed each other swiftly. “It sounds like a war.”
"The first peaceful one," he stated, eyes blurring as they stared into the fire, before turning them to Sebastian to give him a smile. "I quite like storms. I like the noise of them. A natural violence, the only ones not inflicted by people." He liked that idea a lot, for he hated violence and arguments. He hated the entire idea of picking fights for the sole purpose of not getting along. So many people didn't. It wasn't worth a fight.
"We should take in our clothes soon, hang them up to dry, before they ruin."
Revisiting Brideshead
† —— Sebastian sucked in some air. It wasn’t something he usually did, but it was a means of getting rid of the strong emotions, before they made it too plainly across his features. He didn’t need Charles to know just yet. There would be time for that later, perhaps on an evening, if they were ever lucky enough to share another one of those.
”There are good and bad days,” Sebastian replied, which said very little. It was the thing people always said, to both get sympathy and give reassurance. “The bad days I usually spend in bed unconscious and the good…” He left the sentence unfinished.
He didn’t look at Charles, but rather kept his gaze on the worn ground, that now carried dozens of footsteps, instead of the couple that Sebastian would find familiar, even if he could never be sure which ones were his or which ones were Julia’s, or their mother’s. Bridy’s he could always tell, they were the biggest ones. Charles’ only fell a bit short of those.
”I should think you yourself have a lot of good and bad days,” he replied, to further diminish what he had said. “I pray for you every day still, although it must be something you hate to hear.”
He hadn't wanted to hear Sebastian's latter words. They sickened him, saddened him. They were unnecessary and they showed that, despite all Sebastian had gone through, he was still the same, sorry person he had always been, begging God for forgiveness. It wasn't his fault and Charles knew that. Charles knew that it had never been Julia's either, but that didn't mean that he could live with her, knowing that that was who she was, even if, truly, she wasn't.
"Don't. It's a waste of time," he stated bluntly, not looking at Sebastian as he said so. There were many things they left unspoken between the two of them, and that had always been for the better... but there was urgency, now Sebastian was dying and the truth told him that there would be no other time to speak the words he perhaps wanted to speak to him. "What good and bad days do you think I have?" It sounded far from kind, but not quite bitter. It wasn't a tone that suited him well, but he wasn't good at handling the confrontation of religion, not since turning his back on Julia and what his life at that point had supposed to be. All religion had ever done was disappoint him and that was all it would do, right until his last breath.
Thunderstorm
† —— Sebastian wrapped the blanket around himself in an almost roman fashion and he chuckled, while looking down at himself. At the mention of wine, he eyed Charles for a moment, happily, before he set off on his quest. They’d dispatched wine in every corner of the garden, so there would always be a bottle nearby. Therefore he had no doubts that he’d find a good bottle or two.
He returned to a warming and brightened room. “Put this near the fire,” he spoke, holding out a bottle of red that had gone as cold as the window it had stood in. “It’ll be no good to us like this.”
Charles reached out and took it, placing it near the fire, where it warmed just like himself. It was nice, drying by the fire and as the warmth was so comfortable, he had settled there. The droplets had almost all disappeared from his body, which was almost fully exposed as he lay on the ground with the blanket draped over his crotch.
"Join me," he stated. Sebastian must still be wet and cold and it was nice here. He knew Sebastian never liked being cold, he was too skinny for that to start off with.
Revisiting Brideshead
† —— Sebastian wasn’t sure at first what Charles was speaking of and only when Charles looked at the mansion, rather than him, did Sebastian realize he did not speak of whatever was left between them. Perhaps it was good of him not to ask any questions, but Sebastian would’ve rather liked it if he had been as blunt.
”I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “It looks exactly like what it has always been. It’s better this way,” he replied. Charles had always liked Brideshead’s architecture and its gardens and Sebastian had understood why, but he’d never felt inclined to honour the place with whatever gratification he should feel for it being his. It wasn’t his. It was Julia’s, after it had been his father’s, but neither one of them were here and he was certain Julia wouldn’t return until after his death. She couldn’t spare the time, no matter how her good heart might want her to.
”Don’t injure yourself or die, Charles.” He looked at the uniform his friend was wearing. It suited him well, but it still looked odd and wrong. Charles was an artist, not a soldier. “I won’t be able to look after your wounds and I’m not sure anyone else would be able to keep up with you, even when run down.”
Charles had to smile a little at Sebastian's words and he looked over the gardens, watching the soldiers make their way across them. Once, they had been empty. Once they had been his and Sebastian's for an entire summer. But that was once, not now. Perhaps he should never have gone with them to Venice.
"I will do my best," he replied to Sebastian's kind words. They weren't any different to words he would have spoken when they still were friends... or... whatever they had been. The only difference was the tone, which said everything he needed to know about Sebastian and what he'd been through. Too much, was the answer. Sebastian had always been through too much.
"I suppose you have come here for the same reasons as your father?" It was a retorical question and the words sounded like their beared no heavy factor at all, but Charles did feel it. There was a difference between having shared something with someone who now did other things, and having shared something with someone would be, at that point, dead. He didn't like the sound of it at all, and yet there hadn't been anything he could have done about it. There never had been. "How are you feeling?" he questioned. Perhaps he should know that first.
Thunderstorm
† —— Sebastian followed suit, though did not care for being exposed. Whoever would look out of Brideshead’s windows now wouldn’t see past the rain. And Charles had seen him on so many occasions that he would probably not look up if it wasn’t by accident.
Sebastian laughed some more, as they walked. This was rather ridiculous, but Sebastian was enjoying himself regardless of the cold wind and the horrendous rainfall. This was exactly what he seemed to have needed all week. Something to separate Charles and him from the rest of the world. Unheard, unseen, locked in a garden house, keeping warm near a fire, where no one could reach them.
It took them only a minute or so to reach the garden house, where he dropped the towel and the wet clothes onto the patio and opened the doors. It was cold here, but at least it was dry. It smelled of a rainy summer, which was exactly what it was and that was perfect.
They had no towels here, and so he reached for one of the blankets, which he wrapped around his shoulders, before taking one and holding it out to Sebastian. "Look for some wine, I'll get the fire started," he spoke, taking a box of matches and lighting the old coal in the bottom, before resting a few of the thinner logs on top. He poked at them, until just the right amount of air came to the smoldering coals and slowly, the logs set fire too and he rested a larger one on top. That would keep it going for a while.
Revisiting Brideshead
† —— It looked nothing like the house he’d grown up in and spend summers in after moving to Oxford. It looked nothing at all like a habitable house at all. It reminded him of Germany, if only because that was where he’d seen such men last; soldiers.
He was a fool for returning, but he’d read in letters it was what his father had done, so he thought perhaps he should come home to die too, however young he was. He did not feel young. He had not felt young for a very long time. The last time, he remembered, it had been at the fountain, with Charles and an endless supply of wine and champagne, before those bottles had become the very devils and the sin he could not rid himself of, no matter how he prayed. He had become those devils.
The walk wasn’t as long as he remembered it to be, yet he was breathless upon reaching the front door. He’d shaved for the occasion, despite unsure what the occasion might be. It might not be anything. Another disappointment to outshine the last. But then —
” — Charles.” Oh…
It was strange to walk through Brideshead as if it had only ever been this place. There were traces of what it had once looked like, the statues, -- he could remember it now, looking upon them for the first time -- the paintings, his paintings, the fountain... It wasn't a base for soldiers, it was a home. Well, once it was a home.
He spoke not a word of the time he'd spent in these hallways. Others only knew he'd been familiar with the people that lived here, but nothing more. When he'd said goodbye to Julia, he'd said goodbye to everything that had any bond to his time here at Brideshead, only to be brought back for other reasons entirely. Nothing had to do with summer or fruit or wine or love. It was war, and making the best of it.
Morning had come early that day and when only half the day had passed, it had felt like a whole one. He would meet someone for lunch near the fountain, someone that wasn't special to him at all, they just seemed to get along, as you did in the army. What he saw, however, when leaving the megalomane front doors was not something he'd expected to see. It seemed like a flash of the past he caught in the corner of his eye, but it was far too real for that and he stopped in his footsteps to turn to Sebastian Flyte. "Quite different now, isn't it?" He cast his eyes upon the building, before looking upon Sebastian once more. Even without the news of Sebastian dying a few months prior, he would have been able to tell.
Thunderstorm
† —— Sebastian followed Charles’ example and he climbed onto the edge of the fountain. It was hellishly cold, but with laughter he tried to forget about the discomfort and rather make their unfortunate situation a little more pleasant.
”That’s not going to do us any good, Charles,” he spoke about the towels, which were as drenched as they were themselves. He took his own, thought that putting the wet material around himself would only make him feel more cold. “Come,” he spoke, looking up into the sky as it flashed bright white and purple. It was a matter of seconds now, before the bang followed and the storm was worsening quickly.
"I know! But we can't have ourselves exposed now, can we?" he asked, though laughed at the foolishness of their situation. It was rather ridiculous. It would never have happened to him if he hadn't met Sebastian. He saw that as a good thing, definitely.
With the towel covering him up, he began to run, while transporting their clothes too, so they wouldn't get ruined by the mud. "Come, let's run," he said, ducking down instinctively at the loud crack that sounded in the air. The rain almost hurt his skin, it was raining to hard.
He set off, making sure Sebastian was coming too, heading for the garden house which was still at least fifty yards away still.
Thunderstorm
† —— Sebastian wasn’t disappointed and laughed along when Charles did. He was curious what Charles would ask of him, but before he could inquire, lightning light up the garden and they were reminded of the closing threat.
”I never doubted you,” Sebastian spoke, after catching up with Charles.
Charles chuckled and waited for the bang. "I will ask something of you, but before I do, I think it is wise we leave the water now and get inside," he spoke, swimming towards the edge of the fountain, where his hands gripped around the edge and he pulled himself up.
The cold air hit his naked body immediately and he shivered, jumping off the edge into the wet grass, before wrapping his towel around him, which was drenched through like his clothes. It would do. They'd get to the garden house soon and dry up by the fire. They'd seen one another nude many times before.
