A shadow

In the shape of a man. Nathaniel Gray, heir to a fortune and soon to be married.

[samuelrybakov]

Samuel smiled, but it seemed to dig into the sides of his mouth as his lips turned up, faking the emotions he couldn’t feel. Every word said seemed to dig deeper and deeper, turning him from the man he had been in the moments before he had came across Nathaniel, and twisting him into something much worse, so much worse… That was the way it had always been. Whenever he was around Nathaniel, he turned into someone he couldn’t even recognise; a Samuel that was just as menacing and cold as his companion.

No more, he thought.

“I am sure you will see much of him,” He replied, keeping his eyes fixated on Nathaniel’s. His friend had always been difficult to read; hat was here the allure lay, it seemed. Everyone wanted to be the one to figure him out, to be the one. The singular figure who could proudly say they knew Nathaniel like no other. Samuel once thought he could be that one, too. “I will be returning home often, back into the fold, as if nothing has changed.” He smiled once more, but all he felt was venom at the back of his throat.

At the mention of the Western Front, Samuel could not help but perk up slightly, looking at his old friend with renewed interest. “I offer you condolences, my friend…I cannot imagine what horrors you must have seen.” And of course, that was where Samuel always fell down. His sincerity, his humanity, had always been his largest weakness.

“Clara?” The word came out soft, as his head swam with the thoughts and memories of years previously. He had always liked Clara, had always seen as her as something unattainable…she was so beautiful, so pure…and he had always hoped to one day come home, and tell her exactly how he felt about her…

And of course, Nathaniel had stepped in. Surely he couldn’t have known, Samuel had kept his burgeoning feelings so well hidden; it wasn’t love, necessarily. Just an infatuation, and yet another thing he had taken. “I…I am happy for you, Nathaniel. You deserve such happiness in your life, and I am sure you will make a perfect husband.” The words caught on his throat, but he forced them out. “I wish you both a long and happy life together.”

[nathanielsshadow]

He kept the eye contact. There was something downright terrifying about the thought: Samuel at the Kingsley home - glaring from afar; Samuel at his wedding - all blood and reprehension in a day of spotless white; Samuel at his funeral – tainting his memory with sour comments and suggestions. Samuel, Samuel, Samuel, until the very word brought bile to his throat.

“I’m very happy to hear that…” Had there been a flaw? A crack in his voice, a glint in his eye? Ordinary people tended to overestimate them. No, Nathaniel told himself, there was surely nothing sinister to be found in his eyes. They were only blue. It was his attempt at a smile that worried him – too wide, too sharp, too revealing for someone who had seen as much as Samuel.

He had to bite down his grin, nodding in a solemn manner when the conversation touched on the topic of war. His expression was appropriately pained, but he took another drag of the cigarette to add to its authenticity. The role of the soldier suited Nathaniel like no other. He would have bragged, in their youth, imitated those meaningless words and forced expressions for Samuel’s amusement. Perhaps he would have even kept talking, pushing, always a little short of satisfied until there was a faint hint of disgust in his friend’s eyes.

And then he mentioned Clara, in that note of soft admiration she was so often evoked in. It made Nathaniel the slightest bit resentful – it had been his pain they had been discussing. Her perfume hovered over their conversation with its sickening quaintness, tainting his friend, usurping a moment that was meant to be his. And yet- was it a hint of vulnerability that he spotted?

“Thank you, Samuel. It means the world to hear you say that - after all these years.” He would be happy. Clara might grow to be as well, if she had half a brain. And when Nathaniel thought of her, he couldn’t keep himself from poking further at the bruise he seemed to have been able to uncover. “I’ll be sure to let the Kingsleys know you’re in town. They are such lovely people and I’m sure Clara would be delighted to see you.”

[samuelrybakov]

Samuel took some pride in the way he had managed to get under his companions skin; usually it was the other way around, and in a selfish way, he felt like it was retribution for the many times Nathaniel had done the same to him over the years, even when they were children and he could laugh it off. But those days were gone and now there was nothing but tainted memories and the ghost of happiness surrounding them.

There was no denying the way his mouth involuntarily turned upwards into an unmistakable smirk, though, seeing the way Nathaniel’s face dropped. Samuel wanted him to always feel like that, to always remember what he had done and how he would spend the rest of his life paying for that incident. He knew for a fact that was what he was thinking of, seeing the colour drain from his cheeks. There never would be a time, Samuel knew, where he would tired of seeing that.

He nodded in retaliation to his polite statement, taking note of the way his gaze dropped and the tone in his voice seemed to indicate that the same could not be said of him. Samuel had not heard much of what his former friend had gotten up to during that time, mostly because he was too consumed with rage to be able to, but at some point it had seemed Nathaniel had dropped from the face of the Earth. 

However, it was more likely that his family had instead erased him from their lives and memories; Samuel felt a pang of guilt, knowing he was the one who had brought him into their lives.

Looking back as he heard the man begin speaking again, Samuel took another drag of his cigarette before replying, letting his mind take in the smoke swirling around him. “I spent some time in England, but before that I stayed with many different people in France, Italy, Russia…” He trailed off, his own memories of the difficult time travelling catching up. “I learned much of the world, far more than I had ever dreamed of.” His eyebrow rose as he surveyed Nathaniel once more, hearing the edge of his voice. Deciding to test his boundaries, he added, “And you? What have you been up to? You must forgive me for not asking sooner. You see, you all but disappeared in my eyes. I nearly forgot you even existed.” A fine chance, he added internally. Perhaps then he could quell the raging monster inside him.

[nathanielsshadow]

Another polite acquiescence would have been testing the limits of courtesy and risking it to be taken for the sarcasm it truly was. Nathaniel smiled once again, as he always did when unsure of the wisest option. Allowing Samuel to have gotten under his skin struck him as a beginner’s mistake, something the last few years of his life should have made him invulnerable to.

It wasn’t guilt that plagued him when he thought of the girl. No, he would have defined it as something much simpler. Shame, disgust, fear, all those tedious things religious indoctrination had failed to teach him as a child.

When Samuel spoke, he listened more attentively than he let on, scrutinizing rather than paying attention, allowing every single word to add to his resent. France, Italy, Russia. His mind had lingered on the first country, trying to dismiss his paranoia with the unlikelihood of their time or particular location having coincided. He meant nothing, he told himself, his return meant nothing.

“Well, I look forward to meeting this new travelled man you’ve become.” To an outsider, it might have looked like a  sincere statement. Good humored, followed by a seemingly genuine laugh. But there was nothing but hollowness to it, something he would have told a stranger rather than an old friend.

His smile didn’t falter when Samuel confessed the lack of thought he had dedicated to him. On the contrary, it widened to a frightening extent that made the façade of honesty much less convincing.

“I was in the Western front for two years.” He lowered his head then, pretending to contemplate painful memories as he so often did. But it was his hatred that he dwelled upon. Who the fuck did the bastard think he was? “It…Well, I’m fortunate to say that New York has been treating me well these days. I’m engaged.” Nathaniel paused to look down once again, faking the loving look he did whenever he spoke of his bride to be. “Clara. The Kingsley girl. Surely you remember her…Freckled little thing, blonde?”

[samuelrybakov]

Samuel felt his eyes narrow and his jaw clench as his old friend dared to mention the one person who he still could not face since returning to the city. He had gone to see his parents, ever supportive of him, and his two brothers, but could not go through the pure agony of trudging his way to the small apartment where he would have to face his sister. The one person he was bound to protect, and the person he had failed by. Samuel tried to keep his expression devoid of emotion, but eventually it became too much.

“Who exactly would she be, I ask?” He replied, his own lips turning into a fake smile. He would play this game now, the game that Nathaniel had been playing since birth — manipulation, deception…Samuel had once enjoyed watching him play their opponents and adult figures like violins, until he realised that he was now the puppet being strung along.

Bringing the cigar to his mouth for another puff, he kept his eyes trained on a spot behind Nathaniel’s head. To say that he was brimming with emotion would be quite the understatement, considering the last time they had spoken was surrounded by blood and broken bones and cries of— no, he thought. Things were different now. He hadn’t been able to protect her then, but he could protect her now, now that he was older and wiser and wasn’t under whatever spell the man had cast over him so long ago. It was almost startling, to be standing here and seeing him in this new light, without the mask of friendship and brotherly affection clouding his view. It frightened him slightly to see the creature in front of him.

“I admit,” Samuel began, looking down at the ground to stop himself from letting his emotions get the better of him. He had always wore his heart on his sleeve, as Nathaniel had teased him for mercilessly. “I did not plan on coming back here ever again. Europe was good to me, and I learned a lot there. I could’ve spent the rest of my life there, in fact.”

He looked up again, catching the way the moonlight outlined his companion’s hat, casting a slightly sinister look over the exposed side of his face. “However, I had to see my family again, and considering this bloody war we’re in, no time seemed better than the present.” The English phrase slipped out easily, influenced by the time he had spent in London the year previously.

[nathanielsshadow]

One word, and Nathaniel wasn’t smiling anymore. He was baring his teeth.  Her blood had flowed down the water with ease, only staining the porcelain in a faint pink before disappearing altogether. And he would forget her sometimes, just as he had forgotten many of the unfortunate things he had caused. He would pretend to, at least. And it would be enough.

“Well- Lady Destiny of course. Our reunion can only have been her doing.” This Lady Destiny had hollow eyes, lying in a white bed... The image made his skin crawl.  But he had perfected the art of covering disgust with false amusement. It might hurt Samuel, and Nathaniel would like that. He’d always hate him for leaving.

The light of his cigarette was almost nonexistent, put out by the nocturnal breeze and his own distraction. He brought it to his lips out of habit, scowling at the unpleasant taste an entire night of smoking had left in his mouth.

“I’m glad.” It was a polite statement, but not sincere one. Europe had not been good to Nathaniel. The year spent in the army had been enough to erase any good memories he held about the entire continent. Knowing that his only other option would have been to die of a fever somewhere in Japan had brought him little comfort. If anything, he was thankful for how easily his busted leg could pass for a combat injury. Wounded veterans were far more popular than men who couldn’t pay their debts.

When he laughed, it came out far too bitter. Perhaps laughing wouldn’t have been a good idea in the first place, but the English term had amused him and Nathaniel had once been used to laughing with Samuel. He covered the misstep with a somber expression, the one of the weary soldier he had practiced to impress the ladies in Clara’s circle and signaled the leg he clearly couldn’t put his weight into.  “Yes. The war has – changed us all. Did you spend all your time in England, or did you get the chance to visit other places?” There was a subtle hint of judgment in his voice, a little payback for daring to mention his family.

[samuelrybakov]

The shining lights hanging over the streets of Manhattan were a welcome sight by Samuel as he pushed his way through the throng of people on the sidewalk. He had only been back in the city for a few hours at most, having arrived by boat that morning with a number of immigrants looking for new lives; he, however, was returning to the place of a million memories. However, things were clearly different now. The war had taken its toll on New York in ways he had not imagined it would; while the skyscrapers largely remained intact, it was the general atmosphere that had changed. People seemed more afraid, their shoulders hunched as they walked quickly from destination to destination. It was clear the imminent threat of bombings that had plagued Britain had fed into the fear of the public.

Samuel, however, could not help but feel slightly euphoric as he strolled past the Manhattan Company Building, taken in the beauty that had never seemed to fade in the three years he had left. In a sense, it was like stepping back into an old photograph and feeling he did not fit there anymore. Too much had changed.

The sky was now a dark cape stretching over the city, and Samuel began to make the long walk home. He had still not had the chance to unpack, due to his wanting to see his home city once more. Sighing, he chose to stop for a cigar break, turning into a dark alleyway to avoid being pushed by more people — despite having lived there since birth, Samuel had nearly forgotten how ruthless New York civilians could be. He could not see anything in the darkness, but through sense could make out his cigars, pulling them out only to realise he could not find a lighter. As he was about to give up, he heard a match being lit and being brought to light the cigar currently in his mouth.

As Samuel looked up to politely thank the man in question, his eyes widened to see his helper. Only the outlines of his face were shown by the light of the flame, inches away from both of them. Samuel kept his eyes trained on the familiar stranger, taking a moment to puff on his cigar before leaning against the wall of the building behind him, contemplating. After a moment of deliberation, he said, “What a fine thing seeing you here. I suppose Lady Destiny may have been on my shoulder tonight.”

[nathanielsshadow]

The overwhelming sweetness of Clara’s perfume, as invasive and bright as the woman herself, had clung to his clothes. His face had gone numb from the kisses of old women and the cigarettes he’d shared with their husbands. There had been whispers of cousin Jasper’s terrible disfigurement, of young Miss Comstock’s charity work in the local hospital, of dresses and churches and happiness to come. And when they were done, Nathaniel felt as he always did after those occasions. As if he had been carved up and served for their amusement. He felt drained but sharp and powerful.

Women would never ask him about his leg after dark. They would hurry past him on the way home, avoiding beggars and well dressed strangers with the same conviction. There was never a smile or a polite word to spare, nothing but indifference and fear. In a way, Nathaniel resented the lack of the reverence he had grown accustomed to. But he treasured it too, the disdain that characterized all the great cities. Because not a single one did quite like his New York.

Nathaniel had travelled in his youth, as all men of his station should. He had even worn other names when it had suited him. But there had never been a doubt in his mind. He belonged where his antecessors had belonged, in that cruel city, as their heir to the Gray name.

It took him a while to notice the stranger. He was barely more than a shadow at first, hidden too far into the alley for it to be wise to approach him. And yet, the resemblance to Samuel was striking. Nathaniel limped over to light his cigarette, hoping to start a conversation before the clarity of the smoker’s voice and features shattered his illusion. His jaw tightened, and it took him a while to regain his composure.

“Was it she that brought you to New York?” He tried to speak in a pleasant tone, faking the usual smile that never quite reached his eyes. It didn’t work, and he tried to cover the oddness of his mannerisms with a cigarette of his own. “I must admit - I thought I’d never see you again.”