sunburned | (no subject)

Granby's absence had been worrying, extremely worrying, yet Laurence did not know what he was to do about it. He knew from past experience that when the other man took it into his head to be difficult, he did so with a single-mindedness of purpose that might have been admirable were it turned to more agreeable things. All that Laurence could do in the face of that was wait.

When Granby appeared in the door, he was inside trying to effect a repair to a difficult section of roof, an activity that he put aside at the sight of the other msn, his face betraying some of the anxiety he had felt. "Granby."

"You're keeping well?" says Granby, his tone light and hollow even to his own ears. He sets down the small bag that he's been carrying and studies Laurence for a moment, jaw tight.

"I've been an insufferable coward, Laurence. I'm sorry."

"I did not seek you out. For that I will share the blame," Laurence said. He had known at the time that Granby required some time on his own and would likely not have appreciated an interruption, but, now that he was faced with him once more, Laurence naturally held himself accountable. It was a particular failing of his and one that Granby doubtless knew all too well. "I am keeping well, though," he continued, throwing a quick glance was thrown towards Granby's bag, and wondering if he was returned to stay. He could only hope so. "And you?"

"No blame, Will," he said, quietly. "Icahn see why you'd want to avoid me. And..." he followed the line of Laurence's eye down to the bag on the floor. "A few things, only. I didn't want to leave clutter in Julie's corners."

He perches against the edge of the table and studied The palm of his hand for a long moment. "I know what we said, Laurence, but...we really need to tak about it, don't we. If it's not to fester, I mean."

Laurence nodded in agreement, though it was obvious that he had no great desire to discuss the events of that night in detail. Yet if Granby truly wished it, he would try to hold a discussion. Every fiber of his being, though, cried out against it. He was a Laurence and he had been raised to believe that certain things simply were not to talked of, with feelings chief among them especially when of such an impolite nature. "If you sincerely think that it will help, I can see no reason not to."

Actually, he could think of many reasons and, if he had his way, he might have gone for an unknown period of time pretending that nothing had happened at all.

"I can see every reason not to, and yet, I still think we should," he says, mouth tight and his expression bleak. He tugs at his jaw, rubbing his fingers over stubbled skin

"I have a horror that...things are irrevocably changed between us, Will."

"I--" He stood silent, the words he might have said dead and useless on his tongue, for he too feared that precisely such a thing had happened. But how he was to express his thoughts on that (and so many other things) to Granby remained a mystery. "I truly hope they have not."

"How can they not have, Will?" asks Granby, looking up again, blue eyes filled with emotion that he's having a hard time holding in check. He drags in a shuddering breath.

"With..." He shakes his head. "I should never have asked you, Will. I'm sorry, for that. I will never be able to truly convey how sorry. You...I'm so grateful, but it isn't a choice you should have had to make. Not on my account."

It all comes out in a rush and, when it's done, Granby sits, flushed and miserable.

"I would not have denied a friend in need." He stared uncertainly at Granby's shoulder for an overlong moment, wondering if he ought to reach out and clasp it, but uncomfortably unsure of how such a once routine gesture might be perceived. Even a week after the fact, the world still insisted on being out of balance. "It was-- It does not in anyway change my opinion of you, John."

"I'm glad of that," says Granby, nodding his head, head bent. "Truly. But I still shouldn't have asked you, Will. I'd have lived without. But I wish..."

He swallows, not honestly wanting to say what else in his heart but also not knowing if he could leave it unsaid.

His eyelashes flutter, eyes closed, because that's easier. "I wish I could stop thinking of it, Will. For even a moment or two together."

"Oh." Laurence did cross over at that to lay his hand on Granby's shoulder, the friendship he felt strong enough to cross the gulf that seemed to have opened between them. "I am afraid I do not know a remedy for that. But perhaps if we only give it time..."

That contact, more than he's had in weeks is almost too much to bear. He lets his head drop and every fibre of his being goes into not leaning into that touch.

"What if I..." He frowns. "What if I don't wish to give it time? What if...that's the last thing on my mind?"

"Then, I do not know, John," Laurence replied, feeling almost helpless again. One divide might have been bridged, but another one was now fit to begin looming at his feet and he did not know what he was to do. "I do not know what you wish me to say."

With his good hand, he reaches up, curling his finger around Laurence's wrist, holding on. When he manages to speak again, his is raw.

"I can't help it, Will. You're..." He swallows. "It's all I think about. And, Jesus, I hate myself for it, but it's true."

Laurence truly did not know how Granby wanted him to reply. In fact, he did not know if Granby even wanted him to reply at all. Perhaps he only wanted silence and someone to unburden his thoughts to. The notion made sense to Laurence, enough sense to stifle the small part of him that wanted to simply leave and refuse to hear what the other man was saying. Instead, he let the hand on Granby's shoulder squeeze gently as he kept his silence.

The fact that Laurence doesn't pull away is a blessing but it doesn't relax Granby, not yet. He drags a breath in, squeezing Laurence's wrist gently.

"I have tried to...put it out of my mind entirely. And I know that I said we'd never speak of it. But..." He shakes his head. "You, Will. I can't..." He closes his eyes again. "I'll understand if you tell me to go and never come back. I'm sure Julie will have me. And...I can live with it, I promise. Put it down as...as a wound. What's another scar?"

"Good Lord, man," Laurence said, finally breaking his contact with Granby so that he might face him fully. The idea might have been laughable at another time, but not then. "Do you really think me so changeable and hardhearted that I would renounce our friendship?"

"Is that really what you're hearing? Jesus, Laurence - you're the most willfully ignorant person I've ever set eyes on, when it suits you." He opens his eyes, looking Laurence full in the face. "Ask me why. Ask me why you might want to send me away."

"Why might I want to send you away, then?" Laurence asked, though the words were forced and it was clear from his expression that he already thought he knew the answer he would receive.

"Because I want you, Will," he snaps, standing his ground, angry colour burning in his cheeks. "Because I will want you. And that is likely more than you can bear."

He shrugged and then he looked away. "And why would you?"

Laurence was silent throughout Granby's outburst, waiting until it was entirely over before speaking. "I think I may be able to bear more than you believe, John. I would not renounce our friendship over such a thing. Would you?"

"I wouldn't renounce our friendship over anything," he says, quietening somewhat. "I would not lose you for the world, but..."

He swallows and then steps in, crowding into Laurence's space a little. "You must see what this is, Will. You cannot possibly be that...naive."

"Please remember that I was a Naval man for most of my life, Granby," Laurence said, standing his ground as the other man moved towards him, every fibre of his being the picture of an unyielding gentleman officer. "Naivety of any kind does not last long in a midshipman's berth."

"But I've said it, Will," he says, quietly, and he's never been as good a gentleman as Laurence. He's never been as unyielding. "Said I want you. It was easier before, before I'd had..." He blinks. "This is not Midshipmen."

"I am well aware of that." Only half-conscious that he was doing so, Laurence had been steadily retreating behind the facade he usually pulled on when caught off his guard. He was proper, he was polite, he was stiff as a poker, and it came so naturally that he barely noticed. For Granby and his confession had caught him very off guard. "I was merely using it as an example."