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laurence

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It's been bearable, at least. He finds himself more or less existing between two worlds - there is a very narrow line that he appears to be walking, and it is entirely one of his own design. Still, things cannot be hurried, especially where William Laurence is concerned, and so Granby has endeavoured to find his peace in the middle of them all.

He draws a lot. Pages and pages in his sketchbook fill up with Laurence and with Julie and with all things in between.
He finds his usual spot out on the porch. He likes to be within sight of the sea.

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"Hello, John," Laurence said, placing a cup of tea at the other man's side (in the position most easily reached with his one hand) before moving to sit next to him. Once seated he was silent, drinking his own tea and thinking as he looked out over the scenery.

The tea is one of his favourite things, honestly - it indicates that, in a small, vital way, things have not slipped too far. It's probably as close to romance as Laurence will ever come; there might not be constant declarations of love but at least there will always be tea, made exactly the way that Granby would prefer.

"Hello, Will," he says, glancing across, letting his eyes linger on Laurence's profile. "How goes it?"

"Well enough," Laurence replied, his voice and expression rather distant. He had been thinking too much and too hard of late, and, though he would not let it adversely effect his daily activities, in such personal moments a somewhat melancholic and strained aspect overcame him. This was very much one such time. "And you?"

"Fine, fine," he says. He shifts, still watching Laurence, setting down his pencil to reach for his tea. "I don't have one," he says. "But I'd give you a copper for your thoughts if I did."

A small smile quirked at the corners of Laurence's mouth at that statement. John Granby had a distinct talent for pulling him from his thoughts and he appreciated it immensely. "I doubt you would find them particularly enlightening. They are rather dreary."

"Dreary?" asks John, eyebrow quirking. "Do I even want to know?" He sets down his tea and leans across to graze the back of Laurence's hand with his fingers. "You know I'll hear whatever you have to say, Ŵill."

"I know, John, I know."

Laurence sighed. He glanced down at Granby's hand, ashamed of how quickly a blush sprang up on his face at so small a moment of contact. "It is only-- I do not wish to disappoint--"

"Ah," he says, and it's the blush that makes him take highs hand back, not anything else between them. "You've decided then?"

"No. Which I fear must be disappointing in and of itself. I know how you dislike this waiting, but it is necessary." The removal of Granby's hand was anticipated, but nonetheless not entirely appreciated. Yet Laurence's face did not show this small disappointment much.

Edited 2013-03-04 16:53 (UTC)

"You never disappoint me." He's gone back to drawing, idly finishing a sketch of Laurence himself, working on the drape of a sleeve. He glances up again, chewing on the end of he pencil.

"How far have you gotten?"

"I cannot think of it like that. There is not some grand tactical plan to my thinking, John. I cannot give you my progress." Laurence rubbed a tired hand over his eyes. "My thoughts on the issue have been looping and doubling back on themselves with such constancy that even I hardly know what they are at the moment."

Edited 2013-03-04 19:28 (UTC)

Granby sighs, sincerely sorry to be the cause of that expression on Laurence's face. He's well aware of how disturbed Laurence's sleep has been of late.

"Might it help to talk through your thoughts, such as they are?" he asks. "In no particular order, but to get them out?"

Laurence sounded very tired as he spoke. "I would not ask you to do that. To sit there and listen to me speak, saying any foolish thing that comes into my head on the issue. For you likely would think some of them very foolish."

That draws forth a small sound of frustration. Granby rolls his eyes eloquently and then sets down pencil and sketchbook altogether, retrieving his tea and turning his full attention onto Laurence.

"You know better than than, Will," he says. "Try me."

Granby looked so earnest sitting there as he waited for him to talk, that Laurence found he did not know where to begin with such an endeavor. He had been granted the freedom to say whatever he pleased, but now that leave had been given he found himself not knowing quite what to do with it. "I-- I do not know what you wish me to say."

"I thought the whole purpose of the exercise was for you to unburden yourself, Laurence," points out Granby, dryly. "You know what I think."

Laurence sighed heavily. He looked down at his hands, ashamed, but finding it easier to speak to Granby if he was not looking directly at him. "I feel-- I feel that things appear to be moving rather more quickly than I am comfortable with."

"I did rather get that impression," says Granby, gently, eyes on Laurence even if Laurence can't quite look at him. "Nobody's holding that against you, Will."

"I know." Laurence still was not capable of looking Granby entirely in the face, settling for staring hard at his tea cup instead. It was cowardly and he knew it and it only made his face color more. "But surely you and Julie must be disappointed. You decided so quickly for yourselves."

"Me and Julie can wait," he says. He takes a sip of his own tea, weighing something over for a moment. "I meant it when I said I'd do nothing without you, Will."

"Yes. Yet I would not want to stand accused of holding you back, John." He might never tell the other man, but that was sometimes how he felt. There was Granby, suddenly wanting to have the sort of congress the Lord had intended for him, while Laurence held him back from such a thing. Laurence did not often trouble himself overmuch with religious matters, but recently they ate at him.

"Who's going to accuse you of that? Me? Julie?" He shakes his head, turning the cup between his fingers on the table. "It is not like I suddenly...became a new person over night, Will. One incapable of self-control. One who..." Now it's his turn to glance down. "One who loves you any less."

Laurence took a long drink of his tea, thinking. Even Granby looked uncomfortable now and he found himself hating the situation even more. "I do not wish to see you held back from something solely through my indecision, John."

"So make a bloody decision, Will," he says, tone sharp, for a moment, but his face colours immediately and he sets down his cup, holding up his hand in apology. "I'm sorry, Will. I am. But it's the to-ing and fro-ing. And you look so bloody sad."

"I love you, John Granby. And I would not see you unhappy." Laurence's words were simple and his face was set. "But to do it in my own way I must puzzle this thing through in my own time. It takes time and patience to set a proper course."

The tea was one thing - since they began this, Granby had never doubted that Laurence loved him, but he'd also known not to expect to actually hear it too often.

It's enough to give him pause and it's a long moment before he speaks again.

"Not every time, William Laurence. Not all the time. Maybe if you're the Captain of a ship, but you've also been the Captain of a dragon, man, so you know the speed at which the heart decides."

"Yes, I know." He nodded. He was looking Granby full in the face again, glad for the sudden surge of feeling that had allowed him to do so. "Nonetheless. Time, if you please. I must know how this is to work if I am to commit."

"How this is to work?" he questions, eyebrows raised. "And how will you puzzle that through alone, then?"

Laurence frowned, not pleased to have his request treated in such a manner by Granby when he was being completely serious. "I will, John. Nevermind the how."

"Correct me if I'm wrong," he says, reaching for his cup again, "but if an arrangement is to be reached between three people, how is it served by lone contemplation?"

Laurence's frown deepened. He truly disliked it when Granby got into such a mood. "It is for my benefit, so that, when the three of us do meet to come to an agreement I shall not overlook any one thing."

"It's impossible to live with you when you're like this," says Granby, colour flushing his cheeks. He rubs at one irritably. "I never know what you're bloody thinking, because you never tell me. Do you know how hard that is, Laurence? Do you know how little like trust it feels like?"

"What do you want me to tell you? Do you want me to simply rattle off every single thought I have, John? Is that what you truly wish me to say?" Laurence's voice was rising steadily as he spoke.

"That is exactly what I want, Will," he says, his own voice rising to match. "Bloody hell - is it so much to ask to just know what's in your head from moment to moment. It's not like it's nothing to do with me."

The color that had risen to Laurence's face earlier now doubled and showed no signs of leaving. He knew that Granby, and indeed much of the island were far more free with their thoughts than he was, yet he could not help his reticence. It had been ingrained in him since childhood and was a trait that would not change any time in the foreseeable future. "Am I to have no private thoughts, then, sir? Is that what you propose?"

"You know that's not what I'm saying, Laurence," he snaps, the colour in his own cheeks high (and if the 'Sir' stings, then it doesn't show on his face). "Only that not knowing what you think on this subject is, in particular, unbearable."

"Good Lord, John. I hardly know what I think on the issue. Would you have me tell you every inconsequential thing which crosses my mind before I have had time to get them into a respectable order?" His frown deepened, though the tone of his voice did not rise any more. He hated being forced to repeat himself. "I must have some more time."

"You're so damn worried about being respectable," fires off Granby. He scrubs his hand back through his hair. He makes an irritable gesture. "You will have all the time in the world and I'll just be here, standing in place, waiting for you like I always bloody seem to be."

"You know that this is what I must do, John. You knew that I would do this when you came to me with Julie. You must have expected it so why are you reacting so now?" Laurence was trying very, very hard to keep his frustration in check.

"Because expecting a thing doesn't make it any easier," he admits, looking down. "Because I want to know, Will. I want to...start. One way or another."

Laurence pressed his hand over his eyes again. He hated the feeling of being trapped, but there he was, maneuvered into a corner that he did not know how to extricate himself from. "If you wish to go and start, as you said, I will not stop you."

Granby snorts, a small, irritated sound and pushes away from the table, standing up.

"It might be acceptable for men of your class to...take mistresses when and where it pleases them but I won't do that with Julie," he says. "And you know better than to suggest it."

Laurence looked up at him, tired yet frowning once again. "That is not what I intended for those words to mean, John." And surely Granby knew it for he was well aware of Laurence's feelings regarding mistresses and natural children.

"Oh, I know that," says Granby, sagging back against the rail, rubbing his hand across his face. "I just...It feels like a very fine line, Will. I do not wish to treat either of your poorly."

"I know." Laurence sounded a little defeated as he said it. "And it only makes me feel all the worse too see how much a I must be disappointing you at this moment."

For a moment, he doesn't say anything. He closes the distance between them, resting his hand on Laurence's shoulder and squeezing firmly.

"Whatever I am, Laurence, I am never, ever disappointed in you."

"Thank you." Laurence met Granby's eyes, resting his own hand on top of Granby's for the briefest moment, before going back to his tea. He did not want it to get cold. "I am grateful, truly."

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