sunburned | (no subject)

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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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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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