by Leah Berry
“One, two, three, one, two, three, one-” Henry groaned and
hung his head as he messed up the step
once more. On one of his desks, the gramophone kept playing reminding
him of what a failure he was. “You’ve got this, Henry, you can-”
“Finally gone insane?” It was Aries, of course it was. Henry
couldn’t go one day without the annoying younger man ruining it.
“You’re not wanted, Aries.”
He leant against the doorframe, arms crossed, dressed in
formal robes like he owned no slacks or a button-up shirt. “Well neither are
you, up here in solitude.” He sauntered into Henry’s room, uninvited. “You’re
terrible at this, aren’t you?”
“Never would have guessed.” Sighed Henry. When he made
another mistake after restarting the record, he stomped his foot. “Dammit!”
Aries clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth and entered
Henry’s personal space. “Here.” He positioned his hand up and the other around
an imaginary hip. “I’ll lead to start.”
“What are you doing.” Henry demanded.
“Clearly you’re too incompetent to teach yourself.” Cautiously,
Henry took Aries’ hand and placed his other gently on his shoulder.
In the glistening, glass-roof ballroom, Henry floated around
with his mother on the dance floor, never missing a step and smiling the whole
time. He managed a conversation without faltering. Behind his mother’s head,
Aries stood with one hand behind his back and his onyx robes with silver
accents extenuating his beautifully grey eyes.
Unfortunately, as two heirs to the most noble houses, they
were forced to dance. “Seems like your dance teacher was the best money could
buy.” Aries joked.
“Was that a joke? Never knew he had a sense of humour.”
“It’s because I don’t like you.” Aries shone his fake smile
and fought down the urge to scowl.
“Yet here you are.” Henry was the one left smiling that
night. (After they snuck away and danced some more.)
They crossed paths frequently after, Henry noticed. They
conversed in the kitchen, laughed in the libraries, babbled in their bedrooms,
danced in the spare dining rooms. Life was bliss.
There was something there they never discussed, but both men
felt the strong pull like the ocean does the moon. At every meal time they
would miraculously wind up together, conveniently they chose the same time to
begin their afternoon strolls. Life aligned like the planets.
Yet, as with planets, they are not always in perfect
parallel. The night before Aries was sent away, they danced until their feet
would fall off. They danced with such unison if the paintings were alive they
would weep their oils.
The last Henry had heard of Aries he was on a ship, sailing
for new lands along with his parents. It was a letter filled with regretful joy
describing the awaiting adventures and how the sun will burn his pale
complexion to a crisp. However, it was also a letter of sorrow as they would be
parted far longer than either anticipated, than either thought they could
endure.
Henry had to endure longer, however. A few nights later he
received news, sat in one of many red cushioned and gold intricated painted
living rooms, listening to the radio. Once the static voice uttered the words
“no survivors”, Henry cried enough for the both of them.
A year or so later he was still grieving a love that could
have been. There had been many balls since but Henry could never find it in
himself to mingle or dance. Instead, he sat in the corner, mimicking the hand
movements, like Aries was still there.
Aries danced on his own in his room like the very first time
every night, and when his skin had wrinkled, his hair had greyed, and his
children had grown, he felt the smallest of pressures on his shoulder. Delicate
fingers, maybe. And he danced.