To my Dearest Friend

Do we want to be in France?

Cyril courtenay

I open the door, Yves pulls me outside and closes the door. 'We need to talk.' he says in a serious and whispery tone. 'Why?' I ask, he takes a deep breath, does he regret the kiss? 'What is it/' They know.' 'Who does? I ask, surprised he finally told his family 'My aunt has given a letter to police.' 'Oh...' I do not know how to react. 'So it's going to be made public' I ask. He shakes his head, I don't know whether to be happy or disappointed. 'My father has arranged for my side of the story to stay private but regretfully he is not your father so they wouldn't accept protection for you.' 'I don't understand, Yves we could love eachother.' Yves signs and pinches his nose in utter frustration.

'you have so many dreams my rain, but few of them could be reality. Just like a public courtship between you and I, firstly I am married, and secondl my dear, it is illegal.' I look down, I know that but I still feel this strange feeling that I've had with Yves a long time. He loves me, he loves me a lot but he doesn't love loving me, I wish there was a world where he would feel happy and confident loving me. but right now he probably feels ashamed. I wonder why he cannot be more like our friend Oscar. I try not to cry. He probably regrets the fact of ever talking to me, he probaly regrets half his life. why have I ever thought I could make him happy without ruining his life. How could I have ever thought something so foolish could be the truth? How could he ever have loved a miscreant like me? A bastard full of empty promises and dreams that can never be reality. A boy with dreams but nothing more, a whirlwind of self hatred and disappoitment, a sailor that does not understand the ropes, a flower without rain, a moon without sun, a cogarette without lighter.

He puts his forehead against mine. 'I am so so sorry my rain, I love you but we can't risk it, I don't want you to be imprisoned. I want you to be happy I want you to be free, I want to be able to be with you.' I take a deep breath, here comes the but. 'My father has arranged' 'Your father knows?!' I say, quite pissed off. He hushes me. 'He's alright with it, he thinks we deserve something of a relationship so he has arranged for you to live in a Paris flat till we find a beautiful cotagge somewhere where you can life your life in a healthy and safe soltitude.' 'I don't want to go back to France' I say as I look at all of the green fields of beautiful but grey england. 'My love,' he turns my head so I look into his eyes. 'you need to, it's not a choice, it's that or prison.' 'I won't apologise for who I am, I won't be denying who I am Yves! I can't believe you want me to. That you are alright with that doesn't mean everybody is!' his face changes. 'Don't you understad? I am not the enemy here my love. I am trying to help you! I want to save you! but it seems you don't want to be saved....' 'No! I don't need you to tell me who to be while you are playing pretend back here with your god forsaken "wife"' I walk back to the manor, angry and ashamed.

'If you don't go to France I will never EVER talk to you again!'

 My shoulders drop. I turn around. 'I mean it' He says with tears in his eyes 'I love you cyril, please don't make me do this. I beg you' I take a deep breath. Do I really need to make this choice?

'When does the train leave?' He chuckles, his eyes are full of tears and love. 'I knew you'd agree.'

I look out of the window of the train, I wonder if I'll ever get to see these fields again. I take a deep breath, I know I won't. I feel so tired, I feel miserable, I don't want to have to live without him again, this feels like an unfair game or chess, you constantly think you will win and it turns out that faith has planned desctruction everytime you get your way I feel a tear escape my eye, the first time I say saw these fields I had so much hope of getting a better life, a happy adventure but now I it all feels like this old swan song in my heart. I already miss him, I do not want to start this again. I know I will not feel like I can fully live here, I need to be able to know that he's not far. Letters are not the same, although I was wish they would be. I wish he was here with me.

I look at the beautiful buildings in Paris, the weather reflects my mind. Dark and expecting the clouds to fall down at any moment. I stop at a flowershop maybe that can cheer me up, 'Goodmorning, do you have any roses?' The florist nods and quickly disappears into the back. He comes back carrying a lot of beautiful light pink roses. 'They're beautiful' I say with a bittersweet smile, while paying for the flowers, they do cheer me up. I'm happy that I can treat myself to something, I can still hardly believe how kind me Yves father is, he promised to support me financially. and he's giving me a a place to live. I don't understand why it has taken his so long to understand Yves, Yves has always been somebody who could explain everything about himself very easily. It's strange to remember the way Yves used to talk about him and the things he's doing now. They feel like complete opposites, as if je is not the same gentleman.

I open the door of the beautiful apartement. It's more luxurious than my first one here and maybe even more luxurious than Émile's beautiful flat. I'm so thankful to the Montague family but to be honest I also feel alienated, I feel like I am a secret. I don't want to be a ghost, I don't want to fade into nothingness. And I know that it's probably not going to happen, but my Yves, he has saved my life again and again and now it just all crumbles. This time not even because of us, but be because of the stupid world that does not understand us, I need his warmth to survive but maybe I am better off on my own? I would not hurt him any more than I have already done, I always get in the way of my own and others happiness. I cannot shake this feeling of guilt, maybe if I never left she wouldn't have found the letter. And we both would be happy. But it see seems I am cursed with an everluating want for sometning that will never be something good. he'll be better off on his own.