❝Thou art to me a delicious torment.❞
―Ralph Waldo Emerson
We lay in my backyard, watching the dark clouds pass the moon. John and I have spent hours here in the grass. Endless talking.
I feel like I could tell John anything! And I do. I tell him anything that comes to mind, and it reaches the point that I'm pretty much venting. John is all for it, although he had to remind me to breathe because of how fast I was speaking.
The air is frosty enough to encourage me to snuggle up into John's warmth. I don't want to be inside; I'd rather be out here with John. I only went inside to change out of my glamorous dress into something far more comfortable.
The talking goes on and on. And when it finally ends, it's replaced with a soothing silence. A tranquil acknowledgment of mutual affection. A breathless moment of blissful heaven.
I sigh and lean further into John's chest, humming in content as he presses a soft kiss upon my head.
The rhythm of his heart seems to soothe my soul. I seldom feel at complete peace, but now is one of those rare moments when everything seems in perfect place. A puzzle pieced together to illustrate a picture of serenity.
I wouldn't give up this moment for anything.
And yet, some part of me guilts me for this.
A couple of minutes or so later, John breaks the silence.
"I was thinkin' earlier today."
"About what?"
"About how you got into my life."
I bite my lip, tilting my head up to look at John. "Were you?"
"Yeah... and I had this weird epiphany."
I brush my hand through his dark blond hair. "What was that epiphany?"
He takes a moment to answer as if taking time to phrase it just right. Then he sits up.
"I don't really believe in fate or destiny or things like that... but I just couldn't help but think that you bein' in my life was meant to be."
I sit up and face John. "Oh?"
"Yeah... I just... The way I thought of it was that there is an invisible string."
"An invisible string?"
"A golden, invisible string with infinite length. Unbreakable and lovely. And it's tied from your heart-" John places one hand upon my chest- "to mine." He places his other hand on his chest.
The epiphany, although only started, delights me and makes my cheeks flush. "A golden string connecting our hearts."
"Through everythin'. It pulled me along everywhere. This thin string tugged me away from my ex-girlfriend. It tugged me out of college. It tugged me into the military. It tugged me directly into you. Because we had to meet."
My heart swoons at his words. "God, John..."
"The string tugged me to you so we could talk. It tugged me and urged me to get to know you better. It tugged me to admit how much I love you. It tugged me restlessly, day and night, whisperin' that I just got to be with you, and I'll never be happy unless I am."
I pout and bat my lashes. "Really?"
He grins softly and places a hand on my cheek, caressing it delicately. "No doubt about it. I'm convinced that you were meant for me. I know there must be this invisible string makin' sure that we are together."
"Like soulmates?" I suggest.
John smiles wider and nods. "Exactly."
This man makes my heart race with his words in a way that no one else can.
I lean to John, pressing the tip of my nose to his, our lips barely grazing. "Isn't that a beautiful thought? All our lives, a single thread of gold tied us together."
"With all the hell I've been through, I had no idea heaven would be on the other end. And I didn't know you'd be an angel waiting there for me."
I place my hands on his shoulders, positioning myself deliberately on his lap. "I didn't know you'd be the king of my heart."
His hands slide onto my hips, tugging me closer to him. "I've... always worried about whether or not I was doin' the righ' thing. Always wondered if it was even worth doin' the right thing. But you make me want to be a better person."
I smile. "I do?"
"Yeah. You're always so... morally inclined. You do what you feel is right with no hesitation. I want to do the same... because you're so brave when you fight."
"You're so cute."
"You know, my friends used to tease me because I'd sometimes space out, just thinkin' 'bout you. I wouldn't tell them that I'm thinkin' 'bout you, just that I was thinkin' of a girl." John laughs to himself. "They swore I was goin' insane."
"They say love can make you crazy."
"Well, you sure as hell reduced me to a mess of a man. I never thought I'd lose my mind for someone."
"And I never thought someone would lose their mind for me."
John hums. "I can't remember anyone makin' me as happy as you do. I can't remember ever fallin' as hard for anyone as I did for you. I can't remember feelin' so peaceful as I do when I'm with you."
"Loving me is tiresome," I laugh. "Admit it."
"Lovin' you is all I need, (Y/N). Bein' in love is like bein' sober and drunk at the same time; you're hyperaware of everythin' — things are so bright and clear and things seem to just make sense. And at the same time, you're confused and clumsy and flushed. It's a weird in-between where you both want to confess your feelings and hide your heart. It's terrible, but at the same time, so magical. Lovin' is a special kind of poison. The type you willin'ly chug, knowin' that it will kill you, but wholly willin' to die for that single moment of euphoria. Death never looked so beautiful."
His words are so beautiful. I've only heard John speak like this to me, and that makes it all the more special. It's like he has a unique side of himself — a different dictionary — that he uses to swoon me. And it always works.
"God, John. I love you," I whisper.
"I love you too... So, so much."
The kiss we share is something that gives me a euphoric high. That, and his wandering hands sliding under my sweatshirt, lead us into a space of desire.
"Have I showed you around my house?" I whispered between the kisses.
"No."
"Alright... Let me show you my bedroom."
My room became our own personal heaven.
♙♟♙♟♙
I woke up in my bedroom in John's arms. I'm wide awake as though I were never asleep at all.
A dreamless slumber will do that to you. I don't remember exactly when the dreams ceased, only that they did. I was no longer haunted by memories of Russia — memories of two particular men. But instead, I entered a temporary black. So light, and yet, so draining.
It's nearly unbearable at times. It feels almost like death.
I sit up slowly, brushing back my hair and gazing over at John. He's sound asleep. I slowly slip out of bed, sliding on slippers and finding a silk robe to throw over my bare body. I stride over to the window across the room, peeking between the curtains to witness the grey world outside. The sun will begin rising very soon.
But something in the back of my mind pricks me like thin needles in my skull, pulsing, then dulling, getting more and more painful.
I press my hand to my temple, applying as much pressure as I can in hopes that it will somehow eliminate the stinging. When that fails, I figure that perhaps I'm dehydrated. I haven't had much to drink except a little bit of champagne that was passed around before the red carpet strut.
After a deep breath, I sneak out of my bedroom, my mind distracted by ways to get rid of this pain. So when I reach the bottom of the staircase, I nearly fall at the sight of Alexander sitting in the living room.
Holy fuck!
I... I forgot he existed!
I freeze in place, examining him. He's just... sitting on the couch, wearing some casual clothing, watching the TV intently.
I came down here completely silently, and his eyes are trained on the screen, so perhaps he doesn't know I'm here. I should go upstairs before he notices me; I am not ready for a discussion with Alexander. Absolutely no way in hell.
I slowly turn, fearing that any sudden movement in his peripheral will catch his attention. I climb up two steps, and just as I think that I'm in the clear, my hopes are stamped out dead.
"Laurens is in your room, isn't he?"
I suck in a breath, my spine stiffening like a wooden board. I look over at my shoulder to see that Alexander's eyes are still locked on the TV. Nonetheless, he knows I'm here. Accepting my situation, I turn around and go down the steps again.
Now, about his question... Alexander has absolutely no evidence that John is here. I never told Alexander about John coming to New York, nor was there any way for Alexander to have seen John.
Nevertheless, I'm urged to tell Alexander the truth, like admitting my sins.
"Yes."
I observe with my hands behind my back as Alexander seems to take this in. He inhales sharply, then he reaches for the remote control to turn the TV off.
"I figured he was."
The mild venom in his tone is only subdued by his attempt to not wear his emotions openly.
"Alexander, please-"
"The reaction to you ditching the movie premiere was massive, (Y/N). I assume that's what you wanted," he cuts me off. "It was trending on Twitter immediately. Gossip sites are on a rampage."
"Did... did it make James look bad?"
"Very bad. That was your aim, wasn't it?"
"Yes," I admit.
Alexander clicks his tongue. "You sure do know how to start a shit storm. You know he's not going to let you get away with that so easily."
"I know."
I watch Alexander as he stands to his feet, slowly approaching me. "I don't know what you're planning, but you should be more cautious."
I stare up at him. "Alexander, I'm not trying to-"
"You don't know what Nikolai is plotting, do you?"
My eyes widen, the sudden change of subject taking me off guard. It's enticing nonetheless. I was barred from all discussion of this when Nikolai demanded us in Russia, and now I want to hear in. "No... what is he planning?"
Alexander's tone is curt and cold. "Nikolai imagines a world where Russia comes out victorious of the war with Russia's leader, whether that be him or President Ivanovich, being the supreme head of all nations. But Nikolai knows that this is only possible if he can manipulate the structure behind each nation."
"What does that have to do with us?"
"Nikolai wants you and me to change the fabric of America. Douse it in gasoline before it is set aflame. Inject it with venom. Kill it from the inside. Then stand back when it dies."
I blink. "What?"
"Leaders from around the world will be taken down, (Y/N). Their successors will be pawns of Nikolai's, and they'll be ready to do exactly what it takes to end the war."
"Including Washington?"
Alexander lets a morbid silence linger, then he nods. "Yes, Washington will be among those killed."
"And then, when all of that is done, the war will end, right?"
"Yes, (Y/N). Then the war will end."
I take a deep breath, looking down and doing all I can to keep my voice steady. "Oh..."
A sinister chill runs down my spine at the sudden sensation of Alexander reaching down to my hand, holding it in his. "And then... I can have you, right?"
The desperation in his tone is evident, and he makes no effort to mask it with a false front.
"Alexander, I don't know what you mean," I whisper, trying to brush off his intentions.
"You know what I mean," he says. "I want to marry you..."
"What about Eliza?" I throw out another name as a decoy. "Don't you like her?"
"Every moment I spend with her, I'd rather spend with you. When I'm near her, I wish she were you instead. I could never like her or anyone else the way that I adore you, (Y/N)," Alexander says. "And I don't want anyone else but you."
"But Alexander... this war-"
"The only reason I care about this war is that I'm holding onto the hope that once it ends, we will end up with one another."
"Even after everything I've done? I've hurt you..."
"But I'm still alive, and as long as I am, I can't help but love you more."
"You shouldn't," I say. "It's... it's not fair."
"I never expected life to be fair, nor did I ever expect love to be fair. But I love you nonetheless, because if I could stop loving you just because it hurts me to my very core — just because the pain decays my heart and soul — then it wouldn't be love." Alexander holds a hand to my cheek, tilting my head up to look into his violet eyes. The desperation is glistening in the pools of color. "(Y/N)..."
"Alexander," I place my hand on his, "I'm sorry-"
"I don't want to hide what I feel — to keep my love a secret — just to keep you. You're all I have and all I'll ever need. Just... just looking into your eyes and I feel so... so peaceful. You're my home." Alexander draws in closer. "Please, when all of this is over, let me have you."
I bite my lip, holding back tears and taking note of my aching chest. "We can't hope for what isn't assured."
His hand slides to my waist, pulling me closer to him. "Hoping is all I've ever been doing. It's all I have."
I take a long breath, knowing deep down that I understand and feel everything Alexander said. He's the closest thing I have to peace and home. And yet, if I admit this, I'll be surrendering my resolve.
"Alexander, we can think about what we'll do at the end of the war when the end of the war comes. Until then, we have to think about the steps we must take to get there..."
I sharply inhale when Alexander leans down closer, his lips dangerously close to mine in a deliberate fleet of desire.
"But (Y/N)-"
"I don't have the foresight to know what will happen. So... so please, Alexander, let me live with today before I think of tomorrow."
There is a moment of silence between us — of mutual despair and fear. And, in a terrible moment of emptiness, Alexander lets me go and takes a step back.
"Alright... you're right. I just... I want you to keep your promise. Because it means everything to me. I'll still be waiting for you tomorrow. I'll wait for you forever if that's what it takes. I know that... I know that if I am meant to have you, then you'll come back to me."
I wipe away a tear as it escapes my eye. "Alexander, I'm sorry."
"Don't... don't be sorry, (Y/N). I don't want you to feel any guilt," Alexander says. "I never want you to feel guilt..."
I plan to slip away now, but Alexander locks his eyes with mine once more. "Do... do you love him?"
I swallow my fear, but it comes back up with a worse taste. "L-Love who?"
Alexander seems almost afraid to say it aloud. "Laurens. Do you love him?"
It takes all my strength to hold down a horrible wail. I don't know how to answer. If not answering was an option, I'd take it. But not answering would only cause more damage than I already have. "I-I, Alex-"
"I said you could choose when we get rid of him," Alexander murmurs. "That is the permission I granted you, and I have no intention of going back on my word. But... I've always had this dreading feeling that you will never want to get rid of him. I've dread that he has earned an unlawful place in your affection — a place someone as undeserving and unworthy as him should never have. So I have an aching feeling that you'll never kill him... will you? Even if you have to?"
"I... I don't know, Alexander."
It's a pathetic answer, this I know.
"There is only so much a man can love, (Y/N)," Alexander frowns. "Perhaps women are different, but... A man is prone to resent the things he cannot love. It is human nature, as cruel as it may sound, to have limited love. But, (Y/N), when I say all my love is for you, it is true. There is nothing more I wish to love but you. I resent the world, (Y/N). I resent myself. But I love you, and that is enough."
"Stop it," I demand. "Don't say you resent yourself."
"Perhaps I wouldn't resent myself if I could cope with my loneliness," Alexander scoffs at himself. "Perhaps if I wasn't tormented by my own mind."
"The Alexander I know is much stronger than that," I say.
"The Alexander you know is the Alexander who had you without doubt or dread. I've since become that doubt and dread. I've wallowed in my loneliness, (Y/N). I've become it."
I don't know what he needs for me to say to convince him that he means everything to me. Everything that comes to mind is either too direct or too vague.
My silence lingers on for too long and Alexander takes it upon himself to raise a dangerous question. He stares at me solemnly, then he nods. "Do... do you still love me?"
I don't answer immediately.
"You once did," Alexander says. "That I remember. And it must have been true, or the happiness I once knew would have been nothing but a lie. So I know you have, (Y/N). I cherish the days you did. But I must know... (Y/N), do you still love me?
I loved him for the longest time, and I know I still do. As much as it pains me to admit it, I know it's the truth. And yet, I know that I can't say it because it will only hurt more. It might kill both of us. So I say something with equal intent. It's all I can offer.
"Alexander... I will keep my promise to you."
I gaze at Alexander, and upon seeing the look of utter loyalty and love on his face, I throw my arms around him and embrace him in a hug. He returns it without hesitation, and for a wonderful moment, the rest of the world dissolves around us, leaving us in a tranquil void of silence and mutual adoration.
His soul is the darkest ebony, but with specks of light. Stars of passion, keeping him from existing as cold and empty as space. And the brightest star of them all is me. I'm his Polaris, guiding him home when all the other stars fade away and die. I'm all that is giving him light. I am all that is giving him hope. I am all that is giving him life.
"When I have you," Alexander whispers, "I'll make up for all the years I didn't. I love you, (Y/N)."
And I love him too.
After escaping back upstairs, Alexander opts to remain in the living room. That's probably for the best. I stride back into my bedroom, shutting the door behind me and adjusting my eyes to the darkness. John is still out cold.
So for a moment, I observe him. What do I see in him? What urges me to keep him around? Why do I bother spending time with him? Is it because, as he said, we are soulmates?
The whole concept is ridiculous. We could never have been made for one another. Throughout all my years before first having contact with him, there were no signs. No compass led me to him. There were no clues to hint at what was to come.
But I suppose time is curious and wondrous like that.
I slip onto the bed and gaze down at John, brushing back his hair and caressing his cheek. I know what he's done...
He is a vicious monster and a mythical gentleman. I should be scared, but I am enamored. The balance makes me feel safe.
But I made a promise to Alexander that I have to keep.
I look over to my nightstand and pull open the drawer. Within, under a couple of cardigans, is the combat knife from my Russian Air Force days.
It would be easy... So easy to take this knife and dig all seven inches into his chest. It would be silent and quick.
I remove the combat knife from its sheath and examine its slick blade. I glance back at John. In a moment, I could rid myself of my ailments and woes regarding him and Alexander. So, so quick.
I take a step closer to John, and the worst of thoughts take over my mind. They become something that is not mine.
This is a long time coming, isn't it? It was meant to be this way, isn't it? That invisible string hasn't attached us to be lovers but to be rivals. Killers to one another. While he is disillusioned by the prospect of love, I could end it all right now as he slumbers. He has no intention of settling this connection we have, so why must I stand by as well? Why shouldn't I kill him now?
It's sadistic, yes, to do it while he's at his most vulnerable. But it's fair; John has personal experience with killing people at their most vulnerable.
The string that John says is attached from my heart to his can be sliced with the very knife I wield. It could be cut forever-
John suddenly shifts in his sleep and I stash the knife away back in place, closing the drawer. I lean closer to John. The sudden pressure on the bed seems to awaken him, his eyes opening in the slightest.
"(Y/N)?"
The sound of his voice brings me back to my senses — as though I had fainted and awoken. My previous thoughts terrify me, but I push them to the corner of my mind for later contemplation. I assess my situation now and respond accordingly.
I take a breath, then force a grin on my face. "Hey, John."
"What're you-"
I cut him off with a kiss. Deep. Hot. Ardent.
I kiss him as though it would permanently erase the thoughts I had a mere minute ago. I wait for the troubling ideas to vanish, but they do no such thing. Rather, new thoughts arise. Thoughts of redemption and truth and passion and devotion. And, as nature would have it, these new notions battle with the contracting previous ones, demanding superiority and control of my mind.
I allow neither have any say in my actions.
When I break the kiss, John looks utterly confused.
"(Y/N)? What's wrong?"
Rather than answering, I swallow hard and press my forehead against his.
"John, promise me you'll never stop loving me."
"Wha-"
"No matter what. Promise?"
"(Y/N)? Are you alright?"
I nod and bite my lip. "I just want to know that you won't stop loving me."
John's eyes glisten with affection. "I won't stop loving you, (Y/N)."
"Never?" I insist.
"Never," he confirms.
"No matter what?"
"No matter what."
"Do you promise?"
John brushes back my hair and places a gentle kiss upon my lips. "I promise to love you forever, (Y/N)."
I made a promise to Alexander, and now John made a promise to me. I wonder which will be kept and which will be broken. Both can't exist with the other, like how fire can't exist with the ocean.
I rest upon John's chest and listen to his heart. It soothes me momentarily, like a lullaby, and I hum in content as he strokes my hair.
I know that I will eventually have to choose between Alexander and John, and I hate myself for not knowing which I would choose.
I want both but deserve neither.
We will suffer because of me. Suffer terribly. Even thinking of it terrifies me. It is inevitable unless I find my resolve. Until then, we are prone to suffer. John will suffer. Alexander will suffer. I will suffer.
Suffering kills every heart it touches. It's going to kill us.
End of Act Two: Painfully Poignant Promises