Part Ninety-three
Feb. 24th, 2025 08:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
luthier_balloonistOriginally posted here
Kay felt rather lighter for having made up with Eder, and lighter again when Barir welcomed him back to the table with a smile brighter than all the lamps in the place. Eder shook Barir’s hand and welcomed him back to England with a mock sorrowful shake of the head.
“You have some powers of persuasion, Rizvi, I’ll give you that,” he said, pulling up a chair to the now rather cramped table. “Though you could have used them to nab someone a bit more cheerful.”
“I’m cheerful enough for the two of us,” said Barir, and under the table he nudged Kay’s leg with his own.
Kay had no defence against such claims, and so he just lit another cigarette and gave Eder a baleful look, which was summarily ignored. The rest of the table soon fell to talking, and Kay could once again indulge in quiet observation. Barir joined in the conversation, though he kept sliding his ankle against Kay’s in a way that proved rather distracting.
“Everything alright?” he asked Kay quietly after a moment, leaning over and stealing Kay’s cigarette from between his fingertips and taking a drag.
“I think so.” Kay shrugged, trying not to look too obviously at the way Barir drew on the cigarette, his cheeks hollowing slightly. “He’ll probably demand I buy his drinks for a few weeks as recompense. Do you not have your own smokes, man?”
Barir laughed and put the cigarette back to Kay’s lips, brushing them like a kiss. Kay’s stomach swooped. “I’ve run out, and I forgot my pipe. I’m sure you don’t mind.”
“I think you owe me an entire pack,” Kay muttered, heat prickling down his spine.
Things began to get merrier as the drink flowed. Cecil Lethbridge showed up partway through the evening, looking very strange in a sober grey suit, though he disappeared into a side room for a few minutes before emerging with his shirt collar removed, his lips rouged, and a pair of studs in his ears, looking much more himself. He looked shocked and appalled to see Kay at the table. Eder dispatched Kay to the bar to buy another round (for the whole table this time, and Kay did not want to think what his pocketbook thought of matters), and when he returned he found Lethbridge had warmed to him a little. Still, he was glad when a pack of cards was produced from somewhere, as something that allowed him to participate without being caught in too much conversation, and for something to do with his hands other than smoking. He played a few rounds of whist and talked about music with Sharma, who held a great many strong opinions that he seemed to enjoy arguing about.
“Do you play?” Kay asked at one point, when Sharma paused for breath after a monologue on the merits of Verdi’s Rigoletto.
“The flute, a little,” said Sharma. “Not to a professional standard, but well enough. My father disapproved: he considered it an ‘unmanly’ instrument.”
“If only he knew what other unmanly things you choose to blow,” Cambridge said, to general laughter.
“How dare you,” said Malik, in mock outrage. “There is nothing unmanly about the instrument in question, I’ll have you know!”
“Are you certain? Perhaps you should display the evidence to support your claim,” Cambridge countered.
“My dear fellow, we wouldn’t want to make you jealous,” Sharma drawled, sitting back. Malik grinned and kissed him.
For the most part, though, Kay just watched. He saw the way everybody’s heads turned to the door whenever it opened, a spike of tension going through the room before the new arrival was recognised. Somebody began to play an old dance hall tune on the old piano in the corner and a few patrons stood up to dance, holding hands and spinning one another like regular sweethearts. Lethbridge dragged Eder off to dance, and then spent most of the rest of the evening twirling Eder’s curls around his fingers and calling him “darling”. Every now and again men would disappear through the back door to a dark room, some of them furtively and some with expansive, ribald jokes. Kay did not need to ask what was behind the door; many people had no expectation of privacy in their own lodgings, after all. At their table, Cambridge seemed an incorrigible flirt with everybody, though he clearly had a preference for the young blond fellow; Derby, the round-faced tinsmith, had a great many stories about his encounters though everybody seemed to think them exaggerated. It astonished Kay, how normal all of this seemed to everybody else.
Mostly, he watched Barir. As he had expected, Barir was in his element among people, smiling and joking easily with all of them; like Amador, he seemed to thrive when in company in a way Kay could never hope to understand. A gloomy thought entered Kay’s mind at that, that one day Barir would tire of his tendency to be dull and sullen, and would throw him over for one of these laughing, talkative fellows. The young man with blond hair and fine-boned features – something Simons – had been giving Barir long looks all night that made jealousy clamp in Kay’s chest.
Barir seemed oblivious to this, at least, too busy talking to notice heated blue-eyed gazes.
“What happened to Jack?” Barir asked Simons. “You two were rather tight last I knew.”
Simons gave a rueful laugh. “Oh yes. We were, until he got a better offer. Some rich fellow’s been putting him up in his fancy house in Mayfair. Last I saw him he was dressed in finery, with unnecessarily tight trousers.”
“Anyone’d think you were jealous,” said Malik from over the top of his cards.
“Of Jack, or the rich fellow?” asked Sharma, and Simons pulled a face.
“Neither, thank you kindly. I could see the appeal of being a kept boy, once, but no longer.”
“Easy now,” said the tinsmith. “You did that for a time didn't you, Barir?”
Barir’s smile flickered, like a candle guttering in a sudden draft. Kay felt him tense. But then the moment passed and Barir was grinning and shaking his head. “It wasn’t quite like that,” he said easily. “I earned my way, I’ll have you know.”
“I’m sure Jack’s earning his way right now,” said Cambridge with a wicked little grin, and most of the table laughed. Kay did not, of course, and he noticed that Barir only gave a smile that looked a little forced. The moment soon passed and conversation moved on, but it niggled at the back of Kay’s mind for the rest of the evening. He watched Barir closely, sure that he could see something unhappy lingering on his face when he thought nobody was looking.
Barir put on a game appearance of cheer and Kay tried his best to help, agreeing to a short billiards tournament (which Barir won: he was viciously accurater, no matter how much he drank) and to darts (Kay lost abysmally, which he blamed on his eyesight though he doubted very much that anyone believed him). By the end of the evening he wasn’t sure that he had gained any friends but he did not, at least, seem to have caused any upset or hurt feelings.
Still, it was a relief to leave, even if it was into the freezing December night. Barir was quiet as they walked back towards Roseby Avenue, and Kay tried to decide whether he should broach the subject, for he was burning with curiosity. Perhaps the comment had not bothered Barir at all, and he was simply tired. Perhaps it was a painful point that he would not appreciate being brought up. Kay had still not decided what to do when they reached Barir’s new, rather cramped boarding house.
“A nightcap?” Barir asked. “It’s probably prudent if you returned to your own digs, but have a drink with me, at least?”
Kay wanted nothing more than to be in a warm and comfortable bed with Barir pressed against him, but they had chanced that a few times in the last week and it would doubtless begin to look suspicious if they indulged too often. There were only so many times Kay could tell Mrs Chambers that Barir had accidentally fallen asleep on the sofa, and it was only her lax attitude to houseguests that had let them get away with things so far.
“A nightcap sounds marvelous.”
Kay felt rather lighter for having made up with Eder, and lighter again when Barir welcomed him back to the table with a smile brighter than all the lamps in the place. Eder shook Barir’s hand and welcomed him back to England with a mock sorrowful shake of the head.
“You have some powers of persuasion, Rizvi, I’ll give you that,” he said, pulling up a chair to the now rather cramped table. “Though you could have used them to nab someone a bit more cheerful.”
“I’m cheerful enough for the two of us,” said Barir, and under the table he nudged Kay’s leg with his own.
Kay had no defence against such claims, and so he just lit another cigarette and gave Eder a baleful look, which was summarily ignored. The rest of the table soon fell to talking, and Kay could once again indulge in quiet observation. Barir joined in the conversation, though he kept sliding his ankle against Kay’s in a way that proved rather distracting.
“Everything alright?” he asked Kay quietly after a moment, leaning over and stealing Kay’s cigarette from between his fingertips and taking a drag.
“I think so.” Kay shrugged, trying not to look too obviously at the way Barir drew on the cigarette, his cheeks hollowing slightly. “He’ll probably demand I buy his drinks for a few weeks as recompense. Do you not have your own smokes, man?”
Barir laughed and put the cigarette back to Kay’s lips, brushing them like a kiss. Kay’s stomach swooped. “I’ve run out, and I forgot my pipe. I’m sure you don’t mind.”
“I think you owe me an entire pack,” Kay muttered, heat prickling down his spine.
Things began to get merrier as the drink flowed. Cecil Lethbridge showed up partway through the evening, looking very strange in a sober grey suit, though he disappeared into a side room for a few minutes before emerging with his shirt collar removed, his lips rouged, and a pair of studs in his ears, looking much more himself. He looked shocked and appalled to see Kay at the table. Eder dispatched Kay to the bar to buy another round (for the whole table this time, and Kay did not want to think what his pocketbook thought of matters), and when he returned he found Lethbridge had warmed to him a little. Still, he was glad when a pack of cards was produced from somewhere, as something that allowed him to participate without being caught in too much conversation, and for something to do with his hands other than smoking. He played a few rounds of whist and talked about music with Sharma, who held a great many strong opinions that he seemed to enjoy arguing about.
“Do you play?” Kay asked at one point, when Sharma paused for breath after a monologue on the merits of Verdi’s Rigoletto.
“The flute, a little,” said Sharma. “Not to a professional standard, but well enough. My father disapproved: he considered it an ‘unmanly’ instrument.”
“If only he knew what other unmanly things you choose to blow,” Cambridge said, to general laughter.
“How dare you,” said Malik, in mock outrage. “There is nothing unmanly about the instrument in question, I’ll have you know!”
“Are you certain? Perhaps you should display the evidence to support your claim,” Cambridge countered.
“My dear fellow, we wouldn’t want to make you jealous,” Sharma drawled, sitting back. Malik grinned and kissed him.
For the most part, though, Kay just watched. He saw the way everybody’s heads turned to the door whenever it opened, a spike of tension going through the room before the new arrival was recognised. Somebody began to play an old dance hall tune on the old piano in the corner and a few patrons stood up to dance, holding hands and spinning one another like regular sweethearts. Lethbridge dragged Eder off to dance, and then spent most of the rest of the evening twirling Eder’s curls around his fingers and calling him “darling”. Every now and again men would disappear through the back door to a dark room, some of them furtively and some with expansive, ribald jokes. Kay did not need to ask what was behind the door; many people had no expectation of privacy in their own lodgings, after all. At their table, Cambridge seemed an incorrigible flirt with everybody, though he clearly had a preference for the young blond fellow; Derby, the round-faced tinsmith, had a great many stories about his encounters though everybody seemed to think them exaggerated. It astonished Kay, how normal all of this seemed to everybody else.
Mostly, he watched Barir. As he had expected, Barir was in his element among people, smiling and joking easily with all of them; like Amador, he seemed to thrive when in company in a way Kay could never hope to understand. A gloomy thought entered Kay’s mind at that, that one day Barir would tire of his tendency to be dull and sullen, and would throw him over for one of these laughing, talkative fellows. The young man with blond hair and fine-boned features – something Simons – had been giving Barir long looks all night that made jealousy clamp in Kay’s chest.
Barir seemed oblivious to this, at least, too busy talking to notice heated blue-eyed gazes.
“What happened to Jack?” Barir asked Simons. “You two were rather tight last I knew.”
Simons gave a rueful laugh. “Oh yes. We were, until he got a better offer. Some rich fellow’s been putting him up in his fancy house in Mayfair. Last I saw him he was dressed in finery, with unnecessarily tight trousers.”
“Anyone’d think you were jealous,” said Malik from over the top of his cards.
“Of Jack, or the rich fellow?” asked Sharma, and Simons pulled a face.
“Neither, thank you kindly. I could see the appeal of being a kept boy, once, but no longer.”
“Easy now,” said the tinsmith. “You did that for a time didn't you, Barir?”
Barir’s smile flickered, like a candle guttering in a sudden draft. Kay felt him tense. But then the moment passed and Barir was grinning and shaking his head. “It wasn’t quite like that,” he said easily. “I earned my way, I’ll have you know.”
“I’m sure Jack’s earning his way right now,” said Cambridge with a wicked little grin, and most of the table laughed. Kay did not, of course, and he noticed that Barir only gave a smile that looked a little forced. The moment soon passed and conversation moved on, but it niggled at the back of Kay’s mind for the rest of the evening. He watched Barir closely, sure that he could see something unhappy lingering on his face when he thought nobody was looking.
Barir put on a game appearance of cheer and Kay tried his best to help, agreeing to a short billiards tournament (which Barir won: he was viciously accurater, no matter how much he drank) and to darts (Kay lost abysmally, which he blamed on his eyesight though he doubted very much that anyone believed him). By the end of the evening he wasn’t sure that he had gained any friends but he did not, at least, seem to have caused any upset or hurt feelings.
Still, it was a relief to leave, even if it was into the freezing December night. Barir was quiet as they walked back towards Roseby Avenue, and Kay tried to decide whether he should broach the subject, for he was burning with curiosity. Perhaps the comment had not bothered Barir at all, and he was simply tired. Perhaps it was a painful point that he would not appreciate being brought up. Kay had still not decided what to do when they reached Barir’s new, rather cramped boarding house.
“A nightcap?” Barir asked. “It’s probably prudent if you returned to your own digs, but have a drink with me, at least?”
Kay wanted nothing more than to be in a warm and comfortable bed with Barir pressed against him, but they had chanced that a few times in the last week and it would doubtless begin to look suspicious if they indulged too often. There were only so many times Kay could tell Mrs Chambers that Barir had accidentally fallen asleep on the sofa, and it was only her lax attitude to houseguests that had let them get away with things so far.
“A nightcap sounds marvelous.”
