What if? [Tag Dorian] on Magical Arts Room and Sports

Jehan Callahan

February 17, 2018 11:26 AM

What if? [Tag Dorian] by Jehan Callahan

Jehan let out a sigh, one of comfort and contentment. He was in the MARS room with Dorian, both snuggled up on the sofa. Classical music was playing softly in the background, and the two boys were reading, sharing things with each other every now and then.

This was it, really, this was what had been missing from his life until he arrived at Sonora. The friendship of someone who appreciated the same things he did had let to their wonderful afternoons spent in this very room. Despite all of the things going on at Sonora, Jehan and Dorian always found time for their reading and discussion sessions.

Talking of other things going on at Sonora, there was something that had been in the corner of Jehan’s mind for a while now. In his speech at the feast, the headmaster had mentioned a ball. Now, Jehan had been to a few balls (not many, as he was only young, but his parents did occasionally want to show off their younger son). However, these had always been disappointing affairs. Jehan, his head filled with stories from books, had expected lots of dancing, men and women looking beautiful, and all the romance anyone could want. Ok, he’d been a bit young for the romance, but he’d also been disappointed on the other two counts. The little dancing he’d done had been stiff and awkward, and the beautiful men and women had been adults, older and so removed. He’d felt out of place, like someone watching in on a scene that had the potential to be so much more wonderful than it was.

A ball at Sonora, though, that should be so much better. Here he knew people, and the students were all a lot closer to his age than the adults were. Plus there was Dorian. And this, really, was the crux of the matter, the reason for all Jehan’s musings on the topic. Because Jehan and Dorian would, of course, be going together (Jehan stamped out the flicker of doubt that suggested Dorian might want to go as a couple with one of the girls in their year), but Jehan felt this should be confirmed. It didn’t seem right to just assume such things.

He’d been meaning to ask Dorian for a while, but first he hadn’t been sure how to ask him if they were going together, and then he hadn’t found the right moment. However, a line in his book reminded him of the ball, and this seemed like a good moment. Gathering up his courage (somehow his mood had changed from relaxed to slightly nervous, and why was he nervous when it was just Dorian?), he decided that, for once, it was best to be straightforward.

“Dorian?” he asked, getting his friend’s attention with a voice that was somewhat less sure than usual. “Are we going to the ball together?”

9 Jehan Callahan What if? [Tag Dorian] 1398 Jehan Callahan 1 5

Dorian Montoir

February 17, 2018 11:13 PM

What if.... by Dorian Montoir

It was hard to believe that the MARS music room didn’t always look this way, that it wasn’t a permanently fixed room like the library or his bedroom, just waiting for them to come in. There was the green couch on the swirling yellow, blue and green rug. There was the picture on the wall which mirrored the colours of the rug. There was the record player in its green wooden cabinet. The only variation would be the selection of music is provided them. Although he supposed the fact that almost nothing changed was in some ways an indicator that it was saved especially for them. The other users of the library, or in his room Vlad or the elves or Melody, left things not quite as they had been before. He could see the use that those rooms had had in the time he had been away from them. Had other people been here, they would have moved things, or spoilt them - other people were mean or careless sometimes, and he couldn’t imagine everyone appreciating their cosy little room or treating it properly. But no one else came here, not this version of this room anyway, and so MARS was always just as they expected it to be - theirs and theirs alone, undisturbed by others.

Dorian had his head rested against Jehan’s shoulder, and his eyes were slowly making their way through each page of his book. Next to him were laid out his French-English dictionary, a few loose pages of notes, and his language notebook. Occasionally Dorian’s “half” of the sofa became rather more like two thirds, depending on the complexity of what he was reading, and occasionally he just gave up and shifted camp, lying on his stomach on the rug so that he could spread everything out more easily. Notes of classical music drifted over from the record player - he found it easier to concentrate on his book when he wasn’t being assaulted by words in a different modality. He could just have happily studied in silence, but he had found if they didn’t at least give some token acknowledgement to the room’s official purpose then the furniture started dissolving around them. Given that he could really take or leave the playing of records in the background when he was reading, he knew that their use of the MARS room was perhaps a little selfish, but they could get so much comfier here than they could in the library.

Today’s book was an introduction to philosophy. Poetry was perfect for exploring matters of the heart but it did very little to address the question of the mind, and Dorian was curious about both. Why did people behave as they did? What made things right, or wrong? Did the universe have a grand plan or was everything just random and chaotic? There were probably a lot of different subject areas that would be sources of answers to this, but he had decided to start with philosophy. He had had some ethics lectures in his early education and found them very interesting, and that was a branch of philosophy. He thought he might ask his parents whether his tutor could come back in the holidays, just for that subject, seeing as it wasn’t really covered at Sonora. He was sure Matthieu would have a field day with the idea of him voluntarily doing extra work, and in something so touchy-feely as ethics and philosophy. He wondered whether the extra hours under the protective watch of an adult would balance out the damage caused by the fact that doing said activity would make his brother want to punch him even harder than usual.

“Eech. I thought the Ancient Greece was supposed to be the very civilised society,” he commented, as he finished a paragraph. He read out to Jehan “Socrates encounters the character of Thrasymachus who insists that justice is the interest of the stronger. This was a common viewpoint in ancient Greece. This was a society that valued strength above everything else and it was Thrasymachus who held the view that it was acceptable to dominate others, lie, cheat and steal if one of strong enough to get away with it. Je suppose qu'il y a des **** dans toutes les sociétés,” he muttered. “Maybe Socrates and Plato will sort him out. I let you know.”

He continued to read. There was just enough about The Republic to make it sound very interesting but not to really make him feel he had got to know it. He skipped to the index. Ah, he would get more on it in a few pages. Excellent. Before he could discover the finer details of the matter though, Jehan spoke his name.

Dorian?

“Mm?” he responded, expecting to be read something in return, although Jehan’s tone didn’t quite suggest that.

Are we going to the ball together?

“Eh, quelle bal?” he asked. He was currently occupied with Ancient Greece, and had been expecting something from Jehan’s reading material, and it took a moment for him to get over the jarring discontinuity and remember the end of year event. “You mean the Sonora ball?” he clarified, lowering his book, “In the summer? Why do you think about that?” he asked. Since its mention at the start of the year, the Sonora ball hadn’t crossed his mind once. He had library duties. He had Émilie being at L’Institut to… well, not exactly ‘worry’ about, but…. well, okay, to worry about, and to exchange long, loving letters with. He had Russian to learn, and Club of Tongues meetings. And he had Jehan. There were so many other things, most of them pleasant distractions, which were filling his days.

“And,” he continued, closing the cover of his book with his finger marking his page, because for all that it seemed a simple enough query, it seemed that something was bothering Jehan, and thus he deserved Dorian’s undivided attention. He lifted his head from Jehan’s shoulder so he could scrutinise those striking blue eyes, the little windows to Jehan’s soul, and try to work out what was going on in there, “this is your question… On the last day of term, before I have to spend all those weeks apart from you, in agony and missing you every second… Do I, on that day, want to spend my time with you?” he asked, his tone gentle, implying the answer with every softly uttered affectionate syllable. He used his now free hand to reach out, gently supporting Jehan’s chin so that it was harder for his friend to avoid his eyes, “I thought that your house is famous for logic, mon fauconet,” he teased lightly, smiling at his friend. “What else would I do?”

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Jehan

February 20, 2018 3:12 PM

Safe and sound by Jehan

“Quelle bal?”

These words made Jehan’s eyes widen slightly in disappointment. Surely Dorian hadn’t forgotten about the ball? It would be such a wonderful night, and yet his friend had just forgotten all about it! But no, luckily Dorian had just been a little out of it, and had quickly cottoned on to which ball Jehan had been referring. And now he was addressing Jehan’s question, and Jehan started to feel more nervous, his stomach feeling just very slightly unpleasant. What was Dorian going to say? Maybe Dorian had already asked somebody to the ball? That was a horrific thought, and Jehan willed his friend to just answer quickly.

Dorian’s answer came, somewhat drawn out, but from almost the very first words Jehan felt nothing but relief. Dorian’s tone, so gentle and affectionate, changed the feeling in Jehan’s stomach to something more relaxed, happy, soppy even, and Jehan felt a soft smile start on his face as the worry evaporated. Of course Dorian would be attending the ball with him. That was how things were meant to be, after all. It was fate.

He looked into Dorian’s eyes as the other boy grasped his chin, smiling at him. Yes, okay, perhaps Dorian had a point, but Jehan had just been unsure. For all that he could be so certain of himself, so reluctant to change to please others (much to his parents’ annoyance), he could also be insecure at times, doubting quite how much he meant to someone, even if he had no cause to. The fact that the ball hadn’t been brought up before now had only heightened his concerns, although it was partially his fault that nothing had been discussed. Dorian, whilst absolutely wonderful in most ways, hadn’t yet mastered mind reading.

"What else would I do?”

At this question Jehan blushed slightly, now fully realising that his reasoning and worries had been flawed and unnecessary. He lowered his gaze, not quite looking at Dorian as he answered the other boy’s potentially hypothetical question.

“I thought you might want to go with somebody else,” he confessed. Because that was how it went, and Jehan wasn’t stupid. He knew what was expected of them, knew what his parents and Victor would like. Jehan might act like he didn’t understand what was expected of him, but he very much did. He just ignored the rules he disliked. But Dorian was both so similar to him and yet also different, and Jehan had been afraid that, perhaps, Dorian would do as was expected of him, or would even want to do so. But that didn’t seem to be the case, and Jehan looked up at his friend once more, the soft smile still on his face.

“Moi aussi,” he confirmed, slipping into Dorian’s habit of using the odd French word. “I want to spend all my time with you.”

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Dorian

February 21, 2018 6:57 AM

Tread softly by Dorian

There was something beyond special about Dorian and Jehan’s friendship. How rare that the universe constructed two souls with such sympathy towards one another, and that they should be in the right place and right time to meet. Whilst they shared a lot verbally, the real strength in their relationship was simply how attuned they were to each other - how many of their ideas were shared already, how they could read the nuances in each other’s smiles, how they could communicate everything they thought and felt to each other so perfectly.

Almost always.

There had to be exceptions to every rule.

A very small part of the stumbling block on this occasion might have been linguistic. The subtle difference between go together and hang out together or do this thing together. The small implication added by the final word in ’I thought you might want to go with someone else’ versus simply ’I thought you might want to go with someone. But these subtle variations did not just have a linguistic gap into which they might stumble, fall and be lost, but a yawning, gaping cultural chasm against which they had little hope. Boys asked girls to balls. That was the worldview Dorian had been raised with. And thus the options fell into two categories in his mind, even if the verbs used were identical, he could Go With (perhaps with capital letters) a girl, or he could go with Jehan. And he knew which one he wanted, and the reasons why were clear and simple.

“I not want to go with one of the girls,” he replied, catching that drift of ‘go with’ and that implication of ‘someone else.’ “I cannot. I am not in love with them,” he explained. Alright, he knew that some people went on dates with people that they didn’t love, or see themselves falling in love with, but he didn’t like that idea. “I think it is insincere to go on the date with someone if you don’t feel that way,” he explained. “That’s why I go with you. Right now, if I go on the date… It is just, to choose one of my friend more than the other. That seems not nice.”

Jehan had still managed to avoid his eyes as he’d spoken, and Dorian just wanted to make him feel better, feel secure. He had no idea why Jehan was doubting him right now - he was pretty sure if he, Dorian, was in love with someone, Jehan would have known it. He was sure his conduct to her would be different than his conduct to anyone else. And anyway, he’d tell Jehan. Probably before he had the courage to tell the girl herself… But he knew that feelings could be irrational things. Jehan was the most precious thing he had, and that was so wonderful, but it meant he was scared of losing him. He worried sometimes, about Jehan finding someone who didn’t mess up their verbs, or get lost in what he was trying to explain. For some reason, today Jehan seemed to be the one having those kinds of feelings. It was, in some ways, a relief, to know that he wasn’t the only one who felt like that sometimes (and when was he ever, with Jehan? They felt the same about everything), but he also didn’t want Jehan to be feeling that, because it wasn’t a nice place to be in. He had moved his hand from Jehan’s face whilst he spoke, transferring it instead so that it was loosely around Jehan’s body. He searched for something… He had done a good job of explaining how he felt, but sometimes that wasn’t enough. A feeling had to be met with a feeling, not just with logic. He needed some word to say, or some way to touch that made it clear…

“Come here,” he offered, arranging himself so he could easily hug Jehan, and be the one who was holding and reassuring, the way Jehan had done for him when he’d arrived back at school and just… needed that.

“I don’t think I could wish for anyone better than you in my life,” he reassured him, both arms wrapped around Jehan, one hand making its way up to gently stroke Jehan’s hair. “You’re my best friend,” he reminded him, because it seemed Jehan needed to hear that right now “I think the ball will be similar to the bonfire. Just less fun,” he added his further reassurances, unaware that, for the first time since meeting him, that he and Jehan were no longer on the same page, and that to be told that they were best friends, with a quiet, and unremarkable evening awaiting them, was not exactly what Jehan had been wanting to hear.

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Jehan

February 21, 2018 6:28 PM

Only fools by Jehan

Jehan was riding on a wave of euphoria from the understanding he and Dorian had reached. Nothing too specific had been said, but it didn’t need to be. They were, after all, only young, and they also knew each other so well that qualifying statements weren’t needed. Right?

Right. Dorian was stressing the importance of only going with somebody he loved, and Jehan was grinning because, given the fact that Dorian was going with him, there was an obvious conclusion to draw from that. Love was, probably, a stronger word than Dorian really meant, but there was a special connection between the two boys, something that had sprung very quickly from their friendship.

And then Dorian continued his explanation, and Jehan’s understanding of the situation was turned on its head. So Jehan was the alternative to going on a date? The previous wave of euphoria crashed and disappeared, leaving nothing but a sense of disillusionment and loss. Dorian didn’t want them to go together, not like that. Jehan was just a fall-back, only Dorian’s choice because he didn’t yet have someone he liked in that way.

Dorian pulled him into a hug and Jehan allowed it, not really with it enough to realise what was happening until too late. But the hug was warm and comforting and, although not the sort of hug he wanted from Dorian, he could do with some comfort right now.

He’d been so stupid. What he and Dorian had was special, sure, but he must have missed the signs that pointed to it being nothing more than friendship. His brain kept trying to reanalyse hugs and words that could suggest he hadn’t been mistaken, but his heart hurt and that was all that mattered right now. He didn’t want to analyse the situation, he just wanted to end it, to pretend it never happened. He wanted to leave the room, to go and walk in the gardens until it hurt less, until he could write it down in a poem and enjoy the feelings of misery, instead of pain. But he couldn’t just leave, because Dorian was here, not understanding what Jehan had meant, and leaving would make Dorian sad. Dorian was not going to be made sad if Jehan had any say in it.

Dorian’s reassurances that Jehan was his best friend were well-meant, but further showed Jehan how he’d misread things. He didn’t want the ball to be like the bonfire, ‘just less fun’, but evidently Dorian did.

For one of the few times in his life, Jehan was the one to end a hug. He sat back and, somehow, miraculously, managed to smile at Dorian. “Yes, we can spend time with Tatya and Vlad too,” he suggested. That would be better than just being alone with Dorian, on a Not-Date. He didn’t think he could handle that now.

Keeping up his smile, and hoping it was convincing, Jehan reached for his book again. He didn’t want to talk anymore. Reading was a safe option of something to do before he could leave without making Dorian sad.

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Dorian

February 22, 2018 9:15 AM

Tea will make everything better by Dorian

Jehan pulled back from the hug and was smiling. Dorian thought he knew all of Jehan’s smiles - he had made efforts to memorise them for rainy days - but this one seemed different. Was Jehan okay? He couldn’t have said why he doubted it but… However, Jehan been the one to end the hug, and Dorian was sure he wouldn’t have done so unless he was fine now. Why would one turn away from a source of comfort when one needed comforting still? And especially here in MARS, where it was just them… The only logical conclusion was the Jehan was fine, but his heart argued with his head, which was not a sensation he liked…

“Yes, with Vlad, Tatya, Ruby,” he nodded, as Jehan talked more of their ball plans. “Only I have to give you back at the end of the night. No being room-mates this time,” he added sadly. “That was the best part with the fire.” That was why he felt the ball would be a poor comparison… It had been the nicest feeling, Jehan being the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes, and the first thing he saw when he woke up. If he had been an Aladren, or Jehan had been in Teppenpaw, that would have been the end and the start of every day and… He wished that Jehan hadn’t pulled away from him already.

“I will make tea,” he decided. He had been going to do so anyway when he got to the end of his chapter, but then Jehan had taken him away from his book, and now it made sense to do it before he got back into reading. The only way their little room could have been better would have been if they’d had a kitchen, but the MARS room seemed unwilling to be treated as their own private apartment and continually failed to provide one however hard Dorian thought about it. He had circumlocuted MARS’ selfishness by bringing his own tea things and learning to cast the boiling water charm. “Maybe jasmine… Do you want?” he offered. Dorian wasn’t sure what Jehan really thought about tea, which worried him. Jehan occasionally would join him in a cup, and made appropriately polite remarks when asked his opinion, but he didn’t seem to show any real enthusiasm for it. To Dorian, this was like expressing no particular interest in food. He could understand not liking certain types of tea, but there were so many varieties - how could one be indifferent to it as a subject? And more than that, tea was important for the soul. Tea was comfort. Dorian certainly wished with all his heart that nothing ever happened to harm or upset Jehan, but he knew that it almost inevitably would. He hoped Jehan was never grieved, nor suffered a broken heart, but what if he did, and he didn’t have the comfort of tea? How would Dorian go about putting him back together? And even if he escaped those major afflictions, tea was the balm for all the little injuries that the soul endured. It was so necessary. At least, he consoled himself, that was not a pressing concern right now.

He rummaged in his bag for his teaset. It was his personal set from home - the bell-shaped pot with its bamboo handle, and two small straight sided cups without handles, all in a dappled, spotty blend of creamy-grey that almost looked like it had been chipped from stone rather than made of china, with little fine brushstroke rabbits scampering under a full moon on the pot, and perched alert, one on each cup, their noses in the air. It was the set his mother brought him tea in every morning. The one he had taken to Jehan every morning when he had stayed over… He didn’t think Jehan was particularly a fan of the morning tea, with its strong smoky flavour - during the holidays, his friend had rarely touched the beverage, but Dorian hadn’t stopped bringing it, and Jehan hadn’t done anything to discourage him continuing to do it. Partly, Dorian felt it was good hosting and good guesting - for all he complained about his mother’s tendency to couver, it had to some degree rubbed off, and it would have felt unimaginably rude not to take his friend tea, however frequently he ended up drinking Jehan’s cup himself, unless said friend directly asked him to stop. And Jehan hadn’t, he assumed on the grounds of not wanting to cause offence, or the resultant fuss his mother would have made upon finding out he had not been getting his beverage of choice in the mornings. It also had had the advantage of giving them twenty minutes of peace with just each other’s company. Dorian loved his family, but it had been nice to just have his friend to himself from time to time.

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