Chapter 19: 18. IVORY

Palazzo Farnese: Carracci Gallery

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All Isaac could feel was cold. In fact, the amount of cold he felt was so much that it's turned him into a human vibrator. And, despite how sexy as the term sounded, almost anyone would find the sight of him unappealing. He trembled uncontrollably wrapped in a paper thin sheet, running hands over his piloerection—again, not sexy, that's just the fancy term for goosebumps. Basically, the moral of this story was that Isaac wasn't feeling too hot. He felt like shit.

Besides what he could feel, his other senses—they weren't active. Isaac couldn't smell, taste, or see anything. Of course, that would make sense, given that he's currently lying in a bed half unconscious. His ability to hear, well, that came and went.

"I still can't believe you're making me go to a boarding school!"

"Trust me, it's for your own good, Isaac."

"I don't even understand how you can afford it! I know you have money, but this is-"

"Would you just quit it, already? I have the funds just...just promise me you'll take care of yourself, okay?"

Isaac woke up in a sweat to what he thought was the sound of William's voice. Only, he wasn't there. Staring at the bright white ceiling, he remembered the last real words his ears had heard. He's dead.

He forced himself up.

"Oh! You're finally awake."

"Wha-?" he mumbled, eyes exploring his environment. "Where the hell am I?"

"The infirmary." She must've been the nurse. "You've been out cold for three days."

He tore the sheet off and swung legs off the edge of the bed. "I need to speak with the headmaster."

The nurse panicked. "You can't yet! You need to rest."

"I've been resting for seventy-two hours. I'm leaving." Trying his best to hide the fact that his surroundings were spinning, Isaac carefully made his way to the door. "Now."

He hurried out of the room and down the hall. It was already the weekend, something he could tell because there were no students present. Once he arrived at the office, he pounded fists against the oak. "Sir?" More pounding. "Sir, are you there? It's Isaac."

No answer.

He continued to knock impatiently, acting like it was secretly a spell to summon a headmaster. When he finally gave up, he started to leave, a variety emotions swelling in his chest. It was then he finally saw the man walking towards him holding a bag of what was likely his meal.

"What are you doing here, kid? You were supposed to be resting."

"I'm rested now." He didn't think the fake kindness could get anymore tiresome. It was obvious the man was trying to avoid him; he was scavenged through his pockets to find keys so he could lock himself in his office. "Tell me how William died."

Now he was rushing to open the door. "That's a rather heavy topic, isn't it? I'm sure you'd much rather take some time to yourself-"

"I need to know."

The man kept avoiding his gaze. Isaac could keep this up all day. "Alright. Get in my office."

He did as he was told and followed him in, shutting the door behind assuming the headmaster meant discretion. When he settled into a suede seat, he waited for him to speak. Tick, tick. Several seconds passed and the grandfather clock in the corner of the room made sure he knew.

"William's death...it wasn't natural." He swallowed a lump in his throat as he listened. "It happened...in an alley." The older man tried to sugarcoat it but Isaac knew what he meant.

"Murder? Who the hell would anyone target him? He...he was a good person!"

"This is why I was so reluctant to tell you. You're too young to understand-"

"Too young? You have no idea what I've been through. What I know. Why would anyone be after him?"

The frustrated headmaster dragged hands down his face, stretching the skin like it was rubber. "I don't know, Isaac!" he finally shouted as he slammed hands against his desk. As if aware of his volatile display, he quickly sighed, attempting to collect himself.

"...how well did you know him?"

Isaac scoffed. "Are you accusing William of causing his own murder? I can't believe you."

"That's not at all what I'm saying. But you have to consider the fact that people aren't always what you expect. I know him as a good man. You know him as a good man. What did he know himself as? Can you answer that?"

Isaac sat speechless. Did he really not know?

The headmaster took one last deep breath, one final breath to regain his composure.

"Go back to the infirmary, Isaac. Get some rest," he finished, pointing to exit.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✦ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Back in his room, Isaac couldn't help but think about William for hours. He craved an answer to the headmaster's question, but he knew that in order for him to find it, he would need to return home. Screw resting, he decided, and made his way out of the dorms.

Nearing the school entrance, he heard a classroom door swing open and a teacher start to speak. He tucked himself into a decorative indent in the wall, trying his best to remain unseen. A goddamn break, that was all he wanted.

"Care to explain what's going on?" he heard. It was some student-teacher conference. They held those for kids like Isaac. He expected to hear derogatory criticism, the kind that didn't help you but only belittled you, made you feel like a piece of trash.Then, just as you think it's over, they make a snide remark about how ashamed your parents would be to guilt you into changing. He knew the whole process.

What he definitely didn't expect to hear was the exhausted voice of Josiah on the other end. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You aren't aware that you've been skipping classes?" said the teacher.

"I guess my mind still thinks it's summer break." Isaac couldn't control his snicker when the teacher gasped at his insolence. Josiah's sarcasm could only be matched by his own.

"This isn't a joke. I expect this from other students, but not from you. You're better than this."

"Why? Just because I get good grades I'm a saint?"

"You won't be getting good grades for long. If this keeps up, I'm going to have to contact your parents. I don't think they'd be too happy to hear their son has been misbehaving."

That shut him up right away. The tone of his voice even changed. It sounded more scared, or desperate even. Soft. "Don't... I'll go to class."

Their conversation ended with the teacher stating, "very good" and the closing of another door. He assumed they were in another room and it was clear to go. But luck hasn't been on his side recently, so he waited a bit longer before standing up.

It's been two months since he last heard Josiah's voice in person. If he heard it again, alone in the Eton corridor with no teacher in sight, he'd probably be tempted to reveal himself. Maybe he'd say hello, too. Who knows what would happen if he saw his face.

He let more time pass, praying the prefect had left. At the same time, he couldn't help but hope he'd stayed. Isaac felt like a living contradiction. Truly, he could've passed out again. Once he felt ready, all he did was shift his body, just enough to peak when he saw him—his cruel fate and kind destiny.

"I know someone's there," the other boy said.

Oh no.

Slow footsteps neared as he stood, pressed as tightly as possible to the wall, trying to still both his breathing and time. "Who are you? Did you hear everything?"

The footsteps got louder, and, despite searching thoroughly, there was no other exit nearby. Random chance forced Isaac to do the one thing he didn't want to. He stopped hiding.

It was in that moment, faced with a lone Josiah in the abandoned hall, everything he tried desperately to hold together fell apart; it all came crashing down on top of him, suffocating him. Killing him. Back in the headmaster's office he refused to let himself cry; he told himself to keep his shit together so everyone would just leave him alone. Now his tears started falling and wouldn't stop. They were sad tears about William. Angry tears about the cause of his death. Frustrated tears caused by the sight of the boy in front of him. The boy he missed so damn much.

The fatigue must've gotten to him.

His legs started moving on their own and, before he knew it, his face was buried in Josiah's chest, wetting his shirt with his sobs. How embarrassing.

"Isaac?"

He expected Josiah to tear him off, scold him for doing this in public, shame him for being such a baby. But all of his expectations so far were proven wrong, including this one.

Josiah didn't say anything else, just wrapped his arms around him tightly and let his cries echo in the empty hall.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✦ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"I see."

Sitting on an outdoor bench together, Isaac had explained everything about William, his death and how he saved him when he was fifteen.

"When will you be back?" Josiah questioned.

"I don't plan to be out for long. It's just...I need to know this man wasn't bad. I have to."

He removed himself from the bench and Josiah gave him a heavy hearted look in return. He opened his mouth to say something, but quickly shut it and looked away rather shyly. "I...I missed you, by the way."

Isaac looked down at the boy who hid his face. "I'm going now."

The brunette frowned as if upset by his response. " At least promise you'll come back."

He smiled at the boy's worry. He'd never, ever let Josiah know how warm it made his whole body feel, almost like a second embrace. "Alright! I promise. Goodbye now."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✦ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

When Isaac arrived at his old home, it felt completely different without William opening the door for him. It was a good thing he was naive enough to leave a spare key.

The house was dark and cold, proof no one occupied it. Isaac wanted to cry again. He saw the couch, the one he was shoved off of when he kissed William. On the coffee table still lay his books, Dorian Gray still on the top as if the pile were untouched after all this time.

What was he looking for? He realized now he didn't have much of a plan, too driven by instinct and adrenaline when he made this decision. He rummaged through piles of papers in hopes of finding nothing out of the ordinary. He wanted to see bills, newspapers and taxes. Instead, his heart skipped a beat when he found a professional envelope, an ivory color with William's full name written in inked calligraphy.

Please just be a love letter.

He expected to read something intimate, either touching confessions of love that made him feel like he was prying or heated words about their desires that made him blush. That's what he expected. But alas, for what seemed like the thousandth time in one day, his expectations were proven very, very wrong the minute he read the letter and a thick stack of paper currency fell out onto the desk.

If read less than five words:

For his final year.

Isaac didn't understand. Final year of what? Whose year? He examined the money. It was a lot, like enough to cover the rent of an apartment, the cost of living for a year or...

...a tuition.

Frantically, he turned the envelope over to read the return address. What he saw felt like a knife to the gut.

Nathaniel Beckett.

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