Until I Fall Away
He kept it in the back of the second drawer in the bureau; hidden behind neatly folded uniform stockings. It was his own personal treasure.
It was a simple drawing, really, he had done it himself late one night, when had been unable to sleep. Now, he took it out by candlelight on nights like that one, so long ago, now.
James's smiling face would look up at him, eyes kind and sparkling with that light they seemed to always possess, even when they would darken with anger or frustration, some glint was still there.
It drove Andrew mad.
Many of the men would say he worshiped the very ground the Commodore walked on, praised him, though he could do no wrong. While he deeply respected Commodore Norrington, and would follow him to the very end and back without question and without looking back, he did not worship him. To worship implied he was of divine status, a god. Andrew knew him, knew who he was. James Norrington was a man. A great, kind and wonderful man, but still a man, just like himself.
They had been friends for many years, meeting when they were not much more than glorified boys, at the cusp of age where they claimed and desperately wished to be considered, and to be, men. The new boy with fiery red hair, who desperately tired to hide his Irish accent and French backgrounds. The seemingly oddly matched pair of the level-headed rule-minder and the mischievous troublemaker. They had taken him in, not out of pity or duty, but because they each saw a bit of themselves in him.
They had grown into men together, side-by-side. They had risen through the ranks, following the others closely. Brothers in arms.
From friendship, something new had begun to take root. It scared him, at first. He told no one, ashamed. As the time passed, he grew, as did his feelings towards James. It happened suddenly, one day; he was no longer ashamed of it. There was no reason to be, he had decided. Theodore, for all his boyish and masculine exterior, was a romantic at heart. He often said that love didn't know boundaries, that's why it was love. Despite all that society had to say against it, his words rang true.
No one would ever know of the nature of his tastes, or his feelings for his superior and friend. He feared not for himself, but for what could happen to James. He had much to loose, but James had more. He couldn't do that to the man he had come feel such feelings about. He vowed to never know if his feelings were returned. It was the only way to keep James from harm.
Carefully, he rolled the small sheet of parchment back up, and placed it in its hidden place.
He loved James. He always would.
No one knew about it, not even Theodore. His closest friend, with whom they kept no secrets. Save this one.
The End
Author's Note:
From :
CrimsonShinigami's Plotbunnies...
45. Why does Gillette have a painting of Norrington in his personal quarters, and more importantly, who painted it? (execpt I kinda cheated, adn did a drawing, instead. :P )