Important! To be read in no hurry, with music, imagining every scene and watching the episode in your head, as I did writing this. Imagine every single detail, the set, the decorations, the atmosphere, the lighting, the actors and the characters, their faces, expressions, motions and clothing, their feelings, their eyes and their smiles, their voices and tones.
The italicised paragraphs are the excerpts from Fred's memoirs.
…'Yes, then I was completely free from Rossetti. I managed it and stepped out – and I was confident to boldly go on. We all seemed free then, so young and strong, but that was only out of our ignorance, or maybe blindness of our love. We knew not what kind of a person Dante Gabriel Rossetti really was, and we knew not what the true cost of breaking free would be. We were yet to know. We were yet to suffer. There were to be tears and pain, there were to be irreversible things. But at that point, we were still ignorant and foolish. We were just happy idiots, and of them the happiest – and the stupidest – was I. And I think that was actually right for us right then. Who knows how it would happen, were we cautious and wise?..
We were all happy then. Johnny Millais was confidently becoming grand. He was loved by people, appreciated by other artists and thus rich, he had his wife, whom he adored, and he had his friends, whom he adored about as much – he had us all. There was an artist's grasp in him, but, being by nature humble and childlike, he was seemingly afraid to show it around us and masked it as well as he could. He stayed an excellent friend, always caring, but not making exceptions for any one. He loved us all equally, I may say, right then… or about equally.
He had eventually talked us all into moving to his house. Or maybe he just 'looked' us into it, or I don't even know how he convinced us. Rossetti just all of a sudden started supporting him with all the heart he could manage into something so dear to him – persuasion. All I know is that we ended up at Johnny's, and I was all but the most wanted tenant. I remember my surprise because of such a sudden change of Gabriel's mind. I was yet to find out the reason to it, but I let it go soon, not bothering. We ended up an 'artists' colony' in that big, clear house which Johnny's family inhabited so happily.
William Hunt, the Maniac, still couldn't really get used to the thought that Annie was gone from his life. The idea of the house for the fallen women distracted him for quite a while, but then he would eventually remember his grief. He was quite lost at the time, but he was always the Maniac, never betraying himself. Always in the struggle to tame his lust, he was, just like I remember him now…He didn't shave ever again, and the women became of little to no concern to him for a while, if their souls weren't in his powers to 'save'…
And even Rossetti was happy, no, he was happy especially, whatever he would say – I promised myself never to believe him again, and I did not! The story of Lizzie Siddal ended, however tragically, but it did. And he got over it unimaginably easily, after all, crying out about 'God's grace', wailing over his loss – yet he was happy, in his own perverted manner. All his manners, as I observe now, were perverted, and right then, I think, it became clearer to me. He pitied himself, and found release in it; he always loved himself in the others.
And me – what was I? I was another happy fool in our party, nothing more. I stayed around, always welcome as a man willingly giving himself to slavery, I think at the time they needed me more than I did them… who will tell now? I was looking for a good lady to spend my life with at the time, but was rather unsuccessful. Not that there weren't any good ladies around, for there was a plenty. Maybe I was just affected with Lizzie's death too much… I just couldn't find satisfaction I was looking for – in a way I couldn't quite explain.
But the house of the Millaises stood strong, as did our friendship, after all. But something was to come, although then we didn't know. Something good, something bad, but the things awaited.'
- Fred?
Fred rubbed his eyes and put down his pencil. The light steps behind his back approached, then stopped hesitantly.
- Yes, Johnny…
John's warm hand lay on Fred's shoulder as he bent down and, with a wide smile on his face, put a large cup – where did he even find it? – onto the table. Fred glanced up at Johnny wearily.
- What's that?
- Chamomile tea, - Johnny patted his back softly, leaning onto the table. His smile faded, replaced by the expression of the most genuine concern. – You need rest, Fred. It's two in the morning.
Fred tried to hold back a yawn. Yes, his body desperately shouted in agreement with Johnny. His poor brain begged for a rest. In one fit of will Fred forced himself to sit straight.
These days the life got a little tough. Fred was in a terrible writer's block. He could hardly write a sentence, he had seemingly forgotten how to write at all. He didn't know how to begin first, then he didn't know how exactly to shape that well, and finally now he didn't have any idea on how to end. He was on the verge of losing his place, and this was the last day that was left for him to save himself. He was working till dawn, but couldn't achieve anything significant.
He looked up at John.
- Oh, I appreciate that, Johnny… but I'm… honestly… I'm fine.
He managed that in between yawning. John's face became even more worried, on the verge of childish sadness. He moved a chair close to Fred's and sat down, putting his elbows onto the table.
- But you aren't!
Fred took his pen again.
- Oh well, maybe I am not… I honestly don't know any more. But I know I must finish this today, or tomorrow I shall lose my place.
Brushing it off by saying it rather confidently, he looked at the notebook again, determined to win over that article. They sat in silence for a minute or two, Fred biting his pen, trying desperately to force something out of himself. He wrote something and crossed out the whole sentence, tried again… no, it didn't work. Fred wiped his face with his hand. He was finally lost. He barely even remembered what he was writing about. The tangled thoughts were losing their beginning and end intertwining inside his head, and his eyelids were way too heavy.
John covered the notebook with his hand, peering into Fred's face with almost motherly quiet determination.
- Freddy… for God's sake, leave this alone, - he was speaking in a low voice, so softly, the kind velvety waves of his words were calling Fred away, away, to the desired land of dreams… - You'll finish that tomorrow, I promise you, for tomorrow you will certainly feel better. Won't you? Just say you will, and let it go.
- No, I… I must… - Fred tried to take the pen, but the fingers barely obeyed him. John caught his hand and took the pen away from him. His palms were warm and dry and his fingers soft and kind.
- Enough of this, Fred. Just drink this and go to bed, please. I can't bear to see you murdering yourself like you do!
Fred smiled a little and leaned back in his chair, softly freeing his hands from Johnny's.
- There, good. I will finish that tomorrow…
John watched him with delight.
- Drink the tea. It must have grown cold already, - he said with a soft smile. – It will help you relax, you poor thing.
Fred nodded and took the cup. The tea was still warm, just excellent for him now. He took a sip.
- Very good, - he smiled. – Thank you.
John smiled back even wider. They sat in silence for a little more. Fred was staring out of the window at the blue outside, sipping the tea slowly, and John was examining him with concern. Finally he dared:
- I think something must be done about this all! It just makes me feel very… uncomfortable!
Fred glanced at his friend and raised his eyebrows:
- What are you talking about?
- You, - John shrugged simply. – I'm concerned about you. You started working a lot, you shouldn't work so much, really. We've all been struck quite noticeably with… Lizzie's death, yet… we should have all let it go by now…
Fred nodded thoughtfully. A couple of months had passed, and everything had almost calmed down, yet not quite. Fred couldn't even quite explain what was going on with him. On one hand, he was happy – quite happy to finally be free. But on the other… He'd been working a lot since Lizzie's death and probably had made it worse for himself.
- We should have, - he echoed.
John looked down.
- Listen…You've really been running yourself clean off your own feet. You look really bad, really. Just, I'm begging you, leave it for a little while. Look at Maniac and Gabriel – doing nothing but letting go… Let us have a rest, too.
Fred smirked a little. Yes, Hunt and Rossetti were 'letting it go' a little bit too often those days. He took another sip of his tea.
- I would gladly, Johnny… but the point is, nobody would make my living for me.
John smiled.
- IS this the only problem? Oh, of that you shouldn't worry! No, you shouldn't! I am rich enough to support all of us Pre-Raphaelites, and not for a week or two – for a lifetime! Fred, this should not be of your concern at all!
Fred couldn't help but smile widely into the cup he'd just brought to his lips again.
- Johnny… no…
- Why? – Johnny raised his eyebrows in the most sincere surprise.
- Well, because I don't want to be a burden on you, of course.
John tilted his head.
- This is quite offensive, Fred, - he said childishly, as only he could. – We owe you too much any way; you could at least give me a chance to pay you back.
- For what, for heaven's sake, Johnny?!
- For everything you have done for us, Fred! Oh, you poor soul, don't you remember?
Fred hid his smile behind his hand and turned away. It was probably the late night and John's 'relaxing tea'; he was just about to give way to his feelings. John was too kind… He remembered himself being sort of offended back then, but everything was forgiven, and for most of the things he still couldn't feel like he had any right to feel bad. For everything bad that happened to him, he was convinced, he had only himself to blame.
- Now, you're being a terrible person, Fred!
This remark, full of John's childlike indignation… Fred looked up at him.
- Oh, Johnny!
John knitted his eyebrows.
- Fred! You must let me; it's a question of our friendship! Or do you not consider me your friend?
Fred glanced into Johnny's clear eyes and looked down.
- Of course I do…
- Then what's a question?!
He rose and put his hands on his hips, knitting his eyebrows harder and only looking more like a twelve-year-old. Fred watched him with a look of loving humility. When Johnny took rule he couldn't resist – nobody could, too adorable a creature that man was.
- I declare your vacation start tomorrow! – John announced, raising his chin. – And whatever you dare say in objection I consider an offence!
Fred looked down, his eyes covered with the mist of sudden sadness. He quickly finished his tea and rose.
- Help me put off the lights, please?
John examined him head to toe.
- So have we decided?
Fred just sighed and went to put off the lamp and all the candles around. John quickly joined him, his glances at his friend becoming more and more worried again. They ended up with a candle for each, and Fred headed out of the room to his bedroom. John's light footsteps followed him all the way, but Fred decided not to say anything. Actually, he didn't mind. He suddenly felt somehow lonely, and he was angry for pitying himself, but this could not actually fill the void in his chest. Now he blamed Johnny – because he reminded him of all the times at once when he was used, when the Pre-Raphaelites talked to him as if he was theirs, someone they bought, their slave – and yes, he couldn't argue that he was to blame for that!
He opened the door and went into his bedroom and was about to close it behind his back, when John held it back with his hand. Fred looked back at him. He stood at the door, looking at his friend with a strange pain in his eyes.
- Go to bed now, Johnny… - Fred said half-questioningly, but John shook his head.
- I can't. Before I say a few things to you. You go t'bed, I still have to shape this all in words, they're too many… you know I was never too clever, I got no way with words, especially compared to Gabriel…
He smiled a little and Fred couldn't help but smile back.
- Yes... you don't need to. Of this I'm sure. You don't need anything from Gabriel, however I hate to say it.
He turned back and didn't look to John again. He quickly dressed down to his underwear and threw back the blanket on his bed. John brought a chair to his bed and sat down beside him, biting his lips. He wasn't silent for long.
- I guess you're right.
Fred moved his pillow a little up, against the wall, and leaned onto it.
- About what?
- Gabriel.
- Hm?
- Well, I think he's really a very strange of a man. It's so easy to trust him… which is not always good.
Fred nodded thoughtfully. Trust… how many times was he bought by Gabriel, and how many times did he find himself just a thing of his? Countless…
- I'm saying this not because I have something against him, - Johnny hurried to reassure in a little while, leaning forward, eyes wide. – He's my friend, my beloved brother, and you should know and it hurts me to see him sad. It's just that… you know… he's not my only friend. You are my – I dare say – brother as well, and…
A smirk touched corners of Fred's lips.
- Why did you think of this – so suddenly?
John looked down.
- Well… I had a little time to think and I noticed some things… which weren't quite right. And especially they were directed towards you. You… can I?
He stopped – he wasn't really sure if he could trust anyone with his little thoughts. Fred smiled reassuringly. John chewed his lower lip a little.
- I think I was blind before, Fred. But I noticed how easy it actually was for anyone of us – to hurt you. To do you wrong. To take advantage of you. And I understood we used every possibility we had to do that.
- Nonsense…
John glanced in noticeable pain at Fred's smile.
- I was just thinking that we're to blame, Fred, - he confessed with an effort. – You know, even such a simple-minded fellow like me noticed the changes in you. And… for some reason I thought that the death of Lizzie wasn't good enough a reason, after all!.. I mean, I knew of your feelings, you know that. Yet… maybe I was feeling guilty…
- There's no reason for you, - Fred said, unexpectedly passionately even for himself, rising a little on his elbow. – Really, Johnny. I… there are a lot of things, but you aren't one of them… although I'm glad that this thought crossed someone's mind, - he confessed, leaning back, a little bit ashamed on the second thought. – Just… I wonder that it was you… Although… who else, after all?
John moved a little closer to him and peered into his face.
- But then… maybe you should tell someone of all the things that bother you? – he asked in a low voice – he was speaking quietly all the way, but this was said in a half-whisper. He was offering himself, Fred didn't have to think much to understand that. He smiled.
- Maybe… and there's nobody but you anywhere around… glad that you offered, Johnny! But I already hate myself, because you're waking the self-pity in me, and I don't like it at all.
- Of course you aren't about to pity yourself! – John raised his eyebrows. – As your friend I won't let you!
- And I won't accept pity from everyone, - Fred said, a little more sharply than he expected. – Not even the closest friends.
John gave a short pained moan.
- Fred, I… I just… want to understand you better! Because as I look around I see that I don't really understand anybody – even my closest friends! That's why I was thinking so much about this all, you see?
- And you decided to approach me?
Johnny looked down, a little taken aback with such open a question, and didn't answer. Fred turned to his side and adjusted his pillow under his ear.
- I think you're better off not knowing, Johnny, - he said quietly. – You are a great man and a great friend and a great brother without this all.
Johnny gave no answer, and Fred just lay quietly for a while, deep in thought. Yes, the little man Millais was better off not knowing. Of course, Fred was perfectly aware that he was not really as simple as he seemed, at least not as silly, but that wasn't intentional in his behaviour. After a while thinking over the ways of the entire Brotherhood, Fred came to the conclusion that John had quite a lot of things stored in that fair head, but they all didn't have that coating of some restraint, or maybe just affectedness of the adulthood – he said what he thought, and he couldn't hide anything – neither his love, nor his unconscious ambition. In that open soul was the spirit of his childishness, he was forever a little boy, and, who knows, maybe that was why he was little affected by Rossetti? Taken advantage of, yes, and yet he loved Gabriel in his faithful way, but he wasn't changed. Their worlds were too far apart, and Fred didn't want Johnny to grow up. He couldn't decide whether it was designed for John, to keep him happy, or for himself – to have at least one man to rely on. He couldn't stand lying, especially to himself, and of the answer he wasn't sure. The only thing he knew was that he wanted John to stay the same – ever. But then – his own troubled soul was begging to let go, and the chamomile tea and the late night were doing their job. Fred softened, opened, and, however hardly he was trying to hide it, he, after all, really wanted to finally trust somebody. And if it wasn't Johnny – whom else could he trust with that stone below his heart?
- After all, there are a lot of things…
John raised his head and looked at Fred softly, recalling what they were talking about. He was quite sleepy himself, but seemingly determined to do all that was in his power to make his friend feel better. Fred was grateful for that. He breathed in and out, deciding on what to begin with. But there were too many thoughts, and he was too weary to disentangle them all.
- You know, I admired you so… and I joined the Brotherhood… to be honest, I still don't know when I joined it and whether did at all…
- Sure you did! – John leaned forward, putting his elbows onto his knees. – You are our brother, don't you ever doubt that!
- Now I don't even know whether this is good or bad, - Fred confessed, putting his hand under his head and staring at the wall. – Maybe I wasn't meant to be a Pre-Raphaelite. After all, I think we lost the meaning of our Brotherhood somewhere… maybe not all of us…
- Maybe you're right, - John decided quietly, when the pause got a little longer than comfortable. – But we're working, we're all doing the best we can. And, what's more, all the events that happened to us…
- I know I can not blame anybody, - Fred interrupted without pressure. – I myself was struck with Lizzie's death very much… and even before that – sometimes I got lost. I got entangled in this all – in the lives of yours and mine, and of the women we loved, in the feelings and the ways they were shown, in what we saw and what was for real. But after all this time I got so used to it I don't know what I'm going to do when the Brotherhood falls apart…
- Don't say that! – Johnny exclaimed in whisper. – Please don't! We are the brothers forever! We will never leave one another!
- But don't you feel you're all too different, and you don't need it like before?
John knitted his fair eyebrows.
- How?
- Elementary. You're changing, developing each one his own style, and while you are friends – we are friends – I'm not sure you will further need one another in an artistic way.
This thought clearly hadn't crossed Millais' mind. He looked down, playing with his fingers.
- I don't know what to say to you…
- Don't say anything, Johnny, - Fred smiled a little. – You just… you can keep this thought in mind, or you can forget it – any way don't let it change your attitude to the people you love. Just consider it a professional thing that has nothing to do with anything but work.
Johnny sighed.
- I will have to think about it…
Fred looked at his face softly. Maybe John, as he himself so often said, didn't have much thought is his head the others would consider overly clever, maybe he wasn't so smart, maybe he was trustful – but that was what made him and what Fred loved in him.
- You know, - he said, guiding his thoughts a little away, - I think I made it worse for myself. I got lost in the ways of the brotherhood, but I was always inspired by you and this complicatedness of our life. The words were born in me like the ideas are born in you – just as I lived, naturally. And now… now we have the calm. And I can't put two words together. Maybe I really should have given it a little pause… but I started forcing myself to do what I wasn't able to do any more. At least for now – I can not write any more. I sort of… lost everything in life that could inspire me. I lost the taste for life, you see, Johnny? And what should I do with myself?..
- And you can not have it back?
- No, Johnny…
He was about to say something else, but decided not to. He looked down.
- And now I exhausted myself without measure and I'm lost again, but now it seems like I wander in the dark. And instead of having lit myself a torch, I just ran forward, thinking myself smart enough to will have reached the safety by dark. I failed myself, Johnny. There's no need for you to blame yourself.
- Hey, look! Look, you're better!
Fred frowned a little, not understanding.
- You're still able to talk this beautifully, - John explained, with a smile lighting up his face.
Fred smiled a little.
- Well… in talking Rossetti can beat me any day, even when I'm in my sharpest…
John nodded thoughtfully and looked away, his smile fading. He sat for a little while more, a few times was about to say something, but stopped himself each time before a sound escaped from his throat. Fred was lying in bed staring at the opposite wall, slowly falling asleep. Finally John softly patted his shoulder. Fred glanced at him.
- You're almost sleeping, - John whispered with a little smile. – Have a rest.
- Good night, - Fred said, closing his eyes. He was feeling better, he couldn't but confess to himself.
John went slowly and quietly out of the room. At the door he stopped and examined his friend in bed with a strange look in his eyes. Fred glanced at him and smiled a little bit.
- Goodnight, my dear brother, - John said quietly, and went out, closing the door behind his back.
And, even this sleepy, Fred noticed that the word 'brother' took him a little more effort than usual. After a few moments of struggling he decided it just seemed to him and gave up to Morpheus.
John snuck into his own bedroom, got undressed quickly and slid under the blanket beside Effie. He turned his back to her and stared at the wall. She raised her head a little and glanced at him.
- Johnny?
He started a little and turned to her.
- Why aren't you sleeping yet?
- And why aren't you?.. – she looked into his eyes. He looked away.
- Well, you see…
Effie rose on her elbow and caressed John's hair. He was having trouble, he couldn't decide…
- You can tell me everything.
- I know…
He was silent for a little while. She was softly patting the light waves of his soft hair. Finally John broke the silence.
- It's just that… Fred.
He paused, and Effie decided to encourage:
- What's wrong with Fred, Johnny?
John sighed.
- He looks terrible. And feels even worse, as he told me just now.
- So it's him you've been so worried about all these days?
He nodded sadly.
- You know, he's such a dear friend to me… and he really loved Elizabeth very much. And now he cannot write any more… and it's all so complicated, I don't understand it fully just now… but I know he cannot live with it and cannot write, and he just keeps wearing himself out. I have to help him somehow, for if not me – who? I just don't know how…
Effie looked away thoughtfully. She wasn't jealous in any way; she had enough in common with John to be a little bit childishly simple herself. Now she was just concerned – for her own husband's health not in the last place.
- I know that Fred's a very good man, - she said softly. – And I understand that you want to help him. I think the best way to cheer him up is to get him outside. To the park somewhere, to the green place, where you can have fun and get some fresh air.
- Park, eh?.. – Johnny looked up at the ceiling, eyes wide, a plan suddenly coming to his mind.
- Yes, - Effie shrugged a little. – As far as possible from here, and to where there's a plenty of green and air and light…
- You're my treasure! – Johnny rose on his elbow and kissed her hard in between quiet happy laughter. – Now I know, o-o-oh, now I know what I'm going to do! Thank you, my dear!
She responded with a quiet laughter herself and buried her face on his chest, pressing closer. John hugged her and couldn't help but squeak a little in happiness. Yes, now he knew what he had to do!
The light woke Fred up. He wasn't a man to sleep tight, and now this light was shining through his eyelids and it was enough for him to wrinkle his nose. The bright light. He sniffed and turned onto his side, so that nothing could wake him again. He was about to go back to sleep when something made him open his eyes and collect his thoughts.
The light. It hadn't wakened him up in a while, and it was unusual and pleasant – yet something was strange. Fred frowned. He was still sleepy and his head didn't want to work properly. He opened his eyes as wide as he could, then closed tight and opened again. He needed to understand what was wrong.
Of course! The article, when did he have to pass it? The sleep was magically gone immediately, Fred jumped off his bed. Twelve o'clock, midday! He gasped and rushed about in search for his clothes. In such a fuss it took him a little longer than usual to jump into his trousers, and that made him even more mad and scared.
He rushed down the stairs, almost falling over, - he remembered he had left his almost finished article and all the writing tools there as he went to bed the previous day. But the table by the window was clean and empty, except for maybe those little decorations Johnny and Effie put everywhere. Fred ran around, looking in and on and under every shelf, everywhere something could possibly be hidden. Nothing. There was nothing. Someone must have put it all away somewhere only they knew, if only…
Fred clutched his head. No, they couldn't just throw it away! He ran back upstairs, checked all the bedrooms – they were empty. Of course, at noon, who would stay in bed?! Fred ran back down and around the rooms. All were empty, and he began to lose all the hope, but as he rushed into the next, throwing the door open with a loud slam, he saw Johnny calmly drinking tea.
John looked up simply and smiled a little at Fred – something cunning was in his fair clear eyes.
- Good morning, - he said softly, as if he didn't notice Fred's dishevelled head and crumpled clothes thrown on haphazardly.
- Johnny! – Fred exhaled. – John, now I'm not joking, if you did something to my manuscript, I swear…
- Did what exactly? – John asked innocently. – If you're talking about that thing you were writing yesterday – there's nothing wrong with it.
- Good, - Fred exhaled, leaning onto the doorframe and holding his hand out. – Now give it to me.
John looked up and took another sip of his tea.
- Well…
- Just hurry up, John, God damn you! – Fred almost jumped up in anxiety. – I already lost my place, it's noon and I'm still here and my article isn't finished!
- But if you already lost your place – why do you need it? – John tried to sound calm, but the strange, surprised notes broke through in his voice – he wasn't Rossetti, after all, and he probably expected Fred to behave differently.
Fred gasped and rushed to his sofa.
- Because, Johnny! – he exclaimed, giving out all his fear. – You are the grand artist, not me! I can not just forget my job, call it a day and relax! I know I have money now, but I will be out in the street in a couple of weeks! I barely got that place; do you know how much it took me?! DO YOU KNOW?!
He shouted the last words right into Johnny's face, leaning to him, almost touching the tip of his nose with his own. He focused on that face, on that beautiful face – and he saw the big clear blue eyes filled with tears and the trembling lips. Johnny backed off a little and managed:
- If I only knew that you will be so evil, would never ever try!
- Try what?! – Fred exclaimed, collapsing onto the sofa beside Johnny and burying his face in his hands.
- To save your life!
- Save my – save my life! – Fred couldn't help but laugh bitterly, raising his head for a moment and dropping it down again. – You've just ruined my life, Johnny! Because it was you, who else?
Johnny didn't reply, only just sniffed wetly and made a broken sigh.
They sat on the sofa side by side. Fred, his eyes closed, his face hidden, was slowly calming down. After all, John was right, he had to admit it. He was already thrown out. Of course, he could try, even in such a writer's block, because it would be work done in the last moment – the best work, he knew for sure. But, after all, he knew that his smile and manners, considered however charming by others, wouldn't help here. He could say farewell to his job – but this as a bare fact did not scare him much for some reason. Now he just could not go anywhere and not get shouted at like he had just done Johnny…
Johnny. Fred sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. The poor fellow just wanted to cheer him up. To save his life, as he said… save him from himself, basically. Fred smiled a little and raised his head. Sat like that for a little while, then looked around, stopping his glance on Johnny. Johnny was sitting there, his nose still red, not looking at Fred. Fred straightened. He still hesitated, not knowing how exactly to say it. He looked back down at his knees, opened his mouth – and closed it again. Then glanced once more at Johnny. His righteous anger had dissolved. He looked at his friend and called, finally collecting himself enough:
- Hey Johnny?
John sniffed.
- Forgive me, - was all he could manage before looking away.
Fred smiled and after a moment's hesitation put his arm around John's shoulders.
- I'm sorry, John. Really, I shouldn't have shouted at you. After all you're right, yes. I needed this, I suppose…
- I forgot that your position is quite different from mine, - Johnny said quietly. - Forgive me, Fred. I… I'm stupid, but I didn't want to ruin anything! I'm sorry this happened…
Fred sighed.
- On the second thought, you don't even have to be sorry. Because you did that for a reason, right? You hid my article and tools not just for the sake of a trick.
- Well, of course not, - John still didn't dare to look at Fred. – I… I just wanted so to make you happier… to make you the Fred you were before this… all… I wanted to bring you back to life… to the green… I couldn't imagine you'd get so angry!
Fred looked down.
- Well, actually… I think I overshot the mark a bit.
- After all, I thought I could always get you another place, even better, - Johnny finally looked up at Fred, and hope shone in his eyes.
- How do you mean?
- Well, I'm the grand artist, as you yourself said… - Johnny shrugged, and something cunning returned to his intonation.
- Oh no, - Fred brushed it off. – It'll be awfully inappropriate, using my connections with you and…
- Nobody shall be even asking you! – Johnny looked up and Fred was overpowered with the shine of that smile over the tears not yet completely gone from the corners of his eyes. – I'll just go and get it for you, for the sake of everything you've ever done for us! Yes, Freddy, I will!
And before Fred could collect himself from that astonishment with such a sudden change in Millais' mood, Johnny threw his arms around his neck and pressed him close.
- Oh God, Johnny… - was all Fred could manage.
- You are indeed going with me today! – John announced, releasing Fred and jumping to his feet. – Yes, yes, yes! We are going as I planned, because now I know I haven't ruined your life, and your objections don't matter! I am going to make you happy, Fred! If I were Gabriel, I'd kiss you! Get dressed properly, you don't want people in public places to think you are homeless! What will it be? Come on!
And he turned ran out. Fred watched him with a little involuntary smile. This pure and sincere childishness of Johnny's showed everywhere, and the way he shouted the entire tirade, however uncomfortable it made fair Fred, told him that if someone could bring people back to life, it would be John. He rose and headed slowly out of the room to tidy himself up.
Johnny rushed into his room in joy, announcing that the cab couldn't wait. He grabbed Fred's hand and dragged him out of the room, and Fred, grasping at his scarf as if it could somehow save him from that happy force, couldn't help but run after him. John almost stuffed him inside the carriage and they left immediately, John didn't even say a word to the cabbie.
- Hey, where are we going?! – Fred called, barely managing to tie his scarf.
- You'll see! – Johnny responded, brushing Fred's hands away and tinkering with his scarf himself. – Here, this is better.
He adjusted the knot and fell back in the seat, gazing at Fred with the cunning sparkles in his eyes.
Fred leaned back as well and looked outside. They were riding through the familiar streets, but he couldn't tell where exactly they could aim. London was big, and Johnny's imagination boundless.
- Maybe you will at least give me a clue? – he glanced at John.
- There's absolutely no necessity! – Johnny raised his eyebrows.
Fred looked into his big clear dark-blue eyes – and something strange knocked at his heart once again. He quickly looked away. That feeling was familiar, he had felt it few times before – just a few times, but enough for him to be slightly afraid of it. He tried his best to hide it deep, but every time he managed to forget he'd ever felt it, it came again, and the strange thing was, it happened every time he looked directly into Johnny's eyes for long enough to notice that they were of that wonderful colour. When he didn't pay attention to that particular little thing, when he had better things to think about – it was all right. But when his gaze stopped – even involuntarily – on John's face, without thinking about something else, his insides began to tingle in a strange and pleasant manner, but for some reason Fred was afraid of it. He never tried to understand what was wrong – he was too busy trying to forget. And so now he looked outside again and thought of the streets. The words and the thoughts started flowing in his head unexpectedly neatly, and the almost forgotten article and the place lost came to his mind again. He couldn't help but regret the loss, but he secretly gave up to the thought that Johnny would help him, and the hope for it kept him calm and gave that warmth of having a spare way out. Fred was kind of afraid that it was a sign of laziness of mind, which he didn't want, but he calmed himself down with a thought that why, after all, not listen to Johnny? He cast a little glance to his friend – and almost caught his eyes again. He didn't let his gaze slip to Johnny's face and looked absently out of the opposite window, then down, across the shirt on John's chest – and then turned back to the window on his side. Johnny was most probably deep in thought and his stare just happened to lock at Fred… he brushed the thought off and returned to the little mundane matters.
John never drew his gaze off Fred. And he was thoughtful indeed. But his dreamy gaze was locked on Fred not accidentally. Being honest to himself, as Johnny always was – he simply couldn't fit lies intricate enough into his head – he'd been spending a lot of time figuring out about Fred. He thought of him and his ways, as far as he could reach with his thought, a lot, he didn't know how to explain it. He was used to feeling, to accepting the world as it was, and this man was bringing in too much thinking and looking deeper, from the very first moment Johnny felt the sympathy for him. That's about when some of Rossetti's remarks began to strike him as sharp and sometimes outright rude. Before he didn't care much – they were his friends, they were all just people, and they all accepted each other with equal love… Johnny was a little nervous that he was thinking so much, he remembered that Fred told him he didn't want him to ever change – and focused on Fred instead. He examined that face – now calm. He had examined Fred's face so closely a few times before and understood that he rarely saw it completely calm or genuinely happy. He remembered it now for some reason. Now this face was calm and he was determined to finally bring a smile of genuine joy to it. It must look wonderful, he thought. He examined Fred's profile… maybe he should try and draw him? At least sketch… John's hand took the drawing position involuntarily. A tiny tired shadow right over there, and a soft line of his high forehead and nose… the soft dark wave of hair and a sideburn… such a fine shape, soft and a little sad…
- Gentlemen?
John shook his head and glanced at the footman opening the door for them. Then smiled quickly and jumped out, looking back up at Fred. Fred looked out and got down carefully. Johnny laughed at him and ran to pay the cabbie.
- Leave the rest! – he called as he ran forward, breaking through the crowd. – Fred, let's go!
Fred thanked the footman as he got out of the cab and managed to look around. Then laughed quietly to himself. Regent's Park! Johnny chose the farthest and the most beautiful place he could manage indeed…
He looked around and found Johnny's face and waving hand in the crowd – and ran after him, for some reason already smiling.
They ran around chasing each other and frolicking, like little children. In the middle of the respectable crowd on the trail Fred caught Johnny, jumped onto him and rode his back a few meters. Johnny's hat fell down and his hair got all dishevelled, but he laughed and carried Fred, until he decided to jump off with chuckling, causing the most respectable to gasp in indignation. But this time Fred didn't worry. Maybe it was because the grand artist John Everett Millais was running along with him this time, letting him ride his back and chasing him around – maybe. Or maybe it was just that his friend was around him. He just felt so natural and comfortable it didn't feel bad to be childish. After all, he was only thirty-three, he'd seen some, but had a whole world ahead, and when frolic if not now?
When they got tired of running, they would walk, chatting about this and that, and admiring everything and everyone around – Fred didn't know for sure about Johnny, though his eyes were shining and his cheeks were rosy-red, but he himself couldn't help but love every thing – living or not – around. He didn't even remember the last time he'd been so happy around friends – when he really felt loved, he felt like with friends. Walking around with Johnny he felt it to the deepest depths of his heart. Johnny told him his little stories, which didn't really matter, but were extremely entertaining – laughing at one Fred caught himself thinking he wouldn't but smile if he heard it around the Brotherhood. Walking around with Johnny, however, everything seemed funny, sunny and a little bit surprising.
Johnny had his arm around Fred all the time, and at some point Fred just felt so grateful he threw his own arm around Johnny's neck and drew him into a hug. Johnny laughed into his shoulder and squeezed him. And then Fred broke away and exclaimed: 'Catch me!' and ran along the path, as fast as he could, and people were stepping away – some in indignation, some with laughter, some even shouted something encouraging at his back – and so he ran until suddenly he ran into a huge dark brown figure with a paunch, which made him immediately stop on his way and back off, looking up and mumbling apologies.
What he saw up there frightened him to the dark circles in his eyes and the lump in his throat. He suddenly got weak in the knees and opened his mouth and closed it again, unable to say anything.
- Mr. Walters, then. Very good, Mr. Walters, I thought I'd have to look for you, but I guess I shall not.
Fred backed off a little more, throwing off his hat.
- Oh, Mr. Stewart…
This was his chief editor, and he was a very strict and demanding man. To be honest, Fred had been afraid of him all the way since he'd got the place in the Illustrated London News, and now his fear was back in its entire strength. He huddled up habitually, drew his head in his shoulders – and there he was, the Fred he had always been, curling up like a little hedgehog, hiding away – a scared Fred, a Fred who was always just shouted at and ordered.
- My dear, this is Mr. Walters I was talking about just now, - the editor addressed the woman walking by him with a little put-on smile. – I think we will now have a good talk, will not we, Mr. Walters?
Fred opened his mouth to say something, but at that very moment the bright sunshine broke into his life again as he heard the fast steps and breathing and Johnny threw his arms lightly around his waist, locked his hands just over Fred's side and smiled brightly at the dark-brown giant.
- Hello, Mr…
- Stewart, - Fred rustled as he involuntarily put his hand onto John's back – maybe just to feel that he had him around now…
- Oh, Mr. Stewart! – Johnny held out his hand, still standing half-turned to Fred and embracing his waist. – Nice to meet you.
- Mr. Millais, - the chief editor made a little bow. – It's wonderful to see you here, indeed. So, I was just about to talk to Mr. Walters on the matter of his… our work… if you will excuse us?..
Johnny gave the most adorable smile.
- I'd like to let you know I won't give you Mr. Walters, - he said simply. – You will never have him back, and that's flat. It's not my decision, but his and his doctor's, and I just only can support it. Have fun, Mr. Stewart, and excuse us.
And he slid his arm behind Fred's back to catch his hand and lead him on, breaking into running immediately as they passed Mr. Stewart. He released his fingers immediately as he felt Fred catching on the speed. He glanced over his shoulder to check on him and then suddenly stopped, caught Fred by the shoulders and dragged him to some narrow trail between the trees, brought him a little forward, then stopped, glanced around – and burst out laughing. Fred, as his back straightened again and he felt Johnny's magic healing spirit returning to him, couldn't help but laugh, too.
- Did you see that, Fred?! – Johnny managed, grasping at his shoulders. – Did you see his face?
- You undid him just fine! – Fred laughed in response. – God, Johnny, what have you just done?! I'm not even sorry for you, and neither I'm scared! Johnny, what have you done, I'm not scared!
Johnny's smile fell a little.
- Scared? Why are you supposed to be scared, Fred?
Fred smiled widely at him.
- This fellow always scared the crap out of me, - he confessed. – Always, even if when he wasn't around. And you freed me from him, you little thing!
He poked John's shoulder with his fist slightly, in a friendly manner, but John's smile was gone.
- My poor brother! – he half-whispered. – My poor friend!
And with those words gave Fred another – yet another! – tight embrace.
- From now on, I won't let you be afraid when you've done nothing wrong, - he said, almost desperately. Fred smiled.
- Sure, Johnny… - and, after a little pause, he decided: - Thank you. For everything. For this walk, for this day… you were right, you showed me the life.
Johnny looked at his face as he meanwhile released him.
- So are you feeling better now?
- You can't even imagine, - Fred said, pressing his hands to his chest – and at that moment he couldn't be more sincere.
The pub was packed with people. They talked and laughed loudly, cried drunken tears, sat and drank silently, jumped onto the others, were ignored, or thrown out; some were flirting with the ladies, some knew what they were looking for and just paid the ladies and took them away; some of the people were here for the first time, some were here every evening, some lived here; and some were sleeping already somewhere under the tables. And in the corner, amongst this entire mess, gathered the four people, the three artists and one journalist – or, better to say, ex-journalist, because right now he was being taken care of by Johnny Millais and spending his last money – though God knows what was his 'last', because he had not so little.
All in all, there was the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, the old company: John Millais, Gabriel Rossetti, William Hunt and their faithful chronicler and publisher Fred Walters.
It has to be said that neither William Morris, nor Ed Burne-Jones, did actually join the brotherhood or move in with them to Johnny's 'artists' colony'. Jane and Morris got married (although it wasn't a secret from any one of the Pre-Raphaelites that Rossetti still met her now and then, and not just to say hello), and Burne-Jones sailed some other way, but they parted and the Brotherhood was left to its original company. Nobody had anything to complain, however. After all, the Brothers were proven Brothers, and the others weren't really a part of the Brotherhood in its starting concept. The concept, however, was not followed this closely by the artists, after all. And this was the topic that was flying in and out and around the conversation that entire evening.
It was already determined that Hunt hadn't yet found himself another lady 'to be saved', and that Rossetti still had a lot of women around, sitting for him and not only for, when Johnny and Fred's day off was suddenly remembered.
- By the way, what exactly happened yesterday that you two came back so late, together and so happy? – Rossetti inquired, taking a drink and glancing from John to Fred. – You weren't seen with the ladies, - because you know what was my main suspect – as I would run to be happy for you; or working anywhere, in which case I would be around telling you my opinion, but someone noticed you running around Regent's Part, disturbing the audience. What can you say?
He leaned back and examined them both. Johnny smiled.
- I just took Fred to have some fresh air, - he explained, quite shyly. – He was so busy lately… and didn't look well… or feel…
- Johnny just simply made a happy child out of me and left me without a job, - Fred explained, hiding his nose behind his hand as it wrinkled in chuckling.
Fred looked much better. Even though the traces of weariness could not wear out in one day, his eyes shone. His faithful notebook was with him, Johnny had given it back, but he didn't grasp at it for reassurance any more. It was just resting on the table, and Fred was drinking and talking, not just mostly listening to the others. Maybe he was much rather addressed to by Johnny than by the others, but he was listened to, and, for the first time in God knows how much time, he didn't feel odd in their company.
Gabriel raised his eyebrows.
- Oh-kay, now you explain what this all means.
- He just hid my writing tools somewhere, didn't let me finish the article I had to present due today, - Fred counted fingers, - made me have a good night's sleep, took me to Regent's Park for the entire day, politely offended the chief editor of the Illustrated London News we met accidentally, and got me without my job, but I'm having the best time.
Johnny just nodded, and his smile was wide and proud. Rossetti laughed.
- Oh he-ey, Johnny, now you're doing well! So, Mister Prophet was running around with you? Someone's eyes noticed him jumping on you!
- Have you got agents everywhere? – Johnny raised his eyebrows.
- He rode you for five meters, - Hunt pointed out from his corner, before leaning back again, chuckling.
- Hey, how'd you know?! – Fred exclaimed.
- I was watching you, - Gabriel confessed, with sly flames jumping on the bottom of his pupils. – We happened to notice you in a cab, and thought it was quite interesting, because Johnny told me that morning he didn't have any serious plans for the day and was about to have some rest. I even thought – hey, strange!
- Did you have nothing better to do?! – Fred laughed.
- 'Course not! – Gabriel pulled a face. – What can be better than watching the doves like you, when there's no success in finding a model the whole day? And then – I see you in the cab, and of course, I took another one right after you!
- Where'd you got the money? – Fred squinted at him. – Do we not know something? Did you kill somebody yesterday? Or maybe rob?
His expressly scared face was excellent. Hunt sniffed.
- We took another cab, - he explained. – I was trying to convince him not to do it, but who could ever convince Rossetti?..
- And you watched us all the way?! – Fred raised his eyebrows, now in real surprise.
- All the way and around the park! – Gabriel announced proudly. – You were a great fun to watch. Especially hugging!
Johnny blushed, but couldn't help a smile. Fred tilted his head and couldn't say anything, but his face said it all for him.
- Well, come, you doves, this isn't even so interesting, - Gabriel brushed it off, showing all his perfect teeth in a grin. – Now how did Johnny offend that chief editor? I heard that was a scary man, no? Was that the big bear you hit, Fred?
- That was, - Fred nodded, fighting back a chuckle. – And he is scary indeed. Johnny, can you repeat what you said to him?
- Any minute, - Johnny said with a little smile. – I said I wouldn't give him Fred because this job was, basically, bad for his health and overall talked to him so that he knows his place. After all, it all was for Fred, and, you see… - he pointed his hand at Fred and smiled a little, as if he was entirely his creation.
- Not bad, you! I hope you didn't faint right after that? – Rossetti laughed loudly.
- Just laughed like mad, - Fred replied, remembering everything and chuckling himself.
- Of course, were I there, I'd say it a thousand times better…
- Were you there, you'd tell him how right he is about me, - Fred remarked.
- Oh, don't start your righteous talk now, - Gabriel scoffed.
Fred laughed it off.
- You two shouldn't have been so casual with the chief editor, though, - Rossetti reminded in a moment. – The revenge of the journalists can be quite unexpectedly cruel.
Johnny's bright smile fell as he examined his friends with those eyes of a little frightened animal.
- Fred, Maniac, what is he talking about? – he asked in the voice slightly trembling.
- Oh, don't bother, Johnny, nobody would dare, - Hunt dropped from his place, sending Johnny one of his short-lived encouraging smiles.
- But they can, - Rossetti shrugged.
- What could they possibly write?..
- Well, whatever they might wish, - Gabriel raised his eyebrows like it was no big deal. – That your behaviour is ridiculous and childish. That the grand artist runs around carrying a bad journalist, and they may even suggest you having him as a lover… no offence, Fred.
- None taken, - Fred hemmed habitually.
- Lover, ha?! You tell them, Rossetti! – Hunt scoffed as he straightened in his corner.
- What, everything is possible! – Rossetti smirked.
- This is too serious an accusation to be a revenge for something this little, - Hunt explained, rolling his eyes. – Sending a man to prison for but a little sit-down… don't you think it would be a little too much? Oh come on, nobody can actually do Johnny any harm as for now. He has his patron, he is loved and supported… and anyway he can make his pretty face any minute to say this is all slander and calumny. And everybody will believe him much rather, and the paper will look ridiculous.
- This actually looks closer to the truth, - Fred smiled. – Telling you as a journalist. They risk their reputation, and you, on the second thought, risk nothing!
- And… are you sure my reputation will be intact?..
Fred tapped Johnny's shoulder.
- If they wanted to publish something of that sort, they'd have done it by now. And everybody would talk about it. Don't listen to Gabriel, listen to Hunt.
- Listen to me, I warn you while I still can, - Gabriel remarked, but didn't continue the talk.
They discussed different things for a little while, when mostly silent Maniac suddenly, out of thin air, dropped:
- You know what? I think that the Brotherhood is coming to its end.
Everybody's eyes were immediately on him.
- What are you even saying?! – Gabriel pulled a face. – What end, impossible!
- Possible, Gabriel, - Hunt dropped, casting a weary glance at him from under his heavy eyebrows. – We're changing, we're not the same. Our styles organically flow to leave the Pre-Raphaelite original concept of art, and I think it's for the better.
- If you are tired of life and of everything around you, it doesn't mean everybody else is, too, - Johnny pouted. – Fred told me just about the same, and I think you're just being two of the most terrible bores!
- I am not just tired, - Hunt sighed, as he straightened and leaned onto the table. – Let's be honest, the Brotherhood died a while ago, just about when Johnny got married and had to support his family. The Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood and its philosophies changed us enough already, and we grew out of it a while ago. For some reason we keep calling our company The Brotherhood – maybe just out of habit. But I believe it's time to get rid of the brotherhood as it is. We will stay each other's friends, each other's brothers, but we won't be dependent on each other any more.
A wave of objections rose from Johnny and Rossetti, and Gabriel was the loudest. Hunt was watching them as if they were children. Then he looked to Fred.
- And why are you silent, Walters? – he called. – Or does it not matter to you?
- It does, - Fred shrugged. – But I agree with you, and I think you're putting it well.
- What?! Fred! – the pure indignation was on Johnny's face. – I told you not to say anything of that sort ever again!
Fred smiled.
- Of us all, Johnny, I think you need the Brotherhood the least. You have your style and you have your success, and you should just let life shape you as you go along. You, with your nature, don't even need us in the artistic plan any longer.
- They are my friends, Fred! – Johnny scoffed. – I will not abandon them!
- Nobody's telling you to abandon, Johnny, - Hunt glanced at him. – You don't understand, and you aren't even trying. 'The end' might be a scary word, but look what I'm putting into it – what I'm even talking about. I'm just saying we won't use the name of the Brotherhood – I think it no longer suits us – and just be friends and artists. I may as well soon leave your house and leave you happily without my presence.
- How is it?
Hunt smiled a little.
- I just maybe found myself a home good enough, where I won't bother anyone like Rossetti with my boring doctrines.
Rossetti laughed, but his dark eyes sparkled in ill flames.
- After all, you all have your patrons and supporters, and you are all great artists by yourselves, - Fred remarked. – Even I, though I'm no artist, can notice the changes in your styles.
- So do you think we should just abandon the name? – Johnny asked unsurely.
- The Per-Raphaelite Brotherhood is no longer but a name, - Fred explained softly. – Hunt's right, you grew out of it a while ago. Before you needed each other for support – maybe even material. But now you just have each other as close friends, and don't need material support, do you?
- You might actually be right, - Johnny admitted, looking down. – But we're so used to be the Brotherhood…
- Nobody's asking you not to be right over here, or in the Gardens! – Fred laughed.
- Just not officially any more, - Hunt smiled a little.
Johnny smiled back.
- Yes, I guess this idea is not so terrible, after all?
They talked about the idea for a little while more, making it clear and shaping it. And only Rossetti, that loud half-Italian, half-mad Dante Gabriel Rossetti, leaned back in his seat and watched them silently. They laughed and decided, and he didn't say a word. But something scary was dancing in his black eyes under the heavy black eyebrows…