Chapter 21

Basil gave one final thrust of his hips and came, all over Dorian's stomach and chest. Dorian laughed light heartedly. Basil could feel himself burn with shame. Dorian took the scarf from Basil's neck and wiped himself down. Basil quickly did up his trousers and tried to make himself look acceptable again. Suddenly, Dorian stood up, forcing Basil to do so too.

Dorian had just turned to walk away when he realised that he was still holding Basil's scarf. He turned back and put the scarf over Basil's shoulder, letting his hand linger their longer than it needed to. They shared a momentary glance before Dorian turned again, this time to leave for good. Basil fell back onto the seat in shock. This time alone.

Had it been a dream? No, Basil thought, it couldn't have been, the aching in his heart proved that. Why did he just leave, without saying one word? Of course, Basil wasn't surprised that he had, they were at risk of being found out at any moment. It was for the best, it was that good that Dorian was considerate enough to leave as soon as he could; one of them had to stay aware of the situation. Basil knew that if Dorian hadn't known when it was time to leave, they would still be sitting together, and would have definitely been seen by someone.

He didn't know how long he stayed there. He didn't know if he'd ever move again if it hadn't been for Lord Henry calling out to him as he walked up the nearby staircase from the hall below.

"I was wandering where you'd got to," Harry smiled as he went to sit by Basil, handing him a wine glass half full of a deep red liquid, "What are you doing up here alone?"

Basil loosely held the wine glass between his legs, barely thinking about its contents but appreciating the gesture.

"I wasn't alone," he mumbled.

"Then why are you alone?" Harry said, taking a gulp from his own glass and grimacing at the taste, "It isn't like you to sit alone in an empty room when there's a party full of beautiful people going on."

Basil gave a small smile, leaning forward, forgetting his troubles for the moment as he was in the good company of a close friend, "No more, Harry, no more."

Lord Henry looked at him in surprise, "What happened? You no longer find inspiration for your art in beautiful things?"

"No," Basil answered almost immediately, the grave conflicting emotions of regret and longing coming over him again, "It is lost."

"Don't be ridiculous!" Lord Henry laughed, slapping him on the back, making Basil spill his crimson wine onto the cream carpet. However, neither took any notice as Basil had suddenly turned sharply towards Lord Henry at the touch of his hand.

"I am not being ridiculous," Basil said, an anger growing in the pit of his stomach, "What do you know about art and inspiration? What do you know about anything? Everything comes so easily to you, Harry, what do you know about real life?"

Lord Henry starred at him momentarily and then gave a knowing grin, "You can't ever have him, Basil, you know that don't you?"

Basil stood up, taken aback, dropping his wine glass as he did so, "I don't know what you're talking about, Harry." He said walking over to the balcony and leaning on it, watching the swirl of the world below; it all felt so far away.

He hadn't intended to look for Dorian, but he found him. He was surrounded by women, seductively dancing around him. The ugly sensation of jealous began to surge through him, its roots flowing from an area of him that he didn't even know that he had.

Lord Henry also stood up, moving over to the balcony too. He lay a comforting hand on Basil's shoulder, "You do know, Basil. I may not know anything about 'real life' but I know more than enough about people's private lives, even when they are kept as well as yours. Sometimes it's just written on a person's face, there without a cause. It cannot be seen by anyone else, Basil, so you do not worry yourself over it. However, those that learn to read people know. Therefore, I know about your feelings, Basil, and he knows too. In fact, he knew before I did."

Basil shook under his friend's hand. Harry was lying, he had to be, otherwise all his hard work to keep his secret would have gone to waste, "How long... how long has he known?" Basil asked, watching Dorian through saddened eyes.

"For a long time," Lord Henry said, removing his hand from Basil's shoulder and too began to watch Dorian and his dancers.

"You're wrong," Basil whispered, "Dorian would never treat anyone in such a way. He would never be so unkind and hurtful. His love would never be given out so lightly and still be able to be received so easily."

"Oh Basil..." Lord Henry began, "You don't know how little you know."

"Don't patronise me, Harry," Basil spat out, turning to face him, "I know more than you think."

The night air was cold, yet refreshing. Basil had left the party not long ago in order to try and clear his head. It wasn't going according to plan, his mind kept flashing back to Dorian: his breathe on him; the touch of his bare skin on his own, his taste on his lips, tongue, throat... Basil shook his head violently. It was over, he mustn't think about it anymore, unless he wanted to drive himself insane. Basil sighed and he closed his eyes. Insanity it is, he thought to himself.

He knew he had to go back. He had to see Dorian was last time, before he went to France. He did not know if he should ever return, there was no reason to. It would be enough for him just to see his sweet Dorian's face one last time. Yes, Basil thought, I could never show my face to him again without feeling shame. He would see him one last time, just to say goodbye and it would be enough to last him the rest of his life. He could easily use wanting to borrow the portrait he had painted of Dorian as an excuse to see him this last time before he left maybe forever.