Alexander the Great story: Love Letters by Moon71
LOVE LETTERS by Moon71
Chapter 5: Thing seem to be going from bad to worse for Alexander as he and Hephaestion grow ever farther apart.
NOTES: I can only apologise for the slowness of my updating. First a computer virus, then the Explorer thing (no internet at work!!! Horror of horrors!) and finally the death of my home wireless connection... it just isn’t good for happy updating. But I hope you’ll forgive me and read on. Though I warn in advance there could be more delays, I emphasise again the actually story was finished yonks ago and WILL be posted sooner or later.
One last word - if anyone has emailed, PM’d or LJ’d me and hasn’t got a response, PLEASE prompt me - I have had so little access to my email of late that I may well have missed someone, and it’s never intentional.
Dearest Love,
How can you do it? How can you separate love from desire? I have tried to, but cannot. Ever since you first kissed me I have been able to think of little else besides when you might do so again. I even look forward to the times when you go away, because I know you will kiss me good-bye, and kiss me again when you return. I am afraid to kiss you, to hold you, because if I do I do not know if I will be able to stop myself from going further. I ache for you, my body burns for you, I find it hard to think of anything else; how can I let you close to me when just the sight of you makes my body awaken?
When you first kissed me I was overjoyed. I was no longer embarrassed or ashamed of the feelings I had begun to have about you because I was sure you felt the same. I had doubted it for so long - everything you said and did seemed to speak against it and I dared not tell you how I felt in case it turned you against me.
But I was right to doubt, wasn’t I? How stupid I have been. You could kiss me a thousand times and it still would not mean the same thing as one kiss I might give you.
Please do not answer my question, if you love me. I do not even want to answer it myself, because I think I already know. You love me like you love a brother, a dear friend. That is all. The kisses, the embraces we share are those of beloved brothers. Any other touch from me would repulse you. You do not want to touch my body, to share its secrets. There is no desire for me in you. Perhaps there is no desire in you at all. That is the truth, is it not?
I cannot write anymore, my heart aches too much.
“What are you reading, Hephaestion?” Alexander asked as he trotted into the room with his usual restless vitality. Hephaestion quickly rolled up the scroll he had been studying, a blush appearing on his face.
“Oh… nothing,” he said quickly; then added, “just some stories about Heracles…”
“Come and sit on my bed, we’ll read it together!”
“Oh, no, it’s all right, I have some studies to attend to…”
“I thought you’d finished Aristotle’s assignments,” Alexander said with a small frown, “did I miss something today?”
“No, no, it’s just… something I thought I ought to do…” Hephaestion gave him a quick, rather unconvincing smile.
“You seem to be spending more and more time in the library,” Alexander noted after a moment, watching him, “what are you studying?”
“What a lot of questions you ask!”
Alexander lowered his eyes, trying to ignore the lump gathering in his throat.
“It’s only because I miss you, Hephaestion.”
Hephaestion put the scroll quickly into the chest at the foot of his bed, locking it shut. “You seemed happy enough to go riding with Nearchos and the others…”
“It wasn’t the same without you.”
A long silence. Then, “go ahead to bed, I won’t be long… I just have a few more lines to write.”
Alexander stared at Hephaestion as the other boy turned back to his desk, picking up a stylus and flattening out the paper in front of him. Alexander could feel the hot blood pumping up to his head, blinding his vision, the breathless rage constricting his throat.
I hate you, the words pulsed through his head, I hate you; you have no right to treat me like this, I’m a Prince, what are you? Any other boy would give his life to be loved by me, how dare you, how dare you…grow BORED with me!
Could that really be all it was? He had refused Hephaestion’s advances and suddenly he wasn’t interesting anymore? Was that Andromachus person preferable company? Andromachus who probably only wanted to make use of Hephaestion while he was young and pretty; who would probably not have bothered with him if he wasn’t favoured by a prince! He would probably drop Hephaestion once he realised Alexander no longer…
No longer…
NO! Aching shame mixed with lingering resentment as Alexander undressed and slipped under the sheets, pulling them over his head as he closed his eyes and drew his knees up to his chest. What if he went straight over to Hephaestion’s bed, got into it and offered himself to his friend?
For a moment, he realised that he was tempted, and not just for the purpose of regaining Hephaestion’s love. His father was right about one thing - Hephaestion, always a handsome boy, was growing into an exquisitely proportioned youth and now that the realisation had been forced upon Alexander, it was impossible to go back to seeing him as innocently as he had before.
But then he thought of his father’s exact words; his crude summing up of Hephaestion’s charms: broad shoulders… legs like a wild colt… Alexander winced, nice firm arse… He thought of that appreciative look on his father’s face. Then he thought of Hephaestion’s intimate touching the other day by the stream. Had he been thinking of Alexander in the same way? It made him feel sick with panic.
At last the lamp was put out. He heard Hephaestion getting into bed and once again tears pricked his eyes. What had he been hoping for? Hephaestion running over to his arms to beg his forgiveness? He was behaving like a stupid baby! No wonder Hephaestion was bored with him!
At some point he fell into a fitful sleep, awaking to deeper darkness bathed in perspiration and trembling violently. He threw off the covers, sitting up and bending his head down between his knees as nausea gripped him. He couldn’t lie down again; he felt as though the bed itself might rise up and suffocate him. It had been so long since he had been woken in then night like this, overcome by formless but paralyzing fear; had certainly not experienced it since coming to Mieza. Mieza had meant distance was placed between Alexander and the conflicting demands of his warring parents and that had surely helped. But Mieza had also meant sleeping with Hephaestion only feet away. In spite of himself his eyes were drawn across the room.
Shivering, he crossed the cold floor and sat down on the edge of the other boy’s bed. “Hephaestion…”
Hephaestion’s head jerked up sharply. Alexander had an inkling he had not been asleep. “Hephaestion, can I come in with you? Please?” he added before he could stop himself. Hephaestion, who had been lying on his side, silently shifted over and turned onto his belly, holding up the sheet for Alexander to get in beside him.
For a moment Alexander lay on his back, staring at the ceiling; then he turned over, moving closer to his friend. When Hephaestion made no move to reciprocate, he gently lifted Hephaestion’s arm, trying to snuggle under it close to his side. To his dismay, Hephaestion grunted and turned his back. “I’m sorry,” Alexander whispered, “I only wanted to hold you close for a while…”
No answer.
Alexander put his hand on Hephaestion’s shoulder but the other remained unyielding. “Hephaestion?”
“Go to sleep,” Hephaestion mumbled.
Alexander drew back, his eyes filling with tears. “Oh Hephaestion…!” he gulped, jumping quickly from the bed and throwing himself down on his own, burying his face in the pillow and letting the deep, wracking sobs shake his body. There seemed no point in stopping them; there seemed nothing worth stopping them for. This was surely the end - he had lost Hephaestion’s love to the world of adult lusts and debaucheries; he was alone again, as he had always feared he would be.
Even as he wept he found himself wondering with a dull detachment if they could separate without gossip or recrimination; he wouldn’t want a backlash to strike Hephaestion or his family. They had always treated Alexander with respect and kindness; would they resent the loss of their son’s position?
Alexander, at least, would not be alone for long; not in the practical sense - any of the boys here at Mieza and many more who had not been so favoured would be only to eager to become his best friend, some - Perdiccas or Leonatus perhaps - might genuinely appreciate a greater closeness to him out of real affection, not just the prestige it carried. Unless, of course, it was too late - if they too had woken to the world of boys, or men, or women, and had lost interest in their proud, precocious, often humourless little prince.
Alexander blinked stinging eyes as the lamp between the beds glowed into life. Blearily he made out Hephaestion as he came to sit on the bed. “Sit up, Alexander,” his friend said softly, supporting him in the crook of his arm as if he was nursing an invalid. And with the gentleness of a nurse he wiped Alexander’s hot, tearstained face with a cool, wet cloth before throwing it aside and pressing Alexander tenderly to his breast. “Hephaestion…?” Alexander choked.
“It’s all right, Alexander,” Hephaestion breathed in a tone of both love and ineffable sadness, kissing his brow, then his mouth with quick, hot lips. “It will be all right, I… I’ll make it all right, I…I promise…”
Alexander clung to him, letting go of what pride he had left in helpless tears of hope. “As long as you still love me…?” What would his parents think of him, the Prince, weeping like a girl and begging for love? But he did not care; not where this strong, beautiful youth, this gift from the Gods, was concerned.
“Of course I love you!” Hephaestion cried with a soft, despairing laugh that Alexander couldn’t quite understand. But he let Hephaestion ease him down into the bed, wriggling close to his friend’s body and sighing as Hephaestion’s arms tightened around him.
They stayed locked together until the sun rose. Stirring, Alexander became sleepily aware of the hard press of Hephaestion’s erection against his hip, but did not move or speak; just put his head back down against Hephaestion’s chest and listened to the regular beat of his heart.
TBC