This World Our Hell

In all truthfulness, Basil wasn’t expecting an emotional reaction of any kind.  After all, Dorian had had his fun. There was little point in prolonging it.  So, when arms grabbed him from behind (far too reminiscent of the fateful altercation between them before) Basil turned with a visible flinch.  As Dorian released him, the artist took a step back, somewhat ashamed of just how heavy his breaths had become.  An absurd reaction.  He could no more die than Dorian could.  And yet…

He was still trying to process his reaction when the other man began to speak.  Dorian actually sounded… desperate.  Desperate enough to beg help from him.  For now, he ignored the comment that Dorian considered his murder a ‘mistake.’  That was something to discuss another time.  If they had ‘another time’ after this one.  He mulled over that for a moment.  “Listen, whatever is going on here, I am not involved,” Basil stated in a matter-of-fact tone.  “Revealing myself merely in order to play mind games would be not only petty… but foolish.  I haven’t kept myself out of your radar all this time only to come out for a bit of a lark.”

Trying to be casual about it, he looked around.  “Alright… so what now?  It’s not as if I can simply walk you out of here… is it?  If I’d been aware of the full situation in advance…”  The artist frowned and shook his head.  “However, the man who came to me was hardly forthcoming…  If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve said he was trying to… fight past some sort of… fog…or drug…”

Dorian didn’t miss that flinch - no matter how Basil tried to hide it.  The reaction only served to convince him further - somehow, this WAS Basil.  He blinked as the other man’s words settled in.  “All this time…?  You HID yourself from me?”  The incredulous tone was hard to mask.  Then the blond caught himself - remembering that night with a clarity he hadn’t in at least a century.  “Yes, well - I suppose I gave you good reason, didn’t I?”  His chuckle held an edge of self-loathing as he let the topic drop.  That was something best discussed some other time.

Dorian nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face, as Basil described the man who’d come to him.  “Possibly Toby’s doing.  He’s… well, it’s complicated.  But he has the ability to enthrall people.  Maybe someone managed to break free enough to get help.  But… why you?  How did they even know…?!”  He shook his head.  “Doesn’t matter.  Not right now.  I just want out of here.”  He glanced around the open space.  There were a lot of other patients out today… and not nearly enough orderlies.  But he knew he was being watched more closely than it seemed.  The thing inside of Toby wouldn’t have it any other way.

This wasn’t at all how Tobias had imagined their first ‘morning after’ going.  Not that he minded actually talking with Dorian, but for some reason, he’d expected that sort of familiarity later rather than sooner.  “Mmm… if you’d like.  It’s actually a rather dull sort of story.”  Toby shifted a little, settling into the bed cushions… and shifting closer to Dorian in the process, fingers moving lazily over the other’s skin.

“I was a sheltered, but privileged teenager who didn’t like being told what to do.  Eventually I found myself some place I shouldn’t have been, and there was an accident.  A man I’d befriended turned out to be… more than a man.  He gave me a choice… and I took it.  The next night he was gone.  I never saw him again.  After that, I had to learn everything about what I was on my own.”

The explanation was vague, but succinct.  And while some parts had been heavily glossed over, they were all true in essence.  “Does that satisfy your curiosity?  Or are you interested in all of the sordid details?”  There was a laugh at the end of his question, meant to indicate he didn’t mind speaking more… and was amused by Dorian’s interest.

Dorian paused, truly considering.  He did already know most of it.  Perhaps it wasn’t necessary to insist on more so early on.  “I suppose that will do,” he replied.  “Unless elaboration would please you.  Then by all means, continue.  Otherwise...”  And here he gave a pointed pause, looking the vampire over.  It may have only been last night for Toby… but it had been far too long for Dorian.  Why not enjoy himself while he could… while this lasted?  Because who knew when he might be jolted back to the present… to his captivity and solitude.  “Well, I’m sure we could both think of more active pursuits that would amuse us both.”

Of course, there was always the possibility that this wasn’t HIS Toby.  That he was merely being toyed with again.  Dorian frowned at that thought... remembering how he’d felt after being tricked into sex the last time.  He sat back up in the bed, still frowning.  How could he know?  Was there any way to be sure this wasn’t all some game that Lucifer had devised for him?  If so, better to have it out now, surely?  “If this is a game, I want it to stop,” he said, voice both soft and harsh.  “Toy with me any other way you’d like, but not like this.  Not using him.  Please...”

His chest ached… throbbed at the insults… the cruelness in Dorian’s tone.  Damn him!  After all this time…!  Basil wasn’t good at masking his emotions - never had been.  But by God he tried now!  The artist’s tone was (mostly) steady as he spoke.  “So… that’s how you want things to be?  After all this time and all that’s gone on between us?  I suppose I should’ve expected little else.”  He’d been a fool to come!  Who else in their right mind would go to the rescue of the one who’d murdered them?  No one, that’s who.

“Well, it’s seems I’ve wasted my time…”  Basil took a step back, certain that the disappointment he was trying to hide was all over his face (and that he’d be mocked for it.)  The sooner he left the better.  “Enjoy your joke at my expense.  I hope it keeps you happy in this…”  He gestured around him, suddenly at a loss for words.  “Is this really how you amuse yourself these days?”  Then he quickly held up a hand.  “No.  Forget I asked.  In fact, perhaps you should do us both the favor of forgetting I was here at all.”  And with that Basil turned and began to walk away.

Dorian gaped.  Actually, literally gaped as the man who claimed to be Basil turned and began to walk away.  That… wasn’t what was supposed to happen.  Was it?  This was just a part of their game, after all.  Fake Toby’s game.  There’d be no fun in ending it so soon.  The other man’s words bounced around inside his head… and then Dorian took a leap of faith.  “Basil, wait!”  He rushed forward, latching onto the man’s arm and whirling him around.  Immediately, several orderlies began to move forward, so he quickly let go and stepped back, hands up in a placating gesture.  The orderlies paused, as if waiting to see if they should intervene.  

With a deep breath, Dorian began to speak, hoping the man would hear him out.  “I don’t know who found you or why, but I am not here to amuse myself.  I… it’s actually a rather long story.  One I’d be more than happy to tell if you can get me out of here.”  Actually, he wouldn’t be happy to tell it.  In fact - maybe he wouldn’t.  The idea of sharing the past year or so with a man who was likely to do nothing but gloat over his misfortune wasn’t all that appealing.  Not that Basil didn’t have that right… but it wasn’t in Dorian’s nature to offer up his weaknesses on a silver platter.  Not to anyone.

Toby was glad when Dorian got back into the bed, but his brow creased in confusion at the question.  “If you’re going to tell me you don’t recall anything about last night, then I’m losing my touch.”  He’d known Dorian for barely any time at all, but there was a sense of unease that surrounded the other man that hadn’t been there the night previous - Toby could practically smell it.

With a sigh of mild frustration, the vampire wrapped his arms around his new lover.  “I remember seeing you again at the party… inviting you home… introducing you to my ex…”  Toby smirked at that a little.  Although Dorian didn’t realize it, the woman had more than deserved her fate, and he’d been glad to finally be rid of her.  “Mmm… and then you let me feed on you - delicious, by the way.  Makes me wonder how the rest of you tastes.”  Another smirk, more lascivious this time.  “Beyond that… I’m not certain what it is you’re wanting me to remember.  Before we met?  Before I was turned?  You’ll have to be more specific.”

Toby pulled the other man close, enjoying their shared heat.  Literally ‘shared.’  Without Dorian’s blood running through his veins, Tobias would be so very cold to the touch.  “Although… I’m more than happy to stay just like this while you decide exactly what it is you’re asking.”

So… he had his answer.  Unless he was being lied to, Toby remembered nothing.  They’d only just met in his eyes.  Their time together had yet to happen.  Dorian realized he now had a choice.  He could question it… or accept it.  Stranger things HAD happened.  Was some sort of bizarre time travel really so hard to believe?  And maybe… maybe this time things could be different.  Maybe, now that he knew what was coming, he could convince Toby not to leave.

And so what if it was all a game?  Would it matter?  Deep down, Dorian knew the answer was yes, but it was a risk he had to take.  Pushing the vampire away wasn’t something he thought he could do… not for a second time.  Even now, he still remembered the look on the other’s face down it that cell - how broken Toby had seemed in that moment.  Not that he would look the same this time - they were practical strangers now.  But Dorian intended to change that.  To change it all.

It was a private hospital, Basil had learned that much relatively quickly - for the type of clientele who had so much money they had trouble knowing what to do with it all.  Well, that, at least, sounded like the Dorian he remembered.  Unfortunately, from what the stranger had said, it also sounded as if Dorian wasn’t there by choice.  Basil wondered how cautious he should be, but there was really no way to know until he talked to his former friend and determined the next course of action.

And so Basil took a road trip.  Driving himself out to the hospital, and introducing himself as a friend of Mr. Charles White.  Surprisingly enough, that was all it took.  Not that Basil had any intention of letting his guard down.  He’d even contemplated the idea that Dorian had finally discovered his existence and this was all some sort of cruel joke at his own expense.  And yet, here he was.  Risking SO much… for the man who’d murdered him.  He really was a fool, wasn’t he?

Still - it was too late now.  He was here, being led through hallways and out into a large, lovely back garden.  It didn’t allow for much privacy, of course, so that the orderlies could keep an eye on their charges, but there were places here and there that seemed sort of casually out of view.  Basil noted them… just in case.  His gaze followed the orderly who went to see if ‘Charles White’ wanted visitors, but… he couldn’t keep his eyes there.  All of a sudden Basil’s heart, which had been so calm a moment before, was in his throat.  It was absurd, really - this sudden jolt of nerves.  And yet, there was a sudden fear as to how Dorian would react to learning the artist had also found a way to cheat death.

Before he knew it, the orderly had returned and was telling him where he could find Mr. White.  Basil nodded, offered a polite ‘thank you,’ and began walking towards…  Dorian Gray.  There he was - not a single change.  As if there ever could be.  The artist tried to keep his steps casual and steady as he drew closer and noted the incredulous look on the other man’s face.  “Well,” he said with a sardonic smile, stopping in front of the other man.  “I guess that expression answers one of my questions.  Now, let’s see how many more you can help me with before someone wises up and throws me out of here, hmm?”

Basil wasn’t sure if Dorian intended to speak, or continue staring at him in silence, so he held up a hand and continued, “Let’s save your questions to me for a later date, shall we?  I don’t know how much time we’ve got, and surely we need to make it count.  A young man approached me outside of my apartment a day or so ago and said you were in danger.  Are you?  Or should I vanish back the way I came and… and leave you to whatever it is you’re doing here?”

For the first time in what might’ve been a century, Dorian found himself at a loss for words.  He simply stared at Basil for a long moment, listening to him speak… registering his voice.  A voice he’d never expected to hear again… but one he remembered so well that it surprised him.  Slowly, the immortal blinked.  He needed to focus!  This had to be another trap!  Basil wasn’t here!  Couldn’t be!  But how far were they willing to let the game play out?  Could he actually use Toby’s attempt at deception to make a real escape?  There was only one way to find out.

The last thing Toby was expecting after a night of what he could only deem to be incredible sex, was to get a hard smack to the face as a wake-up call.  He let out a yelp, mostly muffled by the pillow still over his face, and then knocked the cushion aside to glare up at his (apparently) fuming lover.  “What the hell, Dorian?!” he growled, reaching to chuck the pillow back at him… but then pausing to admire the other’s naked form instead.  “If that’s your idea of foreplay, were going to have to have a talk.”

Tobias smirked, gazing appreciatively at the other man.  Dorian Gray.  THE Dorian Gray.  When the vampire had first realized the truth, he’d barely been able to believe it.  He’d planned for all of this so very carefully.  It’d been fun - working to properly ensnare the other man - making Dorian want him.  And after last night, Toby knew they were going to be good together.  Better than good.  He’d found his match.  A match he hadn’t been sure existed after so many centuries.

Crooking a finger in a ‘come hither’ fashion, the vampire smirked. “C’mon… come back to bed.  I didn’t get nearly enough of you last night…”  Hell, he wasn’t sure he could EVER get enough of the other man.  Not his blood OR his body.  One night and he was hooked.  “Surely you don’t have any pressing plans?  Or at least not any that are more important than me, hmm?”

Dorian knew that look Toby was giving him.  Remembered it.  He wanted to forget what he remembered; to pretend that it had all been a bad dream and that reality was here and now - with Toby looking at him like that.  He wanted to quip back with a, ‘What’s the matter, I thought you liked it rough?’ But he couldn’t.  He couldn’t forget.  He couldn’t pretend.  And he couldn’t make his mouth work the way he wanted it too.  Instead, all Dorian did was swallow as Toby kept talking.

As the vampire tried to coax him back into the bed, Dorian’s eyes flitted around the curtained room, still remembering.  This... wasn’t right either.  They were in Toby’s bed... the converted church he’d lived in back in the 90′s.  This was a place from their past, not their present.  His eyes fell back onto his one-time lover.  God... he was beautiful.  Always had been.  But this wasn’t Toby.  Not anymore.  Lucifer had seen to that - had tricked them both so perfectly.

Lucifer.

Was that who he was talking to now?  In Toby’s guise?  Something in Dorian’s chest seemed to squeeze at him, and his eyes stung.  He’d done this.  He hadn’t understood... or hadn’t thought to question.  He’d wrapped Toby up like a present and handed him to Lucifer on a  silver platter.  Could he still fix this?  Was there a way?  Or were these the images his dying mind had decided to offer him?  That would be rather appropriate.  After all, when had he ever been happier than here, with Toby?  Before the nightmare that had become his life after the vampire’s death... his first death.

In historical fiction it is important to be accurate and the only way to do so is to research the era. What is highly recommended by many writers is to write your story first. While writing your story, mark the parts that you’re not sure are correct and then do the research after you are done. This is to prevent you from doing unnecessary research that may not be relevant to your work. You want to spend your time wisely! Or you can just research as you go, it’s really whatever works for you since there isn’t a “wrong” way to research.

To begin, the Victorian era of the British history (and that of the British Empire) formally begins in 1837, which was the year Victoria became Queen and ends in 1901 – the year of her death. It was a long period of peace, prosperity, refined sensibilities and national self-confidence for Britain. Some scholars date the beginning of the period in terms of sensibilities and political concerns to the passage of the Reform Act 1832. [1]

Names

1000 Most Popular Victorian Names

Victorian Era Names, A Writer’s Guide

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Victorian Society

The Victorians: Life and Death

The Victorian Working Life

A Woman’s Place in 19th Century Victorian History

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fuckyeahcharacterdevelopment -  Do you have anything about an asthmatic in the Victorian era?

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Victoria’s Real Secret – The Victorians Knew Underwear

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Early Victorian Undergarments; Part 1, luxurious silk hose, colorful stockings, & socks

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Fallen Women

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BBC History - Child Prostitutes: How the age of consent was raised to 16

University of Minnesota - Victorian Era: There are Two Kinds of Women…

University of London - The Real Rippers Street: Pathology, Policing, and Prostitution in Victorian London

University of Brighton - The Fetishization and Objectification of the Female Body in Victorian Culture

University of Missouri–Kansas City School of Law - Homosexuality and the Law in England

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Tracking a 19th-Century Serial Killer

Basil walked quickly down the sidewalk that led to his condo/studio.  It was late… or early depending on how you wanted to look at it.  His gallery show had gone well… very well, and he was just this side of being drunk.  Normally he’d also have someone on his arm… but that urge had been fulfilled at the gallery as well, in a side closet that had smelled (rather nicely) of old oil paint.  Now he was just looking forward to some sleep.  Approaching the locked entrance that led into the building, the artist hesitated as he realized someone was standing in the doorway.  The other man didn’t look like he was homeless… good clothes, trim haircut, not even a shadow on his chin.  Was he waiting for someone… at this hour?  Basil tensed, but kept moving forward.  

“I’m afraid I can’t let you in,” he said as he approached, trying to act casual.  “Building rules.”

“I-I don’t need in,” the man replied, a soft stammer to his tone as an odd twitch occasionally graced one side of his face.  “I need to speak to Basil Hallward.  I was told he lives here.”

Basil froze.  While he was currently going by his first name, he hadn’t used ‘Hallward’ in almost a century.  It was one of the first things he’d gotten rid of in order to disappear after his first ‘death,’ and was currently using the last name of Harrison.  Best to play it cool for now - until he knew more.  “It’s Harrison, actually, but you’ve found me.”  The man looked neat… business-like - and Basil wanted to keep this conversation normal, so he continued, “If you’re wanting headshots it’s a little late, but I can give you my card and we…”

“No!” the man cut him off quickly and that twitch was back - stronger now.  “I’m sorry… no.  I need your help.  No - s-sorry… Dorian.  Dorian needs your help.”

Against his will, Basil inhaled sharply.  Dorian.  A man he’d somehow managed to avoid for over a century.  “I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong person,” he insisted.  “I don’t know anyone…”

The other’s twitch seemed stronger now… and it almost looked as if he were in some sort of pain,  “I-I can’t… I can’t fight this much longer…  Please!  Dorian’s in danger.  I think you can help him…  You might be the only one…”  The man suddenly surged forward, thrusting a piece of paper into Basil’s hand - a pamphlet.  “Ask for Charles White.  He’s there… you have to…!” Then the man’s face fell… going blank.

“I have to what?” Basil asked, eyeing him warily.  “What?”

His unexpected visitor blinked, and looked around confused.  “I have to go now,” was all he said, before stepping around Basil and walking away.  The artist considered going after him, but then thought better of it.  Whatever had just happened, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know more.  And yet, as he entered in his PIN and stepped inside, Basil glanced down at the paper in his hands.  It was for… a psychiatric hospital?!  And just like that, he knew he wouldn’t be able to let this go.  Despite what had happened so long ago… Dorian was still… important.  And so, instead of going to bed as planned, the artist went upstairs, turned on his computer, and started doing some research.

Dorian was, quite frankly, out of ideas.  No one in the damn place was on his side.  They all thought he was insane.  Charlie White?!  No.  No, that was nothing more than a facade - one of many.  They’d never be able to convince him otherwise.  He WAS Dorian Gray, and he WOULD get out of this.  Somehow.  But whatever he did, it had to be fast - before their planned lobotomy. Although he’d once gone through a period where he’d admitted himself to hospitals just for the fun of having something unnecessary removed - like his appendix - he’d NEVER allowed anyone to mess with his brain.  Something about that had always felt... like he’d be pressing his luck.

Hah!  Luck?!  He didn’t have any luck.  His life was one filled with nothing but one disaster after another.  Well... mostly.  There had been some nice times.  Right after he’d arrived in London... before his portrait was complete.  Dorian pushed those thoughts away.  Utterly absurd that he should be reminiscing about days so long gone... choices that couldn’t be altered.  More recently, of course, there’d been Toby.  Toby got him as close to feeling like he had back in London... the vampire had made him happy again.  But now - now there was something else inside of the man he’d loved.  And Toby was... what?  Dead?  Comatose?  Who the hell knew.

Today, Dorian was sitting outside.  They’d given him the privilege back after he’d ‘played nice’ for a bit - and promised not to attack any more visitors.  His fists clenched with that memory.  Simon!  Simon with those bites on his neck!  Was he anything more than a thrall for fake Toby, now?  After what had happened, Dorian doubted the man would be back so that he could find out.

There had to be a way out of this!  He just wasn’t thinking clearly!  Those damn pills!  They didn’t stay in his system as long as normal people... but clear thought still wasn’t as easy as it should've been!  A sound between a growl and a sigh left his lips, but he fell silent as he heard soft, hushed footsteps approaching behind him.  “What?!” he bit out sharply, not looking around.

“You’ve got another visitor today, Mr. White,” spoke a male orderly from behind him.  “A Mr. Basil Harrison?  Can I show him over?”

Whirling around as soon as the first name was spoken, Dorian stared in shock at the man.  No... couldn’t be.  He’d said Harrison, not Hallward.  It was a coincidence.  Or another of fake Toby’s little games.  But what the hell?  Dorian liked games.  Maybe if he played the right way, it would get him a ticket out of here.  “Well... why not,” he drawled, turning his lips up into a smile.  “I’m certain my dear Basil will prove just as entertaining as Simon did.” The orderly frowned and opened his mouth to speak, but Dorian cut him off.  “Oh, honestly!  It was a joke!  I learned my lesson the first time.  Just... send him over.”  A heavy pause.  “Please.”