Jeeves and Wooster are from different classes. That much is obvious. The world will never understand how badly they hurt and how strongly they feel.
Happy ending though!
Underneath the moonlight, things were different. Underneath the moonlight in its eerie silver glow, they were equal. Underneath the moonlight and under the cover of the willow tree, they could be together. Underneath the moonlight curled together, everything could be perfect. Underneath the moonlight alone with one another, they could break all the rules.
But when dawn broke and they awoke everything was discovered. And the silvery shards of their moonlit world rained down on their heads.
"Utter disgrace to the family name!" Aunt Agatha raged. Bertie just lowered his head and hid underneath his fringe, not daring to look at her. Behind him stood his valet, Jeeves, in his dressing gown and slippers for once in his life and hair ruffled from stress. He had been crying, Bertie noticed as he sidled his eyes to try and look at him without turning his head and alerting his aunt. Their eyes met, and they both knew what was going to happen now.
"And you!" Aunt Agatha addressed Jeeves, who glanced at her anxiously, "You can just get out! I never want to see your face again."
"I…" He trailed off, before bowing his head, "Very good Ma'am." He turned to Wooster, "Good day Sir. I'm afraid I shan't see you again."
"Bertrum!" Aunt Agatha said angrily.
"Good day Jeeves." Bertie stood and took Jeeves' hand, fingers lingering around his for as long as he could before his Aunt ordered for the valet to leave and never come back.
The apartment was empty without Jeeves. And messy. Bertie slumped himself onto the bed and kicked off his shoes, burying his face into his pillow. They smelt like the valet who'd plumped them that very morning, before they had gone to stay at his Aunt Agatha's summer home. Suddenly the tears started spilling, and his body was racked with sobs.
For the rest of the night he wandered aimlessly around the home-that-didn't-feel-like-home-anymore, staring at the things Jeeves had touched or rearranged: basically everything, before he rested on the sofa, wiping away the tears and staring at the ceiling.
Deep in his heart he had known it was too good to last. Jeeves himself had told him countless times that if they were going to be involved it would have to be in secret just because of their class differences; even if one of them was a woman. Their prospects, even Bertie had to admit, were bleak.
But how could he have stopped himself? Jeeves was so polite, so trusting, so lovely, so adorable… and he had fallen harder and faster then ever before.
It had been six hours and Jeeves still didn't feel the same. His feet barely hit the ground, and his eyes could barely focus. He didn't know where he was walking, where he would stay or anything anymore. All he could think about was the night before, and why he hadn't woken Bertie up when he had awoken before him instead of watching him sleep in idle worship.
He walked through the fields away from the house, feeling tears escape from his eyes and sting his cheeks. They froze on his face before he could wipe them away and blurred his vision. He stumbled over a bump in the grass and fell into a ditch, where he lay there, suit ruined hair a mess and for once he didn't care. He couldn't have given a thought to anything else but Bertie's smile when he had confessed his affections for him.
Why had it gone all wrong? Everything would have been fine if he'd just stayed where he was! As Mr Wooster's valet! At least he would get to see him everyday. And now… he was all alone stuck in the middle of nowhere- where in the world was he? Jeeves rested his head on the mud behind him and stared up into the sky.
It was the same sky as last night and yet the stars were dimmer; the moon glowed less brightly, and the darkness was frightening rather then blissful as it enveloped him.
He would have to fix this. He would have to make things right. He would have to pick up the shards.
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