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<<silently>>
<<set $Vida_Card = 0>>
<<set $David_Card = 0>>
<<set $vidapt = 0>>
<<set $davidpt = 0>>
<<endsilently>>
You have woken up.
Not in your bed, which you can't really seem to recall; but in a dimly lit room, in an armchair, in front of a desk. Behind the desk is another chair, but it is empty. Behind the empty chair is a painting. You get the vague sense that behind <i>you</i> there are some book shelves and a dark wooden door.
[[Sit quietly|Sit Quietly]], or [[turn on the desk lamp|Turn On The Desk Lamp.]]?You sit quietly in the dark and stare down at your hands.
They are dry, and warm, and soft. The backs of your hands are the same vaguely... caramel macchiato color that they've always been.
Ah, that's right. You were just a little bit darker skinned than your sister. Looked just a little bit more like your grandmother.
Once when you were alone with her, in her shitty little grandma house, she told you that her husband had stolen her real name from her.
You can't remember it right now.
You realize that you can't remember much of anything, beyond looking out her window that day, and seeing a [[violet sky.|violet]]
[[The door cracks open|Cracking]].You can't really tell why, but you want to see the painting.
When you lift your arm to reach out to lamp, you realize how fucking <i>tired</i> you are. It feels like moving through heavy, thick water, but the motion is as fluid as it is slow. It feels like an interpolated frame in a bad animation.
It's the sort of tiredness that makes you want to just stop for a while.
But you pull the little string of the desk lamp anyway.
It lights up the room far better than the practically nonexistent ceiling light, and you can finally see the painting.
It's John Everett Millais's [[Ophelia.|ophelia]]
[[The door creaks open|Creaking]].<img 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">
" Quite the gloomy fellow, aren't you?"
The goatheaded man has a very deep, intimidating voice. You get that in any other situation you would probably find that really hot, but in this situation right now, there is an extremely real possibility you are in actual literal Hell.
Just like your father always said.
Guess he got one thing right.
The goatheaded man walks around you, and sits down at his desk. The little lamp lights up without him even touching it, and in passing you recognize the painting behind him- it's Giotto's Kiss of Judas.
Thank <i>God</i> the actual literal goat devil has a sense of humor.
" Do you remember your name?"
[[Say yes|Say Yes.]], or [[say no|Say No.]]?<img 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">
" Lovely painting, isn't it?"
Oh great, it's the actual literal fucking devil. Goat head and everything. It's goddamn Baphomet.
It sends a weird shock of nausea through you. Does this mean your father was right? That your sister was right? That your mother was right? That you were going to burn in Hell for all eternity for-
Your mind is suddenly drawing a sharp, sudden blank. A staccato blank. It's like whatever it was that you did wrong, that it just got <i>taken</i> from you. You suppress the urge to bite your lip in half. You thought that at least your <i>mind</i> was yours alone. Even if you didn't get to decide where your eternal soul ended up.
At least the goat devil likes Millais.
" Do you remember your name?"
[[Say yes|Say Yes.]], or [[say no|Say No.]]?" Y-yeah," you say. It's weird. You've never had a stuttering problem before. You must've picked it up from her- she stutters when she's nervous, it's cute-
" What is it?" Goat Devil doesn't seem smug, that bothers you. He seems devoid of any emotion but he still sounds like Tim Curry fucked the guy from Bauhaus.
You take a deep breath.
" My name is Ethan Klaude Arbordale, and I'm a senior at Northside Private School, and I lettered in track and field. I go by Klaude because my first name is my grandfather's. And because..."
You forgot the exact second reason.
There is a moment of silence as Goat Head waits for you to finish your sentence.
[[You don't.|Ozymandias]]It's on the tip of your tongue, but not quite there.
And the lip-biting panic, the pressing of nails into the flesh of your palm, intensifies, because not only has your mind been compromised, you can't even remember who you <i>are</i>.
The goat watches you, and you would feel better if you could sense any sort of evaluation or malicious intent.
But the fact of the matter is, he is a blank.
" That hardly complicates things. Your name is Ethan Klaude Arbordale; you prefer going by your middle name because your first bears a negative association with your grandfather," he says, voice like he's in an Iggy Pop cover band but also absolutely dunked on heroin. His clipped baritone feels as though it has missed some essential parts of you.
... Not many people cared about "the essential parts of you" anyway.
... If any.
" ... You've hurt yourself, Klaude Arbordale."
[[You realize there is blood on your palm.|Ozymandias]]The goat reaches under his desk and pulls out a very large, but otherwise nondescript, book.
" You labor under the delusion that I am the Devil of Christian mythology, correct?" he says, as he opens the book up and runs a finger down the table of contents. You can't read the script when you try to look at it; it looks like some absolute weird shit.
" So you're not? What's up with... the deal? Then?" you say, awkwardly motioning at his literal actual goat head.
" The exact specifics of my form have no bearing on our current situation, therefore I graciously elect to refrain from explaining them to you. There are only two things you need to know about me; my name is Ozymandias, and I act on behalf of a sacrificial pact that involves you."
For a minute it doesn't register properly.
Then it does.
" Do you need time to recover from your apparent emotional distress?"
[[Maybe.|Maybe.]]
[[Maybe not.|To Begin]]<<set $vidapt + 1>>
" I just... I mean. I know all about the occult, and all that. Anton LeVay. Aleister Crowley. The twisted name on Garbo's eyes. I don't understand what it has to do with me. I... fuck, I just need a moment."
You slump down in your chair and try not to hyper-ventilate. You uncurl your fists and set your arms on the actual arms of the arm chair, trying to ignore the fact that you have absolutely definitely gotten at least some blood from your torn-up palms on the upholstery. If you were literally in any other room ever you probably would've undone your freakishly-tightly-cinched belt because that's contributing pretty significantly to your inability to breathe, but you absolutely do not even want to be in the realm of fucking around like that around a goat head Ozymandias who is involved with some sort of <i>sacrificial pact</i> that you are also somehow involved with.
God, David would know what to do.
...But he's not here.
[[You're alone.|To Begin]]" Let's begin," Ozymandias says.
He pulls out an envelope, and takes three cards out of it.
" We'll go over all of these; you can view it as a sort of... refresher course," he says sanguinely, and lays two of them out on the table.
[[Pick up the card that says Prolonged Life.|Prolonged1]]
[[Pick up the card that says Renewed Life.|Renewed1]]
<<if $David_Card gte 1>><<if $Vida_Card gte 1>> You lean back in your chair after you finish looking at the cards.
[[" I'm done," you say shortly.|Shortness]] <<endif>><<endif>>His name is David.
He's your age.
You've known him a long time. He reminds you of autumn. [[He has long blonde hair, and bright blue eyes, and very pale skin.|selfhate]] He transferred to your school in ninth grade; you took English class together.
You got along fabulously; he was quiet and contemplative, but still actively social and charismatic. He felt like...
[[Home.|Prolonged2]]The first time you met... wasn't anything special.
It was class introductions in third grade.
" ...vid Verlaine?"
You had almost fallen asleep, and some little nerd with [[shaggy hair and glasses|glasses]] tripped over your foot. It was the first time you ever tripped someone accidentally and the first time you ever got sent to the office for it.
You remember how that kid's mom was screaming and yelling at the principal, but Verlaine just sat in the grown-up chair and stared at the floor.
[[Like he was empty.|Renewed2]]Ozymandias lays the third card on the table in front of you.
" What do you think of this, Klaude Arbordale?"
<img 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">
It provokes an immediate response in you, but...
You aren't sure whether or not you want to [[curl up and go numb|curlednumb]], or [[be a complete ass|yelling]].<<set $David_Card = $David_Card + 1>>" You were home late again," Vicky said, hovering by the door with a sour look.
You walk past her, past the living room and the flickering television, towards the carpeted stairs.
" You say, like you didn't stay up late to watch fucked up horror movies," you jab at her, and she scowls. It's not even a sibling rivalry or anything. You know for a fact that you hate Vicky and that Vicky hates you.
" You were out partying, weren't you!" She half-yells, angry, but not angry enough to risk waking up your <i>father</i>. You roll your eyes and ignore her when she tries to follow you up the stairs.
" I saw your report card! There was a B-minus on it!"
" Grades don't make up for personality."
" Your attendance is dropping!"
" I still go."
" You should care more about school and a career than running around listening to communist music and doing- doing whatever the hell you do!"
You pause before you close the door.
" By that measure, you should care more about finding a boy that isn't fucking terrified of you and getting married as soon as you blackmail him into it."
...
[[Seeing the way your sister looks at David makes you sick.|To Begin]]<<set $Vida_Card = $Vida_Card + 1>>Her name is Vida.
She's the same age as you.
You've known her a long time, since at least third grade, but you never really talked to her until David suggested inviting her to a party for kicks.
" We can have a David, a David, and a Klaude," he said, and it was certainly a novel idea somehow (because all of David's ideas were good ideas) in some way that you couldn't quite grasp.
... And it was before Vida came out, but it still felt weird to hear David refer to her as another David, as though they didn't all call her Verlaine then.
And the party was awful, and you accidentally broke her glasses, and Honora almost OD'd on Adderall, but you realized afterwards that it had changed things.
[[Vida didn't wear glasses after that.|To Begin]]
<<if $vidapt gte 1>>You liked it. Her face looked softer.<<endif>><<set $davidpt = $davidpt + 1>>
" What kind of a fucking joke is this?!" You yell.
You are steadfastly denying the reality of what you are being presented with.
The reality of you.
Yourself.
Who you are.
Because there has to be <i>more</i>.
" I am not in the business of making jokes, Klaude Arbordale. I merely presented you with your own memories, and your own condition. These are the tokens by which I shall pass judgment."
... You realize you have nothing to say to that. And having that taken away from you is an awful feeling.
Even if goat Ozzy Osbourne was being... He wasn't even being a dick, actually, by the sounds of it, he was just doing his job. He just had a dickish job.
[[You just don't want to confront yourself.|firstbranch]]<<set $vidapt = $vidapt + 1>>
You curl up in a ball, like sunnyside-up Verlaine in the principal's office.
Nobody is screaming at you, or anything, but somehow Ozymandias's silence hurts more.
In his stupid goat office, you're alone.
You can't hide behind David, or look to Vida for reassurance, or be scarily codependent in any way at all.
Yes, you realize, looking into his blank eyes.
[[You are being forced to confront yourself.|firstbranch]]Ozymandias takes absolutely no notice of your emotional distress, and instead stares very directly at you. He poses one question.
" [[Grandfather|gpa1]], or [[Grandmother|gma1]]?"
<<if $David_Card gte 2>><<if $Vida_Card gte 2>> Ozymandias seems satisfies with your answers, and he takes out a pen and begins to write in the book.
" Have you been satisfied by your life, Klaude Arbordale?"
" No."
[[" I see."|unsatisfied]] <<endif>><<endif>>
You always hated your grandfather, from the first time you met him. There was something intensely hateable <i>about</i> him.
He chewed spit tobacco and yelled at your grandma; he loved telling bloody war stories about killing, killing, killing enemy soldiers. He was like your father, but with amplified social capital and even more conservative politically, somehow. If he wasn't American, he'd probably be a monarchist or the like.
But the first time-
The first time you met him-
" What are you letting him do with his fucking hair, Nancy?"
Your mother, rakish and thin, laughed very loudly, with an anxious desperation to be approved of.
" Oh, it's not no harm, Mr. Arbordale, he's wanting to look like some picture Jeanette gave him, is all. Let 'im play at it, He's just eight."
Your grandfather slammed his cane on the ground and spoke in a very loud, angry voice.
" No redblooded American man grows his hair out like a faggot, a beatnik, a, a, a, a-" He was extremely red in the face, and he trailed off into a wheezing cough as he took yet another drag off of his cigar.
[[You did not cut your hair.|gpa2]]<<set $vidapt = $vidapt + 1>>
The day you finally went back to class- after half a week of what you hazily remember as partying and touching David inappropriately- you realized that somehow, time had not stopped like you thought it had, for sure. David knew all about that sort of thing.
It was because of something that you realized that David did not realize.
When Vida saw you two, her eyes lit up, and she looked relieved and angry both at the same time somehow. But, in her typical fashion, even when she wanted to speak, she held herself back. You could tell when she was doing that now.
Honora was gone again, too.
... Vida had been alone, hadn't she.
You hadn't even bothered checking up on her.
[[You had been having the time of your life and you had left Vida all alone.|detention]]You got the news that he killed himself when you got back from a Sensational Alex Harvey Band concert you had attended with David. It was 4 in the morning and you were both drunk, you both had a bunch of makeup smeared on your faces and no idea who it had come from, you were parroting song lyrics back and forth as best as your stupid drunk asses could remember them, and then the landline started ringing louder than hell.
You were so relieved.
You normally hated hearing your father's voice, but hearing that your grandfather had finally kicked it was the best news you'd gotten since Vicky had been suspended for stalking a crush.
When you sat the phone back on the receiver, you turned to David, and you could really, really feel your illegal liquor settling in your veins.
" My entire family is sick, isn't it?" you asked.
At some point later you passed out.
You missed a little bit of school, but David did too, so it was alright.
[[" Was it really alright for you to be happy?"|Happy]]
[[" Was it really alright for you to leave Vida alone like that?"|AloneV]]When your parents got tired of dealing with you, they dumped you at your grandmother's house.
You didn't mind. You liked your grandmother.
" Little Cloud, will you pour the tea for us?" Her voice echoed out from her kitchen, into the cramped living room.
You picked up the tiny little clay pot and poured tea into the tiny little clay cups.
" It's <i>Klaude</i>, Granmama," you yelled back in an oh-so-serious tone. She emerged from the kitchen with a tiny little tray, carrying tiny little cookies. And she looked at you and smiled and laughed a little, then coughed a little.
" Is it, now?"
Dust motes swirl in the air.
How old were you, then? Around eight or ten. Sometimes you have trouble remembering (sometimes you don't want to remember).
[[You eat a cookie.|gma2]]You feel very shaky and your face is drained of color.
You are squeezing your arms around your chest and trying not to cry while Honora is taking your bottle away and Vida is dabbing your makeup away with a napkin, trying to ask questions you don't want to hear.
Cancer, cancer, terminal cancer.
Where is David? You want to see David.
Where is your grandmother? You want to see your grandmother.
" Hey, hey, hey, Klaude, what's wrong? Who was on the phone?" Vida asks, her voice cracking a little. The music stops as Honora crosses the room to hit the stop button.
You just crack up and start crying instead. There aren't any words for what you're feeling, how your good time just got beyond fucking shattered. It was like getting yanked back from a dream into an unpleasant reality.
[[" Why were you crying, Klaude Arbordale?"|You1]]
[[" Were they crying too, Klaude Arbordale?"|them1]]<<set $davidpt = $davidpt + 1>>
" She was the only person in my entire fucking family that cared about me," you manage to say.
Goatface flips a page in his book.
" Do you really think so?" He asks.
" I <i>know</i> it. I know. Mom was never there, and Vicky is... Vicky is the one who..."
You pause, your mouth dry.
There are words and memories that won't come out.
Suddenly Ozymandias quirks an eyebrow, as though surprised, and then flips ahead several pages.
" ... That's rather interesting," he says, but then offers no explanation.
[[You realize there is more going on than judgment.|firsttruth]]<<set $davidpt = $davidpt + 1>>
Goatface poses a direct question in his flat, deep voice, and you realize you have no choice but to answer.
" I... Yes... I had the right to be happy! My grandfather terrorized me my entire life, up until that point... He didn't even care when Granma died of cancer, even my dad was upset about it..."
" If he didn't care about his wife's death, then why did he kill himself?"
Goatface poses a direct question in his flat, deep voice, and you realize you have no choice but to answer.
" Why are you asking me?! I don't know!" You yell. You didn't need to. It didn't matter.
Ozymandias just stares at you with an unsettling stillness. You feel compelled to answer.
[[" He was afraid of being alone."|detention]]<<set $vidapt = $vidapt + 1>>
" Why... Why do you care about how they felt?" you ask him in return.
Ozymandias sighs, and places a gloved hand over his book.
" Answer the question, Klaude Arbordale."
You swallow, your throat feeling dry.
" I want to know! Isn't this about me? You haven't told me anything, you've just asked me questions and made me relive shitty memories!"
" You have already made one false assumption. It is not <i>about</i> you. You are simply a part of <i>it</i>. And <i>I</i> am determining whether or not it will come to pass."
These words make you somehow feel even more hopeless than you already had.
[[" Why won't you tell me anything?"|firsttruth]]<<set $David_Card = $David_Card + 1>>In fifth grade, you had detention the same day as Verlaine.
It was only you two. Honora's mom had picked her up already. To take her to church.
There was a long, sullen silence as you worked on papers under the watchful eye of some bitch teacher whose name you couldn't remember.
" I need to go print off some papers in the teachers' lounge. Don't either of you move an inch, or else you'll get detention tomorrow, too!"
Then that hazy blob of memory left the room.
You hear Verlaine's chair squeak.
He's looking at you through his shitty government aid glasses, a sort of like, side glance, because he's too meek to look at anything head-on.
" I-I. I like your hair, Ethan," he says softly.
And you hated the way he sounded (for whatever reason) and you sort of just blow him off (why did you do that to Vida, Klaude? She's gonna end up being your best friend <i>besides David</i>).
" Hm. Thanks."
And even though you're sort of wondering how the hell <i>Verlaine</i>, of all people, got into detention, you didn't speak to him again that day, and not again after that either. Because you didn't know each other well. You just sort of saw each other around.
Sitting in your grown-up chair, at Ozymandias's desk, you realize that no one ever really talked to Verlaine. Verlaine hadn't had any friends as long as you two had been at the same school, at least not until David made him come to that party with you two and Honora.
[[Vida had been alone.|firstbranch]]<<set $Vida_Card = $Vida_Card + 1>>Ozymandias looks up at you with glowing eyes.
" Forgive my indiscretions, Klaude Arbordale. I grow tired of dealing with mortals quickly, and I have been roped into doing this tedious interview after a long time of seeing none at all. But I am bound by a contract- the same one holding you here."
This only raises more questions.
" What kind of contract?" you ask.
" We will discuss the term of the contract later, Klaude Arbordale. For now, we must discuss your past with David Robertson and Vida Verlaine."
[[Something immediately feels wrong.|firstbranch]]
Ozymandias takes out a pen and hands it to you.
" Write down what you want," he instructs you.
You don't actually know what you want, is the problem.
You don't actually know if you want to go along with what ole Ozzy is telling you to do.
[[You write down 'to not be alone'.|Alone]]
[[You write down 'to be loved'.|Loved]]
<<set $davidpt = $davidpt + 1>>
It was your sister.
You remember now, it was your sister.
You were waiting for David to pick you up so you could go to a party, because your license was suspended.
She was sitting on the couch, watching The Atomic Vampire, or Beast of Yucca Flats, or something.
" You're leaving again?" she asked.
" As if it's any of your fucking business," you sniped back at her in response, because you hated her.
Yes, and she hated you.
" Who's picking you up? The transvestite?" Vicky clicked the television over to a different channel as you flinched.
" Don't call her that. It's not even her picking me up. It's David. We're going to study," you said, lying just a little bit, because Vicky would go wake your Dad up for fucking sure if you said you were going to go party.
... You didn't like the way she talked about Vida.
" David Robertson?" She asked, and she sounded almost surprised. What, had she not ever noticed before...?
" Yeah," you reply, feeling just a little bit surprised yourself. How had she not noticed?
Suddenly she was up in your face, staring at you, with her cold dead eyes.
" He's my math tutor. Stay away from him. Go and cancel right now!"
You stepped backwards and tried to smile gamely, because that wasn't a response you would anticipate in a thousand years. Did your sister have a thing for your boyfriend. God, that would be fucking weird.
You hear a knock on the door, and use that as your excuse to leave.
Of course it's David at the door, and as you walk by him, you can feel Vicky's eyes burning into your soul.
[[The way Vicky looks at you makes you feel sick.|Alone2]]
<<set $vidapt = $vidapt + 1>>
... It was him.
It was him.
" H-hey, have you seen Vida-?"
You were at a party.
David had grown so distant lately. He spent a lot of time just locked up in his house, and told you that it was because he was studying.
No. No. No.
[[You shut it out. You stop remembering.|Loved2]]When you got back home, after two or three days, only Vicky was there.
" Are Mom and Dad at a casino or something?" you asked, leaning on the doorframe. David was behind you, carrying something or another that you can't really remember beyond it vaguely being yours.
Vicky just glared at you.
" They're going to our family reunion. I said I would stay behind to watch the house, since you were gone," she says, hatred thinly veiled- the fact that she wasn't openly spitting venom was probably because of David. You had told him she had a weird thing for him. He said he thought she was creepy. Which any sane person would.
David walked in, past you both, and set your stuff on the cheap couch.
" Well, I need to go clean up my apartment, so I suppose I'll see you tomorrow," he said. His voice was soft and yet commanding. It felt like liquid gold. He never intended it to be the center of attention, yet it always was. He was just that kind of person.
" Yeah, sure," you replied, even though you had been planning on sleeping the entire day (already, somehow).
As he walked by to leave, he turned and kissed you on the cheek.
You saw Vicky's face go pale.
The door shut, and it was just you and her in the house.
[[Alone.|Alone3]]Corrupted, corrupted, corrupted corrupted-
no it was him no it was him it was him he said it first why dont you understand why dont you love love love love love love love love-
" Are you alright, Klaude Arbordale?"
Ozymandias's voice snaps you out of what feels like a trance. Your chest is heaving from the effort it took to breathe. Suddenly you're in the poorly lit room again, in front of his desk, sitting in your big boy chair. Your nails have made dents in the arm rests, because you've been gripping them too hard.
As your breathing slows and the episode fades away, you can barely choke out the words you're saying, and they don't feel real.
" My sister drowned me," you manage to say.
Ozymandias writes something down in his book.
" My sister told me I was corrupting everything I touched and killed me while our parents were out of town," you elaborate, and you realize that you have started crying. You really are dead, you really are, there's no taking it back and it's not some sort of sick joke. You're dead and in Hell. You're dead and in Hell. You're dead and in Hell. You're not going to be able to see David again, you're not going to be able to see Honora again, you're not...
You don't know...
Your chest starts hurting.
You don't know... if you want to see Vida again.
You stare down at your knees and feel cold and your vision runs violet.
[[Vida had told you not to die for him.|diediedie]]" Is something wrong, Klaude Arbordale?" Ozymandias asks.
You feel a headache coming on. That's ridiculous, though. <i> Dead people don't get headaches</i>.
" I was j- just remembering- a party, that I was at," you manage to stammer. You put a hand to your forehead. You are dead. You have no clue how or why, but you've suddenly been possessed by the absolute certainty of this fact. It feels like nothing in comparison to the memory.
Ozymandias leans across the desk.
" What happened at the party?" he asks in a low voice.
Your throat feels dry. Every cell in your body is screaming at you not to remember, and every atom is screaming that you shouldn't tell him.
" I- I couldn't find Vida," you say.
" What then?" Ozymandias asks, and you can feel the light in the room getting dimmer.
No, no, no-
[[" I went upstairs, and-"|Loved3]]You saw a half-open door, and heard some idiot laughing (they all laugh the same).
" That's sick, bro!"
For some reason apprehension was rolling in your stomach. For some reason you felt like something was very, very wrong. You dug in your pocket for your swiss army knife and flipped it open before pushing open the door.
[[You hate the way Ozymandias's eyes feel.|secretsecret]]Summer had barely started, and the police had thrown you and Verlaine into the drunk tank. Just overnight, they said. Just to teach you a lesson. Small town values at work; no need to press charges against high schoolers when they were at the same bonfire as the cop's kid.
It stank like a fucking wasted hobo and there was a weird stain on the floor that you vaguely suspected was piss, but it was one of the first times you had ever been really alone with Verlaine. He was a quiet, morose drunk, it seemed. When you had peeked over at his breathalyzer before they slammed you in the patrol car, it had been a higher number than yours.
" Fucking fags," you hear the pig on duty mumble from his desk. He had probably glanced up from his motorcycle magazine; he probably didn't realize or care that you had heard him. The tank was empty aside from you and Verlaine, and Verlaine was in the process of falling asleep on your lap.
[[... You hadn't realized, before, how soft Verlaine was.|secretsecret2]]" Klaude... can I tell you a s-secret?" Verlaine mumble-stuttered. You were surprised that his voice wasn't more slurred than it was; he was fairly intelligible.
" Go for it," you mumbled back. You were trying to fall asleep sitting up, and it was a fairly unsuccessful venture.
" I'm a woman," Verlaine said, voice dipping slightly out of tiredness.
The first thing you thought was-
Oh, that makes sense.
" That's cool," you said out loud, sort of lamely, because you just remembered a really catchy song. Hard to stay concentrated after like, gross beer. Verlaine had always been really womanly anyway.
" It's a secret-secret..." he said, repeating himself perhaps out of tiredness, and fell asleep.
[[You fell asleep too.|secretsecret3]]" What's up with Verlaine? He hasn't been returning my calls," David asked you. It took you off-guard. You had been talking about something completely different, sitting in his apartment. It was festooned with music stuff, posters stolen from shows, weird shit from thrift stores. David lived alone. He had an aunt in Kentucky or something who sent him money.
Right. Verlaine.
" Verlaine is like- doing some important shit right now, I guess," you answer evasively. Because you know what Verlaine's up to. She just told you not to tell anybody else yet.
And it was weird.
To have a secret with someone <i>who wasn't David</i>.
[[David gave you a weird, long look, but said nothing else about Verlaine.|secretsecret4]]" I think this one matches your skintone best," you said, holding up a powder compact from the Dillard's display. Verlaine is standing next to you, visibly, shakily nervous.
" I mean, it's sort of, very pink, isn't it?" she asked, her voice quiet and straining not to crack.
" Yeah, that's the point of blush, V," you replied, and then paused. You picked up a more subdued color. " How about this one, then?"
She nodded very slightly.
" You're the one who asked me to help you pick stuff out," you said to her as both of you walked down the department store aisle.
" We're the same height, and you're prettier than me, so I thought it would make us stand out less..." she explains, fairly earnest, and it's probably one of the longer full sentences you've heard Verlaine say.
Verlaine.
You decided to ask how the name hunt was going once you got out to the car.
You laughed, actually, after hearing her say that.
" Prettier?" you asked, running your eyes over the lipstick display. There was a nervous saleslady hovering in the background. You were half-tempted to say some mean shit to her- what's up, you old bitch, I bet all your months at cosmetics school didn't teach you how to deal with anyone under twenty- but you refrained because Verlaine was there and Verlaine was a nervous cat as it was.
" W-well, I mean..." her voice caught in her throat and she stood stock-still.
" What's the matter?" you asked, and you followed her gaze.
Oh. That was what was the matter.
Vida's mother was there, looking through dress jackets. She hadn't noticed either of you yet.
[[" Where did you go?"|going]]
[[" What did you do?"|doing]]" My name is David Robertson. It's nice to meet you all," he said softly, and it seemed like the rickety overhead fan, blowing his hair around as it spun, made him look like a movie star.
" David just transferred here from the city- everyone please be kind to him," the teacher said. Bitch English teacher. You can't even remember her name. You weren't paying much attention to what she was saying, anyway, because you were fucking moonstruck by David Robertson. He looked like an angel. He looked like when a heroine would get introduced in an old film and there was vaseline smeared on the camera lens to make her glow. He looked the way Robert Plant looked on magazine covers.
You realized you were staring, and tried to stare a bit less, but your eyes still followed him as he strode- purposefully, confidently, with poise and good posture- to take a seat near the back of class, near you, next to the kid with glasses- Verlaine.
God, you were thinking to yourself, God I hope that David is just an inherently bisexual name like Mr. Bowie makes it out to be. I can't not fuck him, you were thinking. You had never seen someone so beautiful in your entire life.
Rose tapped your arm.
" What's wrong, Ethan?" she asked softly, and you almost jumped out of your chair because you were so lost in David Robertson that you momentarily forgot that other people even existed.
" I- It's nothing, Rose," you replied, your voice wavering. You didn't believe in any of that hokey love-at-first-sight bullshit but it seemed like that was what was happening. You had seen a boy so beautiful you wanted to cry and give him your wallet and your imported Jacques Brel record. You could feel your heart racing and then also your mind racing to figure out how exactly you would first approach him, because he was so, so pretty.
[[It turned out that you didn't need to worry so much.|diediedie2]]" Could you help me get caught up with this assignment?"
You hadn't expected it. You hadn't expected David to talk to you first; you had spent the past three days trying to plan your approach. It took you completely off-guard; you had been checking off some multiple-choice answers on the week's reading assignment. You tried not to look up too fast, and somehow found yourself hampered by a certain hesitance to act like yourself; you didn't want to say or do anything embarrassing in front of him.
" Yeah, it's cool," you said, nonchalant. He pulled a chair up next to you and you felt your heart skip a beat. He put his papers on the desk.
" Do you have your copy of the book?" he asked. " The library hasn't given me mine yet."
" Yeah- the library here sucks," you said, digging in your ratty saddlebag for the book.
... You can't remember what book it was. It's funny how memory works like that.
[[You can't remember a lot of little things.|diediedie3]]That was the first time-
The first time you visited David's apartment. The first time you listened to music together.
It became a routine, and then it became going to parties together, and then it spiraled into great expanses of blank memory with flickering lights that you could reach out and touch, just to remember moments where you were seeking the highs of love, comfort, and hard drugs again.
" Stop it. I don't want this anymore," you say softly, your voice cracking. You curl up in a ball in your big comfy chair again.
" Let us continue our-"
" No."
You cut Ozymandias off. He doesn't look like anything. He doesn't look angry, he doesn't look disappointed, he doesn't look surprised.
" Have you ever even been in love, you ugly goat fucker?" you say, harsh words wrapped in a soft voice, because it's all just been a parade of awful and you can't even really muster up anger anymore.
" I can't say I have."
He doesn't sound like anything.
" It feels like your heart is about to burst open. It feels like you're being strangled unless you have your entire body pressed up against theirs. And then when you're wrapped in the heat of another person, you wish that your bodies would go away and that your souls could just melt together. And even when things are hard, you want to make it work. You'd do anything to make it work. Because what creeps up on you is that you aren't alone as a person anymore. You've become two people. And you don't want to just be one again..." You trail off as you choke up, your voice faltering.
He just stares at you.
[[Do you throw something at him?|throwlamp]]
[[Do you storm out of the room?|stormout]]You ran into him in the record store, by accident.
You had been embroiled in going through the bins, and you knew that someone was standing next to you, but you were so busy flipping through the Bs- so concentrated-
Your hands collided over a discounted Bloodrock single- DOA- and you recognized his hand, because you had spent so much time staring at them while you did schoolwork together.
" Well, I had already figured that you liked rock'n'roll," he said in his soft honey voice, as he pulled the single out of the bin.
You followed that for a moment, and then looked up at his face. He had a gentle smile.
" Well, I was hoping that you did too, and I guess I've got my answer," you replied. You hoped that you didn't sound like a loser.
" If I pay for it, will you come over to listen to it with me?" he asked.
You remember suddenly that it was winter when this happened. That you didn't realize it was David at first because he had the hood of his winter coat up. That your cheeks- that his cheeks- were still red from the cold outside the record store.
When you went outside with him, he pulled out a pair of winter gloves and you tried not to stare when he put them on. You had on a scarf- you adjusted your scarf, you adjusted your coat.
" Do you listen to much Bloodrock, Klaude?" he inquired as you two went down the snowy sidewalk. You made a very sincere effort to curb your own enthusiasm.
" Mm, I own their first album, and I've heard DOA on the radio about two or three times, but never all the way through- it's a long song, and my father always changes the radio," you told him.
[[" I like the long songs... I like to hear the songs with stories."|diediedie4]]<<set $davidpt = $davidpt + 1>>
" Hey, let's go back out to the car," you said softly, and Verlaine nodded, face like a death mask. You weren't sure what compelled you to do it, but you held Verlaine's hand as you walked to the front of the store. There was a reason, wasn't there? Something behind it?
Her hand was warm and her palm slightly sweaty- from the anxiety, probably- and she walked at the same determined pace as you, though you never looked back at her.
Why was it that the memory of her hand was so, so vivid?
Even now, you can recall it easily.
Though you'd forgotten the name and face of your homeroom teacher; though you'd forgotten what kind of truck your father had; though you'd forgotten how you really died.
" Klaude," she said.
" Klaude, that's the wrong car," she said.
You had almost gotten in it, too, but you looked and saw that it was much cleaner than your own.
" Oh," you said after a moment, feeling awkward.
You were parked further away from the store.
[[You let go of her hand.|going2]]<<set $vidapt = $vidapt + 1>>
" No, no, it's okay, she won't see you," you softly reassured her. But Vida was shaking. You had never seen her look scared like that.
It made you feel weird.
" Klaude, please, we need to leave," she said, voice quiet (when wasn't it?) and she tugged at your sleeve.
It made you feel weird.
" Oh. Fancy seeing you two here," someone spoke.
It was David.
" We were just about to leave," Verlaine said, sounding stressed. David leaned over the makeup display counter like it was very interesting news. You felt a weird twist in your chest at the deep neckline of his shirt that momentarily distracted you from the situation you were in, but tried to ignore it.
Why did you remember that so vividly?
" So where have you been lately, Verlaine? I feel like you've stolen my boyfriend," he asked. That was a horrible, weird way to put it. You felt a little bit insulted at that.
You loved David so much.
<i> You loved David so much.</i>
" I- I- I've been busy, with a lot of stuff," Vida stuttered, and she took a step closer to you- probably without realizing it. She was good at not realizing what she did when she was nervous.
You saw David covertly sneak a lipstick into his pocket. To be fair, you had nicked like three or four things too; even if you did have money now, it had become a little bit of a habit. Since at first you didn't want people to know you wore makeup to concerts and parties and places like that. Now you felt like... it was silly to be ashamed of that.
" Well, if you're leaving, why don't we go to my place and catch up?" David offered.
It was a good offer.
You wanted to take it.
[[So you did.|doing2]]<<set $vidapt = $vidapt + 1>>
You feel like a fucking zombie, standing up, and you just stare down at your own hands.
" Please sit back down, Klaude Arbordale," you hear Ozymandias say. You don't care, actually. You're done with this. You're tired. You've never been very good at obeying authority anyway.
" Let me out of here," you demand. You slam your hands down on his ebony wood desk.
You've done a lot with your hands today, in this dumb fuck's office. They're shaky and pale and you have blood underneath your nails and little cuts on your palms. There's something wet falling from your face onto the backs of your hands but you're trying not to think about it.
" Please sit back down, Klaude Arbordale," he repeats, his tone and inflection the exact same.
It reminds you of a cornered animal. A deer caught in a school library. The way that you suddenly flip over to offensive action, like the way that heat rises in an oven.
" Fuck you! Quit telling me what to do!" you yell. And you pick up his desk lamp and throw it in his face.
[[It stops.|throwlamp2]]<<set $davidpt = $davidpt + 1>>
" I'm... I'm just done with your shit! You don't understand anything!" You yell, and you stand up, facing Ozymandias.
Why?
Why?
<i>Why?</i>
Why was his face still blank?
You turn and stride to the door, thinking of your love, your overwhelming love, your overflowing love. How it felt to feel that love. How that love burned you and kept you alive.
You open the door and storm out into a black abyss.
[[Suddenly, you are falling.|stormout2]]" We didn't even get to buy anything..." Verlaine observed quietly as she stared out the window, as you drove.
You took a hand off the steering wheel and fished a compact out of your coat pocket, handing it to her without looking.
" Yeah, no, I sort of-"
She hadn't said anything, but still, still.
You could sense from her... a sense of disappointment, maybe? Something. Like she hadn't expected you to be that sort of person, like she didn't think of you that way, like it surprised her that much.
" Klaude... You might get caught," she said after a moment. You kept your eyes on the road.
" I mean, at least you have something, right?" you replied.
And in the silence you feel like that wasn't the right thing to say, either.
It's not that you feel judged. It's something you aren't used to feeling. It's something you're not used to people giving to you.
You saw her open the compact, and stare at herself in the tiny little mirror.
And you thought to yourself,
Ah.
[[Verlaine could really be a model, you know?|conflicting]]It was the first time Verlaine had ever been to David's house, and she looked like a very frazzled cat.
" Do you want a beer?" he asked her, as he went to the kitchen. He didn't even ask you; you knew he was going to get you one anyway.
It felt very awkward and nervous to be in his house with Verlaine, for reasons you couldn't quite quantify.
" Ah, n-n-n-n-not really," Verlaine said, voice cracking halfway through, as she sat on the couch. " I d-d-don't really l-like..."
David's hair was long and blonde and it flowed like liquid gold, and sometimes you felt like it would burn like that too, if you tried to reach out to him.
At times like that.
He stood still in the doorframe to the kitchen for a moment, like he'd forgotten something, and he turned around and he spoke to you.
" Ah! Klaude! Could you put on one of our concert tapes? Let's watch something fun," he asked.
[[And yet he had still set three cans on the table.|conflicting]]You see stars. You see dust. You see everything, laid out before you; you see the Fermi bubbles expanding and intertwining. As you fall, the world around you melting and reforming a thousand times, you can't understand what you see.
And soon, like you feared deep down, Ozymandias is waiting below you, a giant head, his eyes like fire.
" Will your love save you?" he asked.
" Yes!" you scream down at him, fighting back tears.
" Will David save you?" he asked.
" Yes!" you scream down at him, crying.
He laughed at you.
He laughed.
" Even though he brought you here?" he asked.
And suddenly you're sitting in the office again, in that chair.
[[The painting behind him is Giotto's Kiss of Judas.|denying]]The desk lamp stops, an inch away from his face, in midair. And then it melts into sparkly sludge before your eyes. Suddenly all of the color in the room fades. Suddenly Ozymandias is very tall and is not quite concrete and you realize you don't really know what you're look at anymore.
Have you ever exhibited any self-control in your short, miserable life, Klaude Arbordale?
" Get out of my fucking head!" you yell, stumbling backwards, and you trip over your own chair. The desk separating you from Ozymandias melts.
" What choice do I have?" he asks.
" When you've lied to both me and yourself?" he asks.
" Don't you realize that this is the only way we can gain the truth?" he asks.
You feel very small and like he is very large, and he walks forward like a titan.
" This is about the truth, Klaude Arbordale," he says, his voice booming like you're in a concert stadium.
" This is about discerning the terms of the contract that binds you to David and Vida," he says.
" This is about the taste of blood, the burning scent of scorched plastic and twisted metal, the sight of love in wreckage, and the sound of ten thousand shards of glass raining down on unfeeling pavement!"
[[You feel it when he speaks.|denying]]The office is cold.
[[You're quiet for a long time.|denying2]]" Do you understand what it is?" Ozymandias asks.
" No," you answer.
[[" I pity you," he replies.|conflicting2]]
" What the fuck are you talking about?" you ask.
He draws another large black book from his desk, closes yours, opens the new one. It occurs to you that the book he had previously was <i>yours</i>.
" Do you want to know these three things, Klaude Arbordale?" he asks.
" Three?" you ask.
[[" That number will suffice, I believe, to show you what you seem to have buried within yourself," he says.|blackbook]]
" Why did you keep your growing friendship with Vida Verlaine such a great secret?" Ozymandias asks. It's the most straightforward question he's ever posed.
And yet, you don't have a definitive answer.
" Vida asked me to not tell anybody yet," you say. Yet you know that that's not the right answer, and you know that he knows that that's not the right answer. He knows you know this, too.
" Didn't you tell David you would never keep secrets from him?"
You slam your hands on the desk.
" How can you know that? Did you dig around in my head to get that out too?" you sneer.
[[" He told me."|conflicting3]]
" David loves me too," you say.
Ozymandias is quiet.
" David told me he loved me more than anything, so-"
" I know that," Ozymandias says.
You get defensive again, go to yell at him-
" David has shown me all his precious memories. All of his love and pain. All the moments you spent together. The agony of your moments apart. He bared it openly, and with desperation. And so that is how I know why you are angry at me, for the things you don't wish to be seen. The only surprise you bear, with that attitude of yours, [[is that you yourself don't seem to know.|denying3]]"
" Didn't you consider how he felt? Didn't you want to understand that pain he was fostering within his heart, every moment that you were away? He loved you, after all. And yet, with every passing day, you slipped away more and more. You, who had sculpted yourself into a reverential image for him, began dulling your own edges instead of your senses, as you had done before. You became different. And you can't see why? You don't know the answer, even though it lives in your own heart?"
[[You feel very, very sick.|blackbook]]" So your name is also David?" the most beautiful boy you've ever seen in your life said as he sat down next to you.
You sort of fidgeted, and laughed.
" Ah, it suits you much better..." you said, feeling awkward.
" Do you really think so?" he said, low tone, as he slouched down and looked at you with lidded eyes.
It makes you feel self-conscious in a way you've never felt before. And even from across the room, you feel everyone staring at him.
In a way, it's relieving, to know for certain that no one will ever pay attention to you again. You can fade away, and let this boy with golden hair take your place completely.
That one will be David, you think, and I will stay on the bench as the side character forever.
[[I will be happier that way.|vidapv2]]You don't remember exactly what it was you were doing, the first time your phone had ever rang for you.
" Daviiiid, someone is asking for you," you hear your mother yell from the other room. You think that there must be some sort of mistake, but you go into the kitchen anyway.
" Hello?" you say as you take the ivory-colored phone from her. The linoleum floor is cold.
" Hey, is this David Verlaine?" You hear a familiar voice. Your heart skips. It's Klaude with the long hair, with the dark skin, who has always hovered at the periphery of your life, but never quite out of sight.
" Ah, y-y-y-yes?" you stutter, and it makes you feel fucking stupid because you can't control it. Your mother looks at you weird.
" Hey, so like, David wanted me to invite you to this party we're going to, because you've like, got the same name? You guys sit next to each other in class, right? I guess that's why. Anyway, can you like, meet up with us next to the football field after class tomorrow?"
What is this. What is this feeling.
It was the first time you'd ever been invited to a party. The first time he had really spoken to you since that day you got detention for putting on makeup during your lunch hour in grade school.
That it was the David who shone like the sun who had wanted to invite you...
You find a weird feeling in your heart. It rotates around you, fleeting and yet stable in orbit; the feeling, sudden and pastel, that you will not be doomed.
Is it hope?
Is it hope?
You agree, of course.
You go straight to the football field after class, like you had been asked.
<<if $vidapt gte $davidpt>> [[You go to the party with him. |Party]] <<endif>>
<<if $davidpt gte $vidapt>> [[You go to the party. |vidapv3]] <<endif>>" Do you want to kiss?"
Your heart almost stops.
You feel your face go bright red.
" I, wh-wh-wh- y-y-y-you and David, wh-" you stutter out a string of staccato sounds, stumbling over all of them, because it's just you and Klaude upstairs at this party and he's not even drunk, actually. He had been in a bad mood and didn't want to drink, which was increasingly rare.
He looks at you kind of weird.
" Just kidding," he says.
You knew it but you still feel like falling apart anyway because it's not very funny and you already felt really, really bad for the slow thoughts that had been creeping up on you ever since he had broken your glasses.
" It's not funny," you say back, quietly. He leans in way too close (he has a habit of doing that; getting close enough that you can see the imperfect edges of his eyeshadow, the one hair he always misses when he plucks his eyebrows, the little scar he has underneath his lip from when he lost the piercing Honora had given him in ninth grade, the puffiness of his eyes from loss of sleep).
" It was funny when I said it, 'cos you blushed really hard," he replies, pointing out what you were loathe for him to notice.
It feels like something is snapping.
" You wouldn't make jokes like that if you actually loved him," you say, fingers digging into the fabric of the couch, looking down, away. You see a cigarette burn on his wrist, the sleeve of his jacket just barely not covering it. Bitterness.
He is silent and still.
" What would you know about that?" he snaps at you, angry. Because of course that would make him angry. You <i>knew</i> that would make him angry.
You feel a thousand things that you want to scream.
He's hurting you, you want to scream. I see you with bruises and burns. I see you wearing longer sleeves and thicker clothes and I see you flinch when he moves his hands.
He just loves you because you're destroying yourself for him, you want to scream. You do all these drugs and drink and smoke because you're trying to prove how little you matter to yourself.
But you say nothing, because in your heart, you know you are nothing.
They are great, destined lovers, hurtling towards a mutual abyss wherein their overwhelming passion for each other will grant them eternity, like a beautiful novel, and you will just continue on with your empty life, knowing nothing of love that deep and living for nothing. You're just empty, bitter, jealous. Because you can't be a better person. Because you've tried, and tried, and can't make yourself into a better person.
And when he gets up to leave, to go downstairs to the party because he's sick of you, you don't reach out for him until after the door closes.You open a door, and see two girls wrapped up in each other on the bed, kissing.
They straighten up, ruffled up, and you recognize that it's Honora and Phoebe. That's funny. Wasn't Phoebe some sort of Bible-thumping bitch?
" Ah, I'm s-sorry. I was looking for Vida..." You excuse yourself.
" I, um, I saw her with David, getting drinks earlier..." Honora says, red in the face. Phoebe is hiding hers behind her hands. Honora glances over at her, and then looks back at you.
" Cool, nice, sweet, I'm gonna go ask him-" you try to say, but she cuts you off.
" I don't think you should talk with David tonight," she says very quickly. You scoff.
" He's my fucking boyfriend, we're here together," you say. Which is a lie, because you had come with Vida. You actually hadn't stayed over at David's in a couple of days, and had mostly been talking with him over the phone.
Honora looks really concerned. She's brushing hair out of her face and patting her little Serious Moonlight mohawk back into shape.
" I think he's mad at you. He was acting weird," she tells you.
You close the door on her and Phoebe Hearst.You're up at three in the morning, your body pressed against his with raw heat, kissing. It's sort of blurry and runs together and tastes of Smirnoff but that's how it always is; and that is what makes it so comfortable.
You pull away.
" We... we gotta go to school tomorrow, we need to sleep..." you say sleepily, rubbing your eye. You actually are tired as fuck.
He sits up. Even in the dark, he glows like the sun.
Why is that?
" Who cares about school, Klaude? Come on, let's-"
" I wanna sleeeep," you complain back at him. He looks actually offended.
Which is weird.
" You're never around anymore!" he says, a bit forcefully. It's sort of waking you up a bit.
" Listen, if you're going to be a bitch about it, I'll just go home-" you start to say, and then he grabs you and pins you to the bed with a deathly look on his face and you stare up at him, wordlessly.
It is a harsh moment.
Your breath is shallow.
" Quit leaving me alone," he says, and his voice cracks.
" S-s-sorry," you stutter. His brow knits up like he's still bothered by something, even though you apologized.
" Please," he says.
Please.Double-click this passage to edit it.Double-click this passage to edit it.Double-click this passage to edit it.Double-click this passage to edit it.Double-click this passage to edit it.Double-click this passage to edit it.Double-click this passage to edit it.Double-click this passage to edit it.Double-click this passage to edit it.Double-click this passage to edit it.Double-click this passage to edit it.You yank back from the book, suddenly jolted back into yourself, suddenly <i>you</i>, Ethan Klaude Arbordale.
" Do you understand?" Ozymandias asks, eyes glowing.
You hug yourself, and double over.
" Where is Vida?" you ask, voice quiet.
Ozymandias closes the book.
" Vida Verlaine is currently in the hospital with a severe concussion and a broken arm," he says, and then there's a pause. " Though I suppose that that's too much information for you to know now, while your consciousness is still scattered."
" What do you mean?" You immediately straighten up in your chair, and look at him.
Double-click this passage to edit it.Double-click this passage to edit it.Double-click this passage to edit it.Double-click this passage to edit it.Double-click this passage to edit it.Double-click this passage to edit it.Double-click this passage to edit it.Double-click this passage to edit it.Double-click this passage to edit it.Yes, the color of the sky had been strange... It was a beautiful [[lavender.|Sit Quietly]]...You never really read [[Shakespeare.|Turn On The Desk Lamp.]]<<set $davidpt + 1 >>
David was the opposite of everything you hated about [[yourself.|Prolonged1]]<<set $vidapt = $vidapt + 1>>
That's right. His glasses, his hair. That child always covered his face, like he was afraid of being seen.
Yet the first time you'd ever seen her face...
[[It was soft.|Renewed1]]" Do you know what sort of person you are, David? You've got a special gift that no one else in this whole world has..."
So you stacked up as many books about it as you could. Spiritualism, Satanism, summoning spirits, the veil between worlds, alchemy, transhumanism, and then none of it worked.
None of it worked.
It never actually worked.
It was all bullshit made up by liars who wanted to feel better than other people. Anton LaVey was a shitty little bitch.
You got home from school one day, a little late because the bus driver had pulled over at some point to yell at a fifth grader.
When you stepped inside, you could hear the TV going; one of your mom's bootleg VHS tapes. It was some episode of The Midnight Special- it was on the commercials now, so you couldn't exactly remember what band it was.
" I'm home," you yelled from the entry hall.
There was no reply. Just the faint buzz of a commercial for some sort of Atari thing.
That was a little odd.
You turned the corner into the living room.
... It was empty. The lights were on, and the tape was playing.
That was definitely odd.
" Mom?" you yelled again, calling out for her.
Maybe she had gone upstairs to sleep, or something.
So what was that feeling of dread?
You set your bag down on the couch, and go down the hallway, and go up the stairs.
Her door is slightly ajar.
" Mom?" you call out again, voice softer than before, as you push it open.
Oh.
" Mom?!"
Oh.
[[That was when you realized that none of it was real, and that none of it worked.|davidpv2]]You couldn't stand living in that house anymore. Your aunt helped you get an apartment in some shitty little town, and you moved as soon as you could.
Shitty little town, shitty little school.
But somehow, you found a niche of interesting people.
<<if $vidapt gte $davidpt>> [[You found a boyfriend, too.|rejectedd]] <<endif>>
<<if $davidpt gte $vidapt>> [[You found a boyfriend, too.|davidpv3]] <<endif>>
You're listening to Bloodrock together, at your little rundown apartment, and as Klaude is rolling a blunt, you find yourself staring at his hands.
Klaude doesn't realize it, how graceful he is; he flows like water and he always gets everything done quickly.
... You understand how Verlaine feels, then.
Or maybe it's a feeling you had all along, admiration for him. Affection that swelled up in your throat when you saw him running in track. Words misplaced out of a sense of anxiety.
" Do you want to go out with me, Klaude?" you ask.
He sort of freezes up, looks up at you with an obviously nervous smile and blush spreading across his face.
" I sort of thought we were already going out?" he says, nervously.
Oh.
" Alright, then. Do you want to <i>belong</i> to me?" you ask.
He's lit up bright red, as bright red as you've ever seen Klaude Arbordale, and his hands are a little shaky.
" Of course!"
Maybe that was a sick thing to ask, but deep in your heart, you wanted it.<<if $vidapt gte $davidpt>> [[I'll show you, then. Vida's truth.|vidapv1]]<<endif>>
<<if $davidpt gte $vidapt>> [[I'll show you, then. David's truth.|davidpv1]]<<endif>>Double-click this passage to edit it." Ooooh fuck, Verlaibe, oh no, those are you- your need those to see," he says, stressed out, and then he trips over his own feet and steps on them, crushing the frame. You're mildly freaking out.
He looks down at the twisted metal and shattered glass, and then he looks back up at you.
" You... you have a pretty face under all of that, you know?" he says, sounding surprised, [[like he's seen you for the first time. |vidapv3]]