The Metaphysicist (Kill Your Darlings) | Featured

cue erotica intro

However, Lucien doesn't seem the type to drop someone without so much as a warning, as that's extremely unkind of him, and though he gives no shits about what other people think, he doesn't go out of his way to actively harm them, so there must be something amiss, and he's in the bathroom to clear his head.

He had been nervous when he departed, so that piece of the investigation informs me that Lucien isn't in there for any bodily activities, rather to find a place to hide from whatever it was that he saw out here that wouldn't be in the bathroom where he is, but I have no fucking clue why he's so anxious about that sight. Yeah, he was nervous about being at dinner with me, but that passed once we began to talk, so I really don't know if it was something I did or if it was something that he saw that unnerved him to the point where he brashly stood up from his seat, slid out of the booth, walked past the thing of whom he's so afraid, and burst into the bathroom, where he most likely is now, and I'm not certain when he'll emerge from his cocoon of safety and bits of fear dashed into the mix.

Many people have thrown pitying stares my way, which I have quietly deflected by swiveling my head away from them so that I don't have to address their sickening sympathy that doesn't mean shit to me when my friend is in trouble, but that trouble is so flimsy that I'm not sure it's present, so I'm debating whether or not I should journey into the bathroom to drag Lucien out of hell, and I don't need the falsified stares of old people to shove roadblocks in my way, but eventually it reaches the point where those stares of wrinkly deterioration in corporeal form are quite displeasing, and they offer me an incentive to search the bathroom for my friend crumbling within the plastic blue of the stalls.

Cautiously I levitate from my position at the booth, speaking to the wall if I ever were to speak because Lucien obviously isn't here to absorb my words that are fruitless anyway, and without moving anywhere else, I already snare the attention of those same old people who were staring at me earlier, but I don't allow that to hinder my motivation. Lucien is worth more than the folks who ruined our economy, and with that in mind, I troop towards the bathroom where my companion will be, and I simultaneously ignore the focus drilling into me from all sides, which I usually wouldn't be able to ignore, but now that Lucien has granted me more confidence in myself and my skills, I feel as though I can do anything in this moment.

The hostess prepares to object to my visit across the restaurant with the misconception that I'm leaving the place without paying for the paltry meal of a sip from my champagne glass, but when she observes that I'm crossing over to the other half of the buildings, to where the bathrooms are, she halts herself and only watches me stride over there with less and less apprehension weighing me down, when it should really be the opposite, because I am clueless as to what Lucien is doing in the bathroom, yet I'm proud of myself for going to investigate the matter, as that's something I would never even consider doing on a regular day.

Gulping down a profound ball of air, I push through the door to the bathroom to find that there is only one person in here, my conjecture based on the stifled sobs that still burst through the veneer that my companion has constructed out of a phobia of people judging him for being the weak fool he judges others for being, but I'm perhaps the least biased out of all of them, and that's why he's chosen me as his unspoken protege.

Instantaneously after I enter the bathroom, I want to flee it, as this is too much for me to handle, this unbloomed freak show of a self struggling in its bonds, but it's my duty to help Lucien, because he won't confront me out of his own volition, and though it's difficult for me to do so, I must aid my companion when he won't ever aid himself.

"Go away, Allen," Lucien yelps, already knowing that as his friend, I am requiring myself to come to his side when he is jittering inconsolably in a fucking bathroom stall.

It's my chance to be as stubborn as Lucien is, and I don't really give a shit if he despises it, because that's what I had to endure when he was in this position, too, so I negate, "No, I'm not leaving you."

Lucien bangs against the plastic door of the stall, rattling the entire framework coating the bathroom in cohesion, frustrated with my obstinacy. "God damn it, Allen! Just go." His voice is as hard as the material dividing us, and because of that, I cannot see his face, but I know that it must be as exasperated as I am when he's just like this to me.

"I'm never deserting you, Lucien." And I'm staying forever. I will. Lucien Carr is too precious to lose in any way.

"You're almost as stubborn as me," he laughs, but it's a worrying laugh of mixed emotions, none of which are pleasant ones. "Why are you in here anyway?"

"You mean it's completely normal for you to randomly abandon me at the table as you flee fearfully?"

"I'm fine." From the foot-long gap underneath the stall door, I can see Lucien scuff his shoe against the ground, nervous. I have no idea if he's a good liar -- because if he is, then I wouldn't be able to tell, because I have no evidence to compare -- or if he's a bad liar, but that barely matters, because "I'm fine" is the lie that no one, not even the best of liars, can pass off as genuine.

"You seem pretty upset to me, on the contrary."

Immediately after I finish my sentence, Lucien fires back, "Damn it, I didn't ask you to get involved. Why do you feel the need to invade matters that don't concern you?" Now he's completely exasperated with me, when all I want to do is assist him. Why won't he let me?

"Because I love you, Lucien Carr."

Shit. Why would I say that? He probably only thinks of me as a friend at most, and we've only known each other for a week. It doesn't matter if I've been head over heels in love with him since the very moment I saw him. Even if I were comfortable saying this to Lucien, I would wait for a while, not just release a secret while Lucien's already emotionally compromised. Fuck. Why must I ruin him more?

Lucien is silent for a few moments, then inhaling and exhaling deeply to compose himself in order to create something of a thin cushion for the blow he's about to deliver. "Allen, what you know about love is Hollywood propaganda and this honeymoon phase of friendship we have here. You don't know what you're talking about. I'll forgive you because you're innocent of mind, but I must tell you that you can't possibly love me."

"And why the hell not?" I clasp my hands on my hips to signify that I stand with my position. Who doesn't love someone as magnificent as Lucien Carr?

"I've been trying to help you grow as much as I possibly can, but there are some things that I just can't teach you."

"That's a fucking shitty excuse, and you know it, Lucien. You're a writer. You, of all people, should be able to use your words to convey what you need to convey."

Lucien doesn't respond, rather unlatches the door to the stall and almost smacks me with it because of how close I was standing to it. The ocean of his eyes is slowly being consumed by red irritation from the gallons of water it lost, but he doesn't seem to notice. All he does is look me through the soul, as earnestly as possible, and apologizes. "I'm sorry to bail on one of the only nice things I've given to you, but I can't fucking do this. I'm sorry, Ginsy."

He then turns away from me, slips out the bathroom door, and renders me speechless and frozen in the middle of the room.

I eat my dinner alone tonight. 

~~~~~

A/N: oooOOOh the m y s t e r y

accidentalism: events occur by chance instead of by a cause

~Dacrabby