bed of nails

Chapter 04

Paul opened his mouth to continue but his phone rang. He picked it up and exchanged few negations and agreements. Then, he came back to Richard, who was lifelessly gazing at the cloudy sky.
"Okay. I suggest this: you stay here for an hour, undisturbed and no one asks you anything, but after that time, you get back and prepare for tonight, okay?"
"Yea. Sounds fine" Richard nodded slowly
"I'll get you some water, before your guts drown in this beer"
"Yea, yea"

Paul jumped off the table and headed the bus. Richard started staring at the ground this time, seeing yellowy grass wave in the wind. He had one hour to figure it out. Not much. He didn't feel like doing anything. All he wanted was to sit in a cool air and gaze at his calm landscape, letting his thoughts wander free and drunk forever. He opened another beer and let his world spin faster.
His mind registered autumn grass being crushed by someone's steps. He thought it could be Paul with water but the steps were too heavy for short and slim guitarist. He turned around and saw Till, who looked just as lost and destroyed.

"Here I am" singer said, his words also not so clear, and wheezy
"W...What?"
"Guys told me you wanted to see me. So here I am"
PAUL! FLAKE! BASTARDS! Richard gripped his fists and hissed.
"I didn't call for you"
"Still...it won't hurt...to talk"
"You're drunk"
"Der Kessel schilt den Ofentopf"
Till approached the table carefully and eyed it, then decided to sit on the bench. It wasn't strange for him to be scared of crushing things. They sat like this, in silence, looking in different directions. The silence was heavy, like there was a veil, blocking fresh air around them and muting the sounds of nature.

"Reeshart" surprisingly, it was Till who spoke first "What was this thing in the bathroom...? Did you just...do it to get away...?"
Guitarist finished his beer and put the bottle on the table like it was really fragile.
"No"
"Then what?"
"Panic. Confusion. Fear."
"Of what?"
"Of the conversation we're having"
"Or trying to have"

Richard sighed and looked at him tiredly.
"I'm sick of it. I can't do this anymore. But I can't end it as well" he said more to himself than to Till "It's all fucked up and it's a poison. But I'm a masochist and I don't want to let it out. I'm a liar, coward and an idiot"
"Why are you saying that?"
"Because I'm a grown man who can't even control his feelings and who can't admit he cares about someone and wants them and...loves them...and...." Richard shouted, but in the end, his voice faded away, like he was using a dying batter that gave him one last kick of energy

"How long?" Till's voice rang like church bell after few minutes of windy silence
"How long what?"
"How long have you been....feeling like this?"
They understood each other's slurring words only because they were equally stoned.
"Really? Years, I think. Consciously? About a month"
"Same here...but the latter should be a year..."
"What?" Richard's eyes opened wider for the first time, when he looked aside "What...did you say...?"
"The thing was mutual, that's what I say" Till seemed so done with life he didn't even bother "How did you find out?"

Richard blushed a bit. Yet, he knew he'd gone so far and it was point of no return. They'd said A and now had to say B.
"I dreamt...about you. Many times. That's...that's why I avoided you. I was ashamed to look you in the eye"
"You...dreamt...about me? How...?"
"Stop this, Till, you can easily guess! The...wet way" Richard nearly spitted these words out and lit up another cigarette. He handed another one to Till "Treat yourself"
The singer gladly accepted it and lit it up, inhaling the smoke really deep.
"You had wet dreams about me. I'm flattered" he said, rolling a cigarette between his fingers and observing it with fascination. He looked at Richard then and the guitarist shuddered

Lindemann's eyes were way greener than the actual grass around them. More gray-green, like meadow during a spring storm. Widened and darkened, foretelling the arousal.
"What was happening there?" he asked, voice low
"Pffff I'm not drunk enough to tell that" Richard snorted and laughed bitterly
"What do I have to do to convince you then?" Till shifted a bit, now facing Richard
"There's nothing you can do. Let it go"
"Will it help if I tell you that I wouldn't mind being these microphones you keep making love to?"
Richard choked on the cigarette, not sure whether to be shocked or laugh like a madman. But Till was dead serious, observing him darkly.