"Ant-sized glassware"
Prologue.
«Counterclockwise»
The liquor smelled like rust and grimy pipes. Its magical ingredients were transforming Sebastian into a gloomy, awkward creature. His vermillion eyes wandered around the club, looking for the amiable features of his old partner. Within a short time, the door swung open and Bardroy came in. Examining the guy closer, Michaelis realized he kinda seemed to be in a hard situation too. His friend wore ragged jeans, and a pair of foggy sunglasses. "What's with that "rehab" expression?" Sebastian thought. Bard felt so "out of character", his unshaven chin was, for sure, a neon sign of psychological misery.
Regardless of his "suicidal" profile, the man caught a glimpse of Michaelis' dumb face and his whole body tensed. It was like reanimating a corpse. The first reaction to life is a sudden, inexplicable fit of nervousness. He pulled out a stool right next to his long-lost best buddy, and they exchanged pleasantries until the waitress returned with a happy round of whiskey. For a while, Sebastian let his companion ramble about marital conflicts. Bard was genuinely devoted to his lady, but she kept screwing things up. Michaelis sighed. Somehow, he felt some unnatural sympathy for this poor man, whose greatest problem ever was a lightheaded wife. He stared up at the ceiling, and his makeshift façade began to crumble.
Allowing his heavy eyelids to drop, Sebastian drifted back to oblivion. He pretended to pay full attention, and Bardroy just needed a quiet interlocutor, so he went on for almost a pointless hour. This mutual monologue was making them both uncomfortable; but Michaelis wanted a reason to focus, to alienate. Bardroy spent the last two years abroad; so he had no clue of his actual predicament. People literally urged him to visit a therapist; everyone noticed his change of demeanor, his obsessive antics, and his ill appearance. Claude, Hannah, the Joker, William: they realized something was quite fucked up inside his cryptic brain. But Bardroy was too busy with his unfinished drink. And Michaelis enjoyed this fake sense of normality. Damn, it "turned him on" so badly: a marvelous opportunity to be out of the spotlight. He almost cried.
"You know, someone told me I shouldn't use this word, quarrel" Bard murmured, inhaling the nicotine out of his cigarette.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"It is medieval slang" he preached, like it was a solemn lesson to be killed for.
"Now you're worrying over grammar?" Sebastian frowned.
"Tsk, it's a big deal. Would you swim against the current, babe?".
"You could say the old-fashion values never suited me… perhaps I understand your point"
"Ah, words have been there for centuries, man. One day, someone just decided to replace them with newborn versions".
There it was. Sebastian knew he was arriving to a dead end, a narrow alley. His hands were shaking.
"May I tell you the truth?" Bard inquired.
"Have you ever lied?"
"Sebastian, you didn't bring me here to buy us expensive rum" he admitted. "You could've called you brother, or Will, and I'm a hundred percent sure they don't even know I'm visiting town. Stop avoiding the topic, and spit it out".
"Could you be more specific?"
"I'm perched on this filthy chair because I'm the only one who stayed out of your world when this, this" he stated, pointing to the dead figure in front of him. "happened. Dude, are you sick?! Cancer, or some shitty stuff?"
Michaelis merely blinked.
"No"
"But, how do you explain this physical condition?" Bard insisted, and lowered his voice to a whisper. "Drugs? Booze?"
"Let's get the fuck outta here" Sebastian growled.
He paid the waitress a nice amount of money, grabbed his coat and reckoned Bard to follow him out the bar. Sebastian stood on the sidewalk for a moment, sparing a wistful glance to the empty avenue. He was confused, indeed. Bardroy was an impeccable human; and Sebastian was a selfish son of a bitch. The truth about him will eventually become a venomous burden for those who dig in the soil. Deep down inside, there was no real absolution; no purity to behold.
"I'll drive you to the hotel, Bard" he hummed, squinting at the sky. "And if you're still willing to know…"
"Yeah, man, sure" the blonde interrupted, squeezing Sebastian's shoulder. "Just talk to me".
Exhaling a breath, Michaelis alleged:
"I'm fucking a twelve-year-old boy".