When you are not paying attention to the amount you are drinking, and perhaps are craving the drown yourself in the liquor that you down so religiously, one glass can easily become three. Which becomes a bottle. Which becomes too little.
Though drunkenly, Christian slunk down into his chair, like liquid, passive against Bernard swirling the drink around in his cup. Absinthe. He wanted Absinthe, he wanted the Green Faerie to cradle his head in her hands and tell him it would be all right, stroke his hair and hush him like a mother, smother him in kisses. He wanted Satine to comfort him, talk to him, like he had for her. What had she given back to him? - nothing save for her love? She never comforted him in his life, she just took and took and took and bathed in his love till there was nothing left. A love that would keep her forever young, a dead child's doll on the shelf, not taken down out of sentiment.
"Absinthe." Christian hadn't meant to speak the word, but his mind was hazy and muddled, fog stealing his thoughts like a pick pocket. He looked over at the boy who could have been called the old Christian's kindred if someone wanted to go so far. Bernard looked up, groggy and lethargic, furrowing his brow as if he was thinking. Christian's brows were plucked and thin, well rounded over his face. Bernard's were thick and angular.
"...what?" Bernard paused, singular eyebrow working it's way up his face inquisitively, blinking a few times as he ran his tongue over those chapped lips, pushing blonde tendrils of hair away from his eyes. Christian blinked, vocals hushed, as if he was trying to cover them, flushed anieth his makeup.
"Nothing.. just, a whim... I was wondering if you wanted some Absinthe..." Bernard, who looked somewhat agitated, kneaded the flesh of his temples between his fingers and nodded, dismissively, as if Christian was a scullery maid. Getting huffy over the manner in which he was addressed, Christian slid to the ice box and groped anieth the cubes, hunting for his stash, before pulling the liquor from the bottom. He held up the green bottle, sauntered over and poured Bernard a glass. He then sunk back into his chair, holding up his own glass.
"Cheers."
.:.
There was no green faery. There was no singing of Truth, Beauty, Freedom nor least of all Love. Just a Bernard whispering in a barely audible voice about his past, about his childhood. Jobs as a pimp, a shoeshine boy, a whore, a pick pocket. Stories of being beaten on the streets of Paris, stories of being beaten in his own house.
Christian was captivated.
Was this what Satine's childhood had been like? Was this the sole thing she'd refuse to speak of, her jobs, her profession, before Christian. For one second, Christian lost his head, blurring the lines between himself, Satine, and Bernard. He opened his hands as if he was reaching for something, crying out, holding his breath within his throat. Bernard jumped up, knocking his chair to the ground with a clatter, Christian coming back down to earth, though something above him was lost, floating away. He looked at Bernard like a lost child, whimpering, a cowering down cringing in the corner. Being beaten by it's master.
"I understand." He said, dropping his arms to his sides, shoulders slumping under the force of the drink being placed upon them. Bernard furrowed his brow again, biting his bottom lip, chewing on it thoughtfully. He brushed the golden strands of hair from his eyes, like spun glass, gossamer as it hung like a halo over his face.
"Understand what?"
"Her." Bernard didn't question that, Christian seemed to relax after he spoke, as if he'd awakened from a dream. He untangled his legs from being wrapped around themselves, letting his arms drop to the side again, like a sacrificial victim after being killed, finally relaxing. Christian held up the glass again and poured himself another, lifting it in a toast before he downed it. Had Bernard noticed the bobbing of his Adam's Apple - which he didn't - it was but a guess to what he would have done. Christian fondled the tips of his hair, coming down past his shoulders, hanging over a hidden synthetic bust Zidler and Chocolat had invented with left over padding and a bustier. The cinnamon scent of the Elephant was heavy in the air, like a curtain drawn over them, he shut his eyes and asked why he chose her room.
When he opened them again they were glasses of water, pools, rivers, wavering with ocean water, ready to spill over the rim.
Bernard, however, was distracted.
He pointed to the picture of Satine upon his bedside table, gesturing lazily with his hand.
"Who's she?" Christian gave a small yelp, trying to jump up and slam it against the table but faltering and falling back down into his chair.
"...my friend. A good, good friend of me. She died two years ago." Bernard looked at him, Christians' glassy eyes still flirting on the edge of tears, wavering back and forth.
"I'm sorry." Christian had now an excuse to cry, burying his head in his hands and sobbing into them, body convulsing as he gasped, drowning in his tears. Bernard's face melted and he slunk over, brushing Christian's cheekbone lightly.
"Shhh... it's all right, you'll be okay. Just relax, there's nothing you can do now." Christian clung to Bernard's body like a child to his mother, long nails breaking the flesh and causing crescent moons of pink to appear on his shoulders. He felt Bernard's lips press against his forehead and Bernard draw away, pouring Christian another glass of Absinthe. "Here, take this, and breathe."
Christian sipped it submissively.
.:.
Morning came when the early sun hit his face at such an angle, the sky flamingo pink, Christian's body stiffening. He could feel Bernard's arms around his waist, one leg wrapped around him.
He groped at the sheets, thankful to find he was wearing the same clothing he was the night before.
His head had a pounding headache and the night was a blur, he couldn't remember what he'd done, what had happened - Oh God, had Bernard found out?
If he had, why was he still here?
Christian slid from the embrace, looking at his runny makeup in the mirror, Bernard stirring in the bed behind him. He opened his eyes, smiling serenely, before coming up behind Christian and wrapping his arms around him, kissing his neck.
"Good morning, my Diamond."
Though drunkenly, Christian slunk down into his chair, like liquid, passive against Bernard swirling the drink around in his cup. Absinthe. He wanted Absinthe, he wanted the Green Faerie to cradle his head in her hands and tell him it would be all right, stroke his hair and hush him like a mother, smother him in kisses. He wanted Satine to comfort him, talk to him, like he had for her. What had she given back to him? - nothing save for her love? She never comforted him in his life, she just took and took and took and bathed in his love till there was nothing left. A love that would keep her forever young, a dead child's doll on the shelf, not taken down out of sentiment.
"Absinthe." Christian hadn't meant to speak the word, but his mind was hazy and muddled, fog stealing his thoughts like a pick pocket. He looked over at the boy who could have been called the old Christian's kindred if someone wanted to go so far. Bernard looked up, groggy and lethargic, furrowing his brow as if he was thinking. Christian's brows were plucked and thin, well rounded over his face. Bernard's were thick and angular.
"...what?" Bernard paused, singular eyebrow working it's way up his face inquisitively, blinking a few times as he ran his tongue over those chapped lips, pushing blonde tendrils of hair away from his eyes. Christian blinked, vocals hushed, as if he was trying to cover them, flushed anieth his makeup.
"Nothing.. just, a whim... I was wondering if you wanted some Absinthe..." Bernard, who looked somewhat agitated, kneaded the flesh of his temples between his fingers and nodded, dismissively, as if Christian was a scullery maid. Getting huffy over the manner in which he was addressed, Christian slid to the ice box and groped anieth the cubes, hunting for his stash, before pulling the liquor from the bottom. He held up the green bottle, sauntered over and poured Bernard a glass. He then sunk back into his chair, holding up his own glass.
"Cheers."
.:.
There was no green faery. There was no singing of Truth, Beauty, Freedom nor least of all Love. Just a Bernard whispering in a barely audible voice about his past, about his childhood. Jobs as a pimp, a shoeshine boy, a whore, a pick pocket. Stories of being beaten on the streets of Paris, stories of being beaten in his own house.
Christian was captivated.
Was this what Satine's childhood had been like? Was this the sole thing she'd refuse to speak of, her jobs, her profession, before Christian. For one second, Christian lost his head, blurring the lines between himself, Satine, and Bernard. He opened his hands as if he was reaching for something, crying out, holding his breath within his throat. Bernard jumped up, knocking his chair to the ground with a clatter, Christian coming back down to earth, though something above him was lost, floating away. He looked at Bernard like a lost child, whimpering, a cowering down cringing in the corner. Being beaten by it's master.
"I understand." He said, dropping his arms to his sides, shoulders slumping under the force of the drink being placed upon them. Bernard furrowed his brow again, biting his bottom lip, chewing on it thoughtfully. He brushed the golden strands of hair from his eyes, like spun glass, gossamer as it hung like a halo over his face.
"Understand what?"
"Her." Bernard didn't question that, Christian seemed to relax after he spoke, as if he'd awakened from a dream. He untangled his legs from being wrapped around themselves, letting his arms drop to the side again, like a sacrificial victim after being killed, finally relaxing. Christian held up the glass again and poured himself another, lifting it in a toast before he downed it. Had Bernard noticed the bobbing of his Adam's Apple - which he didn't - it was but a guess to what he would have done. Christian fondled the tips of his hair, coming down past his shoulders, hanging over a hidden synthetic bust Zidler and Chocolat had invented with left over padding and a bustier. The cinnamon scent of the Elephant was heavy in the air, like a curtain drawn over them, he shut his eyes and asked why he chose her room.
When he opened them again they were glasses of water, pools, rivers, wavering with ocean water, ready to spill over the rim.
Bernard, however, was distracted.
He pointed to the picture of Satine upon his bedside table, gesturing lazily with his hand.
"Who's she?" Christian gave a small yelp, trying to jump up and slam it against the table but faltering and falling back down into his chair.
"...my friend. A good, good friend of me. She died two years ago." Bernard looked at him, Christians' glassy eyes still flirting on the edge of tears, wavering back and forth.
"I'm sorry." Christian had now an excuse to cry, burying his head in his hands and sobbing into them, body convulsing as he gasped, drowning in his tears. Bernard's face melted and he slunk over, brushing Christian's cheekbone lightly.
"Shhh... it's all right, you'll be okay. Just relax, there's nothing you can do now." Christian clung to Bernard's body like a child to his mother, long nails breaking the flesh and causing crescent moons of pink to appear on his shoulders. He felt Bernard's lips press against his forehead and Bernard draw away, pouring Christian another glass of Absinthe. "Here, take this, and breathe."
Christian sipped it submissively.
.:.
Morning came when the early sun hit his face at such an angle, the sky flamingo pink, Christian's body stiffening. He could feel Bernard's arms around his waist, one leg wrapped around him.
He groped at the sheets, thankful to find he was wearing the same clothing he was the night before.
His head had a pounding headache and the night was a blur, he couldn't remember what he'd done, what had happened - Oh God, had Bernard found out?
If he had, why was he still here?
Christian slid from the embrace, looking at his runny makeup in the mirror, Bernard stirring in the bed behind him. He opened his eyes, smiling serenely, before coming up behind Christian and wrapping his arms around him, kissing his neck.
"Good morning, my Diamond."