CHAPTER FOUR: It All Ends Here
Within three days, Lacan had improved enough to leave his bed. Zizek's dad gave him a new set of clothes, and he was able to wander the corridors and gardens by himself. But the one thing that troubled him was Zizek's absence. Since the morning when he'd first awoken in Ljubljana, he had not seen Zizek at all. It was as if his rescuer had simply disappeared. He had asked Zizek's dad where his son could be, but Zizek's dad had no answer. Zizek was gone without a trace.
Lacan desired to speak with Zizek again, and properly thank him for saving his life. But he also just wanted to see the handsome cultural theorist once more. He could not explain it, but he felt a deep connection to Zizek, either forged by the lifesaving bond or some other power, like maybe the desire that can only be formulated and named in the presence of the Other. He knew that Zizek was someone special. Someone he had to see again.
It wasn't until the sixth day after Lacan had recovered that Zizek returned to Slovenia. He rode up the same path where Lacan had been found, wearing the same sweaty t-shirt and dragging behind him a net filled with the heads of Chomsky and his anarcho-syndicalist pals.
'Here are your analytic philosophers!' he called to Lacan. 'I found them hiding out in a cave not far from here, whining about how continental philosophy is all style and no substance.'
Lacan stared in surprise, eyes going wide. 'You killed all of them by yourself?'
'I cannot let such dangerous creatures roam free in our lands,' Zizek replied. 'And I did it for you. They nearly killed you. I do not want anything like that to happen again.'
Lacan could feel his heart pounding as Zizek spoke. Zizek had killed... for him. Before he could stop himself, he leapt at Zizek and threw his arms around his neck, kissing the controversial cultural theorist.
Zizek laughed in surprise, but did not pull away. 'What was that for?'
'Just a thank you,' Lacan said. He smiled, but when he saw the suddenly serious look in Zizek's eyes, the smile faded. 'What is wrong?' he asked, worried.
'Lacan,' said Zizek, 'I have to confess something to you, something I can only articulate formulate in the presence of the Other. That first morning you were here... I thought you were so beautiful. I wanted to kiss you then and also talk to you of the Symbolic, but I did not know how you would react.'
Lacan gasped in shock. 'The… Symbolic?'
'I told myself I must not, because of the terrible ordeal you had just suffered. It was not the right time. But these past few days while I was gone, I could think only of you the entire time. And now...'
'Zizek...' Lacan sighed his name. 'I thought about you too. All the time, while you were gone. I was worried I would never see your hairy face again.'
Zizek lifted his hand to gently stroke Lacan on the cheek. 'I am sorry I ran off like that. I should have said something to you.'
Taking a deep breath, Lacan said, 'Zizek, there is something I have been considering over the past several days. I think we were meant to find each other. What happened to me... it was no accident of fate. I was meant to come here. You were meant to rescue me from Chomsky.'
A bright smile broke across Zizek's face as soon as Lacan had spoken. 'You know,' he said, 'I had been thinking the same thing! That night when I found you I had been worried and unable to think. Some strange power led me out to the terrace, and that was when I saw you.'
Lacan took Zizek's hand. 'So you think... we are meant to be together?'
'Sometimes love feels like a great misfortune, a monstrous parasite, a permanent state of emergency that ruins all small pleasures,' Zizek offered sagely, 'but not today.' Slowly, he leaned in and kissed Lacan softly on the lips. 'I love you,' he whispered through his unkempt beard.
'I love you too, Zizek,' Lacan whispered in return.
THE END
[A/N: I hope you guys liked it! Let me know what you think in the comments! Also if you want more critical theory slash plz also check out my WIP story "Deconstruct My Heart" over in the Foucault/Derrida fandom!]