Chapter 4: The Lovely Reality
The Duke turned around, looking at the staring one sitting on the front end of the bed. "Yes?"
"Wait...I-you...you're this admirer? The one sending me letters?", It can't be! Maybe he's sending them from somebody else.
"Yes, is it so bad? I can't say I love you?"
"But.. But you're a... well, sa-same-"
"Surprised?", the Duke asked.
Christian nodded, "Why? I mean, y-you have to have a reason for, well, this."
"What was yours, then?", he turned the dining chair around and sat down facing Christian.
"Reason? For who, S-satine?"
"Who else would it be, boy?"
"Well, she was beautiful." He laughed a bit, "I-I mean, of course she was, she was a courtesan. 'Sold her love to men'. But back t-to you, what.. well, what is yours?"
"Simple."
Christian squirmed, settling into the bed, trying to relax. He was still nervous about him, anyway. "Simple?"
"Curiousity."
Christian laughed, "Oh I thought curiousity killed the cat!"
"It did, didn't it? It killed Satine, didn't it?"
Christian stopped his laughing and froze, "How did c-curiousity kill Satine?" he stood up, "What do you mean?"
The Duke watched him out of the corner of his eye as Christian went to the other end of the table, "Well, think about it, boy. She could never find the right person in life. Curiousity in love, that is. Nit-picked every little man able to pay, but never found the right one. But of course, that doesn't mean should could have a night or two. Do you even know what she died from?"
"I... I think it was consumption."
"Good boy." he stood up, walking to Christian with his hands linked. "And do you know how people get consumption?"
"Um..." Christian shook his head. "I thought it was just a disease."
"It's more than just a disease. Slowly, it ables blood to pass through your lungs, and slowly you get shorter and shorter of breath until you suffocate and die. Probably one of her clients had it, passed it on to her."
"Oh. Well, a-at least no one else got it-"
"On contraire. Somebody else did get it. It's not like a cold, boy. It could be passed through intercourse."
"I-intercourse-?", Christian was getting a little pale.
"Sex. And I wonder who had sex with our little girl Satine, hmmm?", he slightly raised an eyebrow.
Christian began to think of his cough earlier, when he woke up from the dream.
No, no... that wasn't from it...
"W-wai..." he couldn't even get the "I" out.
No... no no no...
He looked to the floor, "You...you-you're s-saying I h-h-ave it?"
"Pretty big chance, boy."
Stop calling me boy...
Christian's arm began to twitch, shutting his eyes tightly, trying not to cry. But they opened again, a storm in his grey eyes forming, "No... no I don't! I don't, I don't!"
"Yes, you do. Don't you, boy? Obvious you two had a night with each other, maybe more than once. More the merrier, they say."
"No.. No!", a tear broke through, his fingers got cold, white as the rest of his body.
"Stop telling yourself lies, it will only make it worse."
"Stop it! Stop it please! I don't have it! Stop!", he looked at his admirer. "Stop!!", his breathing shallow. "No.. no.. No I don't! YOU'RE LYING! ALL LIES!! STOP THE LIES, PLEASE!!"
The Duke didn't even say anything, just looking at the revolutionary slowly begin to shatter like a crystal wine glass hit the floor in slow motion.
~
Christian stumbled backwards, hitting his back on the wall behind him. He began to bawl whatever was left of his heart, the storm raging tears in streams down his flushed, closing his eyes sharply trying to get rid of the pain of Truth.
He WAS Truth. Il etre Vérité. But the Truth is slipping into the real truth, loosing hope in that very wine glass.
Sinking to the floor and curling into a ball, he rested his head on his arms and letting the tears miss the rest of his face, trying to block reality, but that's impossible. The darkness of his little hole showed his reality to be nothing more than a utopian fantasy ruled for dystopian ideas. Fantasy. Everything he wanted to do in life was in that little crystal wine glass; life, love, freedom, creativity, future, mixed with a bit of sugar and absinthe, falling to through an abyss leading to the real.
Falling.
Falling.
He wanted to escape, back into his world. Back to his utopia. But no, it was inside the glass, swirling around the green wormwood. Too late.
Falling.
Falling.
Crash.
And the voice begins to shatter, breaking his fantasy, ideals drying in a puddle of revolution and hope.
The Duke turned around, looking at the staring one sitting on the front end of the bed. "Yes?"
"Wait...I-you...you're this admirer? The one sending me letters?", It can't be! Maybe he's sending them from somebody else.
"Yes, is it so bad? I can't say I love you?"
"But.. But you're a... well, sa-same-"
"Surprised?", the Duke asked.
Christian nodded, "Why? I mean, y-you have to have a reason for, well, this."
"What was yours, then?", he turned the dining chair around and sat down facing Christian.
"Reason? For who, S-satine?"
"Who else would it be, boy?"
"Well, she was beautiful." He laughed a bit, "I-I mean, of course she was, she was a courtesan. 'Sold her love to men'. But back t-to you, what.. well, what is yours?"
"Simple."
Christian squirmed, settling into the bed, trying to relax. He was still nervous about him, anyway. "Simple?"
"Curiousity."
Christian laughed, "Oh I thought curiousity killed the cat!"
"It did, didn't it? It killed Satine, didn't it?"
Christian stopped his laughing and froze, "How did c-curiousity kill Satine?" he stood up, "What do you mean?"
The Duke watched him out of the corner of his eye as Christian went to the other end of the table, "Well, think about it, boy. She could never find the right person in life. Curiousity in love, that is. Nit-picked every little man able to pay, but never found the right one. But of course, that doesn't mean should could have a night or two. Do you even know what she died from?"
"I... I think it was consumption."
"Good boy." he stood up, walking to Christian with his hands linked. "And do you know how people get consumption?"
"Um..." Christian shook his head. "I thought it was just a disease."
"It's more than just a disease. Slowly, it ables blood to pass through your lungs, and slowly you get shorter and shorter of breath until you suffocate and die. Probably one of her clients had it, passed it on to her."
"Oh. Well, a-at least no one else got it-"
"On contraire. Somebody else did get it. It's not like a cold, boy. It could be passed through intercourse."
"I-intercourse-?", Christian was getting a little pale.
"Sex. And I wonder who had sex with our little girl Satine, hmmm?", he slightly raised an eyebrow.
Christian began to think of his cough earlier, when he woke up from the dream.
No, no... that wasn't from it...
"W-wai..." he couldn't even get the "I" out.
No... no no no...
He looked to the floor, "You...you-you're s-saying I h-h-ave it?"
"Pretty big chance, boy."
Stop calling me boy...
Christian's arm began to twitch, shutting his eyes tightly, trying not to cry. But they opened again, a storm in his grey eyes forming, "No... no I don't! I don't, I don't!"
"Yes, you do. Don't you, boy? Obvious you two had a night with each other, maybe more than once. More the merrier, they say."
"No.. No!", a tear broke through, his fingers got cold, white as the rest of his body.
"Stop telling yourself lies, it will only make it worse."
"Stop it! Stop it please! I don't have it! Stop!", he looked at his admirer. "Stop!!", his breathing shallow. "No.. no.. No I don't! YOU'RE LYING! ALL LIES!! STOP THE LIES, PLEASE!!"
The Duke didn't even say anything, just looking at the revolutionary slowly begin to shatter like a crystal wine glass hit the floor in slow motion.
~
Christian stumbled backwards, hitting his back on the wall behind him. He began to bawl whatever was left of his heart, the storm raging tears in streams down his flushed, closing his eyes sharply trying to get rid of the pain of Truth.
He WAS Truth. Il etre Vérité. But the Truth is slipping into the real truth, loosing hope in that very wine glass.
Sinking to the floor and curling into a ball, he rested his head on his arms and letting the tears miss the rest of his face, trying to block reality, but that's impossible. The darkness of his little hole showed his reality to be nothing more than a utopian fantasy ruled for dystopian ideas. Fantasy. Everything he wanted to do in life was in that little crystal wine glass; life, love, freedom, creativity, future, mixed with a bit of sugar and absinthe, falling to through an abyss leading to the real.
Falling.
Falling.
He wanted to escape, back into his world. Back to his utopia. But no, it was inside the glass, swirling around the green wormwood. Too late.
Falling.
Falling.
Crash.
And the voice begins to shatter, breaking his fantasy, ideals drying in a puddle of revolution and hope.