"Tim?"
"What?"
The young man looked up from his journal and half smiled to the man in the doorway. He was no in the mood for people right now. This story had to be put on paper as soon as possible so it wouldn't be forgotten.
"You had coffee with Emily."
There is a silence between them that extends both ways but forms with different intent.
"Yeah," comes the irritated reply. "So? I already told you about that."
Green eyes narrow into blue and his look his more curiosity than confusion.
"You told me she killed herself."
There. That moment in between that sentence and the next. It's one that stretches for an infinite amount of time while still seeming to condense itself into a smaller one.
"What?"
The elder man laughs. A laugh that hasn't been heard in that way in a long time. Haughty, cold, derisive, scornful, mocking, patronising, underscored, lamenting, hurt.
"When I came home, months ago. You'd taken sleeping pills or something."
He says the 'something' like he can't remember every single detail about what this infuriating, infatuating boy does and how he felt about it.
"You told me Emily had killed herself."
The young man shrugs. How well he can guard his emotions. How precise he is in masking his reactions. And it is all useless when he lives with the man who is the other half of his soul. Who can seek out his hiding places before he has even sensed the danger to run.
"Probably just confused," he says casually. And it is casual; of no importance to him really. What a slip of the tongue. How very Freudian indeed. Time to put it down now and let it rest. Ah. But Ivo, the eternal dog in search of a bone to pick is not finished.
"Why would you say something like that if it weren't true? Hardly a white lie, is it?"
"Look Ivo, clearly I was off my fucking face so it's not exactly fair that I am held accountable to the things I say at that time. I probably thought she had offed herself. Maybe because I'm such a sadistic fuck I was fantasising about it. Why does this matter? I don't even remember saying it."
He is given a scrutinising stare. Is it the truth? What other explanation is there for it? Ivo relents.
"Yeah, you're right."
He breathes.
"Yeah. Sorry, it just came into my head."
He retreats now, worrying about the stir he has caused; the issues he has now resurrected.
Trust issues. Trust Issues. Trust issues.
Tim watches him retreat. The thoughts still echo around the room long after his absence.