ACT 9

we forgot each other's names

"—but I'm so bored," Viktor whined.

"Shh…"

"It's too quiet in here."

"Shh."

"I'm sorry, but I—"

"Shh!"

Viktor frowned. "You're not even listening."

Georgi inhaled sharply through his nose and placed a bookmark in his book. He was reading Yukiko again. Again. Viktor had thrown away the thick-paged draft Yuuri had kindly borrowed to him in anger. "Alright. You have my attention. What do you want?"

"I just—" Viktor plopped his face between his palms. "It's boring in here."

Georgi turned his nose up at that comment. "I gave you a job in a library but books are boring to you?"

Viktor sighed. "Books aren't boring to me. They used to be, but—not anymore." He flicked his eyes to the sultry black book cover under Georgi's hands. "I'm just saying it's quiet in here."

His Russian companion rolled his lovely blue eyes and returned to his book. "It's a library, not a nightclub."

"Yeah, I know, but still."

"Viktor, why don't you make yourself busy and reorganize the mystery section."

Boring. So boring. Viktor sighed loudly, but he did as he was told. He was about to leave the front desk but his eyes landed on Georgi's book yet again. "The third book is coming out soon, you know."

"What?" In an instant, Viktor had Georgi's wide-eyed, flushed-cheeked attention. Georgi put his book down and clutched Viktor's arm. "It is? When? Where did you hear that?"

"Yeah, it is. Not sure when but apparently it's almost done." Viktor shrugged. The doors creaked open, and two attractive women walked through. Both of them looked his way as they entered. Viktor offered them a silky smile and a wave. They smiled and waved back and scurried to the other end of the library.

"Hello? Where did you hear that, Viktor? Has it been confirmed? But I haven't received any updates from her blog! Perhaps there was an error with the emails? No, I know I am still subscribed...or did I unsubscribe accidentally? I don't want to be the last person to know about this…!"

Viktor almost felt for Georgi's enthusiasm. It was a shame he is going to be disappointed with Yuuri's final installment. He shrugged again. "I read it somewhere. On the internet."

Georgi moaned like he was in physical pain. "Then it is probably not true. Oh, you got my hopes up for nothing...though I hope she really will publish soon…" He let go of Viktor's arm to clutch his book to his chest and whimper.

Viktor took Georgi's advice and wandered off towards the mystery section. There was not much disorganization since Georgi was fairly adamant about things being in order. Which was a shame because now Viktor was back to having nothing to do.

He stuck his hands in his pockets and slowly strolled around, dipping in between the bookshelves and looking at books he hadn't seen before, books that had just been sent in. He flipped through a few of them but nothing caught his attention. He had a feeling if Yuuri were here, he'd be recommending great novels right here right now.

Oh. Yuuri…sweet Yuuri.

Viktor wanted to chuck a book at his own head.

He continued on, ignoring the non-fiction and perusing the young adult section until he came across the romance. He peeked into the area and saw the two women from earlier. Not wanting to intrude on their quiet conversation, he inched a bit closer, pretending to be interested in the other cheesy nothingness that filled the pages of the rest of these so-called 'romances'. He took a few off the shelf and read a few pages or a few lines but yet again he was caught in a place where his eyes ran over words that his brain didn't process. Nobody had the same artistic, creative, enchanting flow in their writing like Yuuri did. Nobody could compare. None of these authors captured his interest like Yuuri did…

Viktor sighed.

"—it's so sad…"

"Is it? I don't think so—"

"—well, any death in any book is sad—"

"—Depends who died."

"—the cancer came back. And he was doing so well…"

"Well, it's not like he could have controlled it."

"Still…"

Viktor pretended to read but listened as best as he could to the women.

"—she loved him so much…"

"And then the cancer had to come back—"

"—just after they came back from Europe."

"They're just kids—"

"Awful. Yes. Awful."

Viktor thought he knew which book they were talking about; Yuuri might have said something about it once or twice. Without thinking, he carefully approached the girls.

"It's so sad, isn't it?" he said. They both turned to him quickly, alarmed. "When a character you love suddenly dies. It's horrible."

The taller brunette cleared her throat. "Yes, we were just discussing that."

"It's really sad," the shorter, slightly plump blonde said.

"Yeah," Viktor sighed. "Have you ever cried from a character dying in a book before?"

"Oh, totally—" the blonde sighed back.

"Not cried—sobbed, more like it," the brunette said, her head jerking up and down rapidly.

"Sobbed, yeah, for sure," the blonde said.

"It's horrible! I had to cancel a coffee date one time because I decided to read Me Before You the night before," the brunette carried on. "Oh, God have mercy, I told Carol here never to go to Switzerland!"

Carol giggled. "Sue, you're always a drama queen. I read the book, too, and it was just awful."

"I won't spoil it for you," Sue said. "because it really got me good."

"It got me good, too! Patrick even saw me crying."

Sue turned to Carol. "He did? And what did he do?"

Carol put her fists on her waist. "He told Diane, what do you expect?"

"Oh, dear—"

"Luckily she'd just gotten off her shift. Otherwise, God knows what that woman would say." Carol wiped her fingers under her eyes before lowering her head to scuffle through her purse.

Viktor had no idea what they were talking about. Truthfully, he wasn't all too interested, either. His smile wavered a bit, nervously. "Right...well. I was just asking because...I'm going through that right now." He folded his arms across his chest.

"Oh, you poor thing." Sue put a hand on his bicep. "We've all been there. Don't be afraid to let it all out."

"Which book was it?" Carol asked.

Viktor hesitated slightly. "Ah...Of Mice and Men."

"Ahh," said both women at the same time.

"Amazing book," said Carol.

"Very sad," said Sue. "Read it in high school and it broke my heart."

"Honey, even my husband cried over it," Carol told Viktor.

Sue gasped. "What? Jared did? You never told me that!"

"Yep. I tell you over and over again, that man might look like he can wrestle with a bear, but he's a real softie, I'll tell ya."

Viktor sighed. Was he just wasting his time talking to these women? "I think it was really unfair and silly that Lennie had to die like that. He did one mistake and then…"

Both women sighed and nodded and put their hands on his shoulders, patting them reassuringly.

Then Carol said: "Well, I don't think it was that unfair if you ask me."

Both Viktor and Sue turned to stare in disbelief at her. "Car-ol," Sue clearly enunciated. "How could you say that? This young man is hurt and you're not exactly making it better!" Viktor could kiss this woman.

Carol frowned and brushed her long blonde hair over her shoulder, jutting her hip forward sassily. "I'm sorry but this needs to be said. Would ya think about it for a sec?" She huffed and puffed and smoothed down her blouse. "Don't you think he died in a nice way?"

"But—George killed him," Viktor whispered. "That's not nice. That's, like, betrayal."

"No!"

"Yeah, Carol, he's right," said Sue nasally. "He betrayed him."

"No, no, no, listen! Imagine what would've happened if George didn't kill 'im. Think about it. The other dudes would've killed him themselves, especially that Curley fellow. Maybe they would've tortured him. Maybe they would've stabbed him, or beat him up, or broke his bones, or peeled the skin from his body."

"Ew! Carol!" Sue cried. As if remembering they were in a library, her voice dropped to a whisper. "Ew!" She squeezed Viktor's shoulder.

Carol smiled. "Well, it's true, isn't it? Think about it. Poor Lennie woulda been hurt a lot more and George wouldn't have been able to protect him. You gotta save your best friend somehow, don't you?"

Viktor blanked out for a moment.

Sue shook her head swiftly. "No, Carol, I don't think that's right."

"Prove me wrong," Carol challenged.

That—made sense. It made sense. To him, it made sense that Lennie died if it only happened because George was trying to save him from being in pain. It made sense that if anyone was to kill Lennie, it'd be George because they're best friends and—George would do anything to protect him.

It wasn't betrayal. It was mercy. George did a heroic deed, even if it meant killing his best friend.

Suddenly, it made sense.

Carol and Sue were still arguing about whether it was fair or not. Viktor slipped from under Sue's hand and forced a smile when they looked at him questioningly. "Thank you, ladies. I feel a lot better now. You helped a lot." He flashed them a million-watt, celebrity smile.

Carol blushed. Sue smiled giddily. "Of course, honey. Thanks for coming by to chat with us."

They waved at him as he made his way back to the counter, back to Georgi. His companion's face was buried in Yuuri's book, his eyes swiping over the small print at an incredible speed.

"Everything makes sense now," Viktor announced. "Everything."

Georgi lifted his head. Viktor grabbed his face and planted a big kiss on his cheek, before hopping around the counter to stand next to him.

"What," Georgi said. "was that."

"It all makes sense," Viktor said. "I think I get it now."

"Okay," Georgi said, confused. "Great."

Gatsby, Gatsby, Gatsby. He turned to look out the window and saw a yellow car.

Why did Gatsby die?

Why, why, why. Pochemu? He chewed his thumb and thought about it. He was determined to think of something.

And thought

and

thought

and

thought.

The American Dream. He visualized Yuuri signing those three words to him. The American Dream.

He worked so hard to get to the woman he loved, but he was too late, and everything he tried doing for her ended up being in vain. Gatsby's death symbolizes an important and idealistic goal many Americans had during the 1920s during the Great Depression, but many failed to achieve it. It made sense.

"The pursuit of happiness," Viktor whispered. It made sense.

He wrote that down in his notebook. THE FAILURE OF THE AMERICAN DREAM.

The light danced around the room, sinewy and airy and tangling and graceful. The light crawled across his face and painted warm, light-coloured spider legs on his hands.

Spider. Spider. Spider.

What about the sweet spider lady from Charlotte's Web? Why did she die?

He breathed in slowly and exhaled slowly. And thought. What did it all mean?

Spiders don't live very long in nature, Yuuri had said to him once as foreshadowing.

The circle of life. It's a cruel irony how she used a large portion of her life protecting Wilbur from being slaughtered since he would've had a short life were it not for her writing about him in her web.

Viktor wrote that down, too.

And he wasn't upset. With every fleeting second that passed, the more he thought about it and the more the words from the pages lifted like leaves into the air and poured into his brain and sat and became fermented wine for his mind, the less and less he felt the cold stab of sadness and agony from the death of these beloved characters. Because it made sense, just like Yuuri had told him over a million times. But Viktor hadn't listened to him. Not until now.

He rolled over on his bed and looked out the window again. He traced a crack in the glass and then his chin was propped up on his upturned palm and the other hand, holding the pencil, tapped the end of it lazily against the notebook.

He closed his eyes and breathed in the smell of enlightenment.

He plucked an apple off the counter and spun it between his fingers. A Golden Delicious.

"Johnny was a hero," he said. "He jumped into the fire to save the children's lives. He died because his injuries were too severe and too painful. He would have been crippled from the waist down, had he survived." He spun the apple some more and the tips of his delicate fingers traced the hard, stiff stalk. "Dally wasn't a hero. He was reckless and selfish and he couldn't handle death, either. So he put himself in the middle of it in a fit of adrenaline, anger, and sadness, and that led to his demise." He ran his thumb over the smooth apple's skin. "He was guilty that Johnny died. Johnny meant so much to him that if such a sweet, heroic boy like his friend Johnny died, then so would he." He lifted the apple to his lips and took a big bite.

In the other room, Chris watched from his ajar door, green eyes wide as he pressed the phone to his ear. "He's doing it again," he whispered in French. "Talking to himself. I'm worried about him. Fourth time this week…"

The death of Piggy is more metaphorical, Viktor figured as he walked down the sidewalk. He stopped to peruse through the local street vendors tents, running his gaze over shiny bright fruit hidden underneath a sheer layer of insecticide. Piggy was too smart, he figured. He was the voice of reason. He was intelligent and spoke the truth, and yet.

And yet. Viktor retracted his hand and continued down the street. An older woman beckoned him over to buy her bright and soft afghans but he politely refused. He carried on his way but he did stop at the book sale.

And yet, none of the boys listened. They were wild and uncivilized. The other boys were better than Piggy because they survived but somehow they were beneath Piggy because of their lack of reason. So Piggy had to die. The voice of reason gets buried in the dirt beneath an untamed society.

Viktor bought the book The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime for three dollars, and Life of Pi for two. (A steal, Yuuri would say, and his eyes would light up, too.)

A man in a pressed suit that hugged every hard curve of his body stared down at everyone including Viktor as they walked beneath the billboard he was featured on. His frosty pale eyes stared and stared and stared. And watched. Like TJ Eckleburg, Viktor thought. Or Big Brother.

Winston did die, in a sense—his psychological being did, at least, and change for the worst it did. The vagueness of the final chapter made Viktor wonder if Winston ended up being executed for being a rebel, or if he assimilated and became a mindless robot well enough to pass by. Maybe Viktor will turn into a mindless robot, too, he thought as he scratched at the hollow of his neck and felt a desire to buy the handsome, pale-eyed God figure from the billboard's watch.

He adjusted his bag of books and bought a bag of cherries for Chris and thought: Rats truly are disgusting.

The leaves had browned and oranged and yellow beneath his feet and crunched under his weight. Things were much different than the last time Viktor saw Yuuri, when the grass was green and the wind was gentle and the water of the river only gave him mild hypothermia when he was pushed in. Now Viktor could hardly take a stroll without a light coat on.

But today was the day, so he'd heard from Georgi. And today he must go out.

And go out he did, with his dignity in one hand and self-consciousness in the other.

In the bookstore, he smiled at the young woman who placed a courtesy bookmark between the pages of his new book.

THE SOLDIER AND THE DIAMOND

PART 3 OF 3 OF THE "Dreaming of Jewels" SERIES

Kamata Yukiko

Viktor exited the place with an empty wallet, hungry for the story Yuuri had decided on.

A/N: Anyone know what book the two ladies in the library were talking about? Bonus points if u know. Bet y'all knew it the second you saw it lmao.

Ahhh, Viktor finally thinks for himself! I really don't understand people who read books and don't think about their significance afterward, like how can someone even do that? Madness. Good thing our boi Viktor's getting the hang of it though.

Yeet! The final chapter comes next week! I'm so so so thankful for the lil community that stuck around to read this, I'm sincerely glad you enjoy this as much as I enjoy writing it. It's been a fun ride and I hope you enjoy the finale!

Thanks for reading, and see you in a week!

Stay classy.