The Infinite Nothing

V : morbid obsession

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Something had shifted in the natural order of Tristan's unbalanced life, and he couldn't quite figure out what it was.

It had been strange to wake up from his high and be met with a barely familiar face. Ivan really had stayed, even after Tanya had returned. He was asleep in a chair, covered by a thin blanket Tanya must have draped over him.

Now it was morning and Tristan was back in the funeral parlour, welcoming in clients and introducing them to his boss who would handle the formalities. Tristan's job was simple, and he didn't have to interact much with people. He preferred it that way.

He didn't prefer the sight of Ivan out on the street just as Tristan fixed their clients a drink.

When he found the time he joined the boy out on the street, not meeting him with his usual smile. Ivan was grinning, anyway.

"Do you feel better?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Tristan replied. "Do you need a funeral now or why are you here?"

Ivan's grin shrunk just a little. "I came to say hi. To you, not the dead."

Tristan figured he should send him away. Ivan was childish and ignorant and pretended to have a place in this world and reason to inherit life. Ivan wanted to believe what Tristan had abandoned long ago, and yet Tristan couldn't bring himself to disregard his naivety.

At last, he managed a smile. "Want to see the mortuary?"

The sight of bright and positive Ivan in front of a wall filled with corpses was strange, but intriguing none the less. Tristan smiled as he offered to open one of the drawers that held a dead body and Ivan replied with a face twisted by disgust.

"This intrigues you? I knew you were sick."

"To the core, and proud of it," Tristan replied with a shrug. "Death is the most natural and certain thing. Socrates thought of it as maybe the greatest blessing of all human beings."

"Not that again," Ivan mumbled, enticing a grin from the taller boy.

"And yet, men fear it as if it were the greatest of all evils."

"It's almost grotesque how much you think about death," Ivan stated. "Don't you have other things to worry about?"

"I worry every second of my life, and at the same time I'm perfectly unbothered by anything and anyone."

Ivan glanced at him. "I don't believe you. Everyone is bothered by something." He hesitated, looking back at the wall filled with death. "I was bothered by you, last night."

"I didn't tell you to come knocking on my door," Tristan retorted.

"Please, you could have been dead. I can't put that on my conscience without at least checking on you."

Tristan watched as Ivan ran his fingers over the cold metal of the caskets in the wall. "I wouldn't appreciate you taking away my death."

Ivan raised a brow. "What?"

"My death is mine, and when it comes is for me to decide. If I were to die, it wouldn't have anything to do with you." He glanced up at the ceiling. "So many think suicide is selfish. What to do with a person that has given up on themselves?"

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" Ivan asked slowly, a horrible feeling of dread spreading in his body. It was similar to his reaction when Tristan told him about the drugs he had used, and he didn't want it to settle, didn't want to experience it again.