The Infinite Nothing

XIII : six feet under and rotting

———————

Ivan entered Tristan's apartment with the anger of a thousand fallen soldiers that gave their life fighting for a king who couldn't care.

Yesterday Tristan had been laying on his mattress, gone entirely, only leaving behind his body. Today he was standing in the kitchen and the apartment was filled with the sweet smell of cooking eggs.

"You look like you want to destroy something," Tristan stated, turning back to his food on the stove while Ivan took a seat at the small table. "If so, please do it outside. None of this stuff is really mine."

"I want to run away," Ivan blurted out. "You did it. I could to it, too."

Tristan didn't turn around to him. "I was also addicted to heroin and had no trouble sleeping behind dumpsters in dark alleys. Shut up."

Ivan narrowed his eyes. "I'm serious. I hate my mom, and Ryder, and I hate Dorothy and her way of looking down at me. People like her, people like all of them are the weakest link."

"Of what? Society?"

"Yes. I hate it."

Tristan tilted his head. "Ivan, we are society."

"I'm not like them."

"And yet in a crowd, you don't matter more nor less than any other person out there."

Ivan leaned back in his chair with a sigh, slightly calming down with the quiet drizzling of eggs and Tristan's soft voice that held no judgement.

"I won't believe a word you say because you're probably still full of that shit you took yesterday."

"Likely," Tristan replied, turning off the heat and setting down two plates at the table. "You want pepper?"

Tristan hadn't expected Ivan to bolt through the door like an angry bull, but now that he was here, he might as well eat with him. Ivan glanced at the eggs through narrowed eyes, debating whether he should accept food from someone who had vomited their guts out just hours ago.

"You don't believe me when I say I hate my family, do you."

Tristan shrugged and picked up his fork. "It's not my place to believe you or not. I don't even know them."

"You think I'm this stuck up, privileged white boy with a caring family and safe house who goes to school and has friends and a future."

"Is that not the truth?"

Ivan shoved the plate away from him with more force than necessary. "Do you even realize when you give me that look? The one that says I know nothing. It's as if you wanted me to be aware of it."

Tristan remained calm as he slowly ate his eggs, trying not to strain his stomach. "If I wanted you to know, I'd just say it."

"You're an ass, Tristan. You said it yourself that you don't need words to express yourself. So what if I don't have this profound understanding of the world and how it works? At least I don't want to overdose on ketamine and keep crying about how awful everything is. You know to me, life isn't even that bad, except for a few individuals. Right now, you're one of them."

Tristan didn't look up at him as he said calmly, "Are you done now?"

"No. It feels like you want to die. Like, you really want to be doing bad. You want to have a reason to end it all, and that's your problem."

"I can hardly be okay in a place like this," Tristan smiled, waving at his surroundings with his fork.

"That's exactly what I'm talking about! You're looking for excuses."

Tristan laughed and it fuelled Ivan's anger even more. "The fun thing is that just years ago, I was exactly like you. I had a safe home, caring parents, the whole world rolled out at my feet. And then I let myself be caught with heroin because I wasn't aware of how good I had it." He paused, his fork lingering in the air. "Or I was too aware how much of a facade it all was."

Ivan huffed and shook his head and Tristan put down his fork, deciding to choose his words more carefully.

"I'm not telling you that you can't be upset simply because you have it better than most. Just because others are doing worse, your own sufferings and problems don't automatically disappear."

"And yet you laugh at me whenever I complain," Ivan muttered, his voice still laced with anger.

"I laugh because I understand you. I laugh because no matter how good of a life we have, nothing can truly make us happy, for happiness is not an ideal of reason but of imagination." Tristan paused and grinned at his words. "That was Kant. Sorry, I should use my own words more."

Ivan groaned and let his forehead kiss the wooden table's rough surface. "You're such an ass, Tristan. Just tell me I'm a privileged idiot that should be happy with what he has, like everyone else would."

Tristan reached out to slowly comb his fingers through Ivan's hair. "I'll just use someone else's words one more time, okay? If you are distressed by anything external, the pain you feel is not due to the thing itself, but to your estimate of it, and this you have the power to revoke at any moment."

Ivan froze and hoped Tristan would never move away. "You're saying?"

"Aurelius was saying to choose your way of reacting to things. And that you're better off not giving the small matters more time than they deserve."

"You mean when Dorothy whacks me with her newest diploma as a greeting, I should just ignore it?"

Tristan's soft chuckle filled the small kitchen. "Yes."

"And ignore when Ryder tells me about the things he does to Diane that have no business being shared in public?"

"Well..."

"And also ignore when I can't fall asleep at night because the things you say are just so sad?"

Tristan remained quiet when Ivan straightened his back, willingly moving away from the tender touch. "Maybe you're not a good person to be around, Tristan. Not even because of all your death crap. Remember how I said I could never have a girlfriend like Diane? Not because I'm me and she's her. I can't love girls, Tristan. I tried."

"Why do you make it sound like a problem?"

"Because it is. And it's a problem that whenever I'm near you, my heart beats so fast I'm afraid I might faint." Ivan refused to meet his gaze as he stared at his hands; hands that were so cold and empty and that fitted into Tristan's own so perfectly. "And now you're silent because I'm making it your problem, too. And not because your love for me is so great."

Tristan watched the single tear make its way down Ivan's cheek, and he wondered why it looked so oddly sharp and threatening. "You always cry. Does it help you?"

"Nothing helps me."

"I thought I'm the nihilist here."

Ivan wiped the tear away while still refusing to meet his gaze. "Being near you hurts. But not being near you hurts more."

"That's quite the conflict."

"And you're making it so much worse."

"I'm sorry, Ivan. Do you want me to hug you again? To kiss you in a way that means absolutely nothing to me?" Tristan said, struggling to keep his voice calm. "I told you I can't love anyone, not even myself. All of that lies six feet under. You could try and dig down, but I'm sure it has already rotten along with everything else once dear to me."

More tears were disturbing the perfect shape of Ivan's face as a broken cry cut the air. "Now you have nothing left dear to you except your thoughts and books and ketamine."

———————