The Dream of Genes

Chapter 4: Eugene

I could not tell Vincent my secret: the reason why I wanted to kill myself. Maybe it was my pride; perhaps I was embarrassed to say it. Why did I send Vincent that envelope? Did I truly want him to save me?

I did it for him—for the betterment of his future. I knew I could never be alive. It was too risky. He did not need me to live anymore. I would probably hold him back. I thought that if I helped him achieve his dream—I could as well. That...if he succeeded—I would as well because I aided him.

But he threw all of that away—for me.

How dumb is that?

The night Vincent and I went drinking was such a bittersweet one. I do not go out much—wouldn't want to have a doppelgänger of Jerome Morrow on the public streets, would we? Still, Vincent and I went out to Micheal's Dinner Club. A place where we were regulars, and it was okay to be seen together. All secrets stayed in that place; it was safe. Vincent was telling me all about Titan while I dodged all his questions. I knew even then that I would kill myself for him one day, and it would probably be relative to when he left me for Titan. With all things considered, Vincent was a clever guy. However, he never seemed to deduce my underlying messages. It was sad knowing Vincent would leave me one day—surpassing perfection. Vincent was never for this world; he was too good for it.

When Vincent was bringing us home after the colourful night, he helped me to bed, but I guess I was a little drunk because we fell onto the floor. I don't know what came over me, but I felt...hopeless, like a newborn baby. It reminded me of what I felt like during the accident. I was lying on the ground, and I could not help myself. Maybe I almost knew that I did not want to die, and I called out to the only person who could help save me from myself.

I was not concerned with pride or embarrassment as I called out to him. I just needed help.

Or was that Vincent calling for help? I could not seem to recall.

I understand that I typically acted sarcastic, but it was all a front. I drank so I could behave how I wanted and say my sober thoughts out loud without judgment. No one took me seriously or listened to me when I was drunk, but occasionally I wished they did.

"Eugene!" Vincent shouted.

I blinked a few times before I noticed Vincent standing right in front of me, his hands on the armrests of my wheelchair. "Oh, I'm sorry. Were you talking to me?" I asked, paired with a smirk and a muffled laugh.

Vincent huffed and stood up straight, turning around. "You blacked out or something. I was worried."

"Aww, you were worried over little ol' me? How amiable of you. How amiable indeed," I sighed. "Are we going to drink or not? Might as well celebrate my undying." Vincent seemed on edge. Who wouldn't be, with all things considered?

Vincent narrowed his eyes at me, and it was my turn to wait for his response. I watched as the cogs in his brain moved and thought just like me—thought of what he could get out of this little drinking game. I just wanted to get drunk and hopefully never remember this day of my life. Who knows, maybe I could finally drink myself to death. Would that not be ironic: Vincent saves me from myself, only for me to die a few hours later? How humorous, indeed.

"Fine," Vincent said. "Let's play."

Vincent grabbed the vodka he had placed on top of the refrigerator while I grabbed the only two shots glasses I owned. We did not own many dishes because we were the only ones living in this dismal condominium.

I placed the two shot glasses on my lap and wheeled myself to the laboratory's table. It was empty since I had packed everything up before my planned death. Vincent followed me as we got situated at the metal table. He remained silent, and I could tell he had never played one of these kinds of games. Interesting.

"How about Never Have I Ever?" I suggested offhandedly. My green eyes showed no passion for the game. "The rules are simple. One person begins a statement with the words, 'Never have I ever,' and finishes the sentence with something they have never done before. For example, never have I ever had blue eyes. If the other person—you—has done what the speaker—I—said, you take a shot. We can add rules as we go if you would like."

"Sounds easy enough," Vincent said. "But what if we play vodka roulette as well?" So maybe he had played a drinking game before.

I knew what he was doing. Vincent was never one to drink such heavy alcohol. I assumed he had only drank wine before, so he would probably be a lightweight. Good, seeing as he was an astronaut, but still, I had a higher alcohol tolerance than him. "It's fine with me. It makes the game more intriguing."

Vincent got up from his seat, a drop of sweat evaporating into the air. "Take one of my empty vodka bottles and fill it with water," I instructed.

Vincent turned around after he took a few steps toward the fridge. "Why?"

"If we pour the shots, we will know where the fake ones are. I am only trying to be fair." I batted my eyelashes like one of those girls who, in those old films, would do so in an attempt to feign innocence. In actuality, I wanted to control how much alcohol I could consume from this game, so if I could figure out which bottle held the vodka, then I could always pick that bottle for future reference—or however long this game would conspire for.

In a few minutes, Vincent found one of my empty vodka bottles and filled it with fresh water. In a traditional vodka roulette game, multiple shot glasses would be laid out, already filled with transparent liquid—yet we only had two. Thus, the roulette part of the game hinged on our luck and if we selected the correct bottle.

After Vincent placed the water glass down, he opened his mouth. "Never have I ever—"