… smoke curled free from adam’s lie - bled lips. the bathroom, for all its untold horrors, had been a space of truth ( adam had been right about one thing, after all : they were both bullshitters ). lawrence tilted his head away from the worst of the smoke, refusing the cough that would usually follow … he thinks that adam would take too much pleasure in staining his lungs grey, splattered with a smoke so thick that he felt as if he was choking. ‘ you’re good? ’ bitter disbelief colours his voice, framed by an eye roll. his attempts at caring for other, fumbled by doctorly hands that always ran a little too cold, are shrugged off : this is not a stray cat eager to be fed and cared for ( they were nothing but tired men, clinging to their little lies and bitter brutality, snapping at each other without the relief of walking away … lawrence isn’t sure he could leave this conversation even if he really wanted to ).
‘ constant interviews, interrogations, support groups, the news reporting on us every second and you’re ——— you’re what, adam, fine? at least do me the courtesy of not lying out of your ass. ’ his anger is a collapsing star, too cold before it ever becomes warm, curl of half - growled words slipping free with a vague gesture of his hand. it fizzles out in the next breath ( the mention of his wife, his failing marriage laid trembling before them ). he drinks in a breath, another, catching smoke that had left adam’s mouth still hanging dully in the air between them. ‘ i don’t think you should be commenting on my marriage, adam. or i’ll start bringing up how you were stalking me for quite some time. ’
The doctor seemed to take ᴅɪsᴘʟᴇᴀsᴜʀᴇ in the photographer’s
bitterly imparted reassurance. With every second lingered in
Lawrence’s presence, that awful cacophony in his chest only
expanded; tighter and tighter it felt.
Each syllable brought with it new emotion. How was it that just
ᴏɴᴇ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴ could make him endure such hell, pull him through
each level so quickly without saying a word?
— a Dante carved out of echoed screams against rotting bathroom tile.
A look alone is enough to inspire all at once.
The doctor rolls his eyes and Adam mirrors almost on cue,
having done his best to suppress such action for the sake of
whatever false civility they had attempted to erect between them.
ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʙʟᴏɴᴅᴇ ᴘʀᴇssᴇᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ᴘʀᴇssᴇᴅ.
Was he trying to spark some sort of reaction from the other?
If he was, it was working.
An awful, anxious laughter escaped from him in near
disbelief of the absurdity of it all.
“Oh——what? What do you want me to say, huh?
No, I’m doing awful. I feel shit all the time.”
He looked up from the small pile of ash to meet the doctor’s
biting gaze. There was anger stuck somewhere, lodged in the
man’s tone when he spoke to the other.
Frustration, disappointment mounting behind a mocking smile.
“I feel---- awful? I haven’t slept properly in days thanks to
this growing pain in my shoulder and
—ʜᴇʏ, ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀɴ ɪᴅᴇᴀ!
You just wait right there,”
the words tumble a near hundred miles an hour as he
decides to rise from his seat on the couch,
“—-and I’ll just go and grab some more salt for you
to come grind into hole where you fucking shot me,
I think I’m just a little too fine right now.”
Any mood to mock or play dispersed as quick as it had rose
up in him, catching those piercing blue’s reflected back in
his own bitter jade. Swallowing hard, ambivalence lingers
in the air like the residue of the smoke exhaled.
Adam makes his silent choice, far too tired to continue the bit as
his body settles back into the couch again.
He didn’t mean it. He never did.
A natural reaction in light of such confusion bubbling away.
He had never been angry about the gunshot, ever.
He still wasn’t. But he knew there was a part of the doctor
that may still bear open scar about such events
—- and why not be the first to rub the salt himself.
The traffic outside rolls by, the two opposed men separated
again in the discourse flowing between them. Adam did want to be fine.
Who wouldn’t want to be fine? But he loathed how pointed and
right the other had to be. That cool tone, the steady pace
at which his tongue rolled.
What was worse was that Adam knew he needed it.
He needed to hear that understanding without compromise,
without pity, without prejudice.
Everyone was so quick to placate his bullshit after everything that had happened; the reality check was invaluable.
“Yeah, yeah, Ok Ok——got it.”
He quickly shut down Lawrence’s line of fire,
speaking over him as the doctor trailed off.
A long exhale of breath, and shaking digits go
to occupy themselves with another cigarette.
“ ——-ɪ’ᴍ sᴏʀʀʏ.”
@cutfoot·
