Summer
Post by Marius Leclair on Sept 21, 2012 18:52:35 GMT -5
-Hello Heaven, who's that Devil On The Bed?-
"Hey, doctor, what the difference between lust and love?"
A voice finally came from the boy who sprawled himself out on a hospital bed in solitary. It was smooth, creamy, like red velvet, a poison that seemed to leave a taste of bitter copper on the back of the throat.
The Doctor was startled, but did not show it, merely lifting his blonde head to look the boy in the eyes. He knew the question was hypothetical, so he merely leaned back in his chair and set his clipboard aside. Papers ruffled as they settled on the stone like floor, and the chair creaked as he sat back, folding his hands in his lap, preparing himself for more of the disorder.
These sessions were always like this. Informal. They started when Marius deemed it time to start. The Doctor had nothing else to do these days, and it seemed the boy needed someone to talk to. They both benefited from these dreary fall days, but the Doctor would be a liar if he said he didn't fear this would be the last autumn story.
Marius Leclair was a strange boy, a boy with a strange countenance. Over the years, the Doctor had realized that someone had painstakingly carved into Marius' face like a pumpkin: Those hazel eyes, eternally mischievous, carved triangles with the gentlest upward slant at the base.
Whichwereactuallytearsmaybe;
And a large, toothy mouth, a playboy's mouth, carved wiiiiiiiiide
Whysoserioushehe.
Marius had found a little, blue plastic ball on the little cabinet beside his bed. A stress ball.
Marius continued to play with it in his hands as he began to speak. "I mean, whats the difference?" He flipped his hair, that smirk so wiiiide. Fake.
Fake Fake Fake.
"I began to wonder that, anyways. How do we know what the difference is without a happily ever after? We don't. 'It didn't work, it must be fate, I didn't really love him, otherwise it would've worked.' That's the thing. Love isn't actually love without the tears, the gunk, the drama, the struggle, and yes, the wedding bells--the funeral." Marius sank a little further into the white hospital bed, caramel hair sifting on the pillow, spreading into a sort of silk Medusa. "I use to tell myself that, after they broke up with me. I tried to tell myself it wasn't me." He shifted, his hands and arms, looking bright with his crisp black prada suit contrasting the white sheets. "But if it wasn't, then what else could it be? At some point or another, you begin to blame yourself for not being the person they wanted you to be."
"Marius, you don't have to be someone you aren't--" The Doctor finally responded, but Marius shut him up quick, sitting up and throwing the ball right at the wall beside the Doctor's head. Stunned with fear, the Doctor didn't finish, and instead froze as if he really was staring into the eyes of a papermache Medusa. "Yes, I do." He stated as he slid his legs over one side of the bed, shoes clicking on the stone as he stood, caught the ball, and through it again.
"I've learned something over the years. People just don't like me. They think they do at first, but once they get to know me, something about me repels them. I realized this a couple of years ago. People just can't like me for who I am, I think it's because they see something in me that's a part of them too. An ugly part. The funny thing is, this doesn't make them turn away from me at first, No. They're in denial, I'm the extreme, the one with visible flaws invisible to themselves and it ticks them off. So they stay around me, and play with me, pushing me." The stress ball made a sound as it collided with the wall, a hard thunk that sort of squelched as a single particle of oxygen would leak from some sort of invisible hole with every bounce. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to be someone else, especially when there's something so invariably wrong with the way I was made." Marius caught the ball in his right hand, smirking suddenly as he lolled his head backwards, staring straight into the Doctor's eyes, "But I can be someone that people like. Yes. It works so very, very well, too. People fall in 'love' with me, left and right, pawing on my clothes and begging to be in my arms. They'd do anything to please me."
"I wonder why they're so desperate...is it because they think I'm perfect? Of course, I'm talking about the me people see, the me I created." Marius grinned again, brushing the bangs out of his face as he told the Doctor, "That, is lust. The desperacy that pushes people to cling to me. It's the mistake a person makes when they fall in love with the mask, it's the same mistake as falling in love with your head or your genitals. You see, it isn't usually both, when it's lust at least. You either want to sleep with them or make out with them or you have actually convinced yourself in your head that you would go good together. Sometimes, if you get lucky, it is both, which is why adrenaline gets the heart going and you mistake those lewd achey heart beats for love. There's a very crude definition for lust, but a very open one for love. But it's the exact opposite. Love is the definition of the happily ever after and lust is the many demons that compel you to love the mask. Lust has no definition except for being everything that love is not."
At this point, Marius had been squeezing the ball hard, too hard, it looked like two different balls at that point. The air was so tense and still that when the explosion came it rocked the Doctor like a hurricane.
He started throwing the ball violently at the wall, the friction of the rubber against the stone creating a sense of heat that mimicked Marius' anger. His pure and utter hatred. "THAT, THAT IS THE FUCKING DIFFERENCE, AND ALL THESE STUPID BITCHES DON'T KNOW IT. I'M SO DISGUSTED BY THE BULL SHIT THAT SURROUNDS ME, I CAN'T TAKE IT. THE PERSON THEY FUCKING LOVE ISN'T ME THEY DON'T EVEN LIKE ME THEY JUST FUCKING LOVE THE FUCKING IDEA OF THE FUCKING FAKE ME." Thump, thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thumpthumpthumpthumpthumTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMP.
Marius stopped, and let the ball roll away.
He was staring at his hands blankly then, now, trying to find his voice again. Or maybe he was searching for something else.
"...And Yet I fall for it every time. I want to believe in them. I have this small, stupid hope that one day someone will finally see through it all and just like me. That's all I really want."
Silence. Marius sat down on a chair, staring at oxygen. But whatever he was looking for couldn't be found in the many particles that floated in-between the atoms in the rays of the forlorn setting sun.
"I love some one right now. Xayden." He thought out loud.
"...But Xerxes likes me. I think."
Marius stopped the rolling ball with his foot, stared at it hard, and scooped it, catching it, before setting it on the table beside him and walking out.
