literary freak

Silence | A short story

Hey guys!

For once, how about I deliver something a bit more personal, a piece of writing I did some time ago? Well, here we go!

I wrote that in French over here, if you’d like to read it in its original form, but here’s a translation for you.

Silence.

They’re two. They’re looking at each others – savages. There’s hatred in their eyes, a little. A lot, even. A terrible need to jump at each others’ throat, to reduce the others to ashes. A terrible need to get out of here, ferociously, by shutting the door loudly – however, they’re locked in here. Therapy. People said it’d do them good to face one another again. They however feel as if it would only stimulate their hatred again and again.

They haven’t said a word, for the last hour they’ve been here. There’s a piece of paper and a pencil between them, on the table. They have the right to touch all that. To draw a table, make a list, do something, as long as it makes them speak. They were told they could not use them to hurt one another. It was a matter of life-assurance or something. It made them laugh, a bit darkly. They almost had wanted to. To take this pencil, and smash it in the other’s skull, as to extract all they couldn’t tell to the other. It’s disturbing them. Him, mostly.

Then, he speaks.

– We need to talk.
– Shut up, Alex.
– We need to talk.
– I said shut up, didn’t I?
– Fuck, don’t you want to get out of here?

Silence.

– We need to talk.
– Come on then, speak up.
– You don’t get anything, do you? That’s crazy! You always were like that, always hurried and selfish and not getting anything.
– Fuck you, Alex.
– Ah, that, fucking me, you sure know how to do it! With your silences and your insults, as if it were going to help us, as if we’d be able to move on, with that. Don’t you get it? We’re locking up in our mutism and in our hatred, and it’s killing me!

Silence.

– Bloody hell, are you even listening to me? Don’t you feel anything? It doesn’t make you feel anything that we hate each other that much, not even able to talk, when before you were… fuck, you were the love of my life, don’t you know that?

Silence.

– I don’t know what to do anymore, you know. I’m always the only one talking, saying what’s not going well anymore – I’m the only one suffering, then? the only one? you don’t have anything, do you? You feel nothing, seeing us like that? Did you even love me? Come on, for Pete’s sake, look at me, that’s the only thing I’m asking you for. Just so I know you’re listening to me. Believe me, if you stop playing with your freaking moustache for a few seconds, it’s not going to die, so concentrate on me, would you? It’s important, alright? I can’t do it anymore. I need to rebuild my life. I need to be able to make it – by myself. I need to get out of this room and tell myself that it’s over, it’s all behind us. That you don’t love me anymore. You don’t, right?

The other turns his head the other way. Silence.

– Does that mean you don’t love me anymore? Or am I supposed to guess, once again? Fuck, did you lose your tongue, or what? You only know how to use it to make heads’ turn, don’t you? A slut, that’s what you are.

Silence, again. Always. Alex holds his head, tired. He sighs.

– You know, what we had was beautiful. We were a couple that understood each other, whose friends always supported, and it’s rare that things go that well for this long. Four years, I mean – four years is long. We did things, in four years. We visited a lot of countries, we spent numerous nights doing nothing and others swaying on the dance floor, like kings of the world, during these four years. How did we end up here, you tell me? Not able to see each other’s face, not even able to talk together.

Silence. A few minutes passed by. Alex had closed his eyes, desperate. He slowly starts speaking again:

– You cheated on me? I don’t think so, eh. I didn’t, anyway. I told you, I think you’re the love of my life. It’s a bit strange, because it looks like I hate you, right now, and honestly, as long as you won’t be saying a thing, I’d be full of hatred towards you – but, truthfully, I love you, I really do. And I don’t get why. And why don’t you answer me, for fuck’s sake?

The other finally turns his head towards him. He stares at him, and his eyes are empty. It burns his lover’s heart, his old lover, because of how dull it is. He doesn’t get it. And, when his past lover drops this bomb, he understands even less what’s going on:

– Alex, I’m getting married.

He blinks, stunned. He’s not sure he got that right. It’s the first words he’s saying, after all this time, and that’s what he’s telling him? That he’s marrying another? That what all he’s been worrying over the past couple of days, he doesn’t event think about it anymore? That he’s built another life already? In two weeks, in two weeks time, he found another guy and he’s ready to bring him to the altar? Fuck, he wants to puke badly. He doesn’t get it. What was going on? As for him, he loves him – he loves him from all his heart, and he doesn’t even care if he doesn’t speak, it’s not that bad, after all, as long as he stays near him. He lied – he’s unable to live without him. They’ve been dating for four years, they’ve been flirting for such a longer time beforehand, and what? this past two months they spent hurting each other, shouting at each others, and two weeks of breaking up was leading them to that?

I’m getting married.

What was that? Getting married? With who? Does that mean he cheated on him? There was someone, before him? During him? Shit, he cheated on him? He cheated on him. He definitely did.

Thus, Alex stands up, fiercely. And, in a desperate gesture, he slaps the man facing him. He doesn’t even react. He let him do as he pleases, turning his head under the strength of the slap, staying there, silent, eyes shut.

Alex feels like a prick, at that moment. He has tears in the eyes, and the urge of falling down. He has the man of his life facing him, and he slapped him. He has the man of his life facing him, and he’s been dumped. For real, this time. For another man.

– You’re a shit head. I hope you’ll be unhappy.

His voice cracks on the last sounds. His shoulders sagged. And Alex collapsed on his chair, feeling empty. It was over, now.

We talked, right.

Well then, that’s that for today. Hopefully you liked this short story, about two men facing the end of their relationship.

If you liked it, do tell me!

I’ll see you tomorrow with another blogpost!

Lots of lil’kisses from a

Little Gladys

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