Long time ago in Brentaal IV
[Gif made by : @benmendo ]
We love and hate each other at the same way.
Yes, that's exactly that.
We're like brothers. The brother neither of us had and who sorely misses to us. When I'm on the ground, my head explodes and my brain goes to pieces, Orson has this way of looking at me with compassionate contempt, then tells me that life is just a succession of turbulences before handing me a imaginary bag to collect the pieces.
I would like to tell him that I am tempted to take refuge in my bed for the next six months and that I would not blame him for continuing his life without worrying about it. Then, I remember that this is his way of playing down the drama.
Because his existence has never been anything but a tragedy.
I surprised him, trying to talk to me about it. He changed his mind before revealing more because even that he refuses me. I know there is something there, hidden deep within his cold frame and his electric gaze.
Something broken, which he considers irreparable.
It’s like a mathematical formula that I have to decode in the equation of his innuendoes, his quips and his borderline behaviors.
– Okay, are you finished Galen? I'm expected at the party this evening. And I wouldn't want to fail Krystelia.
I look up, my gaze furtively meets his and I almost want to smile.
–It's Sybellia, Orson. I'm not even going to start reminding you of the names of the girls you sleep with.
He bursts out laughing before closing the door. It's not a question of memory. He just doesn't care at all. He doesn't care about the girl like anything else. The only thing that matters is success. It's glory. And perhaps he offered me another way of seeing the world. Perhaps he even made me understand that the world was not immaculate and innocent, but he would never succeed in making me believe that nothing can change.
Because I am convinced that we are here to build a better world.
Sometimes, when alcohol has taken over his pride, Orson admits to me that he feels lucky. Lucky to be here. Lucky to be with us and also to have known me. It's hard for me to ask, not just because I'm convinced he wouldn't remember it the next day, but because the luckier of the two : It's me. He taught me to use my intelligence. And I dare to hope that one day, I will help him to master his sensitivity.
The one he refuses and that I intend to dig up.