Metron Ariston Part V: Cenophilia
"Je ne comprends plus pourquoi J'ai du sang sur mes doigts Il faut que je te rassure Je soignerais bien tes blessures
Mon amour...."
-Mylene Farmer, "Beyond my control"
I came to - felt shoved to, more like - with Randy's name on my lips. I sat up in bed - I was in bed? Where was I? I looked around wildly. A hospital? Then there was a sudden sharp pain in my right side and I fell back into bed again. I felt for a bell and rang it.
After a period of time, the nurse came in. "Ah, bon, t'es reveille," he said. "J'vais avertir la docteure."
"Hey, before you do that," I asked in French, "was anyone admitted at the same time as I was?"
"Yes, five other young men who were involved in the same incident," he clarified. "As for you, you were suffering from a broken rib and were unconscious; you were kept for observation, but can probably be released soon. I have some painkillers for you." He offered two white pills and a cup of water; I took both and swallowed them.
"The doctor will be in to talk with you, then he'll give you some instructions and you'll be discharged," he said, and smiled. "Good luck."
I smiled back, and waited for the doctor to come in.
After meeting with the doctor and being given a prescription for painkillers, I was discharged from the hospital. I got my clothes back, which I was happy to see were undamaged. After buying my painkillers at the hospital pharmacy, I asked after Randy, and learned he was about to be discharged too. I went to go see him.
He was just getting ready to leave his room. "Denis! Hi," he said, his face brightening up. "I'm just about to leave."
"Great," I said, smiling back. "Did they say what was wrong?"
"Yeah," he said. "I had, like, a mild concussion. The doctor gave me this sheet of what to do. What about you?"
"One of my ribs got broken. They gave me painkillers. Shall we go?" He agreed, and we got moving.
He read the sheet as he was walking along beside me. As we got to the elevator, his eyes narrowed as he looked at the sheet. "Hey, Denis, it says here that I have to stay with someone, to watch me in case I start to act weird. Can I sleep over at your place?"
I looked at him in puzzlement as I summoned the elevator. "Sure, I guess. What about your parents, though? Aren't they at home?"
"Naw," he said disgustedly. "They couldn't even reach mom. I guess she's at her boyfriend's or something. She don't care anyway."
We left the hospital and took the bus to my house in silence.
"We're both in the gutter, that's no surprise What does it matter when I look in your eyes? We've lost all our money, we're thrown out of bars We're lying in the gutter but we're looking at the stars..."
-Pet Shop Boys, "I Get Excited"
It was about ten at night when we arrived at my place; the fight had been ten that morning and we'd spent the day in the hospital. Both of us were ravenous when we arrived at my place, having successfully avoided hospital food. I nuked some leftovers I found in my fridge, and served them up. We dug in.
About three-quarters of the way through the sumptuous repast, I giggled. "What?" Randy wanted to know.
"Oh, I was just thinking. I'm impressed - you put all four of those guys in the hospital. I guess it was adrenaline. My hero," I said wryly, and laughed. Randy didn't laugh. In fact, he was looking straight ahead.
"Randy?" I said in alarm.
"Oh, shit!" he blurted. "Oh, I'm dead, I'm so fucking dead!"
I looked at him in the eyes. "What's wrong?" I said intensely.
He put his hands in his face. "I'm sooooo dead," he moaned. "I'm going to get expelled from school, I know it. I'll fail the year and I won't be able to go to college or anything - I tried so hard this year - oh god, my mom is going to kill me!"
"Over my fucking dead body they'll expel you," I said, intently, grabbing his hands. "I'll tell them what happened. I'll kick their asses until they see what's the truth. They won't be able to expel you. You saved my fucking life, Randy. They can't kick you out for that. I won't let them."
He was astonished. My lip began to quiver. Oh no, I thought. I'm going to start crying. Hold it back. I choked. "I'll do whatever it takes."
He put his hand on my shoulder. "Denis..." he said. "When I saw them beating you up, I felt so guilty... and when they told me to hit you, I lost control. You looked so hurt and so tired - I couldn't let them do that to you."
He looked down at his plate. "I was thinking about this a lot today, and for a while now... I don't know how to say it, but I can't put it off any longer." He took a deep breath in, and looked back at me. He looked like he had to force his mouth to open, and then the words came out in a rush. "I - Ithinkiloveyoudenis."
My mouth opened, and I looked back at him. "Did you just say what I thought you said?" I breathed.
"I love you, Denis!" he blurted, and looked back at me. His raw emotion was showing through like bone under torn flesh.
Love. The word resonated in my mind. It bounced off of things, smashed through others. Love. Love. Was that the word? Was it?
It collided with the strange feeling that I had had. It wrapped itself around it like a net. Love. It was.
I hadn't loved anyone in four years.
"I love you too, Randy," I whispered.
He exhaled, and smiled. Grinned widely, actually. So did I. I moved my chair around the table up to him and touched his ear, bringing his head down close to mine, so I could feel his breath on my face.
"I don't know what you're doing to me, Randy," I said, my voice catching. "I didn't know anything could make me feel like anyone cared whether I lived or died anymore. But you - I want to see what happens to you. I want to be with you as you come out. And I - I've fallen in love with you, and I'm just so happy to hear..." I broke off, and sniffed. Tears had brimmed in my eyes, trickling down my cheeks. Almost instinctually, he reached up and brushed them away. He gazed at me, and suddenly pulled me into a tight embrace. The dam broke, and I sobbed against his chest.
It was amazing; the first time I'd felt joy - pure, unalloyed joy - in over four years, and it was overwhelming. The force of it was so great as to make me weep. It was a good thing that I'd been able to get enough of my last sentence out before I broke up. I didn't want Randy to think I was distraught. I didn't want this moment of perfect joy to be mistaken for sadness.
It was like an orgasm of the heart.