Tea time for one

Garden of Words

“We are what we are,” says J, sipping his tea without daring to give a look at his companion’s face. “Yes, I suppose. But what can you do when life doesn’t give you options?” L’s face darkened after he uttered that last word. Options. A word so out of reach, yet it never actually go anywhere. A word of possibilities. L knows this. He knows what this man will be saying next. “You do have them,” J says with a confident smirk, “and it’s up to you to embrace it. In fact, it’s also up to you to not embrace it. Options fly by every other day or so and sometimes you need to extend your hand far enough to —”

“Shut up.” J’s train of thought crumbles just as he is getting to his mate’s head. The rain outside is enough to keep a perfect shade of light he prefers, a similar one to the light currently inside his head. “I don’t need to hear that for the umpteenth time. You can mumble on about quantum possibilities in alternate dimensions for all I care.” L’s gaze is fading away into the metaphorical thousand yards inside of his mind, but J won’t feel content with letting him go anywhere. “Yes, I can, and I will. You were going on a fast train when you decided to slump yourself on a damp corner and curl your once happy little mind into submission. You don’t even realize you’re there. Not without me pointing these little trivial facts to your face.”

That tickles, J. I don’t remember you being the kind to say these things, but maybe nobody would bother anyway…

L snaps off his slight daydream once again. “I should have a — umm — enough reason to pick the gun.” Pick the gun. Never thought he could be so literal. J stops for a moment, looking for the tiny bit of hope hidden behind L’s eyes. “You never operate within reasons, mate. You just do.” Somehow this ticks off L — “And look now what ‘just doing’ has brought me! Off your shiny-ass fast train, in your words.” the seat takes a push of hand as L moves his bum for comfort. J picks up from where he left off, “You didn’t just do. You actually make a decent effort to get by, and the effort’s what really counts.” That kind of response never satisfy L. “Did you mean I should get a medal for trying, or what? I don’t see anyone going anywhere soon, except maybe you. Never the type to stay in one place for more than a week, right?” J smirks. “That’s silly. I don’t go anywhere, just as much as you do. We only differ in what we see.” “Huh? Haha, what kind of a statement is that?” L laughs in disbelief, as if J has eaten an innocent kitten alive. “I mean, our point of view differ in a way. I prefer to see the opportunity within the moment, while you seek dormancy. Neither is right or wrong, as often your silence is gold, but it’s just how we are.

“Have constraint and live within your means, not above, not below. I mean it. Not below. Going below will only stop you. Do what you need to do. I can only be here for so long, after all.” L’s wandering eyes jolt back to J. He starts swallowing J’s words. “And if I fail?” J lets out a short laugh. “You won’t! The worst that will be is just you’re not doing good enough. But it’s okay, learn to live with it. Everybody lives with it, otherwise nobody is good enough. Besides, you can’t go wrong… with a fully-loaded gun.”

J slides the revolver across the table onto L’s lap. The sound of metal sliding fortunately didn’t attract enough attention for nearby diners to check on them and choke on their food and run. Hesitant, L gets a grip of the gun. “You’re really doing this, aren’t you?” Recognizing L’s doubt, J smiles. “It’s simple. You will become me, end of story. You’re not doing this is not because of me, but because you’re not letting go of yourself.” His eyes widen. “Such kind words,” L mutters sarcastically, “aren’t you too afraid of going?”

“Where am I going?” J asks the rhetorical question. “I am not going. You become me. We become I. I need this as much as you do. So do it.”

L pulls the trigger. Only this time the bullet does not pierce his head in nanoseconds, it lies there, growing, not measured in moments but in days, weeks, months. The bullet never comes through. The bullet becomes him.

About Kevin Aditya

Thank you for reading.

03. March 2014 by Kevin Aditya
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