Euripides said, " Silence is confession." Silence is cowardice. Weakness of words. Silence is not a choice. It's just the only thing that remains when the words go away.
***
Louis' pov
«5»
And I'm waiting. Again.
He hadn't answered for four days, and he hadn't come to class either. I try not to worry too much, because he goes to the forum every day, reads my messages, but... It's stronger than me, I can't stop being afraid for him. I dream about it every night, though it's more of a nightmare than a dream. Because I always see him standing on the bridge. I'm afraid he might do it again at any second, but I don't dare push him. I tell myself that if he doesn't answer or show up for class, it's only because he needs time. After all, it must be difficult for him, too. Especially for him, actually. Goosebumps run through my body when I remember that for a hundred days, every time I wrote to him, he was one step closer to death. My hands are practically starting to shake. He's still alive. I don't know what's going on in his head, but if he really lived a hundred days with the belief that he was going to die soon, then he should still be alive... I don't know. But I'm actually asking myself how he feels. I'd like to talk to him, ask him, but I can't make up my mind. He's so secretive, I don't want him to shut down any more. I have absolutely no idea what to do, and to be honest, I don't even think I have the strength to talk about it. It was all too hard, and it hadn't been too long yet for talking about it not to bring so much pain. And I don't think he wants to talk about it. If I were him, I wouldn't either.
My eyes are still focused on the screen. And I understand that I'm so doubtful simply because I don't know how to address him. Now that I know that the Anonymous Person is Harry, should I communicate with him as before, or should I address him by his first name? I don't know how to react. Maybe that's why he doesn't answer. Because he doesn't know either. I start typing «Hello, Harry.» I sigh. What a mess. It sounds completely fake. I delete it and re-enter it.
«I want to see a movie.»
«Me too.»
«Choose.»
«The Texas Chainsaw Massacre?»
«N.E.V.E.R.»
«Why?»
«Because.»
«You don't like horror movies?»
«No.»
«You're afraid of them?»
«Absolutely not.»
«Then why don't you like them?»
«Because.»
«You're afraid.»
«NO!!»
«Yes, you're afraid.»
«Don't you want to watch Ice Age? The Ice Age is fascinating. In an Ice Age, no one dissects people.»
«I'd love to see an Ice Age.»
And I smile, for the first time in five days. Because he's here, because the best way to address him is to do it our way. Because we both need things to go back to the way they were before. We need to reconnect, to feel each other again. We don't need change. We watched a movie together, laughing about Sid. Or rather, I was laughing, but I think he was too. Then I was outraged, because of him, I had a feeling that a killer with a chainsaw would jump out of somewhere. Because... Yeah, I'm scared to death of horror movies, AND WHAT'S THE BIG DEAL? He said nothing would happen because we weren't in Texas. Yeah, but psychopaths are everywhere. So, I had to send it two or three times. He said it would be his fault if I was found murdered and cut to pieces because he had croaked.
YOU ARE READING
The Degradation (translation)
FanfictionI was the real stereotype of the ideal life. Yeah, damn stereotypes. And then I met him. With his green eyes, with his weirdness... And with his illness. "What would you do if you only had 100 days to live?" - Anonymous "I don't know. Probably wou...
