"So. Like I said. It was never love, so to speak."
But the boy spoken to said nothing. Resting his elbow on the coffe table, his right hand over his heavy-lidded eyes. A lit cigarette held between the lean, boney fingers. He seemed to be close to falling into a carefully woven web netted with threads made of sleep and thoughts.
A glass bong of dark brown in color cast a lopsided orange shadow over the marble surface of the coffee table under the warm livingroom lights. Little pieces of cheezits scattered around the ashtray. In front of the boy, a smartphone and a flask were lying about.
Konjac continued. "Longed to be regarded as some sort of martyr, that one."
He lifted the bong to his mouth with one hand girpping the long glass pipe and held out a lighter with the other and ignited. He skillfully wrapped his mouth around the mouthpiece and inhaled. His head bobbed a little. "But his way of thinking was of a complete coward."
He exhaled. The scented smoke floated around the room,forming grotesque, dancing, light-blue figures as they go. The fair-haired boy said nothing，let alone moving. The rhythmic breathing indicated he was sound asleep. Konjac eyed him."It was a semi-love affair. A pseudo-romance."
Konjac could feel the bruning inside the back of his throat but couldn't tell why. "I'm gald that I didn't" He coughed. "-t, t. I didn't." The coughs were so forceful that he couldn't utter full words. His mouth wide open and his head bowed, as if he was about to puke but nothing came out. Then there was that repulsive feeling, stirring in his guts. He leaned back, sank into the leather sofa. He went on to take another rip.
"Never saw that one coming, though." His eyes were waxy. “I thought what I did was what I need to do. Turned out, what I did gave him too much credit." He light-headedly lifted the bong up above his head with both hands to inhale the remaining smoke, but almost choked on bong water. "So full of" Cough,cough."Himself, as always."
Konjac zoomed out. Broken sentences lingered around his lips, and only the last words were audible. "...a good laugh." A weary smile crept onto his face. "Guess some times what you think you need to do ain't what you have to do after all." The smell of burnt weed merged with cigarette smoke and shrouded the room in a pale veil of debauchery.
Konjac turned his face to the other boy, who hadn't moved for even a bit, and inspected with half-lidded eyes. He inquired. "When was the last time I had a good talk 'bout shitty relationships with myself?" Something hot brust inside his guts and it hurt to breathe. He needed to get away. He needed to get something done. I need to escape. I need to.
Konjac fended those feelings off with a sudden brust out of the sofa, leaving scratches on the fine leather with his clenched nails."The pain was real. Even though this so-called love" He leaned forward to the sleeping boy of the same face, same hight, and same fair hair. He whispered into his ear, his tougne half-out, almost touching his earlobe. "It was merely a good deed out of sympathy."
His eyes suddenly sprang open as he let out a yelp, smashing the burnt out cig butt onto the coffee table. Then he was licking his index finger where the small but intense flame had burnt, and stroking the scorched tips of his bangs.
Alas, even a mischievous, devilish entity such as himself couldn't endure a pain as exiguous, as sudden, and as brisk.
Konjac laughed and took his right hand with both of his hands and held his wounded index finger gently between his lips. "Just like this." He whispered as he laid small kisses across his hand and sucked. Then he looked deep into the other boy's empty dark eyes. A faint trace of bloodied saliva dangled from the corner of his smile.