The Orchestra - Sinfónia Lifsins - 58. Destruction

“You’re crying for that brat now? Is that how badly you want to get away from me?”

“No! It’s nothing like that, Siggi!”

“It sure as hell look like it.”

“I’m sorry, ok? I didn’t mean to sound like I didn’t want to be around you anymore.” The bastard finally moved away from the front door, his steps perforating my ears like needles. My feet should have moved back, kept our distance. But Gísli’s body blocked the kitchen escape route. “I’m here anytime you need me.”

“No, you’re not. You’ve made your priorities clear.”

Gísli blocked the back, Karen blocked the side. The fuckers wanted to keep me here for this pointless argument. The bastard closed in on the front.

“I’m sorry! I was just… I was overwhelmed by everything, and Gunni was so comforting I didn’t want to let go. It won’t happen again.”

“It will. It will and you know it.”

“No–”

“Do you remember your promise? All that talk about not losing yourself to love, and what you do? You’re not my best friend anymore! You’re some blind arsehole that will lick the kid’s boots and follow him around like a needy puppy if he as much as looks at you!”

The bastard stared in silence. The truth hurt, did it not?

“You wanted me to keep you from getting lost in your feelings, but you don’t seem committed to that promise. You’re already gone, and you can’t even see it!”

They moved away to let me reach the stairs. It should have been the end of it, but the bastard’s masochistic streak had not been satisfied yet. He climbed three steps at a time until he caught up to me.

“No, Siggi, you don’t understand, I–”

“There’s nothing to understand. Come back when you actually want to get away from that kid.”

“Please, Siggi, hear me out.” He held the bedroom door so I could not close it on his face. If imposing his unwelcomed presence was how he wanted to be heard, then so be it. “I used to be afraid of being in love with Gunni, but I’m not anymore. I’ve realised I’ll be fine because Gunni isn’t the kind of person who is going to use my feelings to hurt me. I’m safe with him. You don’t have to worry.”

“Is that what you consider safe? All you’re doing is showing me how fucking blind you are to all this shit. You were lost the moment the kid walked in here, and if you’re ok with that, then I have nothing more to say to you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“For someone who was so afraid to fall into the hole, you’re taking a long time to realise you’re already in it. I’ll be here when you want to climb out, but I won’t let you drag me deeper into your shit with that kid.”

“What will it take you to understand I’m happy, and everything will be fine?”

“What will it take you to come back to the real world?”

The bastard saved me the trouble of closing the door between us.

(...)

The ISO staged its most epic concert. In the open air, at dusk, with the stage populated by musicians and an audience that stretched as far as the eye could see. Darkness brought a spectacle of lights, but one by one the minuscule bulbs on top of our music stands blew out. The music stopped, except for my cello. I knew the whole show by heart, even parts that were not mine to play. My sound switched from harmony to melody. A technical glitch could not stop us.

Nothing could.

The lights turned on again at the Leader’s chair. The darkness took away Arnar and put the replacement in there – shining in the golden light with his golden hair and his golden smile and a golden glow that surrounded him like he was the Messiah, and we should all follow him to Heaven.

Cue a choir playing Handel’s work of that same name. At the Hallelujah Chorus no less.

Our little Messiah stood up. Everyone followed. He took over the conductor’s podium. Played the melody the choir was singing. The high notes would have sounded angelical by any other instrument. But his music burnt my chest. The cello discharged thousands of volts in my hands. Fell on the floor. Broke into a million pieces.

The Messiah played still, each note a needle in my body. The other ISO musicians abandoned their instruments to join the Heavenly choir. Each new voice lit up the dark stage until dusk turned to dawn.

Finally, only Dmitri remained by my side. He headed towards me with his usual grin, each step making his red, pointy tail more visible. He stood next to me, and his head sprouted horns as big as his hands. “We should join them. It’ll make me so happy. I’m sure it’ll be all right.” He offered his hand to me.

My own tail swatted it away. “No. Don’t you see what you’re doing? He’s going to destroy you.”

“No, listen to him! It’s so beautiful!” The Hallelujah Chorus started again, louder than ever, wiping out all evidence that darkness ever existed. “He would never hurt me. We’ll be fine!”

Dmitri did not wait for me. He rushed to join the choir of light. My warnings never reached him. He sang loud and proud, smiling even as his body crumbled to dust. The Heavens paid no attention to his demise. The Hallelujahs never stopped.

A hand grabbed my hips from behind. “We don’t belong with them.” Kresten’s voice hurt more than all of the Heavens combined. “You belong to me.”

The Devil’s lips found my neck. Clothes torn apart by his icy touch. Hallelujah. His body emanated darkness. The light never reached us. Hallelujah.

I belonged to him.

Hallelujah.

(...)

Kresten’s cold touch became warm and desperate. The voice calling my name changed from lustful to urgent. The bastard’s face hovered over mine close enough for his ragged breathing to blow away any fresh oxygen.

“Siggi! You’re awake! Finally!”

“Am I?” Dark bedroom: check. Comfortable mattress with sweat-drenched bedsheets: check. Annoying roommate fussing over me as if I was a broken doll: check. “I’m disgusting.”

“You had a nightmare about Kresten or Pétur again?”

“Kresten wasn’t the worst of it.” Not that he deserved to know the details. “I need a shower.” If only my legs realised they could move again.

“Come, I’ll help you.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I don’t want your help.” Even if that meant falling face-first on the floor, or crawling to the bathroom.

“Is this still about Gunni?”

“Guess.”

“I already said I’m sorry. I want to be here for you and make up for the way I acted earlier. I shouldn’t have said I would leave you to stay with him, and this now is the proof.”

“So you realise how fucked you are by falling in love with the kid and will get away from him as soon as possible?”

“I can’t do that!”

“Figures. I don’t need your help, then.” Holding onto the walls should keep my body moving.

“You’re being unreasonable.”

“You’re walking into your own destruction.” Crumbling to dust.

“Gunni is the safest person I could be with. He would never hurt me. We’ll be fine!” His need to defend the brat followed us into the bathroom. “What if I promise you I will never put Gunni’s needs above yours? And promise to listen if you say I’m doing it anyway?”

Warm water faded the last remains of Kresten’s touch. “You can promise all you want. You already broke your first promise anyway.”

“Fine. If you don’t believe my words, I’m going to show you I mean everything I said.”

(...)

He did not mean any of it.

The car crash in slow motion that was the Bastard’s life carried on for weeks. The actual impact of the radioactive lorries in this ridiculous metaphor was still to come, but nobody else saw how close he was to self-destruction. Nobody put together the clues he left all over the place. Nobody dared to stop him.

Who thought it was normal for the bastard to stop all random sexualised touching of my genitals? Who saw nothing suspicious when the bastard refused to fuck me time and time again because he was ‘not in the mood’? Who believed everything was still golden-shiny-perfect when our resident sex-addict lost interest in one-night stands, orgies, and sex dungeons?

My best friend was replaced by a new Saint Dmitri of the Inexistent Erection, that Holy Creature who did nothing but fawn over his angelical master. He gave up everything he used to enjoy so that he and His Holy Pinnacle of Innocence could spend the night enveloped in disgusting cuddles on my bed.

Every.

Fucking.

Night.

The replacement became his constant attachment. An oxygen tank for someone who forgot how to breathe and was not at all inclined to remember. The bastard enjoyed that dependency. He became addicted to it, just like he had once been addicted to sticking his cock up my arse. He smiled all the time. Told jokes. Made up jokes. The bastard halved the amount of vodka bottles pilling up in our bins every week. He took every opportunity to let us know how happy he was. How he finally had everything he needed.

He did not need me, obviously. He did not even notice when I stopped spending the night in Gísli’s room and moved my things back to Arnar’s. He never asked why Ágústa was picking me up from work every day. He did not care that we only spoke if he started the pointless interactions.

His other housemates cared more than he did. They begged for my presence in the house that was not my home anymore. Lured me with the promise to pound my arse until I could no longer sit or walk.

And so it was Karen’s car that took me away from the Harpa after the week’s concert. The bastard should have gone with his sweet little darling. Instead, he changed his mind at the last minute and ended up becoming the irritating grinning presence sitting between Gísli and me in the backseat.

“Are you here to fuck me tonight?”

“I thought you and Gísli made plans already? I don’t really feel like it, got lots of things going on. If you want to cuddle in bed, though…”

“No. The only reason I bothered coming here today is because my arse is bored of fake cocks. I need the real thing, and I’m desperate enough not to care if it’s yours or Gísli’s.”

“Good. Then you do have everything sorted! I’m only coming home now because Eiri’s birthday party will be Saturday, and Gunni wants to spend more time with him.” The bastard kept his hands on his lap. Even hitting his face with my dick would not convince him to touch me. “Speaking of which, you guys are invited to the party too. We could all go together!”

“He invited me too?”

The bastard took too long to answer. “He didn’t forbid you, but –”

“But he knows I hate his precious brat too much to be willingly dragged there. I have no interest in going to any party.”

“I guess that’s settled, then.” The bastard’s hand almost moved towards me, but he changed his mind. “It’ll be nice to be home for a change. I’m sure we’ll have a great time.”

His idea of a ‘great time’ involved dinner, drinks, and endless innocent hugs to anyone he could reach. He spooned Karen on the couch once Gísli was dragged away to fulfil his promise to me. Three hours of merciless pounding later, the bastard found it appropriate to knock on Gísli’s door and wish us a ‘good night’ before taking over the bed I had not slept in for over a month.

Spending the Friday with us had no effect on the bastard’s obsession with his Saint Kid Darling either. By Saturday afternoon, he had been reduced to a bubbly ball of cheerfulness, humming a certain violin concerto as if his life depended on the continuous vibrations of his throat.

“Mozart, really? I thought you didn’t like classical all that much.”

“That’s still true. I would take Tchaikovsky over all the classical people any day. But Gunni was playing this concerto for us a few days ago, and it’s been stuck in my head since. He makes it sound so great. You should’ve seen him playing it at his audition!”

“So great that he made you like Mozart?”

“You talk as if I hated Mozart! I just don’t like him that much because I like more dramatic and emotional pieces. Other than the Requiem and his two last symphonies, Mozart is too cheerful and light-hearted in comparison to romantic works. But the way Gunni plays it, he puts so much of his feeling into it that I can’t help but be amazed and overwhelmed. It’s like when you played the Haydn Cello Concertos and made me love works I wouldn’t usually pay much attention to.” The bastard grinned. “Actually, both of you always play with your heart and soul. That’s what makes you so great.”

“Comparing me to the kid already? You must miss him so much you’re delusional.”

“Please, Siggi, let’s not argue about Gunni again. I’ll be gone in just a few hours, can’t we have a good, fun time until then?”

“The only way for us to have fun now would be if you threw me on this table, ripped my jeans open and pounded my arse until you caused serious damage to both me and the furniture.”

The Bastard winced and turned away. As if he had never been enthusiastic about breaking tables via intense fucking. “Maybe some other day. I was thinking more on the lines of playing together.”

“Play with my cock, then.”

“No, I’m serious.” He sighed. “I mean playing music together. We haven’t done that in ages.”

There were far too many things we had not done in ages. “What do you want to play? Mozart?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of Vivaldi, maybe the piece we played as your encore at your concert. What do you think?”

“The piece I chose as a way to show how much you and the orchestra meant to me? Your balls have to be as big as your dick for you to dare think of that.”

“Why? It’s fitting as something to bring us together after we’ve barely seen each other.” The bastard had the audacity to step towards me with a smile. “I miss you, you know?”

“Really? You think of me when you cuddle the kid? Is my body the one you imagine lying next to you in bed? Or do you just happen to remember I exist whenever your little darling isn’t around?”

“Are you jealous of Gunni?” He stepped forward again.

“I’m not jealous!” He used to understand these things. He should have been able to make sense of my feelings better than I could. “I’m tired of the kid coming in and stealing everything I have! Of you being a blind buffoon who’s going to die before you see reason!”

“Calm down, Siggi. It does sound like you’re jealous.” A hand on my shoulder. A smile that had no place on his treacherous face. “Let’s sit and talk about this like two adults, ok?”

“Get away from me! Get out of my life!”

His arms locked me in a hug.

“Let me go! What are you doing?” Pushing against him did nothing to loosen his hold on me. “Let me go!”

“Not until you calm down and behave like a civilised human being.”

No point in struggling. “I don’t want you here! I don’t want to be around you anymore!”

“I just want to talk!”

“I want you to disappear! You’re dead to me if you’re so set in loving that kid no matter what! Do me a favour and jump off a bridge with him, before I jump ahead of you!”

That finally got the message across. “Is that what you really think of me?” He fumbled backwards and tripped on a chair. Served him right. His eyes never left mine, turning brighter and wetter by the second, until he could no longer hold the tears.

The smile on my face did not come from happiness. “Yes. My friend is dead. You’re just a traitor.”

His lips shook, but he never said a word. The staring contest ended with him walking out, banging the front door.

Gone.