Chapter Text
Vladimir and Estragon have known each other their whole lives but something between them has shifted with recent events. Hopeless waiting, endless yearning and desperate cries… and not only for Godot… but for each other’s confession. Why were these three words so hard to say? They’ve been together for 40 years!
But after Godot, something has changed. Maybe it was Godot, maybe it was old age’s mischievous acts of folly. “Love” was a word that lingered in the back of their minds, it plagued their every thoughts, and laced their every words that they spoke to one another. The touch of each other’s supple skin, so familiar, yet different. Estragon could only imagine so vividly Vladimir’s hot breath against the nape of his neck, whispering sweet nonsenses and empty promises.
Vladimir gazes into the golden brown hue of Estragon’s eyes. Warm like honey, dripping with desperation and admiration. The feeling was mutual, after all, why wouldn’t it be? 40 years with Estragon, every hour, minute, second spent thinking of nothing other than the man himself, the man standing before his very eyes, his presence overwhelming. His eyes descrying every trivial detail, the messy curls of his hair, the way his fingers meandered through them. Vladimir could not begin to fathom how his vulnerable heart could harbour such emotions for the man, how he often allowed his mind to be encapsulated in sordid thoughts about him. But “love” works like a parasite, and once it finds its host and nestles deeply into the heart, one cannot help but to simply submit to “love”. A blameful choice that could only be placed upon God Himself.
Vladimir never thought that they’d ever gain a reason to separate, let alone have Estragon be stolen from him. Yet, that day, that tenderness with which he regarded Pozzo. Estragon lived like a hurricane. The rare moments of affection which had been reserved only for Vladimir alone, instances between their bickering, instances he silently cupped close to his heart. Those sides of Estragon unveiled with shaking hands only for him. Seeing this Estragon, his Estragon, bare a piece of his affection towards another soul, it seemed an anomaly, an err. Vladimir’s heart twisted, a cold curling in his gut. Betrayal was something he had rarely felt as a man of few possessions to begin with. He couldn’t even name one that truly mattered to him if he tried. Estragon is different. Isn’t it always different when it comes to Estragon? Always the one to make his world feel a little bigger, a little less meaningless. If he could not possess Estragon, he possessed nothing.
“Vengeance will be mine! For Gogo! Fate is upon you, decided by destiny! ”
Vladimir lolled his head back, in a state of defeat. He simply could not control his mind. He could not help but to imagine Pozzo, of all people, in such a way that could only be described as… obsessive. Pozzo, the man who had taken Estragon away from his very own hands. Pozzo, a mere nobody, Hell’s incarnate. And on the nights where Vlad had his bouts of loneliness and remorse, did he let his mind wander. And wander, is exactly what it did. Regularly, would Vlad think about the way he would get heady in Pozzo’s presence, his body in a constant state of catatonia as he imagined feeling the warm pads of his fingertips dextrously chart the area around his back, muttering phrases that could even lure sirens to their demise. But why, why Pozzo of all people. This wasn’t him at all, this wasn’t at all what Pozzo was like. That could only mean that the thoughts that arose so frequently in Vlad’s mind, were the ones that he had composed himself. It progressed to a point where elucidating between the fake persona he had formulated of Pozzo and his true self became an increasingly arduous task. A little part of his hopelessly romantic mind yearned for him to conform to the fabricated image that existed solely in his mind, but it was undoubtedly not so simple. He himself had never dreamt of changing someone for the better, as he’d always been a firm believer of just letting one be who they really are. But my God(ot), the desire to simply conjure up a person that even so much as remotely resembled Pozzo with a more desirable personality was clawing away at the very fabrics that kept his hopeless soul intact. But rationality always wins. Vlad refused to dream his little dreams of Pozzo. After all, it would be better to dwell in his regrets… than to act on them.
Humans are trifling in the grand scheme of the universe. You raise your fist towards God but the universe remains unmoved. Such is the futility of human yearning. Physical reality, triumphs. The tangible touch, the taste of his lips, Vladimir’s on a ride. He sensually put his earphones in his ears and started listening to Gogo ASMR 18+. He relished in these noises, and sighed a deep sigh, letting all rational thoughts subside.