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Constant cigarette smoke enveloped their minds, seeping into their very bones. Along with the steam from her mouth, walking through the city at night, The girl kept exhaling and exhaling it.
Jonathan rarely smoked, at most he took a puff when she offered.
It was especially cold today. Mid October. Leaves fell from the trees, immediately softening in the puddles.
This week was especially difficult; every day seemed to last forever. But he won't complain to her.
She will understand anyway.
Now they are sitting at the table, whiskey is poured into glasses. She's smoking again.
Marlboro, Chapman, Camel. Whatever it is, she doesn't care.
The apartment is illuminated by the general light that the city emits, a light that makes it difficult to see the stars in the sky.
The dark green bottle now stands almost empty. The wind rushes through the window, causing Jonathan to cower from the cold. His thin sweater worn over his shirt - his usual outfit did little to keep him warm.
"It's a pity I hardly get drunk." The girl said mentally weighing up the amount of alcohol they drank and what effect it had. Their conversations ended a few minutes ago when the alcohol hit his brain. Now Jonathan felt a wave of nausea. There was too much alcohol.
The girl remembered that his body did not tolerate something like that well due to lack of experience, and she also understood that he was unlikely to be able to stop as soon as the first sip of alcohol got inside him. She was interested to see how far Jonathan, who was so proud of his self-control, and constantly set himself as an example for her, would go.
He tried not to move. Sitting motionless, feeling only nausea, which seemed to consume his entire being. It was not like the typical nausea that haunted him during moments of watching people slowly drown in their vices, as he thought, it was already physiological. Funny.
The main thing is not to move... not to move.. oh
he could not resist and moved his shoulders, obeying an internal temptation.
Not paying attention to what the girl sitting opposite him was saying, he jumped up, ran into the bathtub and vomited the entire contents of his stomach into the toilet.
"Wow..." Girl said as she walked up to him, gently placing her hand on his back.
“You said you wouldn’t drink too much.” And again she mocks.
He leaned back against the wall, brushing his hair from his forehead and breathing heavily.
"Yes, I know, I just..."
“Pfft, don’t apologize, it doesn’t happen to anyone.” She speaks mockingly, looking down at him. This is what she is all about. Her black eyes never showed space. Just a black hole without a hint of light. She was always too proud, and often gave herself up to all those human vices that were so disgusting to Jonathan. But there was something catchy about her. It was as if she herself were the morphine that she liked to use from time to time.
"Let's go. " She said, holding out her hand.
"Where to?" It was as if he had misheard.
"Well, Maybe you will need some fresh air. And you can think that I care." He grinned, accepting her help.
The street greeted them with dampness and cold. The wind, as usual in densely populated areas with many high-rise buildings, blew from all four cardinal directions at once, making its way under even the thickest layers of clothing, forcing passers-by to wrap their jackets tighter.
Jonathan's vision was just as blurred as if he were not wearing glasses. What was the point of wearing them then?
A group of people crowded around the street TV.
"The body of little Lindsay and Susan has been discovered." The voice of the TV presenter, too mechanical to be alive, spoke. Next came, for some unknown reason, the repeated words “raped and strangled, raped and strangled.” And then there was a not very censored picture of the terrible death of two little girls.
For some reason, it was at that moment that Jonathan had a thought that was difficult to get away from. For some reason he imagined himself in the place of these children. He felt their death, the black wet earth between his fingers and under his nails, dried traces of blood between his legs, and maybe even traces of hands on his neck.
For an instant he found himself in the body of a man who had never killed. A man whose eyes well up with tears of grief at the sight of the corpse of someone else’s little child. This moment seemed to transport him to another universe, where everything was different.
If it weren't for her, who tugged at his coat sleeve, he would have remained standing, staring blankly at the screen.
They walked in silence through the streets. The evening before the day off was something like a small holiday, especially for those whose pale reflections of everyday events represented nothing more than a terribly boring routine. The holiday will end and everything will resume. But for now, these people can only squeeze the maximum out of their honestly spent free time.
Everywhere you look there are noisy groups, drunk drivers whose music from their cars can be heard tens of meters away from the cars themselves, lonely drunks sleeping on benches or just people who find walking around the city at night romantic.
Joanan catches the familiar smell of cigarette smoke. The smoke was coming not only from the cigarette, but on the streets of Gotham there was a barely noticeable cool fog that covered the city like a blanket.
They kept walking and walking. All the rest of the noise turned into something extraneous and alien, all sounds faded into the background, leaving only the sound of blood in the ears.
"Did you hear what I just said?"
Jonathan was brought out of his trance state by the loud voice of his companion. He suddenly realized that he was in a city park.
“I didn’t hear a word...” he said quietly, looking for the bench with his eyes.
Standing alone in a dark and deserted part of the park, a small shop with overpriced coffee provided the only source of light.
If it weren't for him, the outlines of constellations could be discerned in the sky.
The soaked bench creaked quietly under the weight of their bodies.
“You don’t have to thank me for bringing you for a walk to a place where there are few people, you don’t seem to like them.”
"Thank you." He grinned. She laughs.
“You’re kind of boring today, in general you should be glad that I’m here with you now, and not fucking with others.”
“It makes me rather sad.” He responded to her sarcastic comment, for which he received a slap on the wrist in the same humorous manner. But now it’s his turn to smile.
She lit another cigarette. It seemed it was fifth one today.
Despite all the narcissistic nature of the woman currently sitting next to him in the dark alley of the city park, she never turned up her nose and reproached him for being next to him, for seeing his darkest sides, and especially for everything his weaknesses and for the fact that he saw what others were not allowed to see. For all those times when he was nothing but a pathetic piece of shit and she wouldn't turn her back on him.
And even though she had the habit of viciously mocking people, him in particular, and even though she more than once mentioned that he was her debtor for helping him not only escape from a psychiatric hospital, but also, as if erasing this black spot from his history. Let all this be.
In any case, Jonathan did not know how to repay her. Probably she used to talk about the fact that he was her debtor, just so that he would not think of her as a Samaritan who was ready to go through thick and thin for the sake of others.
She always mocked “people” as if she were not a simple mutant with an extremely primitive range of abilities, but some kind of deity who had descended to earth.
<<
"Wait, are you crying?" He asked one day, noticing something strange in girl's behavior.
She turned and laughed in his face.
“Of course not. It makes things only worse.”
Later, he repeatedly entered into debates with her about this.
“If your genetics are mutated, this does not mean that you are human. You are just in some aspects of physiology...” he hesitated, not daring to say the word.
"Come on, say it."
"Oh okay...better than the others."
"You finally admitted it." She said laughing.
One phrase of hers made him stop arguing with her on this topic. He felt that this was a painful topic for her.
"So tell me, dear Jonathan. If you were raised like an animal, will you still be human?" She said then. >>
"т
"Were you raised like an animal?"
"No"
It is unlikely that he will remember the way home, he is unlikely to remember that, due to his carelessness, he tripped, falling onto a wet lawn covered with rotting leaves, and how she almost fell next to her because she burst into laughter and did not even offer her hand to help him .
When her tickling breath touched his neck, he moved away, looking at her in bewilderment, blinking his eyes.
She just smiles, saying that he smells of alcohol and despair.
She takes him to the bathroom.
"Are you serious?"
“I don’t understand why you people always need to trivialize everything, I didn’t say or do anything like that.”
As thin streams of hot water flowed down their bodies, Jonathan fell into a kind of trance from the unusual proximity to another person.
Lights danced before my eyes.
So, having broken away from everything dirty, low, vile - the stultifying horror and hellish torment of the prisoners, which he observed day after day, being in delight, stuffiness, darkness, the living dead - he was again carried away beyond the boundaries of space and time, only the hands of others remained. touching his skin, which resembled wet parchment wrapped around his ribs.
She now seemed soft. Usually when he put his hand on her shoulder or somehow touched her waist, he met nothing but the hardness of stone. It was as if there was nothing but bones. However, now she was not rough in any sense of the word, as if a stone had turned to sand.
She looked at the ceiling, he looked at her, lying on her shoulder, wrapped around her body as if trying to absorb her. If this is a hug, then they worked in one direction. It was the first time they lay so close to each other.
“You seem to be like the sea, but it seems to be the other way around.” Girl blurted out, causing him to snap out of his half-asleep state.
"What do you mean?"
“Well, the sea is cold, black, terrible creatures live in it. And everyone sees only the green surface, thinking that this is its very essence. So it is with you.”
“And how is this connected with...” She did not let him finish the question.
“Well, on the one hand, you are a complete gloomy bastard who ruins the lives and sanity of those who already have a bad life, but if look deeper, then you are not such a bastard.” Jonathan chuckled.
The other day they had a conversation over a cup of coffee about the shortage of staff in regular hospitals.
<<
“If I were this guy’s parents, I would be beside myself with rage because instead of saving their son, the management sent all their forces to save some high-ranking deputy or whoever he was who had an accident...”
“Of course. After all, not all lives are equal, Jon. This is the trouble and beauty of human nature. Who better than you to understand.” >>
This phrase seemed to douse him with cold water then. And it’s true, who else but him should understand this.
Life is both reality and mystery. Life is infinitely broader than just various chemical compounds of matter taking one form or another. Life is something incessant, life is an unquenchable fiery drink that connects one form of matter with another.
Everyone thinks that his life is priceless until there is a life more valuable than his.
And Jonathan’s life is unlikely to be long.
And now... now he’s just staring at her somehow melancholy, rather, he’s looking not at her face, but straight into her soul.
"Thank you." He whispered in some pitiful tone, catching a surge of tenderness.
"Wow. What is this for?" She raised her eyebrow smugly and smiling.
“It’s just... for helping.”
She didn't answer anymore. She raised her hand, gently touching his hair, running her hand through it as if testing the waters. He gave in slightly to the touch, like some kind of cat.
Jonathan propped himself up on his elbows, still looking expectantly.
"Well?" she asked.
"Maybe... a kiss?"
"You know what's different about you from other people? When they really want to kiss a girl..." she leans closer, her tone teasing. "They go ahead and do it." She said before first carefully and then more confidently entwining their lips together.
"How much do you know about others?"
"More than I would like..." This time she initiates a kiss, from which he almost pulled away due to the effect of surprise, but she held his head with her hand.
"There's room to grow." She left her comment, returning to her original position.
"Now what?"
"Don't you want to sleep?" she asked. He rolled his eyes.
"You know what I mean."
“What else could it be? Isn’t the fact that I still haven’t run away from you because of all your weirdness the highest degree of love?”
He sighs, catching the smell of cigarettes again.
The time is approaching morning. They stand on the roof of the house, blown by a cold wind. The city is perfectly visible, but the damp and cold wind feels terribly unpleasant.
"Sorry, but in my opinion this is not a very good place to stand. There is wind, fog... and cold. And this world is not so good to admire." The girl says somewhat upset.
The wind makes it difficult to light a fire to light a cigarette. And so they returned again to the sickening city, in the areas of which the terrible stomping of devilish rats was always heard, tramps fought for a piece of bread.
"Why don't you leave?"
"Funny. People like me belong here." And it was true. Girl made a living as best she could, until and after meeting Jonathan. Mostly robbery and prostitution. All human vices are gathered here. That includes her.
These people will not have a happy story about how a little girl was left alone in a big unfamiliar city, without understanding the language and the situation in which she finds herself, and ten years later she already has a family and a stable job. Or a typical little nerd who endures bullying not only at school, but also at home, eventually achieves heights in medicine and becomes a world-famous scientist.
No.
They were both slowly going crazy in their own ways. Even now, standing in the fog on the roof of a high-rise building, they are going crazy. Slowly, slowly. It's very quiet outside. You can’t hear the laughter of passers-by, or the sound of cars passing along the highway, nothing. It’s as if the fog below has swallowed everyone, leaving only yours as survivors. And the two of them were silent too. Either there was nothing to say, or I simply didn’t want to talk.
The car in which they were sitting was moving along empty roads towards a small 24-hour cafe with cheap fast food.
On the way they saw ambulances. Someone probably had an accident. Now no thoughts of death entered Jonathan's head. He just sat with his head leaning against the cold glass.
She doesn't eat anything. He says no
appetite. He just takes black coffee, which is not so much of a choice these days.
Later he'll taste that cigarette-flavored coffee on her lips, but for now they're having the usual conversations about old times as they stand in the empty parking lot. Empty space, empty world, only they are sitting in a car in an equally empty parking lot.
They rarely have such revelations.
The conversation again flows into the mainstream of the strangeness of existence.
Smoking kills. If you smoke cigarettes, does it mean you want to die?
Why is suicide a sin? After all, there are people for whom everything is so bad that death no longer seems like something terribly painful, but becomes the most pleasant thing of all. Maybe people become angels, but The Girl joked that if she did die, she would become an imp. They have no place in heaven, that’s why they live in hell, moreover, they have become an integral part of it. And they created this hell themselves. They are their own hell. She, Jonathan and his second personality.
The first drops of rain burst out of the fog, seeming to be signs of life in this dead silence.
Now their hands are intertwined together.