Title: An Isolating Age
Author: Kait Sudol
Disclaimer: They belong to the estate of Jonathan Larson. I'm making no profit.
Summary: connection in an isolating age
Rating: PG
Notes: Letting You Go Free universe.


An Isolating Age

The rain was falling hard. There was only one cab, and the three looked at each other haltingly.

"Where are you going?" the man asked.

"Phil's Pub," the woman replied.

"Me too," the boy said slowly, giving the woman a strange look.

"I just need to get wasted." The woman nodded knowingly and held the door open. The man slid in and she followed, the boy bringing up the rear.

For a rainy evening the bar was crowded. The saw a small table in the back and snatched it up, sitting with each other. It was hard not to want to bond after the strange cab experience before. The odds of three people in New York City on the same corner hailing a cab for the same place were astronomical.

They ordered quietly.

"Wasted," the woman mused.

"Guy trouble," the man replied.

"Same here."

"You go first." The boy watched as the two strangers interacted as if they were long lost friends. He was young and had yet to learn that romantic problems link the world together.

"He was an actor. Beautiful. We never would have lasted long. We loved each other, but...you know the type." She left it at that, looking up as the waiter placed their drinks on the table.

"I do," the man mused. "We were wonderful. He was wonderful. Rock musician, but gorgeous, not grungy like the kids go for these days. It was raw and wild and passionate. We were each the other's oxygen, craved touches, whispers."

"Know the feeling," the woman said.

"We were perfect but he's gone and my life is empty."

"What went wrong?" the boy asked, speaking up for the first time since the cab. This was all foreign to him, love and lust and need... he was barely 18, too young to be in the bar but old enough to dare to enter anyway, even without his fake ID.

"He left. I said that."

"There has to be more," the boy insisted. "What happened? Why are you empty?"

"I fell in love," the man shrugged with a wry smile.

"Ouch," the woman replied. The boy shuffled in his seat a little, frowning.

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"Not with guys like him," the man said.

"They have a tendency to leave," the woman added. The man met her eyes and they shared a long look. *Two of a kind,* their eyes said to each other, bonding further over their loss.

"Why's that? Don't they love you back?"

"More than anything," the man said solemnly. "But they're afraid."

"Afraid you'll leave them."

"Afraid they'll leave you."

"Afraid to be in love." Silence. The man and woman exchanged tired looks as they sipped their drinks.

"Doesn't that hurt?" the boy whispered.

"More than anything," the man replied quietly.

"You want to die," the woman said. "But you're afraid to because you're afraid he might come back."

"And you love him too much to let him come back to the loneliness you live in."

"Don't you hate them?" the boy asked in awe.

"Never!" the man and woman said vehemently.

"You could never hate them," the man murmured. "You love them too much."

"He's your world, even when he's not there."

"And it hurts so much...but you can't stop loving him. You can't hate him. The only person you can hate is yourself." Another long silence. The woman flagged a waiter and ordered a shot. She threw it back without hesitation and then ordered two more, another for her and one for her new found companion.

"It's beautiful, though,' the man murmured dreamily over the top of his glass. "When you're together... it's worth the pain. Because everything is so much clearer and brighter...and even bad things aren't so bad. You can lose your house and car and life but one look at him and that doesn't matter to you anymore."

"It's like the world is a new place," the woman agreed. "Cheerful. Even rainy days. They're the best, almost."

"Why?" The boy was watching them with wide eyes.

"Because you stay inside together," the man answered, sipping his beer. "You cuddle and count rain drops and the entire world fades away until all that's left is your apartment."

"Or you go out and run," the woman said. "Through the rain drops, I mean. Holding hands and jumping in puddles and kissing under soggy trees."

"They kiss tears away like raindrops," the man murmured distantly. "He sees you crying and wraps you in his arms and suddenly it doesn't matter anymore. Whatever you're crying about. Because he kisses those tears away and holds you so close..." His fingers unfurled for a moment, a hazy look passing through his tearful eyes. The waiter left the shots at the table. He curled his fist violently and slammed the liquor back in one fluid motion.

"You want to hate them," the woman said softly, brushing the single tear on the man's cheek with a grainy bar napkin. "More than anything else. But you just can't."

"Especially on days like this," the man said, looking up and getting silent consent from the woman before taking her shot too. "Because all you can seem to think of are the fights."

"Fights?" the boy inquired. "Even though you love each other?"

"Because you love each other," the woman laughed. "Over silly things."

"Laundry."

"Weather."

"The morning paper."

"The dirty dishrag."

"Love." The man's voice was so blunt the boy could feel it. The woman nodded to him.

"Love," she repeated.

"You argue about love a lot."

"Why you love each other, why you hurt each other..."

"If you should be together after all."

"But because you love each other, the result is always the same," the woman said with another tired laugh.

"What is it?" the boy asked curiously after a moment of silence.

"Kisses," the man said.

"Tears," the woman added.

"And love. Passionate love. Grinding and holding and moaning until you're both in tears from the depth of it all."

"Until you clutch each other and sob the other's name in unison."

"Until you drift off into sleep with his tears mixing on your face and yours on his." The boy watched the two in front of him, both suddenly looking weary and empty.

"It doesn't look like it's worth it," he muttered, mostly to himself. They both snapped to life before his eyes.

"Never say that," the man said.

"Never!" the woman insisted. "Every minute..."

"Every breath that you share..."

"Every kiss and every squeeze and confession..."

"It's always worth it."

"Always,' the woman said firmly. "This..." She gestured between the man and herself. "This...pain. Is worth it."

"Because when you're with him," the man continued. "You feel complete. For the first time. You realize that something has been missing all these years. And it's him. It's in him."

They finished their drinks in silence before ordering another round. Those were silent too, but comfortable silence. It's hard to follow soul bearing up with talk of the Yankees, even if you do live in New York City. They watched instead, watched the rain and patrons; watched each other and their glasses as the alcohol slowly reached the bottom. There was a silent agreement. Two rounds and they were gone.

The man stood up first, brushing off his sweater and putting on his coat. He lay money on the counter, kissed the woman on the cheek, and left. The woman was next, laying down some extra cash without even realizing it before throwing the boy a smile. She squeezed his shoulder on the way out. His eyes followed her, lingering on the frosted plate glass until long after her blurry form had drifted from sight. He looked away only when he felt the phone in his pocket start to vibrate.

"I just had the most beautiful discussion," he whispered into it, his eyes closing unconsciously, unaware and uncaring of who was on the other end.

"Oh really, with who?" The boy's eyes snapped open as he let the question flow through his mind. He didn't even know their names.

He never would.

.end.


Comments to kait@frowl.org