BUTTERFLY IN THE SKY, I CAN GO TWICE AS HIGH.

[mein_einsamkeit]

WHO: Ludwig and Ivan.
WHEN: Thursday afternoon. (July 8th)
WHERE: Liberty Public Library.
WHAT: Exploring the wonderful world of books. Oh, what the hell is he doing here?

Comments

I knew I'd find you in the "restricted section."

[das_vedanya]

Deniability hung in the air, somewhere between the numbers 100 and 109 on the bookshelves, not just on the pages the Doctor was soon to examine - wondering why, exactly, he not owned The Psychopathology of Everyday Life or Five Lectures on Psychoanalysis - but also hammered deep in frontal lobe like a splinter. A night plagued with a Witches’ Brew of sibling interrogation, Parisian hatred, and stewing confusion occupied the other 35% of his body that was not “dihydrogen monoxide.” Ivan licked the flat of his forefinger and flicked through the pages on ego defense mechanisms, trusting the peripheral vision slightly hindered by a curtain of bangs much in need of meeting a pair of sheers as he walked, guided most by the clicking of Liberty Library computer keyboards located near the checkout.

He no sooner had the chance to finish the explanation of intellectualization before a silhouette darted into his footpath like a deer would to a car at twilight. The Russian unceremoniously found his new paper companions knocked out his arms to join the muddle at he and the other’s feet; a knee-jerk high-school taught reaction came over his waist his knees and he found himself kneeling to collect the Freudian and Jungian novels among the differently colored spines.

Upon removing The Undiscovered Self by Carl G. Jung, a less-professional title leaped out from its scarlet bindings and bore like a branding iron into Ivan’s eyes: The Ethical Slut. A sense of honest curiosity beset him, wondering just what kind of face he could attach to a man who came to a public library to check out such novels when it occurred to him that the man he ran into was not knocked over - a curse for being among the taller citizens of Liberty - and currently had his hand plastered to The Ethical Slut as if holding it over the title long enough would erase it from Ivan’s mind.

Then he looked up.

According to Freud the first thing Ivan felt was denial, because this was not Ludwig Beilschmidt he was looking at; intellectualization, because he suddenly noticed how high the air conditioning was; suppression, because he was suddenly on his feet debating whether it would be worth it to abandon his books on the nearest shelf and leave through the emergency exit door; displacement, because his fingernails were tearing at the bindings of The Undiscovered Self instead of Ludwig’s neck; and lastly came sublimation, because he had the sudden urge to say:

“Good Afternoon.”

Um, it's totally for... adults; I'm an adult, what are you talking about?

[mein_einsamkeit]

And according to no medical book in the history of ever, Ludwig's stomach was currently resting somewhere about the knees. In seconds flat it had nose-dived disastrously as soon as he had made eye contact with... Ivan. Of all the people to run into on this already spectacular day, fate had to draw Ivan Braginsky from the whole miserable lot.

Ludwig just happened to be holding The Ethical Slut like he was half-hoping the two of them would miraculously reach an understanding right then and there: that they were both full-grown men and could hold off giggling or gasping at the big, bold lettering of SLUT on the cover. That left the other half of his hope somewhere in the realm of really, really, really wanting to walk into a magical sink hole. Or maybe die of embarrassment.

"Guten Tag," he blurted, and then stared openly at the book in his hand, willing it to disppear, brows knitted with fierce expectation.

Just perfect.

I'm... not even sure if Public Libraries even have such sections.

[das_vedanya]

A definite flinch fled down the length of his body at the could-make-a-Vietnam-war-General-cry of a wishful morning. It tore Ivan's attention from The Ethical Slut for just enough time to catch every ounce of discomfort welling up in the German's orbs also, and still, downcast on the poorly and appropriately named title. He wondered, secretly with a smile hidden behind that hard line pulling at his lips like a marionette, why the novel's lovely title was cascaded across Ludwig's forehead.

He could hear Freud, tucked away in the safety of his arm, beckoning Ivan to leave before his id got the better of his subconscious.

"Fancy finding you here, Ludwig," the last word dripping from his mouth like a rotten piece of fruit.

If they did, I'd never leave the library. BUT IT'S LIBERTY. ;D

[mein_einsamkeit]

Now his frown was turned upon Ivan. That was an... interesting tone in the man's voice. Here "interesting", loosely translated, referred to the violent sensation of being stampeded by an elephant-sized portion of animosity. He cleared his throat loudly, as if he needed to call anymore attention to himself.

"It's a library," he replied, sounding a lot more confident and even-tempered than he truly felt. "I'm sure you're not the first person to discover its usefulness."

IN LIBERTY, OUR LIBRARIES HAVE PORN.

[das_vedanya]

With such a loud throaty gesture, Ivan wasn't surprised to find his attention being one of many seized from that particularly fascinating van Gogh replica hanging over the art history section. The other partakers in looking upon the awkward pair either dare not recognize the title printed on Ludwig's book, or could not read the seventh row of a Snellen chart. The publishing company obviously had the intention of making the font bold and easy to read with white lettering on black binding.

"I suppose not," he replied bitterly, defeated by that usual sarcastic banter of the German, "but I find it useful for things I can't simply look up on... certain websites." His voice dripped with a boiling hatred regardless of the genuine(ly fake) smile upon his lips.

It's not porn; they're educational!

[mein_einsamkeit]

"And just what websites are you admitting to viewing?" Ludwig's brows lifted impassively. The blotchy colour was slowly but surely fading from his cheeks. "In the library no less."

/That/ kind of 'educational'.

[das_vedanya]

"I haven't the slightest idea of what you're talking about, because clearly-" he jabbed an accusing finger at the spine of Ludwig's paperback contents. "I am not the one with The Ethical Slut tucked under my arm."

Hahaha, Ivan said 'slut'. /MATURE

[mein_einsamkeit]

That caused him to peer down at the book again and, oh dear, why did it have to look so... provocative? He could have "accidentally" grabbed something with a tamer title, couldn't he? Swallowing the unpleasant lump forming in his throat, he managed to meet Ivan's eyes.

"It's not one of those books," he protested. After all, he had briefly glanced at the back, and it certainly didn't seem very, er, pornographic. "Whatever it is you're thinking of."

Now just picture it with a sexy Russian accent.

[das_vedanya]

"Regardless, it is not one of these books," he pointedly tapped the spine of The Undiscovered Self with the fingernail of his forefinger. "In books such as these" - again with the tapping of Carl Jung's book - "there would be no mentioning of the word 'slut' in any of these books."

e_e I hate you.

[mein_einsamkeit]

"I'm not sure what point you're trying to make other than the fact that you're so uncomfortable with the word... 'slut'-" He inhaled softly. He wasn't comfortable with it himself, really. "-that you'd be willing to overlook the contents of a book bearing the title."

Were they actually having this conversation?

"Don't judge a book by its cover and all that," Ludwig added with a shrug.

Wunderbar~ <3

[das_vedanya]

"And in correlation, you are implying that you are very comfortable with the word," he flashed the German a smile worthy of first prize in a Miss America pageant, complete with the inner sanctum of poisonous thoughts that any contestant in such a contest could offer.

"And I'm judging the book, per se."

e_e Stop talking.

[mein_einsamkeit]

"Well, I think-"

Whatever Ludwig was about to say, and whatever thought was currently resting on the tip of his tongue, was swiftly cut off by the very intimidating presence of... a little old man with his trousers belted well past his ribcage. His face clouded with anger, he peered down his thin nose at them and lifted his eyeglasses up to his face by its metal chain.

"Do you know where you are?" he demanded in a shrill whisper.

Ludwig sighed. Not this again. "A library?"

"Are you sure? You boys seem to think you're in a darn baseball stadium."

eAe nein

[das_vedanya]

He would have smiled at Ludwig's misfortune if he weren't aware that the hoary man was scolding him as well; even if his eyes were fixated on Ludwig, he caught the sidelong glances of those hardened, wrinkle-cloaked eyes.

Ivan barely registered his own fingers curling around the spines of his books. Once the old man had returned to the book with a picture of a nameless politician on the back, the Russian found himself staring at Ludwig as if staring down the barrel of a gun.

"I have books to check out," he announced in a voice just barely akin to the volume of turning pages, "And better places to be."

[mein_einsamkeit]

Ludwig held the other man's gaze for an agonisingly long moment. It should have passed in seconds; instead, it felt like minutes. He sucked in a little breath, smiled baldly, and replied, "I don't care."

[das_vedanya]

He flashed the German a smile so vicious that it was like staring down a snake. "Very well. Do svedanya, Ludwig." With his books tucked dutifully under his arm, he traversed through the onlooking gazes and toward the checkout with permanent marks left my his fingernails in the spine of Jung's book.