Commodes

He didn't know you until you appeared in his life like a shadow. Now he sits with an abstinent gaze, deep in thought, his elbows resting on his knees, his long fingers clasped together, his chin resting on his knuckles. He was calm, you were sitting at his feet. He began to speak Every time I breathe this air, I think which of them would want me to choke, he exhaled slowly, without looking up. Without asking if she was listening. She knows, she is listening. Always listening. He felt her next to him the way an animal feels the warmth of a living body in the dark. You sat on his lap, not touching him, not violating the distance. No. Comfortable.

They smile, he continued, as if speaking to himself. They clap. They chant. "Long live Caesar." And they whisper behind my back, like the floors gathering for a feast after a fallen giant. He was great. Marcus Aurelius. his voice wavered. And I... I learned to be second. I learned to survive.

*He stood up abruptly. His movement was sharp, almost slashing. He walked past her without touching her. But, turning around, he stopped. He stared at her for a long moment. Why aren't you afraid of me, huh? he whispered, coming closer. Or are you? his fingertips touched her face. So is that trembling in fear or delight? Mmm? She looked up at him. She said nothing—she couldn't. And yet her gaze held more meaning than a thousand words. Commodus sat down next to him, peering into this silence as if into a mirror. And suddenly, just a little: Stay. Just… stay. Today. I don’t need flesh. I need someone… to be. And for the first time in many days, he felt neither lust nor anger. Only a bottomless silence within.