Lacrima: Chapter Eight
Loneliness
Konrad and Catherine broke off and fully ascended the steps to go their separate ways. Bae waited on the staircase, watching Lucille and Job speak. The cold seeped into her. She shivered - her clothes still wet.
Lucille came up first. Her fine dress trailed behind her, as she made her way to Bae. With soft eyes, Lucille nodded to her. “Do you need someone?” she asked.
“You mean to talk?” Bae’s voice quickened as the words rolled from her mouth. Nerves got to her. “T-That would be nice… With everything going on-” Lucille lifted a finger up before rotating the hand to an upward palm.
Bae accepted and allowed Lucille to lead her.
“I’ll say it again,” Lucille started, “You did well. Just retrieving his body was a good deed.”
“Thank you, I just…” She mustered a smile, but it broke apart into a puckered grimace. “Let’s talk about something else. You don’t mind if we continue talking?”
“Of course not!” Lucille patted Bae on the chest. Her fingers lingered on her pectoral. And Bae found she didn’t mind the touch at all.
The pair went to Lucille’s private bedroom. Bae stopped right as she walked in, having to acquaint herself with the space. It was the usual guest bedroom, but Lucille had obviously taken the time to make it her own. Lucille had dimmed the lights, making the room feel more real than the more starkly-lit rooms of Lacrima. A typewriter sat on her desk in addition to a jar with pens and pencils. Holstered in a cage-like holder, a few journals also made their home atop the desk. Envelopes were tucked in a slot within the holder. Little knick-knacks surrounded the writing implements. A plush frog here and a pinned butterfly in a glass frame there. Her open closet displayed Lucille’s eclectic taste in clothing: vintage blouses, dresses designed for fae courts, and ironed vests. Blue dominated the color scheme of her wardrobe. Black and white posters of scenes of Hell adorned the walls. Lucille noticed Bae’s attention lingering on the decorations.
“Gustave Dore,” Lucille said. “These are his pieces on Dante’s Inferno.”
“Are you more a fan of the art or the book?”
“Both,” Lucille laughed.
“Ah.” Bae thought of a way to respond, but found herself lacking. She turned around and sat on the bed. Remembering the dampness of her clothes, she snapped back up.
“Bae,” Lucille cooed, putting a hand to her shoulder. “You can sit down. I don’t mind.”
Inhaling, Bae sighed as she lowered back onto the bed. Her new friend cloaked her in a blanket, sealing Bae in a warm cocoon.
“I want to check on the others,” Lucille said, approaching the door. “I’ll be back.”
“Pl-” Bae drew the word out before meekly cinching it into an: “Okay.”
Lucille Azure nodded before disappearing behind the closing door.
Bae’s teeth chattered. The spasm traveled through her body. She stared at the door. Consecutive seconds dropped away as she rubbed her hands together. Her own warmth wouldn’t be enough. It never could be enough. Bae spaced out, no longer looking at any given door or object or corpse. Outside became a blur and left only her.
It’s happening again.
First, it was my family.
Then, my band.
Even Daniel has started drifting away.
I just got here.
Not again.
It always ends the same.
Me. Alone.
“Bae.”
Bae gasped through her clenched teeth. Lucille seemed to have materialized from nothing. More likely, Bae just didn’t notice her walk in and sat back on the bed. Not saying anything, Bae calmed herself down as Lucille looked at her.
“What do you want to talk about?” Lucille asked.
Still dazed, Bae stammered a “Huh?”
“You seem like you want to talk,” she pressed. Lucille nudged herself closer, putting her arms around Bae.
Bae shook her head. “Sorry, I don’t want to talk about what happened.”
“That’s fine.” She shrugged. Flippantly, Lucille threw herself back on the bed. Then she patted the space next to her.
Bae stalled before scooting up and leaning back. They laid together. Lucille stared at the ceiling, so Bae did as well. She just noticed the ceiling tiles: a gray just a tone darker than the floor. Her eyes blinked a few times. Bae looked back at Lucille. The young writer looked enchanted by the plain ceiling. Her chest lifted and lowered with her deep breaths. Calm. Grounded. Bae nudged herself closer to Lucille. Lucille’s body heat radiated off her and suffused into Bae. Their arms interlocked.
“I don’t know what I want to talk about,” Bae answered.
“That’s also fine,” Lucille reassured. “We could just stay here for a little while.”
“I’d like that.”
Bae closed her eyes. The adrenaline slowly flushed from her system. Argus’ death-mask faded from recent memory and fell back into the vaults of her mind. She felt her heartbeat return to equilibrium. Her whole body gained a steady, easy rhythm. Here, she didn’t worry about others or about the self-judging eye turning inward. Bae, for a moment, found what she was looking for at Lacrima.
She didn’t sink. Bae Yuri floated.
Lucille’s finger wiped the underside of Bae’s eye.
“You’re crying.”
The moment passed away. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Lucille cooed. Bae finally opened her eyes again as Lucile used her free hand to trace Bae’s bicep. “What got you into working out?”
Good, Bae thought. A distraction.
“A number of reasons,” she said, her voice still subdued. “Did I mention I was in a band?”
“No?”
“How much do you listen to K-Pop?”
“Not a lot.”
“That’s alright. Not that you would’ve heard us.” Bae let herself laugh coldly. “We were called LOCO-MOTION.” Her hands spread out as if the words appeared in the air. “All caps. Dash between the O and the M.” She cleared her throat. “Our manager grinded one album out of us: Conductor: Love. It wasn’t as big of a hit as they wanted.” Bae paused again. She remembered that meeting. When their manager and a few suits, in an intrusive, yet plastically polite barrage, told them all their supposed flaws.
“You’re not all in sync. Don’t you all like each other?”
“Have you seen how the others do better than you all? We can replicate that, but we need you girls to cooperate.”
“Bae, I noticed you gained weight. Is the diet not working?”
Is the diet not working…
“Yeah,” Bae said. “Kinda a flash in the pan - I believe the saying goes. For our second album, the whip came down harder. Part of that was getting us to be skinnier or ‘petite’ as our manager said was the ideal. I ate ice. Just ice.”
“No…” Lucille said in disbelief.
“Yes. I heard another idol doing that, so I picked it up.” Bae chuckled again. When framed like that, her worries were humorous. Still, the imprints burned her mind. “I would chew on ice as I walked on the treadmill between rehearsals.”
“That can’t be healthy.”
“Oh, when you’re fainting and barely able to crawl to the weigh station, you’re deeply aware you’re dying.” Bae then remembered that woman. Shoulders like pauldrons. Back muscles forming a proud grin. Vascularity which tightly gripped her limbs. “When I was on the treadmill, I noticed people coming in and out. There was one patron of the gym. I would watch her walk in with this oversized hoodie and carry around a belt. Her physique struck me first: a woman could look like that. I was stunned. It didn’t help that she had a confidence to her. She spoke with regulars and strangers, striking up conversations as easily as snapping one’s fingers. Then, I witnessed her pound out deadlifts and bench presses like it was her birthright. I wanted that. I craved it.” Bae rolled onto her side to face Lucille, wrapped up in her words. “So, I quit the group and struck out on my own. All I needed was a guide. That woman: Song Cha. She ended up becoming my mentor.” Bae slinked back instinctively. “Sorry, I spoke too much.”
“No, you didn’t.” Lucille closed the distance. Their limbs came together in a deep cuddle. “You haven’t spoken enough.”
“That’s a lie,” Bae replied. “I prattle on.”
Another thing my manager would tell me, Bae remembered.
“You’re telling me who you are.” Lucille gripped Bae’s hefty shoulder. “And I’m interested. How is that prattling?”
Bae replied with a smile. She didn’t want this to end. She thought about going back to her room. With no one to laugh with, Bae knew all would have left is the void. The deep impression her experiences left on her. The envy, the constant criticism beyond and within, the constant wheel of desire. Bae would have to bear that weight again. Alone.
“Hey,” she said, nervous. “With everything happening, I’m a little anxious to just go back to my room.”
“I can imagine.”
“You wouldn’t if I stayed a while.”
“Not at all.” Lucille giggled. “You could even sleep in here.”
“That’s a little more than I bargained for!” And she didn’t mind it whatsoever. “How could we get another bed in here?”
“Who said we couldn’t share a bed?” Lucille cradled Bae’s face. A bright flush came to that face. Bae melted into Lucille, letting her take all of her.
The bed felt warm. Voices quiet. All that remained was the dull patter of rain against the window.