Re: quicklog: atticus/matt
[Knew Janus had seen some shit. Knew Steve liked people who were hard to like. Those two thoughts were actually linked in Atticus' mind. Janus was hard to like. Steve had understood Janus in a way Atticus never had. Atticus and Janus fought like an old married couple. Was possibly hard to imagine Atticus fighting with anyone in his current state, but managed it just fine on most days.] Villains are separate. Can not be heroic and not be a villain. Can be normal. [Atticus, himself, was normal. Lazy. Not a hero. Not a bad guy. Was how he categorized himself.] Think heroes deserve notice. Don't think it's right to lump them in with the likes of me. [Seemed unfair. There were endless miles between himself and Steve, for example. Men like that required their own category.
Atticus' smile wasn't very different when he wasn't buzzed. Still lazy. Still languid. Still not very concerned with his surroundings. Old dog, and Atticus wasn't interested in learning any new tricks.] Not a tool. Tools don't make decisions for themselves. Going to say you don't, but you're here, which means you do.
[Didn't move when Matt returned his arm to his sleeve, but did drop his hand.] Not a writer. [Wasn't.] Everyone's not a writer, Kerouac. We don't all have stories to tell. [He'd tried writing. Like everything else, he'd been too lazy to see it through. Atticus was a consumer, a talker, a teacher. Wasn't a writer.] I collect. I build a story for people who want to learn about writers. I flesh them out. Make them as important as the words they put on their pages. That's me. I make sure people don't forget. Kerouac died in his 40s. Internal bleeding from years of alcohol abuse. Was a merchant marine. Had dementia praecox. Was losing his mind slowly, ever since he was in his 20s. Was honorably discharged. Was sitting in a chair one day writing. Drinking whiskey and malt liquor. Started coughing up blood. "Stella, I'm bleeding." Last thing he said. Was awarded Doctor of Letters degree after he died. Went to Columbia.
[Which was all easier than talking about the vampire.] Don't want to talk about him.
[He didn't.
He waited.
Atticus wasn't the kind of man to proposition anyone. Drunk or sober, he wasn't that man. Was a reason he'd made it to 40-plus without having sex. The question hadn't been a proposition exactly. Long way from kissing to sex. Supposed he should be pleased Matt considered it. Chuckled when the other man talked about pulses and eating. Was a smooth rejection. Was grateful for that. And so began and ended Atticus' career as a maker of moves. It made the drunk man shake his head. Inside joke.
Matt stood. Gathered blankets like a mother hen. Atticus laughed. More rumbling in his chest. Could use another drink, but it was too much trouble. Supposed a nap would do.
Matt leaned down, hair across his face. Atticus looked at him a moment longer, then rolled onto his side.] PJ comes after work. Can leave. Won't freeze. Won't starve. Won't die. Too lazy to die. Dying takes dedication I don't have. [He turned his head, intending to look over his shoulder, but was too much work. Closed his eyes instead.]
Good kid. Don't be so hard on yourself. Room for more than one hero in a story.