Lately I've been taking a philosophical approach to aromanticism and I've come to the conclusion that it is the prime example of the fact that anything that humanity believes in can be contradicted in some way. Romantic love is believed to be the most universal thing ever, the ultimate goal, the most beautiful thing to exist, and yet aromantic people still exist. We don't feel that way. We are the contradiction
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Rest Stop
Written for the prompt ‘rest’ for @steddiemicrofic
387 words / rated T / pre-slash
Recreational drug use
There’s a rest stop on the decommissioned road a little ways out of Hawkins. It’s not a lot of anything, a tin roof over a picnic table, but Steve likes it. Thinks of it as ‘his’ spot, even though Tommy H told him about it. But it’s a good place to be alone. To, well, rest.
And, sure, Hawkins is full of places like that, quiet, empty places, and alone isn’t something Steve likes to be that much, but nights like tonight…
He sighs, tips his beer to his lips. It doesn’t hit him often, but when it does, it’s a restless itch; he can get away from Hawkins, from his house, his job, his nonexistent love life, but he can’t get away from that feeling. Out here he gets close, though.
Tonight, his solitude is short-lived. Footsteps make Steve tense, and a deep voice cuts through the night: “Steve?”
The tension drains; Steve turns. “Hey, Eddie.”
Eddie blinks. “I found you.” He scratches his head, nods at the table Steve’s sitting on. “Mind if I…?”
“It’s a free country.”
“So I’m told.” Eddie’s lips quirk; he sits beside Steve, pulling a joint from his jacket. He waggles it; Steve nods.
“Why were you looking for me?”
An orange flame sparks from Eddie’s lighter, catching the end of the joint. “I wasn’t.” Eddie takes a drag, gives the joint to Steve.
“You said you found me…”
“Don’t have to be looking for you to find you.”
Steve shakes his head. “All right.” He takes a hit, relishing the pleasant buzz, passes it back.
“What brings the valiant Sir Steve out here?”
“I like the quiet.”
“That a hint for me to shut my yap?”
“No.” Steve knocks their shoulders together. “I like listening to you talk.” Why did he say that? He doesn’t really care. Huh.
Surprise flickers over Eddie’s face, but it settles into something pleased. “Good.” He winks. “Because I have plenty of stories to tell.”
After a few moments, Steve says, “Well,” waving his hand, “go ahead.”
Eddie’s eyes sparkle; he starts talking, gesticulating wildly, and Steve realizes the restlessness is gone. Maybe it’s the weed. He’s pretty sure it’s all Eddie.
Okay. Something to look at later. For now, he basks in Eddie’s voice and the easy, restful feeling of being near him.
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Listen I don’t know how to articulate this in an eloquent way but remember that part in sunflower vol. 6 “I dont want to make you feel bad, but I've been trying hard not to talk to you”? It’s like he’s saying I’m trying to protect your solitude but it’s hard, first of all because it’s not something you just know. You have to learn how to create a space where two people in a relationship still feel like they’re their own person, if that makes any sense.
Secondly, because it is a contradiction, if you think about it. Being a couple, being in a couple automatically deletes your solitude state, unless you seek for it, unless you ask for it.
Third, it creates uncertainty when you’re young and in love and you have all these feelings inside your chest they might as well just explode out of your lungs, you want them, you want to be with them (let me inside, wish I could get to know you) and it doesn’t matter how many years have passed since you first got together. There will always be this perpetual urge of belonging to someone that pushes you to just be around each other all the time, to know what’s happening, to worry about them and to take care of them. It makes you paranoid and insecure to know they asked you to wait for when they’re ready to not be alone anymore. It takes a lot of patience and growth and trust to just let them be and live on their own, you know? It’s probably the most selfless act of them all, even when that’s not what you would want (my eyes want you more than a melody, I couldn’t want you any more/I don’t want to be alone in golden).
And I could go on and on and on about how well this concept fits his entire discography.
I could mention Satellite’s «You got a new life, Am I bothering you? Do you wanna talk? Spinning out, waiting for ya to pull me in. I can see you're lonely down there. Don't you know that I am right here?».
Or Daylight’s «you got me cursing the daylight»
Or Canyon Moon’s «I’ll be gone too long from you»
Do I have to mention Adore you? ALL OF IT? Alright, I will: «You don't have to say you love me. You don't have to say nothing You don't have to say you're mine, honey. I'd walk through fire for you, Just let me adore you»
In conclusion, loving him is the antidote, solitude included.
[Such a huge development from Sweet creature’s «I always think about you and how we don't speak enough» by the way]
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I ask myself what I will do here on earth with this worthless, defiant body. And I hear my body answer:
—What will I do with this spark that believed itself the sun and this breath that believed itself the wind?
Dulce María Loynaz, tr. James O’Connor, Absolute Solitude: Selected Poems; “XXXII”
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Ensign Vanto had entered his cabin.
“Ensign,” Thrawn said. “You disturb my solitude.”
Thrawn (2017) p. 194
okay dracula
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