Sugar, Secrets and Upheaval

Annie, after hearing the 'touchy' comment, uncomfortably walked away from the threshold. She pulled out documents one by one from her sleek black bag, extending them to Levi with a hesitant hand.

Holden, was also interested in the bag, but for completely wrong reasons. He was rummaging for… chips.

“Annie… where are the snacks?” he mumbled, his voice thick and slurred, his fingers fumbling against the bag.

“Uhm… at the big section, not there,” Annie said, her voice strained, as she reached past his outstretched hand to open the correct zipper. While this bizarre scene was unfolding, Levi, a pen in one hand, a blunt in the other, was dissecting through the highly-sensitive pages with alarming speed. His eyes darted across the text.

“Do I have to establish a waste disposal company? Is this the most sane method of managing this particular deficiency?” Levi started, his pen tapping impatiently at the top margin of a financial report.

“Sir, my primary function is administrative support. Waste management falls outside my purview, unless you're referring to… ‘this’ situation?” Annie said, her voice tight with professional restraint as she pointedly gestured at Holden, who was slumped back on the couch, happily eating chips.

“Please, as if I do not know you both shamefully consume illicit substances behind my back. I am quite wounded that you would insult my intellect with ‘this’,” Levi retorted, making a sweeping gesture back at Holden. Gods, the pettiness of this man was endless.

“No, sir, I wouldn't… I just meant… I didn't mean anything by 'this,' I assure you,” Annie stammered, her eyes darting between Levi and Holden.

Levi, meanwhile, was engrossed in the documents, either signing them with swift strokes or discussing them further with Annie, occasionally casting a look of severe disapproval at Holden. Well, the business talk had begun, and frankly, I was bored. I hadn't even managed a single sip of my coffee because of Levi being a rude bitch to Holden, then making me shiver with his chilling coldness, so I went to the kitchen and brewed myself a fresh cup, all over again.

From the kitchen, I could still hear Levi and Annie, their voices a low drone, discussing the ‘waste’ budget once more.

“Isn’t Annie so smart, sir?” Holden asked, his voice thick with a genuine awe, echoing slightly in the living room.

Levi and Annie both stopped. The clink of Levi setting down his pen was audible, followed by synchronized turning of their heads towards Holden.

“Gods… Does he always get like this when he is stoned, Annie? What exactly is going on with him?” Levi asked, his voice sharp.

“H-He…” Annie stammered, unsure how to articulate the situation without further displeasing Levi.

“Admit it, Annie,” Levi pressed, as he leaned forward slightly.

“He gets talkative, usually,” Annie admitted, her shoulders slumping slightly in resignation.

Levi rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he muttered, his gaze already sweeping back over the budget documents laid out before him. "Just explain to me why we are incurring such significant expenditure for… water disposal. Did we not install advanced water purification vats, approximately…” he said, his fingers flickering through the pages, pulling up a specific report, “...twenty months ago?”

"That's correct, sir. The vats handle most of it. But certain highly corrosive or volatile waste streams from the research labs still necessitate external, specialized disposal protocols due to their unique composition," Annie explained, her finger tracing a line on one of the files.

“I am obviously aware of that. My questioning was over the ‘budget’. Why does this company charge us this much for one metric? It is inexplicably high compared to other equally adequate services,” he said then paused. His eyes unfocused slightly. “Ugh… Wait… My… brain… is getting slower…” he mumbled, and started to blink slowly.

The blunt finally hit Levi. In the middle of this? Not when he was talking about ice cream, or his misanthropy, but now, during a budget review? Whatever, I was just observing, not even inserting myself into the conversation anymore. I calmly took a long sip of my fresh coffee.

“The… summer season, lay offs?” he mumbled, the words dragging, each syllable an effort. He was actively trying to fight the haze that had suddenly descended upon him, his brow furrowed in concentration. I guess he was trying to connect the price with the disposal company’s policies.

"That's a different line item, sir. This expenditure is purely for the safe and legal elimination of the most hazardous byproducts from the lab, irrespective of the disposal company's seasonal staffing," Annie clarified.

Levi blinked slowly in return, his eyes struggling to focus. “Ugh… I don’t like… this…” he mumbled, a genuine note of discomfort in his voice. “Speak… slower.”

Holden, his previous oblivion shattered, suddenly perked up. His eyes, still wide and glazed from the cannabis, fixed on Levi. “Are you gonna fire us, Levi? After spending a decade together?” he asked, his voice thick with profound sadness and complete despair.

What the fuck? A laugh, which I instantly shut off by pressing my lips together, escaped me.

Levi, seemingly oblivious to Holden's emotional distress, simply groaned, his brow furrowed in a battle against the haze. “Ugh… Shove something… in your… mouth Holden… Annie… tell the thing,” he slurred, gesturing towards the documents.

“The thing, sir?”

“The… thing,” Levi repeated, then groaned again, shaking his head slightly. “Thing with…” he stopped, utterly dumbfounded, the thought escaping him. “Ugh… call that… garbage…”

"Do you mean the disposal manifest, sir? The document listing the waste type and quantity for legal transport?" Annie pressed, her voice slightly softer.

“What? No…” Levi snarled. He was trying to point, but his hand waved vaguely in the air. “The… company… the… garbage… company…” he stammered, unable to form a full, coherent sentence.

Well. Who knew? It was both funny and kind of hard to witness. I calmly took another sip of my coffee.

"The disposal company, sir? Is it about their quarterly invoice?" Annie asked again, her voice a little more hopeful this time, a sliver of light at the end of the muddled tunnel.

“Yes… Finally… Gods…” Levi said, his eyes a little wide, blinking slowly as if seeing clearly for the first time in minutes. "Is this what… you guys… feel? It’s… static… blocking,” he mumbled, pointing at his head.

He actually thought this was what it was like for us, all the time?

"Not quite, sir. This is more of a temporary cognitive impairment due to the… substance," Annie clarified, staring pointedly towards the half-smoked blunt in the ashtray. "Our baseline thought process is generally more linear."

“Line…” Levi echoed, blinking slowly as if trying to connect the sensations swirling behind them. A strange expression crossed his face. “Gods… What am I… feeling? Is it… sadness? I feel… something…”

“What? You feel sad?” I asked, a little—no, very curious.

“Ugh… I definitely feel… something… I do not know what it is,” he mumbled, his wide eyes fixed on his own hands, turning them over.

He can’t even know what he feels, even if he does feel it, does he? Because… he rarely, and it's a big 'if,' if he even felt it before.

"You're actually asking what sadness feels like?” I pressed, a pang of sympathy stirring within me.

“I… maybe? It is…” He placed a hand flat against his chest, right over his sternum. “Does it… feel… in your chest?” he asked, utterly bewildered, as if pointing to a foreign object within himself.

Gods. He was genuinely confused. It wasn't an act. It was heartbreaking, in a way, to see such a brilliant mind so bewildered by something so fundamentally human.

"Yeah, Levi, that's usually where it hits. Or your gut. Or your throat. Welcome to the full-body experience of emotions."

“I am… not… joking. I feel… something… but… maybe it is not… sadness?” he asked, mostly to himself. Which made me see I was also being kind of a cold bitch, responding with my usual sarcasm to his genuine bewilderment. So, I turned to Annie, who was watching her boss with confusion and a little sympathy.

“I think he’s out of commission for today, Annie. You should leave,” I said, trying to infuse my voice with a softer tone.

“Y-Yes, sir. He seems so,” Annie agreed, her gaze shifting to Holden, a little sad but mostly adrift in his own haze. She hesitated, then asked, “Do you want me to take him, too?”

“Yeah, that cookie monster, no, leave him. I’ll take care of him.”

Annie then started to gather her files. She left the untouched tub of ice cream she’d brought on the coffee table. After giving us quick, polite nods, she slipped out the front door, leaving a slightly less acrid scent in her wake.

Levi was experiencing a weird… trance? Not exactly a trance, more like he was trying to decipher the alien feeling that had gripped him. He was still staring at his hands, turning them over, his brow furrowed in intense concentration.

“Raphael… I feel… bad.”

Bad?

He couldn't even name the nuances of the emotion. It almost made me laugh again, but there was a fragility in his voice that stopped me.

I approached Levi, and sat next to him on the plush couch. “Talk to me, yeah? What do you mean by bad?”

Levi slowly looked at his laptop screen, then rubbed his wide eyes, trying to clear his vision enough to read the document. “Ah… It is… cognitive empathy… amplified,” he mumbled, the words dragging. He paused, then his gaze returned to me, still clouded. “I feel… bad.”

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“You feel sad for Holden? Or… something else?” I asked, probing gently.

“Maybe…” he said, his gaze drifting towards Holden’s crumpled form on the couch. “Maybe… I do… I cannot explain it.”

He was trying, though.

“But why do you feel ‘bad’?” I pressed.

“I… do not know. Maybe because I think… I did something bad? Maybe because I was rude? Maybe this is not sadness… it is self-reproach? I truly do not know… I think… I was… bad?” he mumbled, the last word trailing off into a questioning whisper, his eyes wide and searching.

“Wow, I think the Gods are going to smite us, you thinking you did ‘bad’? I’m glad you’re recording it, you know, I’m gonna make you listen to it tomorrow,” I said, a dry chuckle escaping me.

Levi didn't give a single fuck about my sarcasm. “Maybe… I should focus on the moment? I feel… bad, Raphael… As if I… did something… bad…”

"It's not about 'focusing on the moment,' Levi. It's about how your actions affect other people. That 'bad' feeling? That's your brain finally trying to tell you that," I said, my voice firm, trying to cut through his drug-induced haze with a dose of harsh reality.

“Gods, Raphael, how is your perception this small? Cannabis did not magically grow mirror neurons in my brain. It is not like that,” Levi retorted, his voice still slurred but regaining a hint of its usual dismissive edge. He waved his hand vaguely, almost as if trying to swat away my perceived ignorance. “I can easily dismiss my very diminished spectrum of maybe seven emotions, and I can’t right now. I can’t dismiss… sadness? Disappointment? Or even worse, heartbreak? I do not know what I feel… It is… bad.”

"No, it's not mirror neurons, it's called being uncomfortable. You are acknowledging the ones that already exist, and a little amplified, maybe,” I said, trying to simplify it for him.

“Maybe…” he murmured. “Gods… It is… so bad. Like touching something sticky, and not being able to wash it off. I do not… like this. Ugh… I do not enjoy this…” he said, rubbing his face vigorously with both hands. “And I can see that my cognitive capabilities are also diminished slightly… I do not… want this at all,” he finished, a note of frustrated despair.

"Yeah, it's not exactly a pleasant ride when your brain decides to go off-script, is it?”

“Ugh… It is so… different then opioids… So different. This is… static, this is… bad…”

Oh. Shit. He rarely, if ever, openly talked about his opioid use. Also, I was honestly quite a virgin about drugs and their sensations, so I truly had very little idea what he was even trying to compare this to.

“Okay…” I said, my voice a little tight. “Try something to eat, maybe? The ice cream Annie brought? Or cookies?”

“That would be… nice,” he mumbled, a little silent, still trying to quantify his feelings, I presumed. I reached out for the cookie jar on the coffee table, took one, and extended it to him. He took a small bite right out of my hand. Well, at least he didn't give me the same touch-aversion reprimand he'd given Holden.

Speaking of him, Holden was now fully napping, utterly content with chip crumbs scattered all over his face and shirt.

Don’t people usually, I don’t know, enter into a state of bliss? Why was Levi wrestling with sadness, and not even exactly a sadness I could understand. I kinda understood Holden; he was sad because Levi was being an asshole to him, so he removed himself from the emotion of it all and chose the safety of slumber. I leaned into Levi’s laptop, where I saw his therapist…

“W-why is your therapist so happy, Levi?”

He looked at me, then back at the screen. “Different types of neurodivergency… He is able to feel joy… So, he is experiencing his… euphoria, where I feel like… walking at molasses,” he mumbled.

One man found bliss in the same substance that plunged the other into an agonizing self-reflection he couldn't escape.

"So, it's not just about what the cannabis does, but about what your brain is capable of doing in the first place. That's... quite the distinction," I said, looking from Levi to his therapist on the screen, who was, I noticed, very much exhaling smoke rings.

Levi snapped his fingers. “Yes… It took you,” he said, his gaze drifting towards the recording device on the coffee table, “an hour and half to understand that.”

Gods, this arrogant piece of shit, high-roading me while literally whining over feeling bad.

“Do you need to insult every single intelligence in your road? Why this pathological need of trying to feel superior?” I retorted.

He turned his face to me, his eyes blinking slowly. “Hm… I do not… need external validation, at all… It comes from… inside. I… am confident, because of that.”

He was a universe unto himself, and I was just a lesser, emotional being trying to explain basic gravity to a celestial body.

"Must be nice, being your own biggest fan. Most of us have to, you know, earn confidence from external sources," I said, feeling a tiny bit jealous over his unwavering confidence.

He took another small bite of the cookie, chewing slowly. “Not a fan… Also… it is exactly…” he mumbled, then paused, his eyes unfocused, waiting for his brain to literally put the words together. “…a fault of your neurotypical mind… Approval… Colony…”

A pathological need for external validation, like some parasitic organism.

“So, neurotypicals are one giant hive mind? Is that it?” I asked, a tiny, disbelieving laugh escaping me. I wasn't even trying to convince him otherwise at this point.

“Are you… not?” he asked, his head tilted slightly. “It is… always… same. Good. Bad. Right. Wrong… what was the thing?” he mumbled, leaning in a little, clearly struggling to recall the precise phrasing. “The… Ah… yes, societal need for perceived… goodness.”

He wasn't entirely wrong. He was just stripping away all the nuance, all the messy, contradictory human reasons for those categories. It was a bleak, utterly detached worldview, and he was explaining it with the slurred certainty of a prophet.

"You're seeing the strings, I get it. But those 'strings' are why society doesn't completely devolve into chaos. We call it morality. And, not judging, but as an amoral person, you don’t get to act enlightened about society while high, Levi. What would happen if a completely logic-driven person like you sat on the world?”

“Either a great purge, or completely automated system. Humans would… graze and breed… like the bugs they are… And, Raphael… we can see… very well when… ‘moral’ people sit on the… world.”

He wasn't wrong, again. History was littered with the horrors committed by those claiming moral high ground. But his solution... that was pure Levi. A chilling, clean, efficient dystopia.

"You're not wrong about history, but your answer is always the most extreme, isn't it? No middle ground for the 'efficient' mind. Genocide or total enslavement.”

“No, no. Not genocide,” he mumbled, and now leaned in, trying to reach for the water bottle on the table. Gods, he couldn't even manage it right. I took the bottle, twisted open the cap for him, and handed it over. He took a big gulp, then, offered me a small smile in return before placing the bottle back on the table.

“Genocide would mean… specialized,” he said, drawing a circle in the air with his two pointer fingers. “I meant as a collective. And… I am a very… meticulous person, my supposed cattle farm… would ensure… ‘happiness’. Lastly… I already committed… half genocide.”

“Yeah… You, dissolving the nobility…” I said, taking a sip of my now cold and bitter coffee. “Do you… feel ‘bad’ right now, because of your past, Levi?” The latest_epɪ_sodes are on_the NoveIꜰire.net

He turned his face to me, a little blank stare. “No. My decisions… my manipulations… were always optimized for the… outcome. They were… never sullied by… sentimentality. I did not have a rage… I had a conviction… to put an end to… ruling of the nobility, and monarchy… That is… it.”

“I… sometimes get scared of you, Levi, when you say things like that,” I confessed, the words slipping out.

He in return placed his warm hand on my cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle, and an innocent smile played on his lips. “Why would you? I have… no desire to… inflict any harm on you.”

To him, 'harm' was a tangible, physical act, or perhaps a direct, calculable detriment to my existence.

“It is not… ‘harm’ as you think it is, Levi… I get scared of what you might do, if you want to,” I clarified.

“Oh?” he mused, rubbing slow circles on my cheek with his thumb. “That is… understandable, but… I have no interest in… harming people, it does not… elate me. It does not give me… joy. There is no point…”

“Does… anything give you ‘joy’?” I asked, leaning into his touch, curious about what, if anything, could fill that void.

“No,” he stated simply. “That is highly… serotonin… bound feeling. I do not feel it.”

“D-does… that make you… feel sad?” I pressed, hoping for a flicker of something, anything, beyond his usual detachment.

His eyes searched mine for a minute. “Barely. Very… barely. Dear, I am not the fragile person… you think I am. Yes, I was an addict, and yes, I nearly committed suicide… but they were not out of… sadness. And… yes, sometimes… I feel envy, of the… easy bond of others… but I do not dwell on it.”

“I know it was not exactly the sadness for you… but I feel sad when I hear you say these things, Levi,” I said, my voice quiet.

He placed his forehead onto mine. “Shh… Dear, is it because of love? Or more… general? Pity for your fellow human?”

“Both, Levi. I do love you, and yes, I feel sympathy for you… I know you are lonely. And every interaction must be… traumatizing for you.”

Levi kept rubbing my cheek. “Dear, trauma for you, and me… are different. I only have the physical reactions of it, emotional… state is fleeting and discernible. But, it is true that I do have trauma...”

“Your body remembers, but your mind just... doesn't hold onto the emotional component, yeah?” I asked, trying to confirm my understanding.

“Hm… Am I confusing you? I thought… I was quite clear,” he mumbled, his brow furrowing slightly. “It does have the… emotional, it is… just tiny? Small? Barely there?”

“Fine, fine, I understand, don’t treat me like a toddler,” I grumbled, a little self-conscious.

He chuckled softly in return. “My Pulla, why the sudden defense?”

Oh. I guess he was getting relaxed.

“Are you feeling better, Levi? Like, proper high now, not the molasses high?”

“Hm… Maybe,” he said, shifting his gaze to the laptop screen where his therapist was in a state of pure bliss. “Not as strong as him, but, yes.”

"So, the cannabis is finally starting to work for you, just in a more... Levi-approved way?" I asked to clarify, a slight smile tugging at my lips.

Levi placed a chaste kiss on my lips. “Yes… A side effect, now I realize, dear,” he said, then placed another one. “Not euphoria, but definitely subtle elation,” he clarified, and kissed me again.

“Holden is right there,” I whispered, feeling a blush creep up my neck at his sudden bashfulness.

“Do not mind him,” he murmured, and placed another small kiss.

“How can I not mind another person, whose butt is literally inches away from yours, Levi? What if he wakes up?”

Levi simply closed the laptop. Then, with a casualness that both startled and amused me, he reached out and poked Holden’s waist. There was no acknowledgment from Holden.

“See? He is gone,” Levi said, and placed another kiss on my lips.

“At least let’s go to the bedroom or something,” I mumbled, pulling back slightly.

He pulled back fully, a flicker of disappointment crossing his eyes. “Not feeling experimental, dear?” he mused, his voice losing some of its softness. Then he reached for the lighter, retrieved the now extinguished blunt, lit it, and took three deep inhales in quick succession. “Ah… Yes, focusing on the moment, works indefinitely better.”

“Acting like a petulant kid because I rejected having sex with you, right next to your secretary?” I said, with a hint of accusation.

“Would you prefer if I kept pressing? Betraying your open consent on the matter?” he asked, taking another drag, his eyes focusing a little more intently on me.

“I appreciate that, but I was not not consenting to kissing or sex, I was not consenting to… voyeurism,” I clarified, gesturing pointedly at Holden.

Levi shrugged. “Ah… I understand, it is the shame or embarrassment. Quite a constricting concept. I can promise on your complete silence, which will not wake up Holden, or wait for me to finish this, then we will look further into my subtle elation.”

“Do you have to be so clinical about it?” I said, feeling… cold.

“Hm… Is this insecurity again? And what about the clinicality part? I offered you options, explicitly regarding both of our desired states, while adhering both to our consents… where is the ‘uncaring’?”

“Ugh,” I groaned. “Yeah, logical as always… Fine. You smoke your shit, I’m leaving for the bedroom.”

There was just no need to argue; he was right from his point of view. I retrieved a blanket from the bedroom and sprawled it over sleeping Holden. Levi gave me a look of ‘why?’. Then he took a puff again. Yeah, why make sure your secretary doesn’t get a cold? Whatever, I’m not focusing on that. I returned to the master bedroom and changed into my comfortable pajamas.