|The Chinese Venture
||[Jul. 16th, 2006|11:06 pm]
They were happy people. |
But whereas Peter's happiness came naturally and effortlessly, Kun's came as the result of a fierce and impassioned struggle. You could see him wrestling himself over it everyday, propping up his conscious with a root beer (real beer if he could get it) as the alcohol-free regions of his mind planned his next attack, usually with whatever lucky (or possibly unfortunate) girl happened to walk by at the time. When he was happy, it didn’t have the simplicity or cleanliness of someone who had spent their life content. Kun's happiness was wild, passionate, terrifying.
Unlike Peter, whose happiness, even at its most intense, was pleasant because he shared the light with the room, Kun's seemed to darken it, taking the light and gathering it around himself until he, standing there in perfectly rumpled clothing, head tilted, eyes narrowed, lips flowing with debauchery, was too wonderful to look straight at without shading your eyes. He must have had something amazing in him, girls would sigh, because although his passion seemed the temporary takeover of some marvelous Greek god --as if it had been Zeus seducing them not as a bull or swan but as an equally enrapturing teenage boy—it was unquestionably something that belonged to Kun.