Neliarax
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Chapter 3 — Friends Are A Luxury
🕑 Added 2025-08-09 15:42:23 +0000 UTC109 Rue Saint-Lazare, 75009 Paris
There are five people that are extremely important in my life. People that I had the chance to meet. To interact with, and to have a relationship with. Friends that I would never replace. And, the saddest part is that I ran out of their lives. Because I was afraid of being a nuisance.
Axel. Jean-Baptiste. Romane. Maëlle. Basim. If only I had the strength to stay.
I could see two of them from where I was. I leaned against a pole. Trying to catch a breath. My head felt dizzy, and heavy and the lack of oxygen wasn't helping either.
From there, the distance between me and them was not that far. They hadn't seen me yet, and that was probably for the better.
Jean-Baptiste. He is, was, my best friend. Someone who shared so much in common. Slightly younger than me, mixed-race, dreadlocks. Athletic build. Green eyes, and caramel skin, he was also very handsome. His fashion sense was pretty good. Hoodie and trousers, and the jacket tied to his waist. Always had his wallet with him, and countless bracelets and rings on his hands and arms. A real charmer, always able to seduce and flatter the ladies, without having the need to be a narcissist or a dick about it.
JB for short, was an artist and was extremely talented in drawing, and painting, among other things. He was a bit of an idiot, in a way, he didn't care about his own well-being, or the consequences of his actions, or the results of his decisions. He didn't really have any ambition, and wasn't interested in anything except drawing.
And Tho—Basim?! What the hell is he doing here!? Well, not in a bad way. Of course. It is not that his presence is unwanted, it's just surprising. Axel and JB were always together and I am fairly sure that I spent the day with them, not Basim. But, maybe I misremember, or, perhaps, it was the influence of the Author. It was the most probable explanation.
Well, Basim, a young man. Tanned and fit. Black short hair, brown eyes, an olive complexion. He was the son of an Egyptian and a French woman. Even if he wasn't from Paris, originally. He was from the city of Alexandrie, but moved to France when his father got a promotion in his work, and transferred him to Paris. White shirt, beige jeans, a brown belt and shoes, a golden watch. He wore a chain and a pendant around his neck, and a bracelet. Simple clothing that didn't matche his not so simple personality.
He was...the occult guy. Obsessed with tarot and fortune telling, mysticism and the paranormal, the spiritual and the esoteric. He had a huge fascination with the unknown. Which, in a sense, is a quality that is worth praising.
I checked my phone and saw that JB was calling me. Without thinking twice, I answered.
The waves hit the rock that is my heart, the cold water washes over me and drowns me, pulling me under the surface. What a painful sight, it feels like the entire world has fallen silent, and is waiting, expecting something from me. But what can I say? I am not sure. Words escape me. I want to scream, shout, or cry out in happiness and frustration.
"Yo. We'll be waiting for you at the usual spot. You have 30min to prepare yourself, and then come meet us at Saint-Lazare. Don't forget, and don't be late. If you are, we're gonna drag your ass here ourselves."
"Is that so?"
"Yep, that's right, bud! Now get ready. We have a lot to celebrate!"
If this is all part of the story that the Author has planned, then that means that there is no way that things can turn out for the best. I have no idea how the Author's writing style is, or his preferred genre. Is it action, romance, horror, fantasy, or science-fiction? Does the Author prefer a tragic ending, a happy conclusion, or a bittersweet finale? In that case, I have no clue, or idea.
I hung up.
I was, am, and will be, in a constant state of paranoia, fear and dread. That's not healthy. Not at all. In the slightest, or the remotest. "If I were to write a book, I'd have written one, where I'd be able to enjoy the world."
I sat down, on the bench that they were occupying, and chuckled at their expressions of disbelief. Both of them were looking at each other and then at me, in a confused manner.
At this time of my life I always did the route in about 15min, I also was always late...Be it school or anything, in fact, even my birth was late by a few hours. So, yeah. Punctuality wasn't my forte. But this time, I was there. In advance, in fact. I was there before the scheduled time.
"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes!" said Jean-Baptiste. "You've never been early before. Did hell freeze over?"
"Yeah, no. It was, actually," I replied, and gave him a high five. Then, I did the same to Basim who returned it and smiled. Though, there was something in his gaze that made me uncomfortable. A hint of suspicion. Maybe he understood something about my current condition?
He wasn't an idiot and neither was JB. Honestly, it feels like he knows something as well. About me. Something that they shouldn't, and couldn't know. At least, that's the feeling. Maybe it's just the paranoia kicking in. Yeah, probably. Better to keep quiet about that stuff, anyway.
"So, why did you want me to come over?" I asked, pretending to not be aware of the reason, which is obvious, given the circumstances and the situation. "Also, where's Axel?"
"Well, to celebrate, of course!" said Jean-Baptiste with an excited tone and expression, a broad grin on his face and his teeth showing. He was very handsome, but his facial expression and features made him seem less so. "And, Axel is busy, so he couldn't make it. It sucks that the bastard ditched us. Tho, he'll come by your place tonight."
"Celebrating, huh?" I sighed. "Yeah, that's great, and all, and it's not like I don't appreciate the gesture, but..."
"But?" Basim tilted his head to the side, raising his eyebrow, and giving me an odd look. "It's not like you have a choice, ———————."
Interesting, it sounds like static. So, even when someone else is saying it, it doesn't sound normal. The effect of the Author's editing. How interesting, and terrifying.
We'd hang out, play video games, and generally goof off. Just being silly, having fun. Doing stupid shit that would get us into trouble, and, occasionally, getting caught in the act, and getting in trouble, because of the mischief we'd cause.
But, as the years went by, we grew apart. I became more introverted and withdrawn, and less willing to spend time with them, or anyone else. It wasn't intentional, or anything, I just lost interest in the activities we did together.
Nah, it didn't really happen gradually; I simply shut them out, and then, left without a word. They probably tried to reach me several times. Yet, the truth is that, I changed my phone number. I blocked their emails. Blocked them on every platform. Every social media that exists, or existed. And, I avoided every single attempt they did at contacting me.
It's not their fault, it's mine.
"How about we go then?" I stood, stretching myself. The bench wasn't comfortable in the slightest. The weather is too warm. I can feel sweat dripping down from my forehead. Gross. Disgusting, and annoying. "Though, Basim, I'm writing something...I have that character whose name was erased by some eldritch force. Any idea how he could recover his true identity?" Might as well ask the occult expert, instead of wasting hours pondering and wondering.
JB slapped the back of my head while Basim tilted his head, thinking. Then, he spoke.
"Insight."
"Come again?" Insight? What's that supposed to mean?
"There's this concept, called Insight. Basically, it's what governs your understanding of what's beyond the world that we perceive. Think of it like a sixth sense, that helps you to perceive and interact with supernatural beings, or entities. If you increase it, you will eventually gain the ability to comprehend things that are normally incomprehensible, like an ancient god or the fabric of reality itself." Basim explained.
His expression was hilarious, to the point that my usual gloomy mood dissipated and was replaced with a genuine laugh. Which is something that hasn't happened to me in months. My laughter echoed through the empty streets and a couple of passers-by looked in our direction. Noticing this, Basim blushed. JB snickered at him, and laughed as well, clapping him on the back.
Looking back, why couldn't I muster the courage to stay by their side, to live a life, like everyone else, a boring one. But a meaningful and joyful, and a peaceful one. Why couldn't I do that?
We walked through the streets, passing a few people, mostly teenagers and college students. Most of the adults were working.
I saw a reflection in a puddle—a crow. But there were no birds above. Just the sound of feathers and something laughing beneath my skin.
This is going to be an awful birthday.
I opened a can of mango juice that I bought on the way here and drank a sip. Then, another. And another, and another, until the can was empty. Once that was done, the conversation started.
The first question that was thrown at me came from JB. As usual, his questions were straightforward, blunt, and to the point, lacking subtlety, and tact. He was always like that, since we met.
"So, tell us. When are you going to go out with Romane?"
I didn't expect to hear that. It caught me completely off guard. My eyes widened and I looked away from him, I...
"I..." I began to stammer and fumble over the words. Damn it, stop that! Get a hold of yourself!
"Yes?" He leaned closer, his face only centimeters from mine. "Yes? You're gonna do what? Mhm, mhm! Come on, tell me." His breath reeks of tobacco. I pushed him away, and threw the empty can of mango juice at his head. "Ow!" he cried.
"Serves you right." Basim said. Then, his attention turned to me, and his expression became serious. "So, when are you going to ask her on a date?"
"What is this? An ambush, or something?" I asked, a little bit irritated. Then, I added: "Listen, guys, I appreciate the support and concern, and everything, but...it's not that simple. And, besides, it's none of your business."
They looked at each other for a moment. Exchanging a knowing look that was clearly saying 'we've heard this excuse before, let's give him another lecture, shall we?' They are both the type that won't shut up once they've set their sights on something, and won't stop pestering me until they get their answers.
"Like hell it isn't." Jean-Baptiste said, and crossed his arms. "You know, man, she has the hots for you. And, you have them for her. You two are meant to be, that's a fact."
I could've asked her out, and maybe, she would've said yes. However, I doubt it would've lasted, or worked out in the long run. Besides, I am not the best partner. I wouldn't be able to treat her right. And, if...
"Listen, guys." I paused for a moment, taking a deep breath and looking at them. "Don't...bother yourselves with my issues. Okay, just don't. There's nothing wrong, I'm perfectly fine. So, please, leave it alone. Also, stop asking me about Romane. Seriously. I'm sick of hearing that question from you, all the damn time." They were still silent and unmoving, so, in a low whisper, I added. "...Please."
"Why not?" They asked in unison. And, their stares made me uncomfortable, and nervous.
"Don't you start talking in sync, you two." I snapped, and rolled my eyes, before sighing in annoyance, and massaging my temples.
"We're not doing that," Basim replied, shaking his head. He seemed confused by what I had just said. Or rather, the way I acted. Probably wondering why the sudden outburst. It's not that strange, is it? Everyone loses his temper occasionally. "Why not, ————?"
"You know, for an aspiring writer, you sure have no clue on how relationships work." Said JB. His comment annoyed me, but he wasn't wrong.
"For an aspiring artist, you sure suck at drawing, don't ya?" I spat at him, and he chuckled, scratching the back of his head.
"The only one who's allowed to insult my skills is me, thank you very much." He threw the can at me, and I threw it back at him. We did that for a good minute or two, and, at the end, he threw it to a trash bin and scored.
"Showoff." Basim commented, and I agreed with him on that.
"Why not just go for it? Worst case scenario, she says no. Big deal. You move on, and that's that. That's it. Nothing bad happens. But, what if she says yes? That's a whole new chapter in the story that's called, ——————'s life. And, that's an opportunity you shouldn't waste. Don't be shy, dude. Go get her. Make her yours. If not now, when?"
Basim put himself between JB and myself, I guess that he sensed that I might have been a tad too stressed and angry, at the moment. Insight, huh? Is that something real, or is that just some occult bullshit that doesn't actually exist, that he read on a forum, or a subreddit, or somewhere on the dark corners of the internet.
"You're loud, JB, shut the hell up already, you're making me want to bash my skull open on the nearest wall," I told him, and sighed. "...Also, she isn't some trophy to win, a prize, or a thing that you own. Seriously. Now, drop it. I'm not...interested"
That was the truth. Whether in this life or the next, that ship has sailed, and is long gone. I am not interested. At least, that is the facade I will maintain.
Even if I could change the past.
I was 29. And, she's what? 16? If memory serves me right, her birthday was a few days before mine. Meaning, that's the case. She's 16. Whatever, I was a grown adult and thinking about that makes me feel sick.
Yeah, let's say that. The main plot is the priority. Everything else is secondary, or a distraction. Distractions aren't needed, nor welcome.
"I can see that you're conflicted, man," Jean-Baptiste continued, and his tone softened.
I was about to answer him, however, he wasn't done speaking, and I was taken by surprise at the sudden seriousness that he expressed in his voice and facial expressions.
"But, trust me. She won't let you slip away that easily, ———————, and, even if you try to distance yourself from her, she will come to find you. Like a lion chasing its prey." He had a sad, melancholic smile on his face, as he looked at me, and then at the horizon.
If you knew the truth, the whole, unfiltered, uncut, and untampered truth, about the situation that I'm in, and the mess that we're all in, would you still tell me the same, JB?
No.
"Whatever. Anyway," Basim chimed in and wrapped an arm around each of us, and grinned. A mischievous, evil, cunning grin, like that of a fox, and a snake. "It's about time to head to Madame Horloge."
Thanks, Basim. I'll buy you some occult weird stuff as a way of repaying that favor of yours. You've no idea how much that means to me. A welcome interruption, to an otherwise, awkward and unwanted conversation.
Something caught my eyes in the reflection of a building, something that wasn't present around us, or behind, or anywhere near our vicinity.
There, like a figure of a black smoke, the silhouette of a tall, lanky, and thin, almost, emaciated humanoid entity, was there, and it, or they, whatever it is, had their arms wide, as if wanting a hug. A jester's mask obscured its features, but the mouth moved, and, although, no sound was produced, the words that it formed, and spoke of, were unmistakably clear to me: Happy birthday, hypocrite!
My heart sank. Fear was coursing through my body, as the adrenaline rushed to every part of me, waking me from a state of mind that was previously dull and tired, to a heightened one, ready to fight or flight.
The feeling of being exposed, of having your deepest secrets revealed, and of having the truth thrust in your face — without warning, or mercy, or any chance to prepare. The author was here. I was right. He's watching. Us. Me. Them. All of us. We are his entertainment, a mere plaything. A toy that, can, and will be discarded when broken. Torn. Ripped apart.
Shut up.
"Are you okay, dude?" JB's hand waved in front of my face, breaking my line of thought, and bringing me back from the depths of my thoughts and fears that plagued and consumed my psyche.
"D-Do you see that?" My voice was a whisper. My breath hitched. Cold sweat dripped down from my forehead, as my eyes widened in fear and dread, and I could sense the familiar taste of blood on my lips. Blood, that wasn't from a nosebleed but from a bitten tongue.
"Hmm, what? Where, eh, there's nothin'." Basim followed the direction of where my index finger was pointing. I looked in the reflection of the shop's window, and the jester's image was gone.
I took a step backwards, and the two of them stared at me. Their faces showed concern, and worry.
"Nah, forget about it. Must've been a trick of the light." Though, I was clenching my teeth with such force that the enamel creaked, and was close to breaking under the strain. My knuckles were white from gripping my fist. The pain was real. The fear was real. Yet, I hid those feelings.
"What's wrong, man? You're acting weird." JB sighed.
I take a glance at Jean-Baptiste, he is smiling but for some reasons…his smile is strange to me — it feels like someone is forcing him to do so, and he doesn't seem to notice the subtle difference, or perhaps, his attention has drifted elsewhere. At his side, Basim is staring at the window of the shop, the place I saw the entity in. But, he is not focusing his attention on anything in particular. Rather, he seems to be searching, scanning the surroundings, looking for clues, and hints. Anything, to explain the phenomenon that I witnessed.
Let's just smile, the more I smile, the more they'll think that everything is fine...everything's okay. No, that isn't true. But, I have to keep up appearances, and lie.
Lie. Lie. Lie. Keep on lying to myself, and to the world. Just keep on lying, until the truth can no longer be distinguished from my fabrications.
"Alright, let's go to Madame Horloge." I smiled. The act made me cringe internally. I have to stop. I don't want to do that anymore. I am a grown-ass man. What am I doing, why am I still playing pretend?
Though, isn't that what we humans always do?
Pretend, and wear masks, and costumes, and play roles, in a theater that's called life. As Shakespeare said: All the world’s a stage,
and all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts...
As strange as that sounds, that was the name of a store. It was a weird, tiny, little corner, around there. In the middle of nowhere.
I took a small glance at Jean-Baptiste, he was smiling but...his smile was strange to me — it felt like something was pulling his muscles and his facial expression, to force him to do that. Yet, his attention, and his mind, have wandered off, and were in a state that I couldn't quite put my finger on. At his side, Basim was staring at the shop's window.
Anyway, the woman that owned the shop was called Madame Horloge and she named the store after herself.
It was a book and antique shop that was filled to the brim, and to the ceiling, with all sorts of old things, from books to trinkets to tarot cards and a myriad of other occult paraphernalia and, to be honest, I found that place fascinating and intriguing. Something always felt...off. And, different, whenever I stepped inside. It had a bad vibe, and the owner was a creepy bitch. At least, that's how the guys described her. She was always polite and courteous towards me, always genuinely interested in whatever topic or conversation we engaged in, and she gave great advice, too, in retrospect.
—16 Rue De Rouen, 75019 Paris, 8th May 2012, 10:29
That's where that damn shop is. Hidden between a tattoo shop, and a bistro. That's the location.
JB was the first to find that place —his art school was nearby and he frequented that neighborhood, often. So, it was a no-brainer. He had to know the place. The street. The shops. And, everything that's around him. We didn't really have a reason to go there, or a goal. We were just curious. Then, one day he spoke about it to Basim who got excited and asked to visit. To which, he replied, 'Hell yeah, sure, buddy.' We went, and, then, it became a regular thing for us to hang out at. Mostly during the weekend, or whenever we had free time and were bored and didn't have shit to do.
The three of us were into a bunch of RPGs, and tabletop stuff. D&D, Pathfinder, Shadowrun, Shadow of the Demon Lord, and a ton of other things. And, the store had a pretty big selection of many things. Including a few rare and obscure titles that were hard to find.
So, whenever we had a chance, the three of us would visit that place, and browse the shelves, picking up anything that looked interesting.
There were many rooms in the building, and each room had a theme. There was a room for video games, another one for comics, and yet another one for toys and figurines. Each section had a specific style, and the decorations were carefully selected to match the aesthetic. Tarot cards, ouija boards, and various occult paraphernalia were prominently displayed in the windows.
Honestly, it's not just an antique and book shop at this point but she never advertised that to outsiders or people that weren't in the know.
A lot of the items were handcrafted, and the craftsmanship was excellent.
They looked more like some sort of fantasy relics from another dimension rather than mass-produced crap. The owner was an expert on these things. She was a true collector. An aficionado. A connoisseur of the arcane. And, an eccentric lady, who, despite being in her 80s, looked, and behaved like, someone who's in their early 20s.
In the center of the store was a large, circular table, covered in a black cloth, with a crystal ball at the center, surrounded by a variety of tarot decks. This particular area was dedicated to divination, and was filled with all kinds of different ways to read your fortune. A sign hanging from the ceiling above the entrance to the room reads "Divination and Fortune Telling".
Worse is that Madame Horloge, the owner often said to not open the closed doors, they were off limits and that some were dangerous. Which is a really dumb thing to tell a bunch of teenagers, because of course, the second they hear that, that's exactly what they're going to do. Curiosity killed the cat, and all that. But, we never did. We were too chicken, even if it was tempting. Especially, since she kept telling us, in a rather aggressive way to not touch certain books, or trinkets. As far as I can remember, I didn't. But, the others...
"Yo, — — — — — — —." JB snapped his fingers in front of my face. "You're spacing out again, bro. Are you sure that you're alright?"
I blinked and shook my head. "Ah, yeah, sorry. I'm good."
Basim held the door open for the both of us. And, gave me a slight grin, when he saw me enter. I smiled back at him, and tried to ignore the feeling of dread and unease that was slowly creeping in. Everything is fine.
