hi i changed the title of the story from "lie to me" to "self-destructive empathy"

~

Rehearsal.

As a child, my parents had always told me "practice makes perfect." Of course, that philosophy does hold some truth to it. The more adjusted and "well-prepped" you become towards a certain craft, the more simpler it becomes. Additionally, the more practice you receive, the more opportunities you'll have to fix your mistakes (or at least spot them).

When your parents say "practice makes perfect," they [probably] don't mean shoving all your practice sessions into one day. A practice should be extended on a day to day basis, not rushed. Nothing could prepare for the shit-storm that's brewing in my mind, however.

I've been panicking in my car for the past ten minutes. It's unnecessary to worry this much about getting a book from a bookstore, as well as practice what you're going to say in front of a librarian that you may or may not have offended. It's a mental handicap of mine to excessively worry to the point in which I cannot properly function. Ty says it's stupid and I should get over it, but I can't. I'm just the type to think too much.

I'm not really the risk taker type. I try to avoid things that will cause me to go into crisis mode, such as rollercoasters, grocery shopping, or getting gasoline. Of course, they're usually inevitable and I'll just have to get over it (Ty would eventually mock me and repetitively say, "I told you so!").

I want to exit out of this car and get the deed done, but my body physically won't let me. My mind is screaming at me, telling me to rehearse just one last time. That last time turns into two, then three, then four. It'll keep going and I'll eventually realize that I've wasted my time contemplating over an issue that could just be easily solved. Just open the damn door, Brice!

I muster all the courage I have left in my body and pull against the car door handle. It's nice to step outside and feel that cool breeze against my sweaty body. I shut the door and bolt across the street, hoping I won't get hit. I'm not good at walking across streets either, my timing is usually horrible and I nearly get run over half the time.

I'm standing in front of the glass doors that lead into the library. It's either now or never, and I'm choosing now. I pull the door open, but oddly it won't budge. I pull at it again. No, this doesn't make sense, the door should have opened if I pulled it. What if they're closed? What if Seto saw me coming and—

Oh.

It says push.

Breathlessly, I push the glass door open and walk inside. It's exactly the same as the last time I had came yesterday. It's excruciatingly hot, especially since I'm wearing double layers. I don't know why I expected anything to magically change once I had waltzed in, it's a library for fucks sake!

I head towards the front desk. Anticipating the same brunet probably reading some book in the computer chair, I'm pleasantly surprised to see his sleeping figure. His head is planted against the desk, propped up with his own arm as a pillow. His body is somehow even more relaxed than it previously was, and he's drooling a bit. There's a small puddle of saliva on his desk and it's staining his pastel purple sweater.

I stare at him with bewilderment for a while. Honestly, it's astonishing how he can sleep on the job like this. I mean, it's a library so it's quiet enough to do so, but when you're the only employee expecting loyal patrons, aren't you suppose to be awake at all times? His sleep schedule must be really fucked up if he's choosing to snooze near lunchtime.

I continue staring at him for a while, contemplating on whether or not I should wise him up. It would be rude if I did, he's obviously lacking sleep. But, he is at work after all and he shouldn't be sleeping in the first place. Does he really want to get fired?

"H-How long have you been staring at me?" He stutters as his eyes flutter open. I feel my Adam's apple bob. Shit, he caught me. My face burns with embarrassment and my hands are shaking. I shove them into my hoodie pockets in an attempt to act casual.

"Not too long," I tried to keep my calm composure. "I didn't want to wake you up so I just waited."

It seemed he fell for the lie. He sat up properly and stretched. Oddly, the bags under his eyes had gotten darker. It's strange to me. Again, I'm not the one to judge someone's sleeping patterns. Collectively, we both sigh.

"I guess you're the one looking for The Catcher in the Rye, right?" He questions, pulling out the book from a drawer under his desk. It's the paperback copy I've been scouting for.

"Yeah, how did you—"

"After you left, Bonkerz called me again and ranted about 'the mysterious blond with good fashion sense.'" Seto says between chuckles.

I'm speechless, "Then tell her I said thank you...?"

"Why did you go to another city, especially one that's four towns away, to get a book?" He questions, sliding it towards me.

I felt my throat dry up. Just like you practiced, Brice. Don't let all of that rehearsal go to waste, you practiced what you're going to say. C'mon, it's not hard, open your mouth and say words!

"I was in that town for the day because my cousin invited me over. I mean, you can't say no to family," I shrug, still keeping on the façade of my calm composure. He nods his head as if he understands my situation.

"Well, alright. I guess that makes sense," he mumbles under his breath, "I thought you were trying to avoid me or something."

I look at him guiltily. Great, I've put on a bad impression. If I had known he felt this way, I would have came here first. It would have saved me a lot more time, as well as gas.

"Hey, are you okay?" I ask with concern. He's resting his head against the desk again and drifting back to sleep.

"It's just the tip of the iceberg, don't worry about me. You have a lot of things to have concern about within your life since it's going to be long," he smiled up at me. It's a pathetic smile, one that's almost thrown out there.

I wasn't following along. His mouth was just emptying words that had no meaning in the first place.

He stiffens up in the realization of what he said, "Forget what I said. Do you need anything else?"

Clearly I've already forgotten.

"No, not really," I say monotonously. "I've got my phone now, do you still want my number?"

"You still remember I asked for it?"

"I mean, you asked yesterday, so I figured I should bring my phone today..."

"Well, sure I guess."

I pass him my phone and he inserts his number into my contacts. He put himself as Seto, followed by a lot of purple emojis. I laugh, putting my phone away. "I'm guessing your favorite color is purple?"

"Spot on. You could be a good detective."

I roll my eyes, "Very funny. I'll be on my way since I have things to do. I'll text you once I get home or something."

He smiles at me, this time genuine, "That'd be great."

With that, I walk out the door feeling like a champion. If I lived through this, I can practically do anything at this point. Maybe I can get gasoline without stuttering, or order something at Starbucks that I've never tried before. It was only one simple task, but it feels amazing when you accomplish something that you've been dreading. I enter my car and decide to go for gasoline first.

I always hated getting gasoline. I didn't like the smell or the long lines that would await me. I also didn't like loitering there because at any moment, something could go wrong. Maybe a stray bullet into the machine, or a car crash. Whatever the case may be, it'll end up in flames. Overall, fire gives me bad vibes.

So, I ask the guy to fill up the tank in my car and he does as so. Efficiently, I may add. The bill ends up being fifty bucks, which I paid with my credit card. Looks like I'm not getting Starbucks.

Money is a strange thing. It can dictate our opportunities, options, and everyday tasks. Money seemed to always be a universal issue for society, whether you can't afford college tuition or food.

I recall a time where my parents weren't too sure on where to send me for college. Computer engineering seemed like the best option. It was barely affordable for them, but it was close to home. However, I had already registered for art school in the states. I got a scholarship from a university that was in the East Coast. My parents had no other option but to send me there.

It wasn't really a tearful goodbye. I just got on the plane and left Australia, it was as simple as that. I didn't know what to expect when I arrived in America. They say it's the land of the free; the land of opportunities. Yet, it's more of the land of "wages and work." I mean, it's like that in every country, but still. I had higher expectations, but they crashed down like my income.

I also left Shelby in Australia. We've done a long distance relationship once, we figured we could do it again. However, with different time zones and school going on, it was impossible to Skype. We slowly drifted apart, and just like that, she's gone from my life. It's been six years since I've left behind my parents and my ex-girlfriend, but I'm surviving.

Barely.

I should really be paying attention to the road rather than the events that occurred in the past. I head back to the apartment complex, hungry for food. I park my car in the parking lot, then head inside. It's not smelling like skunk yet, but the carpets and seats are stained with brown. I scrunch up my nose in disgust as I head towards the stairwell.

"At least you're not the one cleaning it up!" A voice shouted at me.

I roll my eyes and jog up the stairs. I figured I could just broil some salmon. I bought pre-made salmon from the store; it's seasoned and everything. All I needed to do was heat it up in an oven, or in this case broiler. I head for the apartment door and unlock it with my keys. I step inside.

Ty won't be home for another two or three hours, so that gives me peace to work on some commissions. I recall someone wanting a sketchy fruit bowl, so I headed back into my room to grab a canvas and my art supplies. Holding everything in both of my hands, I headed towards the dining room table and set everything down. I totally disregarded that fact that I was hungry and needed nourishment. Maybe I'll eat when Ty gets home.

I take out my phone from my pocket to search up a reference photo. When I enter in my passcode, however, I'm met with Seto's contact information. I blank out at the amount of purple emojis there were. Yet, something clicks in my mind. That's right, he gave me his number earlier. I think about texting him, but I decide not to. He might be asleep after all.

I proceed to google a reference photo and begin to work. By the time Ty's home, I'd be finished with two, maybe even three, commissions. Now that's how you spend time wisely.