“Do you think I’m joking?”
“Far from it. Which is why I’m taking the risk.”
“Risk?”
“I told you this whole sentimental gibberish doesn’t come naturally to me.” He takes another sip of wine and stares into the starless sky in the distance.
“Then how do you intend to learn it versus merely emulating it?”
“As I’ve continuously mentioned, I happen to be a genius.”
“Intellectual IQ is worlds apart from emotional IQ. You might score two hundred on the former, but you’re minus two hundred on the latter.”
He clicks his tongue, the first sign of annoyance peeking through the creasing lines around his eyes and mouth. “I’m far more superior and efficient than fools who let their feelings dictate their actions. What’s so high and mighty about having emotions?”
“You really don’t get it, do you?” I sign without any sense of anger or disappointment. I’ve always thought of Landon’s condition in the clinical sense, or maybe as I blamed him for all the shit he keeps stirring, but this is the first time I’ve realized he probably doesn’t know anything else.
He’s never experienced any of the normal emotions many of us do. No genuine love, sadness, heartache, or anything of sentimental value.
The fact that he can emulate them doesn’t mean he can feel them. It’s why he’s lethal when he gets hold of other people’s weaknesses.
His lack of both empathy and guilt makes him the ultimate mental weapon.
It’s also why he gets irritated when forced to act opposite his nature.
“Get what?” he asks in an unfamiliar tight tone.
Landon’s strength is his ability to not get agitated or ruffled, like an ancient, untouchable god with thousands of followers.
He’s right. It’s different now.
He’s definitely trying to go against his fundamentals and it’s throwing him off. For some reason, a part inside me softens and I can’t help feeling a tinge of joy that he’s trying to act different.
For me.
Not anyone else. Just me.
I shake my head and choose to focus on something else instead. “If you want to learn emotions, I can help.”
“Oh? I thought you were a self-proclaimed emotionless bad bitch.”
“Bad bitch, yes. Emotionless, no. I just enjoy teaching those who mess with me or my family a lesson. Anyway, let me ask you.” I take a sip of my cola. “From your family and friends, who do you think of when you hear the word love?”
“What is this? Amateur therapy?” He scrunches his nose as if he smells something foul. “Why does everyone seem to have an imaginary license lately?”
“Just answer the question, Landon.”
“Mum and Dad. Next boring question.”
“Why do they come first?”
“Ever since I was young, they’ve always respected, worshiped, and taken care of each other. They’ve never had a fight that lasted more than a day. They love each other to the point of obsession, if you ask me. Too much PDA for my liking.”
“Have you ever thought about having a relationship like theirs?”
“No. Because I don’t see the hype about the love and compromise strategy they employ in their marriage.”
“Who have you felt closer to between the two?”
“Dad in the beginning. Then Mum because of our shared artistic values and because she said I’m a better artist than her or anyone she knows. Neither now. I realized my personality and theirs are so different, I might as well not have been their son. I don’t hate it. I don’t like it. I simply understand it the way every individual should instead of transforming into a drama queen…why are you looking at me as if you pity me?”
“I don’t.” I just feel inexplicably sad for him. He might not feel it, but the fact that he realized early on that he was so different from the people he was closest to must’ve been so confusing to him.
He narrows his eyes. “Are your wannabe shrink questions over?”
“I’m not trying to be a shrink. I just want to understand you better.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s how interpersonal relationships are made.”
“Huh.”
He appears genuinely pensive and I wish I could take a trip inside his brain and see how he processes information. This is the first time he seems so open and not attempting any form of manipulation.
Landon finishes his glass of wine and pours himself another one. When he offers some to me, I nod. The first step of establishing a bond is to build common ground around something. I’m ready to sacrifice my disregard for alcohol to get him to open up more.