Sugar, Secrets and Upheaval

Chapter 182 - Course of Action

I... I don’t know what I want to do. Do I even want to be an actor anymore? Maybe I never truly wanted it. Perhaps it was just the attention I craved. Why do people even have jobs? For most, it’s simply for money. But... I don’t need money anymore. Maybe I should just retire completely? Or perhaps I should just sleep on it and decide in the morning?I didn’t know what I wanted, but the pile of blue scripts on the coffee table judged my indecision. I slowly reached for them, picking up the top one. A gritty noir. Just what I needed, more darkness after Ragnar’s nightmare. I flipped through it, then a high-octane thriller, full of explosions and chase scenes. A quick, one-day sitcom cameo, probably some self-deprecating joke about my fame. An ad campaign for a telecommunication company — mind-numbingly dull, but lucrative.

Beneath those, I found more. A historical drama set in ancient Cyrusia, which, despite the potential connection to my roots, felt too much like an appropriation if handled incorrectly. Another was a fantasy epic, requiring extensive green-screen work and a commitment to a multi-film franchise.

Jax wasn’t wrong. This was the dream for so many, the tangible proof of success in an industry that chewed people up and spat them out.

Could I really just... stop? Stop being the actor? Stop being ‘Raphael, the Cyrusian immigrant who made it big’? What would be left? Levi’s husband. That was a start. And voice acting. The quiet, solitary work, where my face didn’t matter, only my voice.

The scripts felt heavy in my hands, not with potential, but with the weight of expectation, of a life I wasn’t sure I wanted anymore. Was my talent merely a vehicle for external validation? I didn’t need money. What I needed was to make sense of the chaos inside me. Maybe sleeping on it wasn’t enough. Maybe I needed to truly feel what each path offered, or demanded.

…

Levi came home late, well into the night, visibly exhausted. He shed his clothes quickly, tossing them aside before throwing himself onto the bed with a groan. “A migraine,” he mumbled, his face buried in the pillows.

I was already sitting on the bed, my head resting against the headboard. “How was your day, Levi?”

“The President decided to continue with the current cabinet, a rather unexpected choice. I assume he did not wish to create unwarranted disturbance,” he mumbled. “And now that we have a President, my consultancy is officially over. I only have the company to oversee right now…” His words trailed off into a tired sigh.

“I need you to do something for me,” I said, my gaze fixed on his dark hair against the white pillows.

“Of course.”

“Cut through my emotional bullshit, be real with me. Today, my agent came home… and threw countless gigs in my face. The problem is… I don’t know what to do. Do I just go back? Or do I retire completely?”

Levi shifted, turning his head slightly to look at me. “You have not articulated the underlying issue that causes this indecision,” he observed, his voice devoid of judgment.

Gods. He reads it so easily.

“I don’t know, Levi. Maybe I was born to be a househusband. Maybe I never truly wanted to be an actor. I don’t know what I want with my career. I mean… I have money now. Is there any need to continue working?” I asked, looking at him expectantly.

Levi chuckled softly at my househusband comment. “Dear, if you desire to perform an activity, and it brings you joy or satisfaction, then by all means, proceed. If it does not, then abstain. The decision itself is not simple, but it is straightforward.”

“So, in essence, you’re saying I don’t need a grand reason to continue, nor do I need one to stop,” I said, a thoughtful frown creasing my brow. “Just my own internal compass.”

“It is a job,” Levi replied. “You may endeavor to wrap it under the pretense of art and craft, but that is of no consequence. What does one typically do if a particular employment does not resonate, and one possesses sufficient available funds to sustain oneself? One either resigns or one seeks alternative employment.”

If I had any other job, if I were a clerk or an accountant and felt this suffocated, this drained, I would quit. I have the means. The only thing stopping me is the ingrained fear of letting go, the lingering whispers of what I’m ‘supposed’ to be.

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“And… What if I do not want to quit?” I asked, testing the limits of his logic.

“Then do not. You see?” he said, raising onto his elbows. “You still have not presented me with the underlying issue. If it is the workplace itself, then incorporate additional clauses into your employment contract. If it is the public scrutiny you find arduous, procure a more competent representative. If it is the occupation itself, meaning you derive no enjoyment from the literary works with which you have been provided, then simply select another. It is not as if you are a celebrity of meager standing, compelled to entreat for any cheaply produced, excessively verbose, or intellectually tedious narratives.”

“This last year of my life, the life that started with you, with this ridiculous marriage and you toppling an entire ruling class, and finally instilling democracy… Even though I played a rather small role in it, it was… exhausting. And, it was tiring. Every day was grandiose. If it was not grandiose, it was brutal. Also, many other things happened between you and me. Like your rehabilitation, or your… attempt… These are experiences of a lifetime, Levi, and we fit all of that into fourteen months. I’ve been through so much. And going back to a set, doing a little movie… it feels… quaint, pale,” I said, my voice trailing off as the enormity of it all settled over me.

“Which proves my hypothesis.”

“What?”

“You have become an adrenaline junkie, too, like Holden and Annie,” he said, amusement playing on his lips. “You have spent the preceding year of your life with blood pumping through your veins, engaged in relentless stimulation. It is entirely logical that a mere motion picture set would now appear boring to you.” He placed his head on my stomach, his breathing evening out instantly.

Every day with him has been an escalation. From political upheaval to assassination attempts, from a fake marriage to a very real one, from his rehabilitation to the terror of a suicide attempt... it’s been a constant, high-stakes existence. No wonder the thought of performing for a camera, pretending to feel emotions, feels like a distant echo now.

I ran my hand through Levi’s raven hair, the strands soft against my fingers. “So… I thought I was straight-edge, but you turned me into a junkie like you?”

“Ex-junkie,” he mumbled, correcting me instantly. “I have been clean for… how many months now? Nine?”

“What would you do if you were me?” I asked, seeking his unfiltered perspective.

“I would peruse the scripts, select one, and execute the performance.”

Just a fleeting moment, his simple logic makes the idea of just picking one — any one — and getting it over with seem appealing.

“Do you think I should… do the same?”

“Yes,” he replied instantly.

“Why?” I pressed.

“Because… my consultancy is concluded, meaning I will be occupied with my company. It will become rather monotonous for both of us. No more clandestine operations in the shadows. Subsequent to my rehabilitation, I was compelled to neglect my pharmaceutical concern and my charitable organization… So, Raphael, your primary source of adrenaline, yours truly, might no longer be capable of providing such a stimulus,” he explained, with a playful undertone.

Monotonous. The word itself is a dangerous concept when applied to Levi.

“You mean that? Our life… will be normal?” I asked with disbelief, the word feeling foreign on my tongue.

“No, not normal, obviously,” he replied, tinged with a dry amusement. “Simply, I will not be hunting nobles or orchestrating presidential elections. At present, I have concluded the governmental work. Which, of course, if they present me with a sufficiently engaging conundrum and sufficiently flatter my rather substantial ego, I might consider offering my consultancy again.”

My life will never be truly ‘normal’ with him, and perhaps that’s exactly why I’m drawn to it. And if I am an adrenaline junkie, then perhaps I do need my own source of ‘stimulus’ now.

“And… What if you get bored again?”

“I already am bored,” he said, his voice flat, devoid of any self-pity or drama. “But dear, it is not your responsibility to provide me with engagement. That particular obligation is entirely my own.”

“I appreciate the clarification, though I admit, the thought of your independent ‘engagement’ does give me pause,” I said, a faint unease flickering within me.

“I do not necessarily possess a grand plan to follow at this moment,” he said, nuzzling his face deeper into my stomach, his voice soft and muffled. “What about our vacation, dear? Have you selected a location?”

“Oh… No, I didn’t. Jax arrived and disrupted everything, plunging me into an existential crisis.”

“Dear,” he said, his voice gentle but firm, “I believe you are now aware of the appropriate course of action.”