(no subject)

[herr_bookman]

Autor has his feet up on the couch today, taking notes on Schak's German translation of The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam.

A medical textbook is on his lap, with detailed entries about dopamine, oxytocin, and endorphins earmarked. Dog-eared copies of The Princess Bride, Pride and Prejudice, and The Great Gatsby form a stack on the floor against the couch. On the stack is a plate of dumplings, cold and untouched.

Unfortunately, none of it seems to help with his ultimate goal: falling out of love. There's a dearth of classics that teach what he wants to know. Love drives all the great stories, Rae had said, and Autor finds that her words are true, even though he doesn't think his great story is written that way.

There's still a blush on his face. The Rubaiyat is a bit mushy.

Comments

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"That is the very best sort of friendship." He's not joking! It is! The very thought produces a rather stupidly fond smile, for a moment, before Lesgle clears his throat. "Hmm. In all honesty, nearly all the girls I've had relations with promptly found another fellow, and if he wasn't already a friend of mine--which, nine times out of ten, he was--he soon became one, and it ended in good humor all around. But I suppose it wouldn't do to suggest introducing her to someone else...? No, no, probably not."

[herr_bookman]

Autor draws a breath through his nose. The suggestion to introduce her to someone else produces such a visceral reaction of no that he can barely contain it. He's realizing for the first time how possessive he is, especially with people and things that aren't his to begin with.

"I don't think that would work," he says evenly, closing his eyes. "If she wanted to find someone else herself, that's understandable. But to introduce her to--the jealousy would consume me." Then he opens them. "Hypothetically."

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

Lesgle nods. "That's the very devil," he says--entirely sympathetically. "And quite understandable," he hurries to add. He knows his usual approach doesn't work for most people. "Hypothetically, of course. What do the chemistry books say?"

[herr_bookman]

The boy relaxes. Chemistry is certainly easier to talk about than his feelings. "Dopamine--short for dihydroxyphenethylamine, try saying that five times fast--is a chemical released in the brain based on reward behaviors and motivation. Or addictive drugs. It affects mood, hand-eye coordination, and attention--among other things, including mate selection."

He furrows his brow. "Endorphins, on the other hand, are the happy-making chemicals released by dopamine. They act as natural pain killers and promote a general sense of well-being. They're involved with attachment."

The boy purses his lips. "Then there's the blasted phenylethylamine--responsible for making you fall in love--and norepinephrine, which makes your heart pound and your palms sweat. There's oxytocin--the 'cuddle hormone'--and testosterone, too... Ah, I'm sorry! I should be discussing this with Joly, who might find it much more interesting."

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"Do tell Joly, because he'll be fascinated and have much more intelligent questions about it all, but it's astonishing stuff. How does the...the phen...how does that make you fall in love?"

[herr_bookman]

Autor shakes his head. "I suppose it's not responsible for love precisely, but phenylethylamine releases dopamine in the brain, which then releases everything else in a chain reaction. It gives you that warm, relaxed feeling of being in love, as well as enough energy to stay up all night," he says. "PEA is also found in chocolate, so there's that."

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"I knew I liked chocolate," he mutters. Learn something new every day. Then again, people have also been convinced about miasmas, humors, magnetism... Lesgle clears his throat with a twinge of guilt at that last thought. "What sets off the, the PEA?"

[herr_bookman]

Autor blinks. "You know? I've no idea. Clearly I need to do more reading. I suspect it's being in the presence of someone you're falling in love with--their scent, and pheromones, and the like," he says, blushing a bit as he can almost smell artificial strawberry. "But thank you for listening to my ramble."

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"But that's just a circular argument, then, isn't it? This chemical makes you fall in love; falling in love produces this chemical; we've come back to a mystery." He grins sympathetically. "I'm sorry; not much of a font of wisdom here, am I."

[herr_bookman]

The boy cracks a smile. "I'm not either, so you're in good company. I'm sorry I couldn't explain he process better. Still, it was kind of you to ask, though I don't know what either of us will do with the information."