I'll Never Say revamped

9

The thin blankets the base provided them did little to ward off the chill present in their cell. Paul pulled the offending object up to his chin, back pressed against the wall. He absentmindedly traced patterns across the blue cast enclosing his left forearm, pale gray eyes following the busy body that happened to be Patryck. Socked feet thumped against the hard cement floor as he paced, long hair falling into his face. He seemed so tall from here, his towering fame swaying with each stubborn step. 

He wanted to escape desperately, the confines of their cell doing nothing good for his mental health. While Paul agreed that movement and exercise would greatly benefit both their mental and physical health, he simply couldn’t bring himself to stand. His head still felt muddy after the disaster that was Tyler. He was making small improvements, at the very least able to react to his surroundings. Patryck could only stare with open pity, never asking. Paul hated pity. But more than anything, he hated the tight feeling in his chest anytime he tried to tell Patryck. The silence that blanketed the room left little to capture his attention, and his thoughts were deafening.

“Walk with me?” Patryck asks, jerking him from his headspace. He’d paused his pacing, standing awkwardly in the center of the room. 

“I'm tired,” he gently rebukes, avoiding his eyes. Pat takes a seat next to him, knees touching with their closeness. His shaking hasn’t quieted, and with this connection, there's no doubt Pat can feel him. His skin is buzzing endlessly, and his hands twitch with the urge to scratch. 

“I know, but we need to keep our strength.”  Patryck gently grabs his hand, kissing his knuckles. It makes his heart flutter, but guilt claws his chest open, and soon he’s shaking even worse than before. 

“I want a smoke,” he grumbles, an unfortunately common sentence coming from him. At this, Patryck rolls his eyes. He’s sure pat is more than happy his wish won’t be fulfilled. At the very least, he doesn’t say what they both know he’s thinking.   

“You don’t need it, baby. You’ve gone a while without one, right?”  His chest felt too heavy, too dishonest. Closing his eyes, Paul ignored the building pressure behind his eye. “You’re fine, Paul. This will pass, it will be fine , and you will be better off,” Patryck didn’t  get it. He never had an addiction that consumed every ounce of his self-control; Never had to slam himself into walls to strive off the inch and want that thrummed under his skin. Never had his whole body twitch and shake after mere hours without a smoke. He didn’t understand how it felt to know he was slowly killing himself with each day, but feeling powerless to stop it. 

He needs it, just like his Mama needed it. Sometimes, when he smokes, he feels a little closer to her. He wonders if that's how tord is, why he ever took up smoking. His mouth itches, and once again all he can think about is how nice it would feel to fill his lungs with smoke.

__________

Paul buries his face into the soft pillow, free hand gently tracing the lace bra he’s wearing. If he ignores why he has it in the first place, he finds he truly doesn’t mind the article of clothing. His skirt is skewed from the afternoon’s events, but he finds it less concerning than the salty taste on his tongue and the sticky residue on the roof of his mouth. He pretends it’s nothing. He’s gotten good at pretending lately.

Tyler reenters the room, finished doing god knows what. Paul pays little attention to him. He doesn’t really care anymore. It wasn’t like he could do much against him. The bed dips as the soldier takes a seat beside him, a warm smile gracing his face. 

“Hey, baby girl,” Tyler jesters for him to sit up. Paul is tired, and cold, and frankly wants to go back to Patryk. He numbly accepts the kisses that the taller male peppers along his face, closing his heavy eyelids while mourning the loss of his comfort. “I have a gift for you,” Opening his eyes, his jaw goes slack when he finds a single cigarette held out. The salty taste morphs into one of ash and soot, and he stares fearfully at the man.