Lit Cigarettes || Angst/BxB Shots

• Soft Sand and Weak Wind •

(A/N - This went in a completely different direction than what I expected. Part of this was written about a year ago, so if it doesn't make sense in some places, that's why)
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Content Warnings - Mentions of sobriety, relapsing, self-harm, hints towards bulimia, drug use and some semi poetic kissing, i suppose

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Archie Vargas woke up in a cold sweat, droplets of perspiration dribbling down his forehead. His brunette hair stuck to his forehead, dark eyes lingering on the empty bedroom that surrounded him.

There was no phone.

There was no needle.

And there was no Elijah Castillo.

"Damn it, Eli..." His voice was groggy with sleep. His bed felt unreasonably cold compared to the warmth of his roommate's back pressed against his own, the natural body heat of that felt like an oven in summer always brought a sense of home with him.

Well...Archie thought of it that way.

He kicked off the thin sheet that he called a blanket and clumsily grabbed a crewneck off the edge of his bed. He guided the hem at the bottom down his body after haphazardly fixing his boxers which had somehow rolled up his thighs in his sleep. He winced at the cool medal from a necklace pressed against his bare chest from beneath the top and grimaced, pulling it out and allowing it to be displayed against the army green.

An obsidian ring with small flecks of ruby within it, sparkling softly in the poor lighting of his room, attached to a silver chain.

He wondered if Eli would still be wearing the matching one, or if he had 'forgotten' it again.

Archie sighed exasperatedly, running his fingers through his hair as he made his way downstairs. The smell of pancakes gently swayed in the air, and he turned the corner to see none other than the boy he'd believed would be gone.

His top was bare - apart from the binder hugging his chest - and he was wearing a pair of loose, unflattering and yet somehow appealing, dark gray basketball shorts. His curly golden locks were tangled, falling in front of his stormy grey eyes with a sort of watery frustration a toddler would give a toy before they begin to sniffle. His pale arms were littered with white and pink scars that the other knew all too well.

Archie's quiet breath of relief bringing unwanted attention to himself. Eli's eyes remained focused on the pancake that was in fact burning to a crisp, his voice gruff. "Good morning."

"Morning," They returned quietly, walking to the taller boy's side. He examined the pancake, biting back an amused laugh at the charred sides and horrendous smell being distributed throughout the house. "You're burning it, El."

"I see that, Vargas." Eli growled, giving a short breath of air before removing the burnt breakfast, placing it onto a plate piled with - what appeared to be - more burnt pancakes. Eli chewed on his bottom lip, huffing through his nose in defeat. "I wanted to surprise you."

"It's alright," Archie said, lips brushing against the pale skin of Eli's back, voice absorbed in a tone of tiptoeing carefulness. Cautiously, he slipped his arms around Eli's waist, holding him closer to his body despite the height difference. He pressed a kiss to the cool skin under his cheek, words leaving a soft patch of goosebumps behind. "You tried and I appreciate it, Ellie Boy."

Eli blinked slowly, biting his lip as he wearily looked at the bowl of - now empty - pancake batter. He frowned, his words quite. "I wanted to surprise you..."