When I Was Whole (And When I Fell Apart)

16 - Seize

"What do you mean you're not going to Carson's house?"

        Laurence raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he let out a long drawl. He stood outside of a dingy apartment building, tapping his foot on the concrete pavement as he glared daggers at Shaun against a backdrop of faded brick walls and wooden doors hanging by their metal hinges. He could see the television still running in the background, the rigid lines of his face against the afternoon sun, beating down on their necks.

        "I said I'm not going." Shaun tilted his head to the side, one hand on the doorknob as he faced him. "I turned down the invitation, man."

        "But why?"

        "Because," he sighed, tension crawling up his face like the beginnings of frostbite on cold skin, "I'm tired."

        Laurence shook his head, letting out a scoff. "Really? It's like four hours from now, we've got time, go take a nap. Unless," He let out a frown, leaning forward so that his gaze was leveled at him. "You sick or something?"

        "Haha," Shaun deadpanned, letting out a dry laugh. "Very funny. But no, I'm not sick."

        "So you've basically admitted to ditching me," Laurence grumbled, picking up his box of Marlboro's and taking one out. He handed the rest to Shaun, already rummaging through his jacket pocket for a lighter. "Alright, well, let's just sit outside and have a smoke before I head off."

        "Yeah," Shaun fiddled with the ends of his dark hair, watching as Laurence dangled the pack in front of him. "About that."

        Laurence, already biting the tip of his cigarette with his front teeth, paused halfway through putting the lighter to his lips. Hesitantly, he lowered the box, confusion lacing his brows as he focused his gaze to rest on Shaun, who was firmly refusing to meet his eyes. He opted instead to stare at the soles of his feet, mouth taut as he leaned against the doorframe.

        "Hey," he lifted his head, frowning. "What's wrong?"

        "I–" Shaun opened his mouth to speak, then shut it closed, seemingly groaning in frustration. His entire body was tense, and as he buried his face into his palms, he let out an audible sigh. "Promise you won't hate me?"

        Laurence threw the box of cigarettes into his pocket, twirling the stick between his fingers as he let out an incredulous laugh. "Doubt I could, even if I wanted to."

        He flicked the metal edge, sparks igniting a flame on the end of the lighter. It was muscle memory by now, the way he held the blunt between two fingers, preparing to light the end of the cigarette while inhaling the scent of burning tobacco. He watched as fire danced across the paper, leaving a trail of ash in its wake.

        "Laurence," he began, and Laurence took a deep breath, looking to the side as smoke lingered in the air and poured down his throat.

        "Go on," he said. "Shoot."

        Shaun, hesitantly, took another deep breath. "Okay."

        The world stilled for a moment, Shaun standing by the front of his apartment, and Laurence at his doorstep, cigarette in hand. White noise sounded around them; the shouts of children by the playground, the blaring noise of a television screen through thin walls, the hushed voices of two neighbors, all deafening in their tone and yet not all the same. For a moment it seemed to be just them, two boys face-to-face, waiting.

        "I quit."

        Laurence choked.

        "What?" He coughed out, practically bent over as he wheezed, blunt dropping to the ground as its end still flared fiery red. "What do you mean you quit?"