Cigarette Daydreams

2020 pt.2

A/N: I'm too lazy to split this chapter into two, so be aware that it's quite long, and it's also a way of making up for the delay, I have a job now, so reconciling work and university with writing can becomplicated. I haven't revised the chapter, but I hope it's all right

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Lewis can't realize that time is passing, not when he's been immobile since the moment Max left, the only muscles in his body that are contracting are those that are essential for him not to die, but now he wouldn't even care if his myocardium decided to stop working, he'd even understand, nobody wants to work in pain. 

The position held for so long and the hard material of the floor cause Lewis's leg to compress his sciatic nerve and the pain runs down his whole leg, but even this isn't enough to make him stand up, and he thinks he deserves to feel pain, he deserves to feel at least some of the pain he caused Max by being such a mess.

He almost laughs when he realizes he's got what he wanted, time alone to think, time alone to breathe, time alone to feel normal, the old him, and the universe granted it to him in the most sadistic way imaginable, and maybe it's unfair to put the blame on the universe, Lewis knows it's, in the end it's only his fault. He feels like he's gone back to the lonely days where hopelessness lived in him, where he begged for Max because he couldn't have him. The difference is that now he had Max, he had Max and he lost him.

Eventually he's forced to get up, Roscoe finds him and sits down in front of him, his head slightly tilted as if trying to understand his owner's confusion. Lewis looks at his companion every moment and remembers how Roscoe is in love with Max, always following the blonde and even ignoring him. Lewis can't blame his dog, Max is someone who is passionate and mesmerizing and he knows it.

He feeds Roscoe, he even leaves the jar open on the side, he fills several containers with water, he just doesn't want to get up again, his body hurts too much to do this, it's like being in the car, but not being, gravity seems to flatten his body, so hard that his back has to be bent by the pressure from above. He drags himself down the corridor and into the bedroom again, he collapses on the bed and this time it's inevitable, this time he cries.

He cries, staring at Max's pillow, the overwhelming desire to smell the scent of mint barred by the fear that his tears will wash away the mint scent. This time he can't hold back the sobs, they're loud and constant, he cries and sobs until the air escapes from his lungs and his nose clogs, the pressure makes his ears hurt, but he can't stop crying, Lewis just waits for the exhaustion to erase his mind and leave him in darkness until Max returns.

...

For the next few days, Lewis does nothing, he really does nothing, he just gets up to check that Roscoe has food and water and takes the opportunity to drink water, eat a cereal bar, go to the bathroom and go back to bed. He doesn't even take a shower, he can't, this is a task that requires a lot of energy, and he doesn't have the energy, he feels dirty inside and he knows that no shower can clean that up.

Sometimes he lets his stomach ache with hunger until he can't stand it any longer and has to get up, sometimes he waits for his bladder to fill up enough for him to feel like he's going to explode. That's the only way he can feel full again, even if it's full of pain.

...

He knows it's thursday, his phone won't stop receiving notifications, but he can't imagine going into the paddock and pretending everything is fine, he can't imagine sitting next to Max at the press conference without collapsing at the blonde's feet and asking for his forgiveness.