Not A Single Droplet

7

It's a few hours later. James tries to get up, since his skin has gone soft and no longer over stretched he can move, but the weight is still there and it's heavy.. So he fails.. He decides to shuffle himself a bit around to look for Steve who has disappeared from the room.

Realizing something went wrong with the guy when he was just way too tired to pay attention he frowns starting to worry. "Steve?" He calls.

Steve walks over. "Hey." He says calmly.

"Hey, sorry about earlier... Are you okay?" James asks.

"I miss prison." Steve says.

James nods, trying to understand why. 

"Would you like anything to eat? I made breakfast..." Steve says.

"We don't have any food, how did you make breakfast?" James asks.

"I bought stuff from the store." Steve says, he rolls up the sleeves to his elbows, revealing the bandages that have gotten red from the blood underneath.

It catches James attention. "They need to get changed." He says looking at the bandages.

"What about breakfast?" Steve asks.

"First bandages. I shouldn't eat anyway." James says.

"Come on.. I'm not letting you starve yourself." Steve says.

"I've enough fat to keep me alive for 3 years without eating." James mumbles.

Steve sighs.

"Bandages." James commands.

"You're not my father." Steve shouts out of nowhere. Making  his hands to fists.

James looks away, he doesn't have a father... This is a painful point.

Steve smashes into the table, leaving a loud bouncy noise of the wood and a peeping noise from Steve himself because of the pain.

"What's wrong with you?" James asks gently. "You're switching so much in mood.. You're breaking and cutting more than I ever have seen you." 

"I miss prison." Steve says.

"There must be a reason Steve." James demands.

"SHUT UP!" Steve shouts.

"Sssh... Breathe." James says while he annoyingly and awkwardly touches his fat and hates it inner deeply.

Steve takes a gasping breathe, holds it and then breathes out. He sits down on the sofa, checking out his hurt hand. Glaring distrustful towards James. "I hate you." he says.

James lets him say it. Not fighting the words, knowing it'd make everything worse. Also knowing Steve doesn't mean it in the slightest. 

James lays down to make it easier to breathe, he struggles a lot with the weight, not only because it's all so heavy to move, it's also way to heavy for himself to make breathing an ordinary easy thing into something hard and nearly impossible. This was why James always glared to Steve for saying things would be almost over because of this, this breathing problem... things won't be over for anytime soon. 

Steve makes a growling annoyed stressful noise before laying down wildly. Then silently checking out his hand again. Starting to undo the bandages on his arms revealing cuts and a figure made by a cutting knife. 

James looks up staring wide-eyed at the view he got. At the gentle but painful damage that's been made on his friend's arms. "Steve.." He whispers shocked after he reads the word Death in his friends arm.