Before It Dies | Tratie

ix. deserving a demand

     Why was it that my lips were always so dry?

     No, dry lips were by no means anything unusual for me. I didn't even know how to describe them. It was like one moment they peeled off in the most disgusting place and the next minute they were completely fine with a coating of vaseline. Or is it that they are always healthy when they are pressed to someone else's?

     No.

     No fucking way.

     But they burned right now. My lips were burning because they were so dry and I didn't want to lick them. There would be pain. I didn't want pain. I didn't want pain and avoided it like crazy, just like the rest of my life.

     I told myself to be brave, just to take a little bit of it, even if it was as simple as a small sting. So I pressed them between my teeth but in the end, with one swift moment, I raked them under my teeth and it stung badly. As the pain subsided, I glanced at the silver watch in my hand. It felt heavier than it used to. I ran my thumb over the part of the glass where it was once cracked and I can't feel anything ridge that isn't smooth.

     I could see him on the side staircase of the Hermes Cabin. The moon was hitting his sharp cheekbones in a way that made it hard to tell who it was. But I knew the curve of his jaw, the thin nose, and every angle of his face. It was impossible for me not to know, though I wished I could forget.

     "Travis?"

     God, my voice came out so much breathier than I anticipated. I clenched my hand around the watch and indent of the metal pressed into my skin. 

     His silhouette immediately snapped up towards me and he paused, froze there. Travis finally sat down again and I took that as a cue to approach him, sitting on the stairs with him. He didn't look towards me but straight forwards. 

     The stiffness in his posture but slight twitching of his shoulders led me to glance down at his hands, which were trembling. Through the blend of the moonlight and the warm lamp seeping through the cabin windows, I was able to see that in one hand was a packet of cigarettes, and the other was a small silver lighter. I froze and stared at him, shocked.

     "Smoking," he whispered. "That was the one flaw my mother had. She started after we were born. After dad left, you know? It's rare for gods to have two children of the same mortal. He actually stayed for her. She loved him. But he left and she started to smoke rapidly after her shifts. When she was on-call she'd shove so many mints down her throat. Funny, because she was a nurse. She's seen dozens of people die from lung cancer, but just couldn't stop."

     "I didn't know you smoked," I admitted. Funny, because I have never tasted a single hint of tobacco in his breath. I would have thought that after all these years, I would have known, with at least one kiss.

     "I did," Travis said. "Right after she died, I was only addicted for a week, but it was bad. I'd finish one, then I'd just light another. I went through her packs like crazy. I couldn't buy them myself, so I just smoked all of hers. It was right until I went through her purse and found the unopened one she always had in there. Conner doesn't even know I had that pack."

     I wrapped my free hand around his and uncurled his fingers around the box, turning it in my hands. There wasn't the usual plastic casing so I froze, quickly opening it to see one missing cigarette. With a small gasp, I inhaled to see if I could smell any trace of smoke in the air, but it was free from it. 

     "I didn't yet," he assured. "The missing one was burnt years ago. I quit after the first one of that pack, realizing what I had done. But I—"