Hotel Ceiling [BoyxBoy]

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My forearms rest against the metal railing that's lining the edges of the balcony I stand on. I stare blankly out into the dull scenery in front of me. The sun beats down against my pale skin, the readying burn unalarming to me as I continue to stand in the heat. My eyes shift down to the burning cigarette held between my middle and pointer fingers. Another of my many on and off addictions this little stick of cancer is.

I was going on eight months without nicotine after we broke up. I had entirely shifted my focused to my job, picking up endless shifts until my boss had to limit my hours for his other workers. I didn't pick up smoking then either though. Once he limited me on my working I started to work towards my true dream: what my future restaurant would look like. I had millions of pictures and notes all dedicated to my dream. I became a bit obsessive I'll admit that. Without my baby, my mind seemed to get restless. All I wanted to do was drink and smoke, but I knew that wouldn't help anything. By forcing myself to work or be around my other loved ones, I had no choice but to never think. I even forced myself to fall asleep to music to prohibit myself from going crazy in the silence. The moment my mind ran, the moment my need grew. I was determined to break my pattern.

It didn't last very long. About a month before I found out of his passing, I felt off. I started obsessively drinking and smoking. I couldn't figure out why I was acting that way. My sobriety with both drink and smoke shifted to a necessity. I had a way of hiding this part of myself from many people, but when I found out he was gone my facade broke. My emotions shut down and I just needed it all to stay numb. I haven't gone a day without the two since I've been in this damn hotel room.

I bring the cigarette to my lips inhaling deeply. My eyes glazing over as I stare out at the whisping cars, my focus going to the burning sensation traveling down my lungs. My ears start to buzz as the soft sounds of the world around me drifts in and out of them both. The sliding glass behind me is pried open and it wasn't long before I felt arms snake their way around my waist.

"You're smoking again."

His voice filtered my ears as I pulled the cigarette from my lips, blowing it out with a small nod. "You're hard work."

"Mm." I felt his forehead thud against my back as he spoke, "You're no walk in the park."

I flicked the ashes off the end of the burning stick as I brushed the fingers of my free hand against the back of his. His lips pressed to my back as he tightened his grip a bit on my body. We stood there silently for some time, me smoking and him just hugging me. I went to break the silence when he beat me to it.

"Jason?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"I just love hearing you say my name."

I would usually be fond to hear this but something about his tone of voice was jarring. I had heard the tone before. Many times throughout our relationship and it was especially prominent when he was getting ready to have an attack. I turned in his arms, flicking the cigarette out as his eyes looked up into mine. I took his cheeks into my hands and searched his gaze. "What's wrong?"

"You're gonna get tired of me."

His eyes bore into mine, pure terror ridden behind them. This wasn't the first time I'd been introduced to this look. He would go through these periods where nothing I said could get him out of this dark void he stuck himself in. He was convinced that I didn't love him, that it was only a matter of time before I told him the truth. The only thing was, this truth was all in his head. No matter what he did I would always love him. He was my baby. "I could never get tired of you."

"I've heard that before." His body started trembling at this point. It was the faintest action, but I knew all to well if I wasn't able to calm him down at that moment he would go into an attack. That's the last thing I wanted.