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Neil stared at the cigarette stub burning down between Andrew’s fingers.
He had once found the smoke drifting towards him suffocating in a comforting way. As the tendrils wrapped around his throat and flowed into his lungs, they reminded him of what it felt like to have a full chest. To be filled with some emotion, whether it be grief or anger or a sadness that touched every inch of his insides. Now the smoke being dragged towards him by the wind felt weak and faint, even though Andrew was only about two feet away. It did not reach all the way down inside him as it once had, it could not anchor him.
Neil didn’t realize his gaze was fixated on Andrew’s hand until Andrew flicked some ash onto where Neil’s hand rested between them on the roof’s ledge.
“Can I help you.” The words, shaped as they were in Andrew’s apathetic mouth, did not come out as a question. Neil, however, knew better than to be hurt by the tone. Andrew’s interruption to Neil’s thoughts were meant to pull him out of the past and back to the roof, where Andrew was pointedly not looking anywhere in particular.
As Andrew lifted the cigarette to his lips for another drag, Neil leaned back on both of his arms stretched out behind him and tried staring off at whatever scenery had captured Andrew’s non-attention. It was early June and the sun had begun to rise almost an hour ago, somewhere to Neil’s right, just past Andrew. From the corner of his eye he could see Andrew struggling against a squint, as the sky grew brighter and tried to shine through Andrew’s dark-as-dawn demeanor.
Neil could sympathize; Andrew worked hard to block the world out.
Neil finally responded with a drawn-out headshake he was certain Andrew could see. “You could keep me warm, so long as we’re out here this goddamn early.”
Instead of saying, “No one asked you to follow me,” or, “It’s fucking June,” Andrew just flicked some more ashes in Neil’s direction.
Neil smiled and kept staring off into the brightening sky.