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A mixture of cold night air and smoke strikes O’saa’s face when he opens the cabin door. He steps out and closes it behind him with a trembling hand.
Daan looks up, lit cigarette in hand. “Oh, hey,” he says. “Getting some fresh air?”
The smell of tobacco makes O’saa think of late nights in bars and clubs and the busy markets of the Eastern Sanctuaries. He realizes he hasn’t had a cigarette in a while. The last time he did was about… three months ago. It feels like decades.
“Yes,” O’saa says. He doesn’t say more, afraid his voice will tremble.
Daan takes a puff. “I don’t blame you; the air is so damn stuffy in there. I can’t stand it sometimes.”
O’saa doesn’t tell him why he’s really here: to clear his mind because he feels like he’s about to lose it. He ran out of beverages hours ago and wants to save whatever little tobacco he’s got left. He has already embarrassed himself by getting injured in that bunker; he won’t show more weakness in front of this man. So he simply nods, and sits down on the grass, in the same spot he sat yesterday morning. He closes his eyes, tries to ignore the faint whispers in his ear.
A sudden loud rustling sound makes O’saa’s eyes fly open. He looks around, but there’s no one else there. He gazes at Daan to make sure if he’s imagining things or not. Daan is staring in front of him, undisturbed, seemingly deep in thought. His pale skin glows in the moonlight, contrasting the pitch black woods behind him, making him appear straight from a dream like everything else in this place. He twirls the cigarette between slender fingers. A thin column of smoke rises to the sky, as if trying to reach the moon himself; O’saa can’t help but follow it with his gaze. Through the mist Rher stares back. It looks like he’s staring right at O’saa, gleeful. Anticipated.
Suddenly feeling more tense than before, O’saa turns his eyes back to Daan. He doesn’t dare to look anywhere else, because he’s sure he will imagine something moving among the dark woods and his paranoia will worsen. He finds himself staring at Daan, particularly at his mouth, focused on the way his lips part as he places the cigarette between them or exhales a cloud of smoke. He loses track of time until Daan’s cigarette is more than halfway smoked. That’s when he abruptly turns his head to O’saa, brows arched.
“Do you want something or…?”
“What?” O’saa says, taken back. “Ah, no, I– Never mind.”
They hold eye contact for a second too long. O’saa averts his gaze. Feels Daan’s eyes burning into him.
“Alright then…” Daan says, after a pause, and turns away.
O’saa doesn’t know why he’s self-conscious all of a sudden, what it is about Daan that makes him feel like a fish trying to walk on land right now. He blames his current mental state; it’s making him show vulnerability again.
Okay, so fresh air isn’t helping. O’saa starts searching his pockets. He wanted to save his tobacco for later, for a future conflict, but it will come to no use if he has completely lost his wits. He fumbles for the pocket box he stores tobacco in. And it’s empty. Of course. Anger flashes in him and he curses under his breath before he can stop himself.
Daan lifts his head, looks at him with furrowed brows. “Uh. Everything alright over there?”
O’saa reluctantly meets his eyes. “I’m fine,” he says, feeling like he’s about to lose it.
“Honestly?” Daan says. “You don’t look so good.”
“I’m fine,” O’saa repeats. “Just… tired.”
“Buddy. Your hands are shaking.”
Goddammit. “I’ll be fine,” he says. “It’s just… This place. I think it is getting to me.”
Daan casts him a sympathetic look. “That makes two of us,” he says. “Drink some beer?”
“I don’t have alcoholic beverages left,” O’saa says. “Or tobacco.”
“Ah. What about lavenders? I know they’re not as effective but…” Daan shrugs. “They’re better than nothing.”
“I have none,” O’saa says. He finally gives in, “Would you mind sharing a cigarette?”
“This is my last one,” Daan says, apologetically. “Sorry. You should’ve asked earlier.”
O’saa holds in a sigh. Yeah, that’s his fault for being stubborn. Now he has to ask the others and hope they haven’t run out too. If they’re willing to part with their scant resources, that is.
Daan pauses for a moment, as if thinking. Then, he asks, “Would you like me to share?”
“How?”
“Just trust me.”
O’saa hesitates, then nods. “Fine,” he sighs.
Daan approaches him and goes down in a crouch. “Open your mouth.”
O’saa reluctantly parts his lips. Daan takes a long drag from his cigarette. He leans in close, close enough that his lips are almost brushing against O’saa’s, and O’saa doesn’t breathe for a moment. Daan opens his mouth, gently blows smoke into O’saa’s mouth.
O’saa gingerly breathes in the nicotine. It fills his lungs and clears his mind, washing out his anxiety and paranoia like a wave. He holds it in for a long moment before he exhales. He still feels like shit, but he feels better now. Settled.
This feels oddly intimate. If Daan leaned in closer…
Daan gives an amused smirk. “Do you want more?” he asks.
“Yes,” O’saa says, and Daan takes another drag.
He blows smoke into his mouth again, and O’saa tries not to show his eagerness inhaling it.
“Are you feeling better?” Daan asks.
“I suppose,” O’saa says.
“Be honest with me,” Daan says seriously. “We can’t afford you losing your wits.”
“Fine. I feel… fine now.”
“Nice.”
Daan stands up straight, crushes the cigarette butt under his sole.
“Let’s head back into the train,” he says. “It’s getting cold. And dark. The Prehevil folk doesn’t seem to go near this place, but…”
“There are people in the train,” O’saa says. “They would hear you scream.”
Daan gives a small chuckle. “Not if someone came and slit our throats, yeah?”
“You have an absurd sense of humor,” O’saa says, getting back up on his feet.
“Don’t act like you haven’t said stranger things than me this whole trip,” Daan says. “Besides, why would I be the screamer?”
“I don’t scream.”
“Is that so?”
O’saa says nothing to that. He walks past Daan and approaches the train door, placing a hand on the handle.
But as he opens the door, there’s something ice cold on the back of his neck. A hand. His heart skips a beat. He whips around. Daan is standing there and he retracts his hand as he breaks into a grin. O’saa forces his face to remain blank as he feels a smile tugging at his lips.
“You didn’t lie,” Daan says.
O’saa doesn’t know if he will survive this whole ordeal, if he will even survive tomorrow. But, for now, he’s not two seconds away from losing his mind.