Acquired Tastes

Chapter Twenty-Three

"Neil." Roman's voice felt distant and barely real to him, even with the cold floor beneath him and his joints aching. "Neil, please, man, please wake up."

Slowly approaching consciousness, Neil struggled to remember where he was. He forced his eyes open, slowly glancing over to meet Roman's desperate, red eyes.

"Fuck, yes, god, Neil, I'm so sorry, please let me smoke, man, please."

Neil pushed himself up, still half asleep, and ran his hand through his hair, pulling his backpack over and unzipping it. He pulled out the lighter and a cigarette, and, leaning closer, he slid the cigarette between Roman's lips. Roman's eyes followed his hands all too closely, as Neil held out the lighter and Roman tilted his chin toward it, taking a long inhale and letting the smoke come spilling out around the cigarette. "Fuck," he said, leaning backwards, eyes drifting to the ceiling. Neil found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the perfect little dip of Roman's nose, the shape of his jaw, the bumps of his throat. He finished the cigarette in half the time Neil had expected him to.

"Fuck," Roman said, letting out a long breath. "I'm so sorry, man, I didn't want to wake you up, I just-"

"Don't worry about it," Neil said, taking out his water bottle. "Here, drink something."

Roman did, then leaned back, stretching his limbs as much as he could, which was barely at all. "What time is it?"

Neil pulled out his phone. "5:49."

"Do you have any more food?"

"Yeah, of course."

Neil continued to sit beside the bars, long after Roman had finished eating, long after his entire body was aching from the floor. Finally, Roman looked over at him again. "You should go."

Neil glanced at his phone again. "I still have a little bit of time."

"Yeah, but I know you want to change and stuff."

Neil shrugged. "It's not a big deal."

"I'm serious," Roman said, studying his eyes. "I know you feel gross. I'll be fine, you'd have to leave in another thirty minutes or so anyway."

Neil eyed him for several minutes. "Okay," he said, finally, straightening up. "Yeah, I'll come back after I run."

"No." Roman met his eyes. "Don't do that."

Neil's chest tightened. "What? Why?"

Roman looked down, giving him half a shrug. "I just...I don't know what they're gonna do to me next. I might be a mess."

Neil's stomach dropped, and he leaned closer. "Hey, that's okay, I'm not gonna-"

"Neil." Roman paused, making sure he was listening. "Please don't come back, unless it's been like...two or three more days." When Neil hesitated, he added, voice low and assertive, "I think this is kind of my call to make."

Neil felt his throat tightening, and he quickly looked away. "Okay," he said, voice unsteady. "Do you want to smoke before I go?"

"Yeah."

Neil stepped closer, moving slowly as he pulled out a cigarette and, movements almost dazelike, slipped it between Roman's lips. Roman didn't say anything as tilted his chin toward the lighter Neil was holding out. He took a long drag, eyes on the ceiling above him, and let the smoke drift toward it. Neil watched, accidentally allowing himself to become entranced by the scene in front of him. There was something about Roman's neck when his head was tilted back, something about the way he could tap the cigarette with his tongue to send the bits of ash over his shoulder and to the floor. It was some strange mixture of concerning and arousing to see that he could smoke it down to nothing, all on his own, no hands.