Smoke

The suitcase in the hall should have been a dead giveaway, he supposed. The memory of the blue case made him feel stupid now, three weeks later. Even if that wasn't enough to open his eyes, Theo practically ran down the stairs with a duffel bag in hand, stopping short with a look on his face like he had been petrified. He let the bag fall to the floor with a dull thump and took one step closer to Russell. "Russ, listen," he began to explain, reaching a hand out to cup the smooth cheek. "Things weren't working out between us; I need some time to myself."

A weak smile graced Russell's lips as he spoke, voice dry with the effort of holding back tears. "I guess there's no hope of this being a business trip then?" His bitter joke hung heavily in the tense atmosphere before plummeting to the floor; along with Russell's heart. Theo's face twitched, but he kept a blank expression on at all times. In fact, every move he made was carried out with deadly precision and a small smile. Russell stepped back, shoving past Theo in one fluid movement while snatching up his bag in one hand.

Theo spun on his heel, face betraying his raw emotion -- one Russell couldn't describe. Not shock or anger, but a mixture of confusion and annoyance. Theo was tired of him, which he gathered from the way his eyebrow quirked and tensed his forehead in the most ugly of ways; revealing his wrinkled forehead. Time had not been good to Theo, it wore away his adorable smile and gleaming brown hair into wrinkled skin and a cropped layer of fuzz he maintained like his life depended on it. "Just give me back the bag Russell. This is not how I wanted to do this."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I interrupt your clean getaway? Shall I leave and forget that you're leaving me?" Russell spoke with an acid tongue, burning lines of searing hate into the air between them; burning their bridges completely. He ripped open the bag with no care for the zip, ruining the mechanism completely so it would never close properly again.

"I'd rather you forgot it happened at all, period."

Russell froze as in mid hurl, the shirt in his hand floating limply to the floor without any of the previous malice or intent. The white fabric puddled silently onto the smooth wood, crumpling like the relationship before it. Russell raised his eyes to met Theodore's and snarled at him. "Get out, get out now!" The man in question scooped his bag out of Russell’s clutches and his shirt off of the floor and left without a word. An air of satisfaction followed him, weaving its way through the atmosphere like a sultry cat.


Russell sat on the window seat of his apartment overlooking the street outside. He sighed, lifting his cigarette to his lips before letting his wrist fall limp. He hadn't smoked in months, but the smoky feeling inside him numbed his heart and held it up in one piece. He watched outside the window, curled up like a child, wrapped up in the curtain as it hung there in comforting silence. He stared at the people on the street; if his eyes never left this spot on the pavement he could consider his life complete.

“You were no teddy bear, Theodore Martins.” His lip curled in a disdainful sneer as he wiped his eyes harshly with his sleeve, past caring if he hurt himself doing it. A open bottle of vodka sat by him, but he couldn’t bring himself to drink himself into a stupor. The cloud of self harm had passed, and with it all his self pity had left. He allowed his hazy, smoke filled window to clear slowly but closed his eyes when it revealed a picture better left unseen.

Theodore stood with his arms wrapped around a smaller woman, her hair shone blonde in the sunlight and her clothes looked like that of a model. Russell stood on his seat with a leering expression and hurled his words from his third floor apartment. “You left me for some blonde slut? I’m better off without you, you filthy arse!” He slid down to the floor with a slow thump, lifting the back of his cigarette hand to his forehead and groaning in despair. He’d fucked up, big time.

He eyed the bottle beside him with cautious eyes, but the hungry nature of pain encouraged him to take the first swig from the bottle in full blown earnest; holding it upside down like a bottle of water in the desert. He coughed when he removed his lips, but the raw scratchiness of his throat merely egged him on until he was lying on the floor in a sea of his own tears. “You’ve ruined me, Teddy.” He whispered, dropping the almost empty bottle from above his head; watching the glass shatter across his face with detached interest. “I’ll never be the same again.”