Work Text:
The scene was serene. A grassy outcrop, jutting out from the outskirts of a wide, rolling field, its rocky base outlined with sand where the shore met it. Buildings faded with distance peaked on the horizon but their presence proved unimportant, null beside the simple grandiosity of the untainted land, the hustle and bustle of the everyday smothered by the mellow lapping of sea on sand. The grass atop the outcrop swayed just in the subtle seaside breeze, soft, pliant blades fluttering delicately, like Earth’s eyelashes falling and rising in a slow, loving blink. Majority of the raised greenery remained as unmarred as the rest of the field though there was a present dip in the grass where a man lay sprawled out on his back with the casual elegance of a feline reclining. Across from him a clear strip of grass was flattened by the relentless back and forth pacing of another, his sharp and narrow form pulled taut upright with the force of his frantic gesticulations, back and forth, back and forth.
The lounging man shifted atop the ground, stretching his arms out wide before letting them both fall limp into the grass, careful not to snuff out the joint pinched lightly between his middle and index fingers. Heady smoke billowed out from his nostrils with the slow fall of his chest and he observed with only a subtle tilt of his head as it rose above him, dissipating into the sea air. Once it had faded, only its earthy smell lingering, Favian crooked his arm and brought the joint back between his lips. He held it there whilst he propped himself up on his elbow, his free hand playing idly with a grass blade, and trained his lazy attention on the man pacing by his feet. From under heavy lashes he peered at him, him adorned in his mauve work attire, bejewelled to the very tips of his fingers, as if he were some enigma, a trick of the afternoon sun, its light dancing on the jewels and Favian’s eyes half-lidded and squinted against it.
The words being thrown at him went unregistered till the other delivered a sudden kick to the ground with the sharp heel of his shoe, the motion firm and flighty, the thumping of a threatened hare. Bits of grass flew up from the impact, no doubt scuffing the black leather of his brogue, but any possible damage was swiftly ignored with the quick flick of a narrow wrist down in Favian’s direction.
With a low, solemn sigh, Favian pulled the joint from between his lips and rubbed the knuckle of his thumb across the bridge of his nose as he resigned himself to his fate - listening to his best friend talk on. And on. And on, some more. He sat up straighter, ignoring the whirling of his dulled mind, and settled both elbows on his pulled up knees in a lazy attempt to feign attentiveness. The white and gold fabric of his robe spilled out over his arms and he watched the ripples of it down his skin and dragged his eyes along the creases that had formed where he’d laid upon it. The silken material felt cool and light atop his arms, billowing ever so slightly with the careful push of the wind. The stark white contrasted so greatly with the lush green of the grass, plush beneath him, that he struggled to tear his eyes from it, admiring it, finding it to be-
“Delayed! Can you believe it?! Delayed, they said! I can’t afford delays! Now that’s what I said, but they said there was nothing to be done about it, that it was a simple matter of time! Time! God, time! That foul, foul thing, fat and greedy beast! It’s ruining me! Withering me! Gnawing away at my very being!” Savacir spat all at once, curling his hands into fists and leaving crescent moon indents in his palm with the sharp press of his nails. He came to a stop in front of Favian and glanced down at him briefly, uncertainty flashing across his scrunched up features as he roved his narrowed eyes over his friend’s slouched form.
“Mhm.”
At that, he sprung back into motion.
“Yes, exactly! And, god, some of these sailors are impossible to talk to, I swear it, I’ve said it before, the sea is not good for man - I say the sea has made all their minds hazy, liquid in their thick skulls! Like-!”
Favian coughed, the result of a particularly ambitious drag. He turned away and shielded his mouth with the back of his hand but it was too late for Savacir was already stilled and grimacing down at him, upper body recoiling fast as if being any closer would surely lead to him contracting something.
“..Like yours, right now,” He huffed, rolling his eyes and dusting himself down. The interruption left him lost, trembling hands stilling at his waist and fingers tightening in his cropped blazer, no doubt creasing the dark, delicate fabric. His head swivelled and for a brief moment it seemed as if he did not know where he was, having to take a hurried glance around to return from the endless recesses of his mind to the land of the sensible. He dropped his eyes to look back down at Favian, honing back in on his dissatisfactory nonchalance, and all his uncertainty melted away once more now he had something to grasp onto, to snap and bite at, “Are you even paying attention to me?”
“No.” Favian hummed, pushing smoke past his lips, watching again as it wisped away with the breeze.
“Of course you aren’t. Why do I even bother? ..God, why do I bother with anything?”
Anger, or perhaps a more solemn emotion, one akin to anger but that invited instead an undeniable vulnerability, seemed to surge up through him, sending him shaking and flicking his arms out to rid himself of the feeling from the tips of his fingers. He pushed the flick of his hair back with the heel of his hand and swallowed thickly, feverish in every quick breath and jolt. There was a long pause where neither of them did anything and the only ongoing sound was distant falling waves on wet sand.
“My father is going to kill me. Oh, gods, I’m damned.” Savacir trembled suddenly, feet planted firmly on the ground and eyes wide, the revelation dawning on him, the knife in his gut ever twisting.
“Savacir...”
“He will. He will, and then I will be ruined, ruined because I will be buried six feet under! Six, maybe twelve!” He leant forward and pointed sharply down at the ground, directly at the space in between them. Bury him here, he thought, bury him here on this outcrop away from all the noise, here for his dried bones to be taken by the sea he so hated when the rock inevitably eroded from the salt water’s relentless assault upon it, here, unmarked, so no one he did not know could lay false flowers upon his grave, here where something but enmity would grow from him, “Ruined, I’ll be! Ruined, ruined! This will be his final straw!”
“Savacir.”
“Oh, all of it, just-!”
“Savacir, man, sit down!” Favian exclaimed, exasperated, the loudest he’d spoken in weeks. A thick and sudden silence fell over them, Favian looking expectantly up at Savacir and Savacir looking incredulously down at him, both of their brows furrowed. After a beat, Favian gestured languidly at the space beside him, the grass there having yet to be flattened, “...Sit down, alright? You’re going to..drive yourself mad.”
Before his bottom lip could begin to tremble, Savacir lowered himself to the ground, dilatory in his movements, believing the physical lowering to be indistinguishable from a social one. Whatever that back and forth had just been, he was sure he’d lost it with the simple act of obliging. His gaze remained averted, focused intently on the specks of green across his previously polished shoes instead of the slowly shifting form beside him.
“Come on,” Favian murmured, and Savacir winced at the nudge to his elbow, lips pulling into a tight line. Favian spoke with the softness of a parent who had scolded their child too harshly and knew it and was now attempting to lighten the terse atmosphere with weightless whispered promises and assured nodding. What next, Savacir thought, was he about to be offered a bag of sweets for his compliance? A pat on the back, a promise of a trip to the park? “Come on. Take it. It’ll calm you down, my friend.”
He turned to look at the joint presented to him and frowned, finding himself not to be upturning his nose from it as sharply as he would’ve a few minutes prior. A low, displeased hum began to leave him and he gave Favian a sharp glance, though only found amusement written across his friend’s features, lips curled up into a knowing smile and a single brow expectantly raised. The hum in the back of his throat trailed into a defeated sigh and, with another roll of his eyes, Savacir allowed his shoulders to drop.
“I threw up last time.” He muttered.
Favian, although noting Savacir’s receptiveness alongside the hesitance, was unable to push back the laugh that bubbled up in his chest. As he shook slightly with the force of it, he nodded, fondly recalling the memory. It had been a hassle to explain to his mother why the Kroqis boy had thrown up over the new, ornate rug she’d had shipped over, or why he was in their house in the first place at 11pm on a Thursday evening, but, overall, the evening had proved to be one of their greatest. Of course, that belief was not shared by Savacir, who looked now at the joint as if he feared it’d jump from between Favian’s fingers and bite him.
“Yes..yes, you did. But that was stronger, and you must’ve been on your third bottle then. This is nothing. You’ll be fine.”
“You intend to rot my brain from the inside out?”
“If it calms you down.”
Savacir huffed out a laugh, sucking it in sharply and shaking his head in disbelief of what he was hearing. Though, regardless, he could not find it in him to dispute, he could not even find it in him to deny to himself that the promise of a momentary relief, even from something as meagre as drugs, was incredibly inviting. Although Favian was lazy in his movements and overall composure, Savacir couldn’t say truthfully that the other man was lacklustre in his day to day performance. If anything, the drug braced him for the relentless assault that was their line of work. And, well…it was green, wasn’t it?
“Oh, go on then.”