Smoke and Tears

Zane sat on the edge of the town’s stone wall, watching as the ash trees were painted by the slowly setting sun. He held whatever strange concoction he’d rolled together between his fingers, the thin tendril of smoke rising up into the evening air. Taking a drag, he leant back on his hand, trying to ignore the dull ache that gnawed at his muscles. He blew the smoke out, closing his eyes as he bathed in what little sun was left.
         He listened to the distant rabble coming from the town centre. At this time the market stalls would just be closing. There was never anything truly worth it on the stalls: weapons no one knew how to use; overpriced, fake gemstones; potions that were nothing more than coloured river water; and food that was normally lukewarm at best. It had gotten worse every year since the fire. Zane could think of a few reasons why, starting with more than a quarter of the town leaving in one way or another. Maybe if Ashenport had more than just the docks, people would come back. It wasn’t a place to live, but it was all he had.
         'Hey firefly,' someone said beside him.
         Zane opened an eye to look at who had decided to encroach on his privacy. It was just in time to see the man unceremoniously drop onto the edge of the wall. Talathion leant back on his hands and tucked one foot underneath himself. Zane closed his eye again and took a drag.
         ‘I hope you’ve got a good reason to be disturbing me,” he said, exhaling the smoke.
         He held out the roll of herbs between his index and middle finger out to Tal, who took it without hesitation.
         ‘Wanting to see you isn’t a valid reason?’ Tal’s smile was evident in his voice.
         ‘It’s not a good enough one.’
         Opening his eyes, Zane turned a soft smile on the man beside him. Smoke billowed into the space between them and Zane felt himself relax properly as he watched Tal. There was an easy smile on his tired face even as he took a drag. His auburn hair looked almost bronze in the late-evening light. His hair had been pulled back out of his face and tied low with a simple piece of green ribbon. It had gotten a lot longer in the last few months; Tal never usually cared about getting it cut until it annoyed him one too many times. When that was the case, he’d show up at Madame Rosevin’s to try and drag Zane on break to fix his haphazard cut job. Zane never cared too much about missing work.
         Working at the alchemist’s was boring most days: Madame Rosevin wouldn’t let him do anything fun or interesting out of fear for his safety. He’d remind her again and again that he was capable, and the only way he could learn was by making mistakes. It’s not like he was particularly worried about any scarring; his arms were already battered with scars, and his legs even more so. He guessed it was just part of being dead. His body never healed properly anymore, not without salves or potions that Merrin manages to find. They’re never the normal ones either. Zane’s never seen them at Madame Rosevin’s, or in any of the alchemy books he has to read. Merrin had only told him how he’d found them once – a book that was buried in with the rest of the stuff he used on his altar. Zane could guess that it was something to do with necromancy, it was Merrin after all.
         ‘Staring,’ Tal said, not even turning to look at Zane.
         Zane didn’t humour him with a response, instead he reached out to take his roll back from Tal’s unresisting fingers. It was almost gone, so Zane took one last drag before passing it back to Tal. Tal inhaled until it burnt right down to his fingers before stubbing it out on the stone between them. By then, the town behind them had quietened as the population disappeared inside to either one of the many taverns or their own homes. Zane turned to look towards the Clocktower, its ivy covered walls shining in the light. He could see the small trail of smoke coming from Merrin’s altar in the garden.
         Zane thought about whether or not Merrin would still be home when he finally decided to go back. Not that it mattered – he’d already made dinner yesterday, so Merrin would be able to eat whenever he needed to. If he wasn’t home, it avoided the awkward conversation about whether or not Zane had eaten. Sometimes he forgot what true hunger felt like. It was only when that gnawing pain moved to his stomach that he remembered what it was like to be alive. It was a ravenous and seemingly unending hunger that could only ever be dulled by time and whatever concoctions he could make. It was somewhat easier to cope with compared to the blinding headaches and the crushing feeling of his ribs trying to move back into place after fighting off another wave of panic.
         He couldn’t remember what it was like to feel normal, to not be in pain or plagued with fear that someone, anyone, would find out about his undead nature. As far as he knew, only two people did, not including himself. Maybe it was all just an overreaction. Maybe no one actually cared. Would it even change anything? Zane always thought it would; he wouldn’t feel comfortable around a reanimated corpse, so why would anyone else? Was that even what he was? Was that all he could ever be? How many times could he even be brought back before-
         ‘Breathe, Zane,’ Tal said, startling him out of his thoughts with a hand on his back.
         Zane hadn’t noticed when his breathing had become nothing more than rapid pants and he choked on the first real breath he took. He dug his fingers into the fabric of his trousers, clenching so hard he threatened to rip them apart. His cheeks were damp with tears he didn’t know he was crying and hissed in pained breaths through clenched teeth. Tal moved his hand to wrap around Zane’s shoulders and pulled him in, pressing Zane’s head towards his chest. Zane buried himself into Tal’s unrelenting grip and listened to the steady beat of Tal’s heart. He focused on the way Tal combed his fingers through his hair, short nails dragging across his scalp.
         ‘I’ve got you,’ Tal whispered into his hair, ‘Just breathe.’
         Zane was trying, he really was. He wanted to tell Tal that, but all he could do was choke on the air he was trying so hard to breathe in.
By the time he could finally suck in one deep breath, the sky had darkened to a dark, hazy blue. Zane moved his head to rest on Tal’s shoulder, unwrapping his arms from around his waist and resting them on Tal’s back. He looked out over the forest, at the trees swaying gently in the wind and the smoke rising from distant cabins. The air had grown colder – and the dull warmth of the herbs had faded. Despite it being summer, the sudden chill was too much for his thin clothes to combat.
         When Zane finally shivered, Tal pushed him away gently. He still kept Zane close, but put enough space between them so that he could slip off his cloak and drape it over Zane’s shoulders. With gentle fingers, he wiped the tears from Zane’s face and Zane gave him a tired smile, or what he thought was a smile at least.
         Pulling the cloak around himself, Zane kept his breathing as even as possible. He looked up at Tal’s face, at the tiredness etched into his tanned skin and dark eyes. A tiredness that made him look far older than he was; the aches and pains of battles he’d won, even if he shouldn’t have ever been in them. Zane knew what it was like, knew why Tal was the only one who knew what Zane needed without him having to utter a single word.
         ‘Will it ever end?’ Zane asked, voice barely a whisper in the dark. ‘Will we ever be okay again?’
         ‘Were we ever?’ Tal’s voice was edged with quiet resignation.
         Zane shrugged, it was a question he didn’t really know the answer to. A question he didn’t think he wanted an answer to. If he’d ever been okay, then why was he here now. He looked up at Tal, finding comfort in the slight furrow of his brow and searching eyes as he watched Zane. It was times like this – times where it felt as though nothing made sense – that all he needed was Tal.
         ‘Staring,’ Tal said, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
         ‘Yeah,’ Zane said, and closed the gap between them.
         Tal’s lips were rough and chapped, but he kissed Zane as though he was something to be cherished. Within seconds, one of his hands was on Zane’s cheek, and he leant into the touch. The cold breeze sent a shiver over Zane’s skin, but Tal just pulled Zane closer, letting him take all the warmth from his body. He didn’t know how long they’d been sitting there, nor how long they’d stay. He was sure he’d hear something about it tomorrow, but he couldn’t find a single part of him that cared. But for now, he’d savour this moment. Savour the feeling of warm skin on his. Savour the fingernails against his scalp and up his back. Savour the feeling of two hearts beating as one.
         For that moment, Zane felt okay for the first time in years.