Ashes
He's not the same anymore. He doesn't laugh at her jokes, and he doesn't make any jokes of his own either. He takes himself much more seriously now. He doesn't even try to find pleasure or enjoyment in anything now. Not that he ever really did, but it's even worse now.
He doesn't seem angry either. He just seems tired and…sad really. He just sits there, slumped, and smokes his cigarettes silently. That's the other thing. His posture has changed. He slouches now; he used to stand up straight.
His attitude has changed too. He just gets on with his job silently. There's no back-chat. Gone are the snide responses and cruel put-downs that they both used to laugh at, albeit bitterly. Bitter laughter was better than no laughter at all. Now he never laughs, never smiles, barely even responds.
He'll sit there sometimes, and his eyes will almost glaze over. Then he'll jump at the slightest sound; but instead of shouting angrily, like he used to do when someone gave him a fright, he'll just slump back down again when he discovers the source of the noise.
She's seen shell-shock before. She remembers how her brother would jump at even the slightest sound, springing up as if ready for action. She saw too, how he would shake with fear, seemingly in a different place, a different world, from the one he was actually in.
But this…this seems different somehow. She can't put her finger on it, but he doesn't really seem to be shell-shocked, not that she can see anyway. He seems…she's not sure. She wonders if she should ask him. Maybe he'd tell her. Or maybe he wouldn't even know himself.
It seems like it might be worth a try, she thinks, as she approaches him in the courtyard, holding a cigarette. He's just finished his last one, so she supposes he'd like another.
It's bitingly cold outside and she shivers. She's surprised he's managed to stand out here as long as he has. He hears her footsteps and looks up to see who's there. Seeing her, he turns back around again.
"Thought you could do with this," she says, handing it to him.
"Thanks," he mumbles. He takes it, lights it, and inhales from it deeply. Then he blows out a big cloud of smoke. They sit there for a few minutes in silence, before she speaks.
"How've you been then?"
"Same as always."
"No you haven't."
He looks at her blankly. "What d' you mean?
"You haven't been yourself lately. Not since you came back anyway."
"Haven't been myself?" To her surprise he laughs. It's the first time she's heard him laugh since he came back, and it sounds strange to her ears. "What were you expecting?" His tone isn't mocking, not per se, but it sounds like he thinks he's talking to a young child who doesn't understand how the world works and is yet to learn.
"I wasn't expecting nothing. I'm just saying."
"Right." He stands, squaring his shoulders, and looks straight at her. "Saying what exactly?" There's almost the hint of a challenge in his voice, she thinks, but she can't be sure.
"That you aren't the same as you was."
"Neither are you." He throws the cigarette to the ground and stamps it out. Then he turns to go inside. "Thanks… for the cigarette." His back is still turned to her as he says this, and without another word, he makes his way inside.
"You're welcome," she mutters, and then she throws her cigarette to the ground too, stamping it with her foot, and watches as the light from the tip dies and all that remain are the ashes.
xxx
AN: If you have the time, please leave me a review to let me know what you think. I only ask that you are not overly harsh in your criticism. Thank you for reading!