Zero-sum

Part II

"With pastrami and cigarettes, too," Anthony told him with a big smile, holding up the gifts. He eyed John's drawing and felt more of his heart melt- the sketch was rough and a little crooked, an absent scattering of thought and intent. It wasn't particularly good, but he could see the thickness of the pencil imprint in the thin light of the sun and he knew it had been made with love. If he went and looked at the next page on John's notepad now, the perfect mirror image of this drawing would be etched into it, an outline carved in deep and careful detail. "Sure looks like me."

"You look like you," John said as a matter of fact, and Anthony laughed because he'd forgotten what strange things would come out of his mouth. The last time they'd met, they'd both thought it would be their last. There had been tears and dread and a looming sense of death. There was a lightness in the air now. Some room for laughter.

Anthony thought about John's words for a moment- "you look like you"- he couldn't quite say the same about John. His features were drawn and angular and he still looked so frail, even though he'd put on weight at the clinic. His lower face was swollen, his nose still had a broken curve, and it seemed he had fake teeth now. His eyes were bright but it was a desperate look, a light that haunted him from within. This sweet boy had been through so much.

"You got an appetite?" Anth asked, trying not to study John's face too hard. He didn't want to make him self-conscious, and there would be time to look at him yet. He wasn't on the brink of death anymore.

John smiled widely, flashing his new teeth as he went for the cigarettes. "I needed smokes, thank you," he said as he stuck one between his full lips and lit it up while Anthony rested the sandwich on the small table.

"It's no problem. You look good," Anthony lied. "Mind if I...?" he gestured toward one of the cushioned armchairs.

"Sure! Yeah, um, sorry, sit down," John encouraged, puffing on the cigarette as he wiped a bunch of papers and napkins off the table and onto the floor to make room for Anthony's belongings. Anthony smiled again and placed his keys on the table as he sat down.

"Hope none of those papers were important."

"Who cares," John said with a shrug, sitting down across from him. They looked at each other in silence for a moment. John had spent many days and nights thinking about Anthony since they'd last seen each other and here he was, right in front of him, the only beautiful thing roaming these sallow halls. John was almost worried Anthony might be infected by this place. He'd been doing well the last time they'd spoken. He'd said he was clean. John was so happy to see that he still seemed to be- he looked so handsome.

"So...how're you feeling?" Anthony asked, surveying his features more carefully now. "Better?"

"Better? Yeah, um, y'know. I'm uh... feeling better," John mumbled. His words were muddied these days. His mind didn't feel sharp the way it had when he'd been on cocaine, and it was obvious in the way he spoke. He inhaled deeply from his cigarette and blew the smoke upward, watching as it fell and swirled between them, creating a fog screen. John thought he might be able to hide behind it, let it cloud Anthony's vision just enough so he couldn't see the scars and cuts and distortions that ravaged his body now. He felt like Frankenstein, or Sally from the Nightmare Before Christmas. Anthony used to think he was beautiful. Now what would he think?

"I'm glad to hear that."

"What about you?"

"Been feeling good, can't complain too much." Anthony watched John poke out his cigarette on the plastic table. He wanted to keep the conversation going. "What have they got you doing here? Have you been drawing a lot?"

"I-um. Yeah, y'know, they keep us pretty busy with group and nurses and doctors coming in all day. But I, erm, have enough down time that I'd...I'd go crazy if I wasn't drawing, there's nothing else to fucking do for fun here, and no TVs in our rooms or anything," John muttered. His speech was slow and his words slurred together in some parts, and his fake teeth made him lisp, and it sounded strange to his own ears. He licked his swollen lips as the smoke dissipated and finally looked back up at his former lover, hoping he didn't sound too strange to him. "I've missed you." He paused to wipe his nose on his sleeve, wincing at the sharp pain from his arms. "You look, um, strong." He fidgeted in his seat, feeling awkward in his skin. "And tan and stuff."