Notes

He snapped out of his spaced-out gaze when Escape came back and took ahold of his hand, pulling his nails from digging into flesh.

"Yeah," he said, as silent as Escape was to him. He looked at him, into his blue eyes that looked so much like pools. He just stared for a few moments and looked at the floor, unsure of what to do with himself. He didn't know how the other could look so okay with everything, he didn't even look upset. Even though it was good he wasn't upset.

Sawyer shook his head in response, he leaned over after and rested his forehead on Escape's shoulder. He muttered an apology and told him quietly that he didn't have to do that and that he should relax and not worry about him. While he did so, he let go of his hand and curved his arms around the small of the author's back and let them hang there as they gently pulled them a tad bit closer.

He did like to be waited on and have others care for him, but it made him feel like he was being a burden at the same time, and so he refused. It was the same reason why he didn't like a ton of money being spent on him either. He was concious about little things like that so other people would be less annoyed by things having to do with him. Even if it meant feeling a little worse.

Sawyer was absolutely sure withdrawal would be hell with minimal help. He had already relapsed. Quitting cold turkey wasn't going well for him, and he really didn't want to be feeling like this all the time. It would ruin his relationship with Escape, being gloomy all the time and lashing out when his mind got too heavy for shoulders and a mind to bear.

Honestly, Sawyer was still thinking about his vices. It would probably be easier if he just succumed, but there were more variables now. There was Escape.

He pulled away from the hug and sat back down at the table.

Was it worth it? Maybe. He had only known him for a short period of time, surely it couldn't be that bad if he disappeared, maybe just for a little while. He was going to Devin's tonight either way, maybe they could smoke a cigarette together or something more severe. It was better than feeling like shit, and he might even come home a little happier.
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Sawyer sighed gently. "Where's the pie?" he asked nondescriptly, standing up again. Cats weaved around his feet and layed under the table, whisking bits of fur into the air momentarily.