The night was old. The whisps of cold air were swinging back in as Sam stared above. He’d lost count of how many stars were plastered across the sky. Wrapped up in a large Sherpa, and a thin shirt straddled underneath it, he could feel the cold sinking into his chest.
HE tightened himself up and exhaled, watching the fog from his mouth erupt like a small white volcano.
To his left was the whiskey he had just poured himself, and sitting just next to it was the cigar he had lit five minutes before. It had died out but the tobacco smell lingered with the cold air. No wind could blow that away.

He wasn’t himself. He hadn’t been in ages…
He usually was smart enough to wear a jumper or two to warm him on a night like this. But the weed and whiskey from the night had convinced him that he would be warm enough. The last remnants of both of those were wearing off…something he didn’t think would happen.

The beard that covered his face had become overgrown, and the bushy hair was now scrambling over his ears and down his neck. Scruffy would be the right word to describe him…but whether he cared or not for that new description was beyond anyone’s knowledge.
His eyes were almost absent, they weren’t smiling or angry or any other kind of emotion…but they weren’t dead either…just not there. Probably due to the dark circles that surrounded them…sleep had made whatever presence they once had, disappear.

Sam reached for the glass beside him and sipped. It stung his mouth and burned down his chest. The antidote he needed for a night like this.
The light flickered in and out as shadows of moths scattered around him.
He needed this. He had felt as scattered as those moths were.
He needed to lose the world and find a free spot away from everything.

Arjun and Aryan both agreed to give him the keys to their stay away. A small place an hour and a half out of the city…away from everything.
He was supposed to spend the weekend away, but it had been 5 days since he’d been home. The twins told him to take as long as he liked…and suggested staying there for a week anyway…so he felt at ease knowing he didn’t need to leave after those first two nights.
There was no rest anyway. He couldn’t sleep when he got in. It took him a while to get accustomed to everything. By that time, his eyes had developed those dark circles and his beard had strangled its way over his mouth and neck.
He definitely looked out of place…but it was nothing compared to how he felt.

The world had rejected him. Made him angry and frustrated…and the quiet solace he had found was like a breath of fresh air. The city, the commotion and the constant incessant badgering started to make him feel ill…he needed a cure, and he needed it before he ran his head through a brick wall.

Sam reached for the cigar and softly wrapped his teeth around the end of it. Picking up the matchbox from his pocket he reached his fingers into the litter of sticks and struck one alight. Thick plumes of smoke formed in the air as he took a puff and exhaled, bringing the cigar back to life.
Breathe.
That’s all he needed to do.
He’d worry about the cancer later.

The whiskey-tobacco combination created a taste in his mouth and swirled around the back of his teeth.
He let the cigar hang from his fingers and looked back up at the stars.
How long would this last?…this beautiful solace he’d become accustomed to?

Even he knew he had to return home. His parents had called him a bunch of times…he didn’t ignore them but gave them short curt replies to help ease their worry.
His sister was waiting for him though. He knew it. She chose to give him space…and urged his older brother to make sure he resisted calling as well.
In fact, the last thing he remembered was her worried expression as he jumped on his bike and sped off down the street.
He owed it to her to come home and assure her she was ok. He’d tolerate his brothers badgering, trying to unearth a problem or give him some advice that may or may not work…besides, he knew they just wanted him to be ok.

Sam shook the last thoughts out of his head and scratched his beard buried chin. He had to worry about this later, now wasn’t the time to kill his only source of peace in the last month.
As he felt the breeze swing through again, Sam wondered how long till he could bear the cold no longer. He smiled softly and massaged his chest… he knew it didn’t matter. He would be there all night if he had to…he had all the warmth he needed.

His eyes half-closed, he stared back at the stars… the moths were still playing with the light behind him.