Most nights he is all curled up around a pillow, hugging it to his chest with both arms and his knees pulled halfway to his chest. If he is in no position to afford a pillow, or a place that offers them, the faded knapsack containing all his worldly possessions is a sufficient substitute and, if not that, his wallet, containing the pictures of the people most important to him, both dead and living. If he cannot even have the illusion of someone to hold, someone close and gentle and loving, he might as well hold the images of those who are and have been close to his heart. But there is no need for any of those sad pretenses tonight. If asked, he would not be quite able to say how this happened --- though while he’d like to blame it on weed and cheap beer, both consumed by himself earlier this evening --- he knows, feels it in his heart, in his bones, that it runs deeper than simple off-guarded goofiness. It is the loneliness that runs through him like blood and, evidently, through Adam as well. This realization saddens him. His own solitude is something he has had to learn to handle because he had no other choice but, either way, it is something he can contain, something he can bear --- but his companion’s, and the helplessness that comes with it, is just about soul-crushing. To think of Adam, alone and longing for someone, anyone, to show him even the slightest bit of affection; it is an image Job wishes he could push out of his mind and, simultaneously, knows he will never be able to. But he can, at least, combat it, for now. Weed or otherwise, having another person’s body tucked against his feels... fucking incredible, if he’s being perfectly honest. Comforting, possibly, is the best word that he can conjure, although that too feels lacking. Chin resting atop Adam’s head, both arms wrapped around him, Job’s fingers stroke idly between his shoulder-blades, breath slow and even, as his heavy-hooded eyes go in and out of focus on a water stain on the wall on the opposite end of the room. He doesn’t know what was the last time either one of them spoke, but it feels like a long while before now. His voice comes hesitant and hoarse with smoke when he speaks again. “Is --- would it... can... we sleep like this?”
@ghostofwho.