His hands shook horribly, withdrawal, he thought. Wren stuffed his hands into his coat pockets, trying to ignore the feeling of emptiness.

Five days without cigarettes, he had alcohol, which numbed the pain of withdrawal a small bit, but he needed cigarettes. Major emphasis on need.

They were his love, his lady, the only thing that kept him from snapping. Well, Iris helped him with the last one too, he mentally chided himself for forgetting that.

He slumped forward the slightest bit, more than usual with his already bent back. Wren’s back also hurt more without his nicotine, which he really hated. And just to stop the pain he had to bend forward another inch when he walked, which just made his back want to stay that way.

Wren opened his eyes, not realizing he had closed them, as he felt a small hand wrap around his long fingers. He looked over to see Iris walking beside him.

“I have a present for you.” She looked up at him, he looked puzzled. She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out the black and white package he remembered so well, the familiar Dream label. Cigarettes!

He kneeled down in front of her, kissing her on the forehead, “Aw, thank you, sweetie.” He ripped the plastic covering off and pulled one of the sticks out, turning his head to the side and lighting it, taking a long drag and blowing smoke out of the side of his mouth. “And your reward, a piggy-back ride all the way home.” Wren smiled at Iris.

A smile reached her eyes, but her face stayed the same. She walked behind Wren and got on his back, her legs through Wren’s bent elbows and her arms around his neck. He stood slowly, and started walking down the street. He expertly held the cigarette in his mouth, even when blowing out smoke.

“Doesn’t this hurt your back?” Iris said softly into his back.

“Not really, you’re not heavy.” Another drag and the cigarette rolled to the corner of his mouth as he talked, smoke exiting as he did.

Iris didn’t respond, she had her answer and had no reason to continue with her questioning. Instead, she focused her attention on the three silver rods that were pierced into the back of his neck. She always wanted to get something like that. She thought it meant he was strong.

Iris’ good eye widened as she heard the sound of a bone cracking. Wren had stopped, and his knee cracked. She panicked for a second, thinking it was his back.

It was odd, for a someone as reckless and strong as him, would think his weakness would be his back? Of course, he was always quick enough to keep them away from that area, but someone would figure it out soon enough.

Wren started walking again, a little bit quicker. Iris guessed that he was walking slow because his leg was stiff.

“Should I get off?” Iris mumbled.

“No, no, I’m just tired, that’s all.”

Iris was quiet all the way back to the complex, and Wren carried her right to the door. He had to put her down in order to open it, and she ran and clambered up onto her top bunk, throwing off her coat on the couch and her boots next to it.

Wren raised an eyebrow and chuckled, walking over and slumping into his chair. He rubbed the cigarette, the filter was now the only thing left, in the ash tray, putting it out, and lit up another one. He glanced at the clock, 12:46 a.m., and then up at Iris’ bunk. She had already tucked herself into bed, her eyes closed.

His boots clunked heavily against the ground when he crossed his left leg over his right ankle, closing his eyes, occasionally taking a drag. Savoring the taste. Glancing at the window, he noticed he left it open.

Wren squinted his eyes and saw a figure sitting on the rail of the fire escape just outside his window. His eyebrow raised, and his lips formed into a thin line.

“Alana?” The figure turned towards him at the sound of her name.

She swung her legs to the other side of the railing, where she sat and faced Wren. Her long hair was tied back, but the shorter pieces of hair frame her face, her bangs hiding part of her eyes. Her pants were a bit baggy, Wren surmised that she borrowed them from Morris. She had a blank face like Iris’.

“You owe me money.” She said simply, “Iris borrowed money from me to get you cigarettes.”