Unweaving

Some time went by and a strange friendship began to limp out of the space between Smee and Aad's half hearts. They would pass the time weaving ropes from strips of ripped clothing, only to exchange their ropes with one another and unweave it once again. Through this exchange, much of their closeness was defined by silence that grew slightly in a quiet comfort even the walls – which Smee had noticed had been much quieter lately – couldn't eat.

When they spoke, conversation would meander inevitably to Jeremy's general idiocy, but the strongest bond between them came from their unique, shared isolation. Smee and Aad were painfully alone, but alone together, and from that a sense of loyalty and companionship had been born which seemed to exist in demented harmony with Smee's sardonic nature and Aad's injured innocence.

In an unusually extended period of silence, Smee caught Aad observing him with the curiosity of a stranger. Smee met his gaze, paused his weaving and raised his eyebrow.

"Smee? … Who were you going to be?"

Smee immediately dropped his gaze and felt an achy thump in his chest as if the question itself had roly polyed from Aad's mouth and fallen down a rabbit hole into Smee's chest. The ache accompanying the strange thump coincided with a shudder from the walls, as if the question had made them nauseous, and the shudder brought with it the return of a memory. Smee knew the answer to Aad's question as if it had never been forgotten. The enormity of remembering who he was once going to be was a tsunami in his mind, washing over his mind and destroying the version of himself that had only ever existed in the cell.

Eventually, he looked up at Aad, tucked his cynicism away, and finally opened his mouth to speak.