Joey heard Lance come in, felt him slide into the bed behind him and rest his hand against his shoulder, but he didn’t turn around.

“You still awake?” he heard Lance whisper.

But it didn’t matter and he didn’t answer and he felt Lance relax against his back, one hand tucked against Joey’s waist and his leg pressed between his thighs.

He made the coffee, poured the three rations into four mugs and inhaled the aroma, reminding himself of what it should taste like. He didn’t know why he bothered.

Justin came in, picked up two mugs, and walked out again. He didn’t see Lance before he left.

“Invincible, is what you think you are…” No one was near and he muttered the words to himself, in perfect time, as he swept along the street.

He saw someone approach out of the corner of his eye and shut his mouth quickly, hoping they hadn’t heard. He watched as the person passed, but it was only the delivery boy that walked by every day and he knew the kid didn’t care.

“You act like everyone, revolves around you…” He saw the Guard down the street, watched as the kid headed straight for them and didn’t turn aside.

“Baby you dropped the ball, now the game is through…” The kid had almost reached the Guard and they all turned toward him now, just waiting.

He stopped sweeping, just stood and watched and words fell by rote from his lips. “’Cause you tried to play both sides, and got caught…”

The kid had reached him and they pushed him, threw his papers to the ground and it didn’t matter that the kid had only been doing his job, hadn’t stepped out of line. Joey watched the kid fall, watched them step over him, grind his papers into the concrete and he didn’t start sweeping again, didn’t stop singing and they were coming towards him.

“Played yourself, but did you, did you think that you could really….”

They were close to him now, and one lifted up his gun. “Stop singing,” he growled, the faceless, nameless arm of authority.

Joey didn’t, couldn’t. “Making moves, you’re gonna lose…”

“Stop!”

Joey shook his head and dropped his broom. “You’ll never win, you’ll never win…” and he watched the Guard raise the gun, watched it come toward his face and couldn’t, wouldn’t stop.

He stared up at them from the sidewalk and he could still feel his mouth moving, his chest vibrating with the song, and thought of the man they’d shot.

The Guard raised his gun, pointing it at Joey. He could see his lips moving but he couldn’t hear him, didn’t want to hear him. He lay there and all he could see- blocking out the sky, the Guard, everything- was the other man, who’d just stood as they screamed at him, hit him, killed him. Joey saw him falling, always falling, and the face as it hit the ground became his own.