The Cigarettes you light one after another won't help you forget her.
Coupling: KrisSica.
Prompt: Learnin' The Blues - The cigarettes you light one after another won’t help you forget her.
Genre: Angst.
A puff of smoke clouded the small room. The small tip lighted the dim and cold room. The broken tap that was supposed to be mended months ago released small and single drips that would occasionally be the only sound to be heard. Sporadically a hoarse cough escaped his throat.
“Kris,” a slim figure that stood beside him nudged him hard in the stomach as she took the deathly object and threw it to the ground. She completed the daily ritual by stamping her foot on the object with much hate and spat on it for added effect.
“That was my last one thank you,” he sarcastically replied and began to retreat.
“Where are you going?” she asked, pulling the hem of his shirt.
“To buy myself another one of those,” he grunted and pulled her along, “Aren’t you coming?”
“Why should I come along?” she turned her back and began to walk away, “One of us has to live longer.”
The floorboards rasped in piercing pain as he dragged himself towards the kitchen counter where another pack stood silently waiting to be gripped between his frail dry fingers and into his desiccated wine lips.
“Babe, give it back,” he eyed her as she took the long object and examined it in between her wondering eyes, “It’s not for you.”
“What does it taste like?” a twinkle appeared in her eyes as she casually asked and imitated his previous actions, “Does it make your problems disappear? Can I try it too?”
“Don’t joke around,” he hissed and violently grabbed the object.
“Why not?” she stared at his disbelievingly, “Day in day out you puff your life away. Why am I not allowed?”
“Because one of us has to live longer.”
A clunk resounded in the small room as his heavy foot kicked the trash can closer. He drew one of the high chairs closer and slouched himself onto it. His heavy head laid flat on the kitchen counter and blinked trice at the seemingly normal box.
Beep beep. He quickly rose to his feet and looked around. After checking carefully, he sat back down. The monitor was still bleeping and she was still alive. He slowly slid his fingers through the empty spaces in between hers like it was fitted perfectly for each other. He gripped them closer and soon he could feel his hands sweating. Quickly pulling away, he looked at his trembling hands that shook uncontrollably. Inside, he too, was trembling.
“Kris?” a small dry whisper snapped him back to reality to see the once cheerful and bouncy girl that lit up his life.
“Yeah babe?” he swiftly grabbed hold of her hands once more and unknowingly, tears had began to slowly cover his cheeks, “What’s wrong? Stay with me. Please.”He surprised himself as it didn’t sound like he was begging nor was it a request. It felt more like a demand or an urgent order.
“The cigarettes you light one after another won’t help-,” and then a long beep echoed throughout the room. A wave of doctors and nurses rushed into the room and soon he was standing in an empty and hollow room. He, too, was empty and hollow.
A thin and trembling right hand settled itself on the table just beside the stick container. He looked at it indifferently. With one swing of the flat palm and it entered the trash can. A tug of smile drew on his face slowly as he finally stood up in victory.
“One of us has to live longer. I will Jess.”
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A reminder: second hand smoking kills. Ew I hate smokers.
Sorry crackship alert.