[infinite] 007. cigarettes
007. cigarettes
infinite, dongwoo/woohyun
pg, 831w
for woohyun, it's nicotine; for dongwoo, it's woohyun.
When Woohyun gives Dongwoo the delivery order he also holds out a manwon bill and says, "Could you get some cigarettes for me while you're out?"
Dongwoo hefts the delivery bag and says the same thing he always says: "It's bad for you."
"I know, I know. Please?" Woohyun pouts. "I've been working all day."
Dongwoo sees the swell of his lower lip and the curve of muscle under his T-shirt sleeve. "If your mom finds out I better not get in trouble," he says, taking the bill and shoving it in his back pocket.
Woohyun beams all the way up to his eyes. Dongwoo allows himself two seconds to look. "You're the best."
"You're a sucker," Dongwoo scolds himself outside as he secures the bag on the back of his motorbike. He adjusts his helmet, then starts up the bike and takes off down the street. In order not to think about Woohyun, he repeats the address of his destination out loud over and over, until the syllables settle into a rap over the rising and falling drone of the bike's engine.
When he gets back to the restaurant, Woohyun is coming out, talking on his phone. Dongwoo tosses him the pack of cigarettes and goes inside.
He's sitting at a corner table and checking his messages when a pair of arms wraps around his shoulders from behind. "Thank you," Woohyun coos, resting his cheek against Dongwoo's hair. Dongwoo reaches up and pats his head, still staring at his phone, trying to concentrate on the list of names there. Then Woohyun's gone, but Dongwoo's heart is still racing.
"You should quit," he calls after Woohyun as he goes into the kitchen. I should quit, he thinks.
The next morning on his way to work Dongwoo stops in the convenience store. He hesitates a moment before buying a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. All the way to the restaurant he keeps touching his jacket pocket, feeling the ridges of the carton.
In the lull after his lunch delivery rounds he tells Woohyun's mom that he's taking a break. He steps outside the back door and peels the cellophane off the carton, then crumples it into his jacket pocket. There's a drawing of a whale on the front of the box. He turns it over in his hand, then opens it and shakes out a cigarette.
It takes a few flicks of the lighter before he gets the flame. He holds it up to the cigarette, and as it catches he inhales on instinct. The first breath of smoke is a hot, dry burn down his chest, and he coughs it out right away. But the cigarette feels secure and natural between his fingers, and the second attempt is more successful. He starts to feel light-headed.
He's never seen Woohyun smoke but it's not hard to picture: Woohyun in a bar in Hongdae, wearing a nice shirt, shoulders shaking with laughter at someone else's joke as he lifts the cigarette to his mouth; the crisp line of the white paper against his red lips; the self-conscious way he would exhale away from the table. Dongwoo imagines smoke moving through Woohyun's body the way it moves through his now, warm and too dry, making his mouth feel like there's cotton in it. He thinks about kissing Woohyun after he's smoked. His mouth would taste like a cigarette but their tongues moving together might cut the dryness. He moves his own tongue around his mouth to see if it's true. It's hardly the first time he's imagined kissing Woohyun. Sometimes he can't do anything else.
One day, he thinks, they'll invent a way to roll thoughts into individual sticks. Then he'll only be able to think about kissing Woohyun for five minutes at a time, and he can carry on with his regular life without being constantly distracted. Or maybe it wouldn't make things better; he'd just be constantly counting down to the next time he got to have one instead.
The cigarette has burned down, leaving a stack of light grey ash. Dongwoo drops the butt and watches it roll away, then heads back inside.
On his break the next day he's playing with the carton, tossing it up and down. Woohyun scoops it off the table before Dongwoo can pick it up again.
"What's this?" he asks. "Since when do you smoke?"
"I don't," Dongwoo replies. "Do you want it? I only took one."
"Seriously?" Woohyun peers inside the carton, then snaps the top back down. "You're not going to lecture me about quitting?"
Dongwoo shrugs. "Life's too short already."
Woohyun examines the box before he tucks it into his pocket. "Wow, these must be really good if just one changed your mind."
Dongwoo looks at his slight smirk, at the way his eyelashes catch the light from the window. When he smokes the cigarettes, lips pursed around the filter, it could be like a kiss.
"Something like that," he says.
infinite, dongwoo/woohyun
pg, 831w
for woohyun, it's nicotine; for dongwoo, it's woohyun.
When Woohyun gives Dongwoo the delivery order he also holds out a manwon bill and says, "Could you get some cigarettes for me while you're out?"
Dongwoo hefts the delivery bag and says the same thing he always says: "It's bad for you."
"I know, I know. Please?" Woohyun pouts. "I've been working all day."
Dongwoo sees the swell of his lower lip and the curve of muscle under his T-shirt sleeve. "If your mom finds out I better not get in trouble," he says, taking the bill and shoving it in his back pocket.
Woohyun beams all the way up to his eyes. Dongwoo allows himself two seconds to look. "You're the best."
"You're a sucker," Dongwoo scolds himself outside as he secures the bag on the back of his motorbike. He adjusts his helmet, then starts up the bike and takes off down the street. In order not to think about Woohyun, he repeats the address of his destination out loud over and over, until the syllables settle into a rap over the rising and falling drone of the bike's engine.
When he gets back to the restaurant, Woohyun is coming out, talking on his phone. Dongwoo tosses him the pack of cigarettes and goes inside.
He's sitting at a corner table and checking his messages when a pair of arms wraps around his shoulders from behind. "Thank you," Woohyun coos, resting his cheek against Dongwoo's hair. Dongwoo reaches up and pats his head, still staring at his phone, trying to concentrate on the list of names there. Then Woohyun's gone, but Dongwoo's heart is still racing.
"You should quit," he calls after Woohyun as he goes into the kitchen. I should quit, he thinks.
The next morning on his way to work Dongwoo stops in the convenience store. He hesitates a moment before buying a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. All the way to the restaurant he keeps touching his jacket pocket, feeling the ridges of the carton.
In the lull after his lunch delivery rounds he tells Woohyun's mom that he's taking a break. He steps outside the back door and peels the cellophane off the carton, then crumples it into his jacket pocket. There's a drawing of a whale on the front of the box. He turns it over in his hand, then opens it and shakes out a cigarette.
It takes a few flicks of the lighter before he gets the flame. He holds it up to the cigarette, and as it catches he inhales on instinct. The first breath of smoke is a hot, dry burn down his chest, and he coughs it out right away. But the cigarette feels secure and natural between his fingers, and the second attempt is more successful. He starts to feel light-headed.
He's never seen Woohyun smoke but it's not hard to picture: Woohyun in a bar in Hongdae, wearing a nice shirt, shoulders shaking with laughter at someone else's joke as he lifts the cigarette to his mouth; the crisp line of the white paper against his red lips; the self-conscious way he would exhale away from the table. Dongwoo imagines smoke moving through Woohyun's body the way it moves through his now, warm and too dry, making his mouth feel like there's cotton in it. He thinks about kissing Woohyun after he's smoked. His mouth would taste like a cigarette but their tongues moving together might cut the dryness. He moves his own tongue around his mouth to see if it's true. It's hardly the first time he's imagined kissing Woohyun. Sometimes he can't do anything else.
One day, he thinks, they'll invent a way to roll thoughts into individual sticks. Then he'll only be able to think about kissing Woohyun for five minutes at a time, and he can carry on with his regular life without being constantly distracted. Or maybe it wouldn't make things better; he'd just be constantly counting down to the next time he got to have one instead.
The cigarette has burned down, leaving a stack of light grey ash. Dongwoo drops the butt and watches it roll away, then heads back inside.
On his break the next day he's playing with the carton, tossing it up and down. Woohyun scoops it off the table before Dongwoo can pick it up again.
"What's this?" he asks. "Since when do you smoke?"
"I don't," Dongwoo replies. "Do you want it? I only took one."
"Seriously?" Woohyun peers inside the carton, then snaps the top back down. "You're not going to lecture me about quitting?"
Dongwoo shrugs. "Life's too short already."
Woohyun examines the box before he tucks it into his pocket. "Wow, these must be really good if just one changed your mind."
Dongwoo looks at his slight smirk, at the way his eyelashes catch the light from the window. When he smokes the cigarettes, lips pursed around the filter, it could be like a kiss.
"Something like that," he says.