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I. Souichi was 16 when he smoked for the first time. It was an odd situation, the kind in which he seldom found himself, and never sought out.
Hanako senpai had been the one who offered him a cigarette. He had never really thought about smoking before, had never really wanted to, but he had taken the offer, because it was handed with such a sweet smile. Souichi wasn’t old enough to buy himself such things. Neither was Hanako senpai, but she was almost of age and a charmer. Souichi didn’t really get why she hanged out with him, but he appreciated her company.
He had put the cigarette between his lips, like he’d seen her do many times before. She had struck a match and cradled the flame in her hand. She shot him a mischievous glance that suddenly made him very interested in the flame. So he had leaned forward to set the tip ablaze.
“Breath in,” she’d told him. So he had.
The warmth of the feeble flame warmed his lips. An acrid taste licked his tongue, surprisingly unlike the smell of the smoke he knew well.
Still, a thrill ran through him as he took in the smoke. Was it only the flame warming his face, or could he feel the warmth of Senpai’s skin in such close proximity?
Souichi had choked on his “thank you”, blowing out the flame between Hanako senpai’s hands. She had laughed, bright and warm like the small fire.
“How does it feel?”
Souichi hadn’t answered, just has just taken in another, tentative drag and let the smoke roll in his mouth.
There was a certain sweetness to the bitter taste.
II. At almost 19, Souichi bought his first pack.
He’d been an uncommitted smoker since he began university, never really picking up the habit but somewhat frequently trading a few cigarettes for drinks when he went out. Sometimes, he’d bum one off from the regulars at his department’s unofficial smoking spot near the main entrance.
A social smoker, him, who was at best peculiar and off-putting.
The thing is, he was a loner. Being alone didn’t bother him, he quite liked his peace and quiet. But he had always had friendly acquaintances and a few people he had called friends throughout the years.
He had realized, though, now that he was an adult in university, that others would simply leave him alone if he wanted to be, and he probably needed to make make an effort to maintain a connection with the people he met on campus.
It was troublesome, but it would be more troublesome if he had no relationships at all throughout university, he had reasoned.
Coffee machines and vending machines were good neutral grounds for that, he’d soon realized. They forced proximity, which was good because Souichi absolutely hated walking up to people out of the blue. Small talk was a lot more bearable when you were both waiting for something and had an implicit understanding that in no more than 15 minutes you would part ways again to go back to whatever you were taking a break from.
Fairly quickly, Souichi had found himself getting friendly hand waves by on school grounds by other regulars of the agricultural department’s coffee machines.
One thing had led to another, and, soon enough, smoke breaks had become another way to socialize without just socializing for the sake of it.
It was fine. As much as he was fine being alone, he kind of liked that he wasn’t always. So he bummed and traded cigarettes and coffees.
That’s how it had been for a while, and then he committed, on an impulse, on an awful day of a dreadful week.
When Souichi slammed open the convenience store’s door so hard the glass rattled in its frame, he absolutely hated everyone.
He asked the poor store clerk for the first brand name he saw on display, practically threw cash at him, and stormed off like he’d come in.
He ripped the packaging open with deft fingers, tore the seal, popped a cigarette in his mouth and ducked in an alleyway. With a click and a brief flicker of light, Souichi finally breathed in relief, at last.
He inhaled the crisp cold air of the late autumn night laced with nicotine until he felt lightheaded and the weight on his mind lightened.
III. It was on the third week of having a lab assistant that Souichi realized they would never be compatible.
All he had said was that he was heading out for a smoke. A perfectly normal thing. And yet, Morinaga had looked at him like he’d just announced he was actually wanted by the police.
The guy was shocked. And Souichi couldn’t fathom why it was such a surprise that him, an overworked male university student, did, in fact, smoke, or why it was such a big deal.
“Senpai, you smoke?” he’d asked, as if Souichi hadn’t literally just said that he did.
While he didn’t really care what his lab assistant thought of his habits, his face must’ve shown some kind of annoyance, because Morinaga immediately got that scared and apologetic look on his face that meant he’d just realized he made a mistake.
“Ah, no, I mean, I just didn’t see Senpai as the kind of person who ever took breaks,” Morinaga had said with an awkward laugh, immediately followed up by some formality about enjoying the fresh air or some other bullshit.
Kind of a smooth save, if Souichi had to be honest. He shrugged and ducked out of the lab. It was lightly raining outside. For some reason, it felt like an omen.
IV. Isogai’s taste in smokes sucked. Souichi wasn’t pretentious about what he smoked, he liked Marlboro but he wasn’t one to complain if there were none left in store or if offered another brand. Usually.
Somehow, Isogai’s go-to, the one Souichi had seen him smoke for years, was the single worst kind of cigarettes he’d ever had the displeasure of putting in his mouth.
He told the guy as much.
“You sure do complain a lot for someone who’s being blackmailed, you know?” Isogai replied with a blank look on his face, not entertaining Souichi’s pique.
He gave Isogai a dirty look and took another disgusting drag to calm his growing irritation. The taste irked him, but it would have to. There was still an hour left to the reservation and Isogai would never allow him to leave and buy himself cigarettes, lest he ran away. Souichi really wanted to run away.
He absentmindedly ran a hand along his neck, flushing when the tender feeling of fading bruises under his fingertips reminded him of what got him in this situation to begin with.
Morinaga was going to buy him new smokes he decided, it was the least he could do for putting Souichi in this situation with his stupid horny careless actions.
(And if Souichi hadn’t pushed him away, letting Morinaga dominate his mouth in an empty street, and if he’d thrusted into the warm hand wrapped around his cock and came embarrassingly hard and fast, well, that was nobody’s business but his. Morinaga had started it so he was at fault.)
“Sooo, you done?”
The question abruptly tore Souichi from his reverie. Shit, what was he doing? Thinking about this sort of things next to the guy who was making him pay for it. Souichi swallowed down the urge to strangle Isogai and acquiesced.
He picked up the tambourine and hoped Isogai would be kind enough to offer another subpar cigarette before this stupid karaoke session was over.
Maybe he could steal his lighter. That should piss him off. Might even make the gross taste in his mouth worth it.
V. “I’ll get going in a minute,” said Morinaga from the front door as he tied his shoes, “oh, do you need cigarettes?”
Souichi thought of the two he had left in his pack, almost said yes, and then refrained.
“No, I’m alright.”
“Okay then, I’ll be back soon, don’t forget to pull the tray out of the oven when the alarm goes off!”
And with that, he was gone. Souichi instantly regretted his words and lit his penultimate smoke.
He’d never really given much of a thought to the effect his habit could have on his health, he was young, healthy, and he’d grown up around smokers like everyone of his generation. His father, Matsuda-san, teachers gates, groups of students hiding away when he was teenagers, hell, he’d been a teenager hiding when he first tried.
But, well, he wouldn’t always be young. He didn’t feel the effects of his habit, but the unsaid “yet” pending at the end of that statement weighed on him.
He wasn’t stopping, nor did he have plans to, he didn’t want to commit to anything, or put his kouhais through the hell it would be to cut away his favourite coping mechanism for stress. It wouldn’t hurt to reduce his consommation though.
Besides, it had become troublesome lately. He’d found himself growing irritated even when everything went well in the lab because wanted to smoke. That was simply unacceptable. The habit he’d once picked up because it calmed his nerves could not become an additional strain on them.
Souichi pulled a last long drag before crumpling the butch in the ashtray. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cleaned it, but it was clean. Morinaga must’ve done it. He always did. He cleared out Souichi’s ashes and washed the smell of smoke out of his clothes. And then he kissed his lips like he didn’t mind that Souichi tasted like the burnt remains of what he discarded
The next time he would crave a cigarette, Morinaga would keep his mouth busy.
+ I. Morinaga watched as Souichi pulled out a cigarette and placed it between his lips. It was a ritual he had seen countless times, and yet, it never failed to draw his gaze in. He watched him flick his lighter, watched as the light made his fingers glow momentarily when he cradled the flame. Something in Morinaga’s guts made him feel like he should avert his eyes when Souichi’s own lowered in mindless concentration and he brought the tip to the flickering fire. The same thing made it impossible to look away. Like a jealous lover, Morinaga watched him suck in the smoke.
Souichi breathed differently when he smoked, he inhaled with his whole body, drank in the air. His back would straighten and Morinaga could almost feel under his skin exactly how tension rose and waned between his shoulder blades. When he would pull the cigarette away from his lips, they would remain parted for just a lapsed second, inviting, open. Morinaga wanted to kiss him.
Instead, he watched his lover exhale. Another ritualized movement. He would always lean back and crane his head up ever so slightly, and Morinaga would hunger to claim the pale skin of his neck. Soft smoke seeped out of parted lips and Morinaga watched it wrap around Souichi’s hand and wrist in a way that he only wished he could. The exhaled cloud would meet and meld with the faint drizzle of smoke rising from the burning tip. A glowing ember so carelessly balanced between slender fingers.
After, the first puff, Souichi always looked calmer. His posture would be ever so slightly more relaxed, his jaw less tense. Morinaga wondered if Souichi knew the near imperceptible shifts were ones he had learned to recognize. He wondered if he realized he did that at all.
Did he know how intimate this felt? Did the smoke in his lungs burned anything like Morinaga’s loins?
He longed to take the cigarette away and place his own mouth to Souichi, what wouldn’t he have given to be so easily welcomed in? He wanted to be the one to be looked down upon through pale lashes with such a soft gaze. He wanted to be the one who filled Tatsumi’s mouth and then left him empty and calmer. He wanted.
In the past, Morinaga would’ve torn his gaze away before he could be caught staring. He would’ve ignored the envy and desire that lived in his stomach and caught in his throat. He would’ve lied to himself that watching was all he needed.
Many times, he had buried it all down, and just as many times it had resurfaced later, when he was alone, lonely, and the images his mind conjured had him breathless, calling out a name as he spilled his guilt into his hands.
But this wasn’t the past. So Morinaga didn’t look away. He didn’t avert his eyes when Souichi looked back at him, he didn’t try to hide the desire. And Souichi didn’t turn away either, didn’t flinch under the intensity of Morinaga’s want.
When Morinaga leaned in close enough to feel warm breath on his lips, Souichi didn’t look at him like he had so longed for. There was an emotion in his eyes that Morinaga knew only he could lit. A desire that reflected his own. The kiss tasted like smoke and warmth and a word that Morinaga hoped to hear from these lips one day.
A half consumed cigarette hit the ground when Tatsumi cradled Morinaga’s face with anything but carelessness. The glowing tip stopped burning long before either of them did.