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you and your mother never got along, but the one thing you two shared in common was an affinity for cigarettes. it probably started with the occasional social smoke at a party during high school but ramped up when the post grad depression hit. having no post secondary lined up, freaking out, and moving to another country had led you to where you currently worked a shit job at a shit cafe you didn't give a shit about. in times of crisis, you turned to cigarettes. 'at least its better than self harming again or doing hard drugs or something', you would tell yourself every time you needed to rationalize spending your hard earned money on them. plus its not like you were smoking nearly as much as the average European, it was more like any time you just needed to destress or take a step back from the hustle of adult life -and it also made a good excuse for taking a break during work- always opting for a nice little stroll, some music, and a cigarette or two when the situation called for it.
today was no exception, you had just gotten off of a rough 10 hour shift that made you contemplate walking out and never coming back, however, that paycheck always reeled you back in every week, paying a whole 150 sek per hour, a whole 30 sek more then McDonalds, how generous. after a much needed shower -not before laying on the couch silently sobbing to yourself for twenty minutes- and a glass of wine, you decided you needed a much deserved smoke. putting on a light sweater as the not yet autumn but too cool for summer weather called for it. you took your purse, phone, airpods, and of course, cigarettes and made your way out of your apartment block.
the warmth of the sun complimented the cool breeze beautifully, making it a rather pleasant walk after all. at first you wandered, making your way out of the more residential apartment building filled area, being shaded by some trees as you walk by. some clouds moved around a bit, blinding you in the process as you put on a pair of sunglasses you had kept in your bag for such occasions. after a bit of walking, you find a bench down a flight of cement stairs, not too far from a skatepark populated by a couple teenage looking boys that you pay no mind to. you plop yourself down onto the bench, taking out one airpod just to be more aware of your surroundings.
searching through your bag, you find your carton of cigarettes, putting one in between your lips preemptively, as you put the mostly full box beside you on the bench continuing to look for your lighter. "fuck where is it?" you mumble to yourself, lifting your sunglasses to rest on your head to see better, aiding in the search. sifting through all the items in your bag, the frustration built up as you continue to not find it.
after emptying all the contents of your bag onto the bench twice, you admit defeat, realizing you must have left it at home as you stuff your items back into your purse, now just holding an unlit cigarette between your lips. "hej, behöver du en låga?" (hey u need a light?) a voice asks. you look up to see a guy with a blond buzz cut standing in front of you. he's slightly chubby with a rounder face, and is littered in tattoos up to his neck, reminiscent of someone you couldn't quite put your finger on.
you look at him dumbly for a second before responding, "åh, ja.. tack" (oh yeah thanks) you cringe at your foreign tongue seeps through the language, masked by a pretty embarrassing almost Swedish accent you developed in your short time here. you had moved to Sweden for a 'change of pace' which in reality was just because your really had nothing holding you back to the country you grew up in, your decision being influenced by the fact that most of your favorite artist lived here as well.
he seemed to have picked up on your not so well hidden accent as he chuckles, "you're not from here are you?" he asks with a proficiency in English you wouldn't have expected from him based on appearance alone.
"is it that obvious?" you ask, cringing a bit as your lips contract into a small frown before going back to normal.
"ah a bit, but also it was the accent, you rarely hear anyone here sound like, that.. anyways, you still need that light?"
you nod, "yes please.. also your English is like really good" you compliment, "all my time here I've never heard someone speak so, smoothly? like I don't know your accent doesn't make it totally impossible to make out what you're saying" you joke, leaning forward to get your cigarette lit by the torch of the lighter.
"comes with the job I guess" he says vaguely, taking a seat beside you, as you offer him a cigarette as a symbol of friendship, to which he accepts.
your eyebrows quirk up in interest, "oh cool, what do you do?" you ask as he lights his cigarette, now genuinely curious about what job he could possess that demands such a proficiency in English.
he hesitates for a moment before speaking again. "I make music and stuff" he says nonchalantly taking a puff. this information takes you aback, you knew a lot of musicians from Sweden but never expected to run into one, especially in such a weird scenario. he seems to notice your look of shock as the gears turn in your head as he chuckles. "I'm Jonatan, by the way" he says looking at you as he grins, cigarette in hand as he takes another puff.
"wait.. like, Jonatan, Leandoer?" you pause, making eye contact with him, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape as he nods. "shit.." you take a puff. "that's like. no way, I fucking love your music bro" is all you can say, your brain so fogged that you just decide to stay silent, not only to preserve your dignity, but also because you just truly didn't know what to say.
"thank you, you actually seem really chill, I fuck with your whole vibe heavy. and uh, thanks for the cigarette by the way"
after burning through already half the pack together and some talking about life and how you both ended up where you are, you feel comfortable with him, your nerves melting a bit as you realize he really is just a guy. you open your mouth to speak but before the words come out his phone rings loudly, ruining the moment and making you forget what you were going to say all together. "shit- yo sorry I gotta take this.. I uhm, thanks for the ciggs bro" he says, abruptly standing up from the bench, phone in hand as he eyes the caller ID.
"uhm.. yeah, no worries- I get it, you're a busy guy no doubt" your words stumble out not so gracefully, as the weight of reality and who he is hits you again, taking you out of the momentary break in time you two shared.
he gives you a nod, answering the phone and offering to dap you up- which you totally take up- before he walks off, chatting on the phone skillfully in Swedish, leaving you sitting on the bench dumbfounded and watching him walk off for a bit too long. 'shit' is all you can think, lingering on the bench a moment longer.