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There are those who believe smoking is a great sin, as it is tainting one’s body with impurity. After all, the body is a great gift from God.
At a very young age, Sunday has been taught this belief by his father, Mr. Gopher Wood. Telling the young Sunday stories of addicts meeting death in cruel and ill ways, even as far to show him pictures of the consequences of defiling their bodies, this is what it looks like to be punished by the divine. The images look like it came straight out of a nightmare for the feather-headed child.
He would constantly tell Sunday to not interact with those that pursue this sin, as they are tempted by evil. He wouldn’t want to clawed by this misdeed would he?
With the belief drilled into Sunday’s head, he can’t help but scowl at the sight of people smoking. Why would they treat their temple in such a disgraceful way? Are they ungrateful?
Sunday despises the smell of smoke as well, it reeks of dirtiness, clawing at his insides. The thought of it makes him incredibly sick to the point that he drinks a concerning amount of holy water after getting home. Their selfishness deepens his hatred even more.
Silently, he would mentally curse out these imperfect sinners upon seeing them.
☆
Sunday had mixed feelings when he found out you’re a smoker, a part of him wants to understand your habit, but another part is still anchored to the belief he’s had since young.
He tries to not think ill of you, as you’re someone who he cherishes deeply, but the stick between your fingers still bothers him.
Loving you would mean he’d have to go against of what he believed.
One day, laying beside you in your bed, he decides to ask you about your addiction. With a nervous exhale, he asks “…Can you tell me why you smoke?”. Silence graces the room for a few seconds, staring at the ceiling, you respond “It .. calms me down, you could say that it’s a coping mechanism for me”.
Sunday stills at your answer, he tries to understand your reasoning, but isn’t there another way for you to cope in a way that doesn’t affect your health negatively?
“But doesn’t it cause damage to your body? There’s a chance that it’ll worsen your life” … “And even cause your passing”. He spoke the last sentence above a whisper. How could you say that something that horrible comforts you? Sunday tries to not bring up such harsh outcomes, but he can’t help but accidentally remember the images he has seen as a child.
There is silence in your end, causing Sunday to turn his head only to see you staring back at him with only a gentle smile that for some reason, shot an ache in his heart. Suddenly, he thinks doesn’t want to know your actual reason. It can’t be that you….
Noticing the sad expression he has, you tried comforting him “It’s nothing you should worry about, I’ll be alright”. You closed your eyes and shuffled more closer to him, in hopes to ease his mind. Unfortunately, it doesn’t, and he’s more worried than before.
☆
like the most guiding person he is, Sunday tries to find ways for you to let go of this addiction.
He wonders what it is about smoking that calms you, is it the smell? Then he would try to find candles with a similar smell, or even go as far as to custom a perfume that’s exact to it. Or is it the feeling of having something delicate and light between your fingers? He has no problem with lending his fingers for you to hold. What about the taste? He’ll make the effort to travel far for candies that deliver a similar taste. If the feeling of something in your mouth is what calms you, he wouldn’t be against sliding his finger past your lips, even if it would fluster him. Maybe it’s the nicotine? He’s sure there are more enjoyable activities that could stimulate you.
…But if it’s the awaiting death that actually comforts you, Sunday will do everything he can to prove you that life will get better. He will go to the moon and back to help his beloved dove.
☆
He no longer stand further way from you when you smoke, staring at your relaxed form as the cigarette you hold between your gentle fingers release a tall wisp of smoke, he thinks you look beautiful like this, and oddly enough, he doesn’t wince at the smell of the smoke anymore, rather it is comforting to him.
It amuses him, what would his father think? To see him with a ‘sinner’.
Sunday, the person who once despised smokers, now carries a lighter with him for you, even insisting to light your cigarette. He gets near to your face and carefully ignite the lighter near your cigarette, he thinks the strong glow of the fire reflected in your eyes is one of his favourite view of you.
He once asked you to lend the extinguished cigarette as he doesn’t support littering, telling you that he’ll keep it for you until a trash can appears. But what you don’t know is, he hid it in a folded tissue, stored away in his drawers, and occasionally brings it out to kiss the area that touched your lips.
Sunday still doesn’t encourage your habit, but he knows it’s something you can’t easily let go. With that, he learns to love your imperfection.
He hopes someday he can become the cigarette between your lips instead.