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The silence of the night is broken as the balcony door creaks on its hinges, a lonely sound in the stillness. Adam steps out tentatively, a pack of cigarettes in one hand and a lighter in the other, shivering as he pulls Lawrence’s oversized cardigan tighter around his shoulders. He’s practically drowning in it, but the faint musky scent of Lawrence’s cologne clinging to the wool makes him feel anchored. He leans against the balcony railing, staring out at the jagged outline of the city. The night sky is painted deep blue and dotted with shining stars, while telephone wires criss-cross over Adam’s head, fracturing the view. He brings a cigarette to his chapped lips, the flick of the lighter momentarily illuminating his pale, tired features and the dark strands of hair falling over his eyes. He takes a long drag and sends a plume of smoke out into the night. As he closes his eyes for a moment, he can hear the floorboards creak, muffled by the balcony door. The light in the kitchen comes on, and Adam presses his lips together, turning his mouth into a thin line, as he anticipates a barrage of reprimanding remarks.
“Hey…” Lawrence’s voice is hoarse after sleep, but Adam can already hear a hard edge to his simple words. He glances over his shoulder, the cigarette shamelessly stuck between his teeth, and looks him over.
Lawrence is standing barefoot in a rumpled t-shirt, hair messy from tossing, one of his hands rubbing at his right hip to quiet down the pain. Adam feels his teeth clench around the cigarette as his gaze inevitably falls down to Lawrence’s prosthetic, guilt rearing its ugly head in his chest.
“I’m sorry…” Adam rasps in defeat, “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
A quiet sigh leaves Lawrence - more annoyed than furious. He steps out onto the balcony, still barefoot, the cold tile biting into his skin as he moves to stand beside Adam. Without a word, he reaches over and plucks the cigarette from Adam’s bony fingers. He takes one slow, savoring drag, icy blue eyes never leaving Adam’s confused green ones. Then he flicks the ashes off into space where they vanish into the darkness below.
Adam blinks at him in shock.
“You shouldn’t smoke. Told you many times,” Lawrence says flatly. His voice is low with sleep, but there is something softer underneath — the kind of understanding that lets Adam breathe.
His lower lip juts out in a pout. He wraps his arms around himself, the absence of the cigarette leaving his hands oddly empty.
“I was cold,” he mumbles after a beat. The truth, however, is messier: he couldn’t sleep. He kept dreaming about metal chains and bloody bathroom tiles, but he would never mention it out loud, “Didn’t know the cigarette rule only applied to me though…” he adds, looking pointedly at Lawrence.
“I haven’t smoked a single cigarette in about… 20 years?” Lawrence confesses, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips.
Adam huffs out a startled laugh. He stares at the older man like he's speaking in tongues. Lawrence Gordon, a renowned oncologist, the same person who always grills Adam about his unhealthy habits, used to smoke?!
“Well, you definitely broke your streak today, man,” Adam finally says, but there’s an expectant glint in his eyes. He wants to know more.
Lawrence takes another puff, ember glowing in the moonlight. He leans against the railing beside Adam, their shoulders gently brushing against each other.
“Med school. Second year,” Lawrence says after a pause. There’s no nostalgia in his voice, just a dry statement of facts. “I was young and dumb… Like you.”
Adam just shakes his head fondly at the last comment. He knows Lawrence is only teasing and not trying to insult him.
Adam turns to face him, curiosity cutting through exhaustion from the dream that still lingers at the edges of his mind. The cigarette between Lawrence’s fingers looks so out of place, and yet so humanizing for someone who prefers to carry himself through life like an unshakable stone. But Adam knows it’s not true. He knows there’s a fire burning inside.
“You were… what? 23? 24?” Adam asks softly. A faint nod from Lawrence confirms it, “And you just quit cold turkey?”
Another nod. The silence stretches comfortably for a moment before Adam blurts out:
“What was your worst withdrawal symptom?"
Lawrence’s face does something complicated - embarrassment, frustration, guilt. He stubs the cigarette out on the railing, like it personally offended him, and chucks it from the balcony, down onto the dark street below.
“Irritabily, anger… sometimes even rage,” he admits quietly, his jaw tightening as he remembers those days: slamming lecture hall doors over a minor inconvenience, throwing a coffee mug at a wall when his roommate annoyed the hell out of him, even nearly decking Alison one time (though that wasn’t entirely related to his withdrawal).
“Oh…” Adam bites down on his lip, fishing for something else to say, as the conversation suddenly grows heavy, “My–my worst withdrawal symptom was probably shaky hands,” he giggles nervously.
Lawrence’s gaze falls down to Adam's hands – thin, delicate fingers drumming against his thigh. He shifts his weight, wincing from the phantom pain that suddenly cuts through his stump, and reaches out. Carefully, he cradles Adam’s hand in his own, his palm almost swallowing the smaller one. His thumb counts Adam’s knuckles before he brings his hand close to his lips, leaving a small close-lipped kiss on the back.
“That sucks…” he says simply, his voice resonating through Adam’s skin, making him feel slightly giddy.
Instead of pulling away, Adam tightens his grip, and Lawrence follows, lacing their fingers together, anchoring them both. Adam scoots a bit closer, his shoulder now pressing firmly against Lawrence’s, as he lays his head there. Uncertain at first, but quickly growing bolder as Lawrence shifts again to accommodate him. For a moment everything else fades into the background as unnecessary white noise. It feels safe, human, tender. Lawrence lets out a slow, measured breath, his head tilting down until his temple rests against the crown of Adam’s head, as he stares out at the skyline. The tension in his shoulders finally begins to melt away, replaced by a weary contentment. Then, a soft, muffled squawk interrupts the idyllic scene.
“You’re gonna squish me!”
Lawrence’s breathy chuckles join in with Adam’s giggly laughter. He eases his weight just a fraction, but doesn’t pull away entirely. The city hums below them. The distant wail of sirens is a sharp reminder of the world they have to live in, but here, on the balcony, it feels miles away. For now, they own this private heaven.
“Just stay still for a moment, Adam. You’re always moving around like you’re ready to run.”
“I won’t run away from you…” Adam mumbles, his voice surprisingly sincere as he shivers slightly against the older man, pulling on his heartstrings. It was rare for him to be this vulnerable.
Lawrence stiffens for a heartbeat, the weight of Adam’s confession settling between them like something physical. He doesn’t answer right away, but his touch lingers, like he’s trying to memorize every bit of texture on his skin.
“Is that a threat?” Lawrence finally murmurs, deciding that a joke is the best course of action. He shifts his head, to look at Adam’s profile. The moonlight catches the sharp line of Adam’s jaw, and Lawrence’s breath catches in his throat. He’s so beautiful.
“You better believe it,” Adam snorts, looking up at him with a crooked smile. He pauses, noticing the way Lawrence looks down at him, “What?”
“Nothing,” Lawrence lies, though the way his gaze lingers on Adam’s mouth betrays him.
Adam eats away at a smirk that threatens to spread on his face. He has a very good idea what Lawrence is thinking. Instead of commenting on it, he reaches for another cigarette before Lawrence can stop him. The lighter crackles. As soon as Lawrence opens his mouth to say something against it, Adam interrupts him.
“You ever shotgunned a cig?”
“No. I was a medical student, not a delinquent,” Lawrence replies with a slight hint of arrogance in his voice, and Adam rolls his eyes.
“It’s fun,” he shrugs simply, but then a sly secretive smirk spreads on his features, “You might even like it, big boy…”
Lawrence arches a skeptical brow, but there’s some curiosity in his eyes. Adam grins, wicked and mischievous, as he takes a deep drag from the cigarette before abruptly pulling on Lawrence’s t-shirt to bring him down to his height. Without warning, he presses his lips to Lawrence’s mouth, blowing the smoke through the kiss. For a moment, all Lawrence can taste is pungent tobacco, but the warmth of their breaths mingling feels electric. He wants to cough, but swallows the smoke anyway. He freezes for half a second, shocked by the action and the fact that it’s not as bad as he imagined it to be, before instinct takes over. His hands land comfortably on Adam’s waist, pulling him closer roughly, as he kisses him back. His tongue sweeps across Adam’s lips, and as the younger man gasps when his chest collides with Lawrence’s, the older man wastes no time, letting himself in with reckless intimacy. The cigarette dangles forgotten in between Adam’s fingers. The cold air does nothing to cool their feverish skin. Adam makes a cute little noise of pleasure against Lawrence’s mouth, his hands still clutching at his t-shirt, and Lawrence lets his hands drift over Adam’s ass. A hard squeeze makes Adam mutter something resembling “oh, fuck…” into the kiss, while the older man pushes him slowly against the railing. Adam’s body arches over the balcony, his head swimming as he claws at the taller man’s shoulders. The kiss is intoxicating.
When they part, both are breathless – lips wet and parted, pupils blown wide. The cigarette has fallen to the balcony floor, nearly burned down to the filter. Adam exhales a shaky stream of smoke, looking dazed but satisfied. The night wind is ruffling his hair as he stands there, pink-cheeked, still pressed firmly to the railing. The older man steps back and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, trying and failing to regain composure.
“I’m sorry, that was…” he starts awkwardly, ready to apologise for his brash impulse, but Adam just laughs and shakes his head again.
“That was hot. So… did you like it?”
Lawrence’s lips twitch into a rare, genuine smile – something small but real.
“I might see why you think shotgunning is fun.”
“Mm, so you wouldn’t mind doing it again then?” Adam giggles as he reaches up on his tippy toes to weave arms around Lawrence’s neck and press another quick kiss to the corner of his mouth.
“Only with you,” Lawrence whispers sincerely. Adam leans in again, without hesitation, capturing the older man’s lips once more. This time the kiss is softer, slower, more deliberate, like he wants to savor him.
They melt back into each other, while the world keeps turning below them. Right now, nothing matters. No nightmares, no pain, no problems. Just them, existing under the moonlight.