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Description
Chap Stick and Air Wick
Smoking

He told me he hated smoking. I thought nothing of it at first, I mean, a lot of people disliked smoking. Maybe he was allergic to the smoke or something, perhaps he just didn’t like the choking small, as many others do.

But then I saw him smoking after school that one day.

“I thought you hated smoking.” He simply glanced over at me, taking the cigarette from his mouth, blowing out a puff of smoke.

“I do.”

Another drag.

“Then why—”

“You’re slower than I thought, McGinnis,” he sighed; smoke seeping from his mouth and nostrils. He usually never called me by my last name.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I mumbled, crossing my arms across my chest and plopping down into a nearby desk.

“Here, maybe this will help you,” he removed the smoldering joint from his mouth, balancing it between two fingers. “The only person I’ve ever told my dislike of smoking to is you.”

“So,” I bit my lip in thought. He still wasn’t making sense. “You want to seem cool to other people?” The idea in itself was ridiculous. Kent couldn’t care less what other people thought about him. “Didn’t you ever pay attention in DARE? Smoking doesn’t look—”

“Just get the fuck out of here!” he barked, slamming his hands against his desk, cigarette hanging from his loose lips. One hand traveled up to cradle his face, massaging his temple, the other snatching the cigarette from his mouth, a smoky trail twisting up and away as he sighed.

And then I got it.

“What happened?” I breathed, just barely audible. I knew he heard though, and he gave a small smirk as his olive eyes turned up to look at me.

“Nothing, kid,” his voice cracked, his eyes looking dark and… sad. I considered leaving, but then I realized that that would probably be the worst thing I could do at the moment. I stood up from my seat and began walking toward his desk, grabbing a stool and setting it down next to his seat. I sat down, looking over at him worriedly, eyebrows furrowed in concern, biting my lower lip nervously.

I hope this is what he wants.

Carefully, slowly, cautiously, I placed my head on his shoulder. He initially tensed up, and I shut my eyes tightly, expecting a slap to the side of the head or something, but nothing came. Instead, I felt him ease up beneath me, a sigh escaping his lips. I too relaxed, leaning more fully against his soft sweater, smiling.

“I love you, Kent,” I whisper, and I know he hears because he tenses up once again. I prepare for impact again, but none comes, his shoulder once more relaxing. I feel his shoulders shake a bit as he chuckles. He’s shaking his head. I bet he has that smirk on his face.

“Idiot. Don’t say things like that.”

Description
Chap Stick and Air Wick
Smoking

He told me he hated smoking. I thought nothing of it at first, I mean, a lot of people disliked smoking. Maybe he was allergic to the smoke or something, perhaps he just didn’t like the choking small, as many others do.

But then I saw him smoking after school that one day.

“I thought you hated smoking.” He simply glanced over at me, taking the cigarette from his mouth, blowing out a puff of smoke.

“I do.”

Another drag.

“Then why—”

“You’re slower than I thought, McGinnis,” he sighed; smoke seeping from his mouth and nostrils. He usually never called me by my last name.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I mumbled, crossing my arms across my chest and plopping down into a nearby desk.

“Here, maybe this will help you,” he removed the smoldering joint from his mouth, balancing it between two fingers. “The only person I’ve ever told my dislike of smoking to is you.”

“So,” I bit my lip in thought. He still wasn’t making sense. “You want to seem cool to other people?” The idea in itself was ridiculous. Kent couldn’t care less what other people thought about him. “Didn’t you ever pay attention in DARE? Smoking doesn’t look—”

“Just get the fuck out of here!” he barked, slamming his hands against his desk, cigarette hanging from his loose lips. One hand traveled up to cradle his face, massaging his temple, the other snatching the cigarette from his mouth, a smoky trail twisting up and away as he sighed.

And then I got it.

“What happened?” I breathed, just barely audible. I knew he heard though, and he gave a small smirk as his olive eyes turned up to look at me.

“Nothing, kid,” his voice cracked, his eyes looking dark and… sad. I considered leaving, but then I realized that that would probably be the worst thing I could do at the moment. I stood up from my seat and began walking toward his desk, grabbing a stool and setting it down next to his seat. I sat down, looking over at him worriedly, eyebrows furrowed in concern, biting my lower lip nervously.

I hope this is what he wants.

Carefully, slowly, cautiously, I placed my head on his shoulder. He initially tensed up, and I shut my eyes tightly, expecting a slap to the side of the head or something, but nothing came. Instead, I felt him ease up beneath me, a sigh escaping his lips. I too relaxed, leaning more fully against his soft sweater, smiling.

“I love you, Kent,” I whisper, and I know he hears because he tenses up once again. I prepare for impact again, but none comes, his shoulder once more relaxing. I feel his shoulders shake a bit as he chuckles. He’s shaking his head. I bet he has that smirk on his face.

“Idiot. Don’t say things like that.”