Kiss The Boy | skz & more

Til Death Do Us Part | sope

PAIRING: Sope (Yoongi & Hoseok)
From the group BTS.

GENRE TYPE: Romance, Angst?

SONG DEDICATION: Almost is Never Enough by Ariana Grande featuring Nathan Sykes

WARNINGS: Smoking, mentions of violence, mentions of probable death

Til Death Do Us Part

He couldn't help but release a sound of frustration. It resembled something of a groan; the rippling of a deep tone forcing its way up his throat, then trying to push past his red chapped lips but not necessarily being successful in doing so. The noise was blocked by an orange and white stick, it being more of a paper texture and having a hollow inside so the deadly herb of tobacco could be shoved within it. Coincidentally that same cigarette had been the reason why he was slowly growing irritated—or more so the small box of fire that was used to light it. With the fall breeze being at an all time high that Wednesday morning, it was a little difficult for him to just run his thumb over the track and then flames ignite. He had to turn away from the direction the wind blew; he had to cup his unoccupied hand around his mouth; and for a brief second he had to bend down. He almost wanted to curse at Mother Nature for making things so difficult, but eventually the end of the cigarette finally began to burn. His lips twitched, but they hadn't upturned into a smile; only doing so when he was able to inhale and then exhale disgusting nicotine.

A puff of smoke surrounded his head, temporarily blurring the beautiful scenery that was in front of him. A horizon that had a contrast of a beautiful blue sky (that was complimented with fluffy white clouds and the occasional small bird) and a busy city. Skyscrapers towered over puny pedestrians and black concrete roads housed more cars than a single human could count. The stoic man took another drag of his cigarette as he made his way over towards the metal railing of the balcony he stood upon. He leant almost all of his body weight on it, disregarding any stains or wrinkles that could be done to his all white suit. He actually forced himself to forget about anything that wasn't his view or the cancer stick that was kept snug between two of his fingers. He forced himself to forget about everything except for the way his lungs burned and mind slowed. Besides, he wasn't needed for another ten minutes; he could easily take a break away from reality before having to plaster on his best smile.

So he took drag after drag, lips reattaching themselves around the orange spongy part until it had shriveled into what it used to be. He had just blew the remains of the smoke into the once clean air, eyes also closing as he felt his lungs burn as they contracted. And he stayed that way for a few seconds more. He swayed with the wind. It wasn't until he was hearing two grand doors being shoved open did he do the same with his eyelids. His eyelashes fluttered apart and gave him the pleasing sight that was the same city view. He almost didn't want to hear the frantic voice that shouted his name repeatedly. But unfortunately with the voice came a body—hands, appendages that attached themselves to his own and tried to pull him away from his place. He barely had the chance to put out the lit cigarette; managing to drop it to the concrete ground and grind it with the tip of his leather shoe. Then he was being tugged back into the gigantic room that looked like the word expensive.