ACHES

1. january

cw: 18+, sexual content, self-harm, blood, emetophobia, too much drinking, too much smoking, use of his name (wtf), angst (WTF). --

"I'm really, really, really, sorry," I winced, walking up to him with my hands deep in my coat pockets, "Could I borrow-"

He raised an eyebrow, "It's not a problem."

"Oh," I frowned, watching him exhale smoke into the emptiness of the night sky, "I thought you might put up more of a fight."

"You're not the first drunk girl to ask me for a cigarette," he shrugged, flicking his burnt-out smoke to the ground, immediately lighting a new one. He hollowed his cheeks as he inhaled, eyes closing for a brief second, face illuminated by the red ember. He held the cigarette out to me, smoke pooling from his mouth as he spoke, voice thick, "Here."

"Now I wonder if I want it," I contemplated, grabbing it before he could pull away, "If you're such a cigarette whore."

He coughed, "What?"

"Just giving it out to anyone, aren't you?" I took a deep drag, exhaling out of the corner of my mouth. His dark eyes flicked over my face, red and stinging from the cold. His lip creased in the corner, pressing wrinkles under his eye.

"I suppose," he ground the toe of his slick leather shoe into the snow absently, smiling to himself, "I guess that means you take it from anyone?"

I laughed, "Sure." I dropped the cigarette on the pavement, letting him put his foot to use.

He shook his head, stamping out the perfectly good cig, "Alright."

"You like beer?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest, "There's a bar behind you."

"Are you asking me to drink with you?" he brushed a hand through his mess of curls, the tips of his ears wind-burnt.

"I'm asking if I can buy you a beer, I think," I smiled, "If you'd like."

He closed an eye, "Sure."

"Great," I held out a hand for him, which he cautiously took, "Relax. I just want to keep you around in case I need another smoke." His fingers didn't quite wrap around mine, stiff and cold, covering rather than caressing.

"That was my last one," he let go of my hand, but hooked my arm in his, stuffing his hand into his coat pocket.

"Really?"

"No," he smirked, "Kidding."

"Thank God," I teased, pushing open the door to the bar as he trailed beside me, "You like whiskey?"

"I thought we were having beer," he unlinked his arm from mine as the crowded room squeezed us together, preferring to linger a hand at my lower back. It didn't make me uncomfortable, just a few fingertips reassuring me that he was following. The gentle pressure bloomed a warmth down to my heels, and I swallowed.

"Now I'm thinking I might want to get you drunk," I grinned, glancing back at him, "If you'd like, of course."

He squinted, licking his lower lip, "Should I be worried?"

"Jenna, should he be worried?" I asked the bartender, leaning against the chewed-up bar.

"Who?" Jenna asked, frowning at him while filling a glass with ice.

"Um," I bit my lip, and he stared back at me, keeping his mouth closed, "Help me out, will you?"

He let a smirk slip, "Matty."

"Don't worry, Matt," Jenna huffed, passing a drink to a red-faced man on the stool beside me, "Men disappear with her all the time." I watched Jenna with my jaw slack.