I never told my family, not even my friends of how much I enjoyed to drink. It wasn't an obsessive thing, but every weekend, I found relief in going to a bar and letting my week unwind. It was a break for me.
Maybe it wasn't a healthy habit, but I went with it anyway. I realize then, looking back, that I was an alcoholic. I abused the substance to make me feel better.
If there's anyone out there reading this, I hope you realize this. I was dumb, but I forgive myself now. I'm in a much happier place now, and I love myself much more.
It was one of those cold weekends, and I stood on an empty sidewalk, taking a swig from the cup that rested in my grip. I was alone, and I was at peace.
Then he came stepping outside, a vacuum of air rushing past him as he exited the bar. A cigarette was hugged between his lips, and he adjusted the neck on his green jacket, his figure slim and lean.
"Hello there." He greeted me, a stranger, as he shuffled through his pockets for his lighter. I nodded towards him, swallowing the ember liquor with pursed lips. I squinted, the buildings blurring into black, geometric shadows, and the lavender sky melting behind it.
He struggled through each pocket, his jeans, his coat, but found no such lighter. So he just muttered something heavy under is breath and kept the smoke between his teeth, rolling and twisting it through his strong jaw.
I gave him a nudge, and he looked down to me. He had a friendly face, with soft eyes and a soft mouth. Lovable, kissable, but not for me. He was just another stranger passing through this lonely bar, this lonely town.
I opened his palm and dropped my lighter into it. He made a soft noise before clicking it a few times and then lighting up the stick of death.
I listened to him inhale, the chemicals expanding into his lungs. His tongue tasted like tobacco and mine tasted like liquor. I wondered what they would taste like together.
But I turned away from his thankful grin, taking another sip of my drink. He took another drag and leaned against a street light.
"What's your name? I'm Roseanna." I said lowly, and he leaned in when I spoke, his hand gliding to my back.
"Roseanna?" He said, mouthful with his lit cigarette, pulling it out and exhaling smoke, "Beautiful name. I'm Calum." I just nodded, and so did he. But I savored his words, wishing they actually meant something.
He settled back again, handing the lighter back to me. I gripped it tight, taking out my own cigarette when my bottle was empty, and I began to smoke, too.
"You live around here?" He asked me, and I just shrugged.
"It's a ten minute walk, so yeah." I explained coolly, as he slipped beside me against the brick building, stepping out the smoke he flicked to the ground.
"It's quiet around here ... I don't like it." He told me in a deeper voice, his voice just a gentle murmur rasping above a whisper. I admit, it gave me chills.
"It's boring here, too. Dunno what you're doing, wasting your time around here." I told him. My voice was blunt, but I smirked, and so did he.
"I wouldn't say I'm wasting my time at all, you've made things a lot more bearable." His voice was even darker, low and steady. I tilted my head up to his, taking my cigarette from my mouth and placing it near his. He took it with rough fingers, taking a drag on it.
I found no romance in this, but something within me was waking up. I found myself staring at this boy. Was he still a stranger to me, or was he now a strike of luck?
I took the smoke from his lips once again, and let it fall to the ground before putting it out with a simple step. He was gazing at me. There was something in his eyes. Was it eagerness?
"Well, is that so, my friend? I'm feeling quite bored, you know." I stated stalely. His eyebrows lifted up, a smirk lapsing on his plump lips. My eyes shifted, and I sighed, chin tilting up further. We were so close. I could smell mint and old cigarettes.
"Perhaps you could find a way to make things less miserable for me, too."
