here

2.0

i should be studying for my chem test but fuck cis trans isomerism amirite

—

the thing was, matsukawa hadn't in the slightest taken into account that withdrawal symptoms were a thing.

the coughing was frustrating. he, after a lot of googling, found out he was supposed to be happy about that, but he hated it. all it made him want to do was fish out the carton from the trash and smoke the stress of quitting away.

he'd underestimated how much he relied on them. he smoked a lot — more than was healthy for the average person, for sure. he didn't find himself going outside because he didn't have to, and every time he got up to light another one he angrily smashed his fist onto the nearest flat surface and pointedly sat himself down again.

"struggling?" tsukishima hummed as he walked in on a severely annoyed matsukawa, "you can always give up."

"shut up," he muttered, "i'm doing this for you. stop discouraging me."

"you don't stink as much," tsukishima said as he sat down next to him, "it's greatly appreciated."

matsukawa wanted to scream.

"yeah. of course," he sighed, "fuck, fuck, fuck. i hate this. i hate this."

"what do you hate?" tsukishima asked calmly, turning to look at him.

"not knowing what to do instead. it's so annoying to realize what i've been doing for years and not being able to continue. every time i get up to smoke i have to force myself to sit the fuck down and i hate it." he looked away. "i'm too fucking weak, kei. i'm a mess. fuck."

"you know, nobody expected you to flawlessly get through this. of course you'll struggle. it's chemicals. they fuck you up." tsukishima laid his head on matsukawa's shoulder, cuddling up to him. "you trying says a lot. i'm not joking when i say i appreciate it."

"what made you so mad?" matsukawa asked quietly.

"the bad habits, issei, the bad habits and the people you pursue the habits with. i'm not gonna fuck around and say i'm chill with it. i'm not. since you shouldn't be either." he sat up again. "i said i'd worry for you. that's how i worry."

"f-fuck, kei, you—" he cut himself off, squeezing his knee until his knuckles went white, "i need a cigarette. please."

"no you don't," he said, sitting up, "just focus on me." he leaned over until they were face to face, noses barely a centimeter apart. "no cigarettes here. just you and me. that's all you need."

"just one?" matsukawa tried, "please, i need it, kei, i'm not strong."

"breathe in. you can't smell anything else but this cologne i stole from you. you can't see anything besides my face. you can't hear anything but my voice. there's nothing to want. there's no time to realize."

"but there is—"

"there isn't."

"kei—"

"there isn't. deep breaths, issei."

matsukawa took a deep, shaky breath, looking tsukishima in the eye, "there isn't," he repeated after him, allowing a small smile to play on tsukishima's lips.

"there isn't."

when matsukawa finally calmed down, tsukishima softly pressed a kiss against his nose, pulling back after nonchalantly. "you'll do okay, issei, you're not an idiot. you'll go the extra mile."

"will i?"

"you will."

"yeah. okay."

—

oikawa ran his fingers through yamaguchi's hair, taking one strand between his index and middle finger, twisting the olive-coloured strands around them.

"it keeps getting longer," oikawa said dreamily.

"i should probably cut it. i've been getting stares," yamaguchi laughed softly, placing his hair behind his ears, "it's long past the level of social acceptance."

"they stare because you're gorgeous," oikawa insisted, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his nose, "and because they wish they could rock long hair like you do." he ran his fingers through the long strands, over his scalp, playing with his hair softly.

"what do you prefer?"

"i prefer you doing what you think is best for you. my true aesthetic is you being confident with what you want to look like."

"that's a challenge," he chuckled, "i'm never confident."

"that's not true," oikawa replied, leaning on his elbow, "you're confident at parties. when you get tipsy and let go, you're extremely confident. when you get comfortable you radiate love, for yourself as well. you just let moments of doubt cloud your self judgment, and you believe that you're never confident, when you in fact are. when you're not thinking too much."

"eh?" yamaguchi said, surprised, "i didn't know that. i thought everyone thinks i'm awkward."

"the opposite! everyone adores you. i'd never be allowed to bring you along if they didn't. you're the most gorgeous, pure and delicate being i've ever met and i sure do know a lot of others agree with me when i say so."

—

matsukawa was a very weak man.

he stood against the wall, a cigarette between his fingers, a lighter in the other hand, and he was trying so hard to put them away. but tsukishima wasn't there to stop him and he had no more control left.

a single tear rolled down a cheek, signifying the breach of his self control, or rather, the lack of it.

he brought the cigarette to his lips, and relief spread through his body, colonizing whatever guilt had been implemented within him.

"issei."

matsukawa froze, dropping the lighter from his hands, as he looked up at tsukishima, who had a bag of groceries slung over his shoulder, looking at him with the hardest, most intense stare he'd ever witnessed in his life.

"i can't do it," he whispered, "it's so fucking ridiculous. it's just smoking. but it's so hard."

"if that's what you want to think," tsukishima said, "fine." he walked over and snatched the cigarette, crumpling it up in one simple motion. "i know differently."

"k-kei," he choked out, and tsukishima caught him in his arms.

"time, issei. time and perseverance. those two traits you possessed in order to charm me."

that's when matsukawa realized that it wasn't just smoking. it was everything. the lifestyle and the pain and the haunting memories of how he changed from a fine high school boy to a rebel and a punk and a heartbreaker — titles he hated, but never got rid of. it signified so much more and even though he wanted to leave that life, he was scared of diving into the unknown and his body was physically protesting against him potentially changing his environment. no more random hookups to fulfill whatever deep romantic needs he had, no more nights laying drunk and regretting what he'd done, no more... suffering.

it was ending. he just had to let it.