Cigarettes ➳ Aesthetics One Shot

SMOKE SEEPED OUT his mouth elegantly in large, wispy, tendrils, only to then later dissolve into the chilly atmosphere surrounding it. And even as unhealthy it was and how full of asthma I am, I couldn't deny the fact that smoking looked beautiful whenever he was the one committing it. Even more so, considering that the dawn sky draped behind him was this absolutely infatuating gradient of lavender slowly morphing into a deep violet.

But even as strangely alluring it was to watch these semi-transparent puffs of poison subside, I could feel it slowly gathering inside my lungs. And it wasn't the fear of having an asthma attack, but rather to cough and wheeze violently and let me tell you, that is not attractive. 

As if reading my thoughts, he muttered a quick and hasty "sorry" before tossing the cigarette off of the rooftop. 

"To nasty habits." He whispered, and oh, that heavenly, accent-influenced voice of his that made me want to scream and kiss him and somersault off the building all at once. 

With a deviously handsome smile plastered lazily onto his face, he reached into the back pocket of his dark denim jeans and pulled out a package of Marlboro. His hands (the kind of hands that make you believe in the attractiveness of hands) carelessly tore the thin layer of cellophane off, pulled back the red lid, then gently placed the package between the both of us. 

"Oh, um.. I don't smoke..."

Zayn chuckled in this adorable, yet painfully charming way that was just purely inexplicable before casually stating, "You don't think I know that Rose?" He smirked ever so slightly. "Take one."

And so I did, and he did too.

"I'd like to toast," he proposed, whilst lifting the unlit cigarette higher into the sky, "to sitting on rooftops with you, at 7:51 p.m., watching the sunset like the hopelessly romantic losers we are." 

And oh god I was smiling like an idiot as I raised my cigarette higher as well, mirroring his motions.

"To that godamn rose tattoo that just emanates of... well, originality and memories of the day we met."

Coffee colored irises scarcely garnished by flecks of gold and darker hues of brown stared directly at me. He wore a devilishly crooked smile upon his chiseled face, and the bold, graceful, swirls of dark ink were to be seen peeking through the collar of his shirt, and almost directly through the not-so-opaque fabric.

"And..." He paused whilst trying to be discreet (but miserably falling) at averting his gaze downward towards a vast collection of slanted sentences written upon his wrist.

I stifled a giggle that sounded more like an unappealing snort and it was immediately in that moment that I decided that I wanted to bash my head against a metal counter top.

"Um.. sorry, I mean like.. I tried to memorize it n' all, but like I wasn't sure if I was like, messing up." Zayn stuttered awkwardly while scratching the back of his neck in the hottest way possible.

I just blinked in response, partially because my mind was too preoccupied in the way his triceps flexed, synchronized with the motions of his arm, exquisitely littered with various tattoos, and partially because I didn't know how to respond.

He just blinked back a couple of times, and once he got the notion that I wasn't going to reply, he hesitantly continued.

"Um.. anyways," He cleared his throat. "To mistletoe, and your adorable case trypanophobia."

If it was any other person speaking I would question how such a fear could be manageable, let alone adorable. Yet, it seemed that maybe it was the smooth curvature of his rosy lips or the the undying, unfailing, smile written vividly across his features with every word he spoke that made his sentences just all the more believable.

"I heard that like, you lose eleven minutes of your life with every cigarette you smoke." Zayn glanced towards his fag once again with this undetermined kind of guilt in his honey eyes. "So.. here's to the twenty-two more minutes of life that I get to live."

As he was again glancing upon his speech written on the golden skin of his arm, I couldn't help but hope that I would somehow be involved in those last few moments he spent as a person.

"But most of all," he started once again. "Here's to us."

With that, he tapped his cigarette on mine while we both simultaneously whispered a quiet "clink" as if our smokes were wine glasses and not cigarettes.

In a synchronized motion, we both threw our cigarettes off the building and watched in blissful silence as the variations of purple hues that make up what we call twilight engulfed them entirely.

---

Dear cathartics,

Thank you so much for reading my entry and thank you even more for writing aesthetics. You are an extremely talented writer and I just wanted to recognize that. Even if I don't come close to winning, you reading (being one of my favorite authors, not just on Wattpad, but in general) my one shot means the absolute world to me. Happy early birthday, and if you were to read this on the 27th then happy actual birthday!

Love, Isabel