smokin' | louigan

forty-five

louise opened her eyes, finding the small figure of anita vasquez standing over her, nursing a tall glass of milk, all leather jacket and blue eyeliner. she blinked once more before looking around the room; the sun was filtering in through the open windows, streaming through the pale curtains and bringing in the smell of salt and smog. she sighed and rose to rest on her elbows, finding the concerned gaze of her best friend.

"what time is it?" louise muttered, blinking slowly, raising a hand to brush some hair behind her ear. anita smirked lightly and glanced at the gold-face watch on her left wrist.

"ten o'seven a-m."

"why are you here?"

"because you weren't answering my texts and the restaurant was still closed when i drove by earlier. figured i'd stop in and say hi." she paused, eyes glancing around the room once more. "where's blondie?"

louise blinked.

once.

twice.

louise looked away, her eyes finding the hallway entrance. when she blinked again he was standing there, leaning against the wall, a burning cigarette balanced between a smooth smirk, blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight. he took a soft drag of the cigarette, lips stretching into a breathtaking smile.

his mouth began to move, words that louise couldn't hear but desperately wanted to. the words were small, he licked his lips every so often after another puff of cigarette, his eyes serious and hazy.

the room seemed to dim as the smile faded, as the cigarette burnt out once more.

she blinked once more and he was gone.

"not here," louise stated blankly. she smoothed her hair into a quick ponytail. she rose from the sofa quickly, almost tripping over her friends combat boots as she rushed down the hall. anita rolled her eyes and quickly followed.

"not good enough, lou."

"look, 'nita, i don't owe you an explanation, 'kay! just leave it, alright?" the two burst into louise's bedroom, the closet-turned-bedroom. anita looked around quickly, catching on the broken picture frame on her nightstand before following louise closer to her closet.

"no, i'm not gonna leave it, not this, louise!" she retorted quickly, loudly. anita felt her face flush in the sudden rush of anger but she calmed down quickly, her breaths becoming longer as she sighed. "look, i just don't want you to be upset. and talking to me about it might help."

"it really won't," louise remarked dryly, rummaging through her closet for a clean apron. anita watched as her friend violently pulled hangers of clothes along the small rack, grunting as some swung to the floor.

"well it's certainly helped before, louise," anita sighed once more, "i just want to talk ab—"

"this one's different, okay!" louise yelled, arms dropping to her sides in fists as she turned to face her friend. "it's not like rudy who f*cked me over too many times to count, or tommy from freshman year that spit in my face when i said 'no,' or-or—"

suddenly, louise was on her knees, clutching her chest as her breaths came out short and hard. anita was on the floor in seconds, grasping her shoulders in still hands, whispering soothing words in her ear. louise turned in her arms and hugged her friend tightly.

anita could feel the tears on her neck.

what the h*ll happened, lou?

~

logan paused on the sidewalk, eyes squinting as they found the yellow buttercup townhouse of his past. the windows were still clear, stone pathway recently pressure-washed, flowers still damp from the rain the night before.

he adjusted the strap of his duffle on his shoulder and knocked on the front door. he grabbed the pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and retrieved a stick, placing it between his teeth. he removed his lighter from his pocket, about to light the end of his cigarette before he remembered whose house this was.

he quickly replaced the cigarette and lighter back to their original hiding places, frowning as he realized she hadn't answered the door. he knocked once more, turning on his heel. a car was passing through the small suburb, a frighteningly yellow convertible passing through, three girls nodding their heads to what sounded like an old sixties' song he'd heard years ago. he turned back around, brows knitting together.

he tried the doorknob and found the door unlocked, allowing himself inside. he closed the door behind him and slumped his bag on the floor, slipping his shoes off on the empty mat.

"hello?" logan called out, clearing his throat and running a hand over his hair. he traipsed into the living room, moving around a side table and groaning. his mother was asleep, blonde hair curling over her right cheek, legs curled slightly. he moved closer as he noticed something in her loose grasp. when he removed the item, he found it to be an empty bottle of gin.

he gulped and shook his head, erasing any thought of her. he didn't deserve to see her in his imagination, his dreams.

logan placed the bottle on the coffee table, socked feet padding across the carpet to the kitchen for a bottle of aspirin. he thought about taking one himself for when his mother woke up but rolled his eyes at the thought, knowing no amount of any medication would keep her from angering him.

cynthia groaned lightly, blinking slowly as her eyes adjusted to the late morning light burning across her eyelids. she sat up slowly, crossing her legs. out of the corner of her eye, a figure emerged from the kitchen. she blinked, focusing on the blank expression of her son.

"i was wondering when you'd be back." logan handed her the bottle of pills and a glass of water, she nodded in thanks.

"why's that?"

"well, i was wondering where you were staying, and when they'd kick you out." he grunted at the comment, replying,

"how do you know i've been staying with someone?" she rolled her eyes.

"logan, we've never been the type of people to sleep on the streets." now logan rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as he slumped down next to her on the sofa.

"i was down at the belchers' place. i worked in their restaurant to stay in one of the spare rooms." she nodded in understanding, knocking back two pills with some water. she realized she was incredibly sober. perhaps by the situation of her son returning home once more, or the increasingly pounding sensation behind her eyes and quickly stemming into her temples. she frowned slightly,

"well, what happened?" she turned her head, meeting the cool eyes of logan, her son. she bit her lip as they looked unfamiliar. logan returned her stare, looking over the solemn face of a woman he used to know.

"i hurt her," a tear slid down his cheek, "i hurt her, i hurt her, i—" he fell into her arms, squeezing his eyes shut to keep the tears off her cashmere sweater. but as her son, the man she had raised to fight pain with fire, broke down in raw tears over this 'her,' cynthia bush found her own eyes become blinded by tears.

she sighed, closed her eyes, and held him tighter.

----

ok lol sorry this is crap but it'll get better don't u worry.

also this is crazy but this book has reached 20k. um what? lol I saw that a few days ago and just about screamed. you guys rock!!

much love to all of you :)

- sxbjective