◂◅broken by nature

c i g a r e t t e s .

c i g a r r e t e s .

t h i r d p e r s o n

◂◅ ▢ ▻▸
ᴘitch black it was, some time between early morning and late night where the whole city of Seoul seemed to be under a haze of flashing car lights and the constant reminder of drunken states.

Maybe it was the cool air that seemed to numb his fingers that drew him out of his enclosure of work and coffee at 3:04am.. Or the noise which was null, apart from the few car horns going off with a few slurred curse words to the driver in front. Either way, he was still outside at, some would call, a 'ridiculous' time in the night. No motive lead him outside, maybe just the urge for a cigarette was the case.. But no other apparent reason came his way.

Pulling a box out of his large hoodie pocket a sigh emitted from his lips, leaving a puff of hot air coming through his parted, pink and plush lips . Visible to the eye, the carbon dioxide disseminated throughout the oxygen surrounding this lonely soul, light grey toned and thick yet easily broken with any action. The newly formed puff of air soon left.. now invisible, no sign of its existence being left behind apart from a few goosebumps left on the arms of the male as the small warmth extracted from the steam looped itself around his clothes arms.

The box had been pulled out of the pocket located on the boys hoodie, which had countless other useful and useless  things in.. Including a crumpled up note which had an address written on in neat cursive coal-black ink.. probably a clients. But, the relevancy or use of the note seemed to mean nothing to the male. Tossed onto the concrete floor it was, soon floating up a little from the grey-stoney floor and sweeping off to the parks green grass. The grass had slight dew on it, it had rained slightly in previous sun-lit hours.. It gave out quite a pleasant and refreshing aroma, white lace and muddy grass.. That's how he'd describe it. The white lace being the delicate dew drops, transparent yet through the liquid showed the rich green, hinted black because of the night sky above. Muddy grass from well, the grass blades that covered majority of the designated park.. That of a quiet city contained such a secluded area of green, it made the soul wonder why it was empty. The deafening silence was quite an art to him, beautiful in its own way.

Focusing to the male in the designated area, he seemed tall from a distance.. yet most would consider him small for a man of 20 years of age, non the less he considered himself to be tall. To him being small would lower his appearance to others. He wore a head of black raven hair, lightly placed just above his eyes as his fringe layered across his face from left to right. He wore glasses, which were actually not prescribed.. They'd been placed just on the bridge of his nose, the silver metal some how contrasting with his coconut brown eyes.. Deep as an abyss they were, you could fall in them and not even bother to hope to crawl out. They were some what intriguing as well.. The way they wandered from every little detail of every little thing found on absolutely anything in the owners eye vision..

The box was labelled "Melbourne." A brand of cigarettes is what the box consisted of, thin lengthy sticks of cancer is what they were to some. To others they were thin lengthy sticks of relief, from anything from depression to happiness and any other emotion known to human-kind.. The packet had a red top, underneath was a washed white colour, the box itself seemed quite old fashioned in a sense.. Black, gold and red lettering were on the packet. The words meant a huge nothing to the owner of them, all he wanted was the drug that was inside.

A long porcelain-white finger clamped itself onto one of the cigarettes, pulling it delicately out of his usual place. The males head was now upright, looking forward while he squinted his doe eyes while trying to focus on something. Attempting to find his lighter ended in an unsatisfied groan, making the figure roll its eyes in a rude manor as if it was pointed towards someone.

"Fucking lighter where the fu-"
A small voice stated, rough, low and raspy.. That of a morning voice, a one you'd hear after sleeping 12 hours of undisturbed sleep with no hydration whatsoever.

bingo.

'It was in the back pocket you dumbass'
He scolded himself mentally, soon enough a light blue lighter being seen by no one else but himself. The liquid filled plastic container emerged from the back left pocket from the boys black jeans, the jeans were worn out, a couple of rips were seen.. You wouldn't even be able to tell if these were fashionable or were made by an accident. Taking the owners personality and position in society in mind, it was probably fashion..

After rambling to himself for a few seconds about the, 'waste of time this fucking was' and 'who the fuck forgets where they put their lighter?' The boy finally and urgently placed the cigarette in its final destination.

His lips.

No matter how long you could look at them they began to turn softer and softer, imagine cotton candy.. Imagine cotton candy turned into the shape of lips and slightly solidified and there you go. They were shiny, perhaps glistening like a pearl from a newly opened clam.. not a hint of chapped lip was shown. They were definitely cared for in deep detail.

While the latter was focusing on his lighter and his nimble fingers struggled to spark a light due to the cold numbness in his fingertips.. The air became a slight bit warmer, giving the male newly found goosebumps from the change of temperature. The males eyes immediately darted to a door that had been swung open a few yards away from where he stood.. Flashing lights blared through the slightly opened door, soon enough being closed without a sound.

The blaring lights from what, the male, presumed was a club of sorts, a figure was seen.. The silhouette running along in no orderly fashion along the path and then road of the somewhat quiet city street. The boy was now illuminated by a street lamp, tear streaked cheeks were shown with a trembling lip..

This scene was just in line with the coffee and cigarette addicted males eye vision, he had more than superb hearing and eyesight so being observant wasn't a problem.. The problems was

'What the heck is going on here?'
◂◅ ▢ ▻▸

N/A
This is for a special persons birthday in which I'm writing this book for- this bitch has gone through hell and heaven with me and it's hilarious. She knows who she is. Happy birthday bitch :3
Also, what do y'all think¿