Summary: You were a bad influence on Peter. No what ifs, no buts, it was just the simple truth and you both knew it. But there was something about you that always drew Peter back into your arms, and one day it was going to kill him.
A/N: Suggested by Cigs Anon: Suggestion on Tumblr. You and Peter are aged up 21+. Mild Smut, Unhealthy Relationships, Smoking, Drinking. There's actually no real smut, just uh, imaginative smut here, but I might make an actual follow-up smut fic for this. I haven't written any smut so far, so the bits at the bottom are just me testing the waters.
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"(Name), you should really stop smoking..."
The smell of smoke filled Peter's lungs as he turned his head away from you. It made him want to curl into himself, wanting to get away from the fumes that filled the room, despite the open window.
He watched with tired eyes as you look out into the night sky.
You hummed quietly, not really paying much attention to the emotionally exhausted Peter next to you. You puffed out a cloud of smoke and blew it all away. You licked your lips, the bitter taste of nicotine brings a sense of peace to you.
"I should, but am I going to?"
The question was left unanswered as it rang with a heavy note in the air.
You both knew the answer to that.
To you, Peter was...
He was really something else, for him to still be with you.
You always knew you weren't the greatest guy out there; in fact, if you had to rate yourself personally you'd say that you were the grime at the bottom of the trash bin.
So the fact that you had somehow managed to get someone like Peter wrapped around your fingers was a miracle. You felt bad for him- he was the sweetest thing to have ever accidentally tripped into your life.
He was the sun in your dark and decrepit wasteland. He was the hope for you that was always the constant reminder that you could be better.
You knew you were awful for him. While he hadn't picked up any bad habits from you- thank the heavens- you knew he would be far happier anywhere else other than near you.
So you felt a twinge of guilt whenever you saw his sweet little baby face cringe at each swig of alcohol you took, or each puff of smoke you breathed out.
But at the same time, you were selfish. You didn't really want to get better. You wanted to stay in the same place as always, content with knowing that you were just chipping away at your life with each bad decision you made. You wanted to stay a mess.
Staying complacent, where you are right now, was all you wanted to do.
Maybe it was because you're afraid of change. Maybe it was because you didn't want to face the fact that you were slowly killing yourself. Maybe...
