cigarettes ☹ alex turner

XIV

thanks so fucking much for 7.2k what the hell i never update, why do some people like this???? anyway thank you but omfg the gif

Alexander David Turner

SPRINKLING SOME COLOGNE over me was the final touch of my process of getting ready. My hair was in place, and my clothes didn't look too awful, I suppose. With a final sigh from the lips and the clutch of my coat, I exit my house, locking the door as I leave.

The normal weather of Derby attacks me, including the bitter slap of the wind. The night sky was incredibly dark, causing the moon to be the center of attention. Chirps from crickets, quiet small talk and the smooth driving of citizens filled the atmosphere.

It was a perfect night for a smoke, yet I refrained myself from doing so, since I was to meet with Thomas to further discuss things and I knew him and me were bound to have a smoke.

Smoking wasn't an addiction for me; it was more of an occasional treat. People like to have a sweet every now and then, but sweets didn't really appeal to me; cigarettes did.

Everyone had coping mechanisms, whether it was to punch a mirror, binge, slice their skin, or smoke in my case, it was a way to cope. I was incredibly unhappy; I was just stressed.

I didn't want to hurt Kimberly, no one could imagine how many nightmares I had, me breaking her and it always ended with me screaming and waking up with the slightly comforting realization that it was all a dream. I knew one day I would open my eyes and it wouldn't be.

The action of hurting someone is looked down upon, but hurting someone for the sake of your job seemed unforgivable. I couldn't think about my life without Kimberly yet being aware of her existence.

How would I walk into her class, and teach? How could I avoid her gaze when her eyes could brainwash me, without even being aware of doing so?

All of these things seemed beyond impossible and as much as I wanted to put the blame on Thomas, I couldn't. He was quite a good friend of mine and he was only doing his job and I shouldn't be mad at him for doing so.

I sigh once again, heading into a pub, which wasn't your stereotypical, loud chaotic bar, but rather a calm, social venue for folks to have a drink or two and exchange conversations.

I wonder round the pub, in search for Thomas as he sits in a quiet corner, a cigarette already in his fingers. I make my way towards him, greeting him with a smile and a polite shake of the hand.

"Alright, mate?" I greet and take a seat opposite him. Diving into my pocket, I fish out my lighter and cigarette packet, taking out a single one and lighting it.

"Sir Bloomsbury," he corrects jokingly, "What'd you fancy?" he offers.

"A margarita, Sir Bloomsbury," I wink with a laugh before taking a puff of my cigarette, inhaling the tobacco which occasionally tasted foul without Kimberly.

Thomas stands at the pub, already flirting with the barista, probably in order for a free drink or two. He walks back towards me, two drinks in hand, as he gives on to me and keeps one for himself before taking a seat.

Next thing I do without even noticing is fish out my wallet in a flash, and take out a five-pound note. I doubted it costs that much or that he paid for it, but extra money couldn't cause harm.

An immediate response of his is to shake his hand and head in protest, strongly declining the money, which I continue to force onto him until he accepted the money.

If I didn't do so, it seemed as though I was only offering to be polite, but I wanted to be known as a fair person, so I continued to push.

Even though we were fairly close, I was always self-conscious about how I presented myself. It had taken me years to conquer my low self esteem and I wanted to show people who I now thought I was. I am a caring person, and if that makes me cocky, then let that be. I am entitled to my self-esteem.