I'm fine, We're fine [boyxboy]

Eleven p.1

A/N: Part one is up! Enjoy! xx Ive also got a new story posted, another original! It's going to be cute, wholesome, maybe a little dramatic and it's called Mismatched! Please, please check it out my loves and let me know what you think!

Louis POV

Smoking was a filthy habit. The toxic stench was slow and creeping, it wrapped a pus colored film around anything it touched and left a dull gray print on every inch of tar-infested lungs it could. It lingered, permeating the air with fingers that told a promise to anyone who held the butt between their lips. Hey! It said I'll be seeing you when you're doubled over from COPD and hooked to oxygen in ten years. I'll be there, held tight between your teeth!

Smoking was a filthy habit and I plucked one from the pack I had stashed outside under the fern sitting on the balcony of the apartment. A few times I clicked the small lighter I kept in my wallet. Once, twice, it sparked. The third try had a flame licking the end of the cigarette. It glowed orange and a thin, translucent trail of smoke rose.  I took a long drag, sucking the rich, woody nicotine down my throat and into my waiting lungs. This time I didn't cough, it didn't burn. It was bitter, ashy and there was always a gritty feeling stuck in my tongue when I was halfway down. I puffed again, exhaling a cloud of smoke that formed a white puff in front of my face before it fizzled out.

A week had passed since I had last had one and a new pack had been hidden under the pot ever since. I wasn't addicted, but every now and then I needed something to fill me inside. Something bad, something I knew was slowly clawing every piece of my precious organs. It made me feel better about the damage my physical appearance was taking.

Harry was gone, I was safe.

My mind floated back to what had happened a week ago.

It had been exactly a week to the day when Harry and I had left his therapy appointment and driven to the gas station. The needle on his gas gauge was trembling just above the E mark. He had a bad habit of letting it stay there until his car was beeping at him that it was running on its last wheel. While he pumped the gas, I sat in the car. It was the first time I had ventured out in public without my glasses and my hair plastered to my face. I had my contacts in and had usd a glob of gel to keep my feathery hair out of my eyes.

The scab had peeled off- after many hours of me picking at the itching blood clot -and the bruise had faded to a dull yellow-purple. It wasn't gone but as long as no one stared at my face too long, it wasn't brought into question.

I found Harry's gaze through the window and smiled at him. He gave one back. A tiny thing that dimpled his cheeks, but no matter the size, it always made my heart melt. I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror before reaching to open the console that sat between us. From it, I took out my packet of Marlboros. It was new, the plastic still crisp and only three cigarettes were missing from inside. 

I didn't smoke. I couldn't put away two packs a day, I couldn't put away two packs in a month. But it gave me some control. I knew what it did to my lungs and the way it forced me to try and cough one of them up. It was my choice, I chose to fill my body with the toxic chemicals. It was one of the only things I was in control of.

I lit the end of the cigarette and inhaled, my head falling against the back of the seat as I blew it back out through the cracked window. It tasted like ass- no, I knew what that was like and this was not that. Still, I sucked the end. The butt of the cigarette made my lips dry and my tongue felt like sandpaper after, but for some odd reason, aside from the control, it calmed me. Crossing my eyes, I looked over the tip of my nose and watched the ember colored end of the stick. I inhaled, it glowed. I exhaled, it cracked and released a tiny smoke signal.