Yeah, dealing with some quitting issues, but this is a good way to vent and keeps me from actually buying another pack of cigarettes. GO ME! Kinda Bakura x Ryou, if you're mind twists that way (and mine does, so…). Enjoy!
Little Bit Harmful for Me
Cigarettes and chocolate milk
These are just a couple of my cravings
Everything it seems I like's a little bit stronger
A little bit thicker
A little bit harmful for me
It was already late when Ryou found himself in his bathroom, washing blood out of his hair once again. The room was dark, lit only by the occasional flicker of neon lights from the shops outside on the street below. In the low light, what would've been bright crimson seemed a more muted brown, and Ryou was reminded momentarily of chocolate milk. He shook himself of the thought, and focused only on finishing his cleaning. Dwelling on it too much—on who, or what had died by his hands and why—only served to push him closer to that edge of insanity on which he only barely managed to have a foothold.
When he was finished, he entered his bedroom, which was also lowly lit by seldom glimmers of bright colored lights that blinked sporadically from the old market next door. At the window sill, Ryou could just make out an ashtray, with one lone cigarette still smoldering among the ashes.
The Other must have left it there, because Ryou hated smoking. He believed the habit disgusting, filthy, and smelly. Yet, the way the smoke trailing slowly upwards from the cherry of the offensive source appealed to Ryou's sense of vision. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of the window, staring as the smoke silently snaked its way upwards, dispersing into nothingness.
Without thinking, Ryou lifted the cigarette from the ashtray. The smoke stirred slightly, and gently kissed his finger-tips before continuing its dance towards the ceiling. He moved it from one hand to the other, watching the opalescent trail of whispers as they curled and twisted their way through the blinking of dim neon lights.
And then, Ryou hesitantly brought the cigarette to his lips. He wasn't sure why he was doing it, but he took a drag. Immediately, his eyes watered, and he began to cough. He choked on the smoke that burned his throat, and nearly dropped the burning source of his agony.
A dark, chocolately laughter filled his mind, then. You're doing it wrong, landlord. Here, let me help…
Before he could stutter a negative response, Ryou found that his hands were no longer his own. He could only watch as one brought the cigarette to his mouth once more, and inhaled. His lungs expanded as his other forced their shared body to take a deep breath. Then, a rush like nothing Ryou had ever felt began to consume him. His very mind seemed to spin, like the room around him. His eyes watered for a moment, and as he exhaled, he took an unbalanced step towards his bed.
When the moment passed, and Ryou regained his sense of self (and his own control), he quickly stabbed out the remains of the cigarette. He kept grinding it into the ashtray, though it was obviously no longer burning.
"I don't like it!" he said to room.
It doesn't matter, landlord.
"I don't like it!" he said again.
Oh, but you will, you'll see.
"No, no, no!"
But there was only the laughter that resonated in his very being. Ryou closed his eyes shut tight for a moment, and then re-opened them to glance at the ashtray. He noticed the lighter and cigarette packet sitting on the bedside table, nearby.
'I won't,' he told himself. But instead of throwing out the pack, as part of him said he should, Ryou left it where it lay.
I'm just a little bit heiress,
A little bit Irish,
A little bit... Tower of Pisa whenever I see you
So please be kind if I'm a mess...
Lyrics from Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk © Rufas Wainright
Alrighty! Plz to be reviewing? ♥♥♥'Cause you know how much I'd appreciate it!