A/N: Written as a birthday gift for lemonsdarling, and finally x-posted!


Smoker's Corner

/

Odd stumbles away from the brightly lit house, where music still thuds relentlessly behind the closed door.

School is out one night at the end of a long, long few months, and he is so alive right now, dripping with sweat from outrageous dancing, someone else's beverage staining his shirt. For a moment he's glad of a bit of breathing space, and besides, for the last half hour no one's done anything really funny or embarrassing. The party has reached a lull, tipsy teenagers sprawled out blearily on couches and the day student whose house it is frantically mopping up spillages in the kitchen.

Odd pulls down the sleeves of his jacket as the cold air sends hairs rising along his arms. None of it matters and besides, he'll liven things up when he gets back.

It's a moment before he notices William, dressed mostly in black and merging with back-garden shadows, perched on a low wall by the pond.

"William!" Odd crosses the space between them in a few quick strides, grinning broadly. It's good, to be talking to him again.

William, as usual, is calmer.

"Hey."

"Having fun?"

"It got a bit wild in there for a while. Besides, I needed-" William trails off, gestures with a hand which holds a cigarette between index and middle finger.

"Terrible habit," Odd chides, hoisting himself up onto the wall to sit beside him. "Woah, it's cold out here."

"It'll help you sober up," William says, but in the dim light he is surprised when Odd laughs.

"I'm drunk on life, good buddy. That's all."

William's shaking his head in mock-despair and then there's quiet as he takes another drag of his cigarette. He holds the smoke in his mouth effortlessly, pausing as he drinks it in until, with the slightest parting of his lips, he releases the dregs and lets them fade softly into nothingness. He presses the stick between his lips again, holding it there as he pockets the lighter. William's eyes are closed as, eagerly, he gives himself over to smoky calmness.

"Oh," he says suddenly, eyes flitting open.

Odd realises he's been staring this whole time and he quickly feigns interest in the pond though the dark body of water already melds with the shadows on the bank and the deepening twilight, and you can't even see any fish.

"You want?"

Odd turns back, and there's William, holding out the cigarette in offering. Odd only hesitates a second; then he's reaching out for it, and swearing lightly as he holds it too long and blistering heat sears his fingers. Between them they save it from falling to ground but not without much brushing of hands and fingers. And then Odd is inhaling, a little too quickly for a novice, and his entire face flames as smoky scratchiness prickles the inside of his mouth and throat.

He struggles to keep his composure but a moment later he's coughing, embarrassing desperate coughs that release pent-up clouds of white to set his eyes stinging. William watches with wry amusement. He reaches out one broad hand, palm spread flat against Odd's upper back, and pats him sharply between the shoulder blades.

"There, there. Terrible habit."

His eyes light up in a way that suggests he's moments away from laughing.

Odd rolls his eyes, mutters a hasty 'thanks' and gradually recovers, inhaling lungfuls of cold, clean night air. He looks down for the cigarette, wanting another attempt to prove that he can but finds it in William's possession. The older boy breathes out a thin stream of smoke cloud as though to say look, see, -this- is how it's done.

And then he hands it back once more.

It's easier the second time, and the third; soon they're passing back and forth and it's not about smoking so much as it's about having something to share with William, something companionable to do in the darkness. Something to avoid lapses in conversation.

Except Odd can't go too long without talking.

"Are you driving?"

"Huh?

"You know. You're not…"

"Ah. You're wondering why I don't drink. Well, it's funny but, these days I prefer being in complete control of myself at all times."

"Oh." Odd bites his lip, runs a hand through his hair. William stares straight ahead, lips pressed in a thin line. His hands reach for the lighter in his pocket and he's turning it over, absently flicking the switch on and off, on and off.

Odd says, "This is awkward now, isn't it?"

William doesn't have time to reply before the back door is thrown open, spilling a wide path of orange-yellow light out onto the garden path. Ulrich and Yumi are silhouetted in the doorway, sporting matching smiles. Ulrich steps out into the night, stumbling. Yumi grabs him and - Odd and William forget everything else in lieu of turning to each other with raised eyebrows - releases an uncharacteristic giggle.

"There you are!" Ulrich is yelling. "Odd, why'd you go?"

Odd's laughing, swinging himself down from the wall. "Just getting some air. What's happening?"

"They're playing Twister!"

Odd may have imagined it, but he's sure he hears William mutter "dear god" under his breath. Then he's moving to stand beside Odd too, stepping into the light from the doorway, and Ulrich and Yumi greet him with overenthusiastic cries of "William!" and then they're clasping him for support, falling back into the doorframe. It's just the alcohol, he expects, but still a bubble of light relief forms in his chest at the greeting. Between this and the smoking, and Odd's easy company, the tension in him is ebbing away.

Odd sees something in William's face that disappears beneath a smirk; Odd is unable to hide his own amusement and also remembering, peripherally, just how cold it is out here. William places a hand on Odd's shoulder and steers him inside, the two of them falling into step with Ulrich and Yumi ahead, talking about something that doesn't make quite enough sense.

"I'm not going to miss this," is William's quiet explanation muttered in Odd's ear as they cross into the front room. He wants a memory, something to hold onto and reminisce about when they're all properly friends again.

Odd… Odd is just happy to pick up where they left off.

"Trust me, you don't want to."