Author's Note: Hi! Thank you so much deciding to read this fanfiction. I do not in any way, shape, or form encourage smoking or wish for anyone to try it. It just happens to be part of this story. I'm not sure how many parts will be in this, but I am assuming there will be around three. I'm not too familiar with fanfiction with the Warblers, so their personalities will probably be different than how others portray them. Klaine will be the primary ship found here. If you are in recovery from smoking, please be careful while reading this, as it may be triggering. Again, thank you for reading and have a great day! :)
Smoking Kills
Part 1
Okay, so maybe smoking was a bad idea.
Cigarettes aren't exactly wonderful for you and your health. However, neither are drugs, or alcohol, or eating disorders, or self-harm, or self-destructive behaviors in general. They're addictive, as people always say, yet they also say these things make some people feel so much better than before. So, if Blaine Anderson had to choose what addiction to have... he'd choose smoking. No question.
They say the nicotine is the addictive component in smoking, and it both is and isn't at the same time. The feeling it gives you is the obsession, not the nicotine. Then again, nicotine is what causes the feeling, and therefore the addiction.
The first time Blaine had tried a cigarette was during his sophomore year at Dalton Academy. He was with Nick, Wes, and David, some of the greatest people he'd ever met. This particular day was one of those beautiful weather days, so rare in Ohio that the students at Dalton just had to go outdoors. Blaine and his friends were sitting outside by the trees, supposedly studying. (This meant that they were in fact barely studying at all, because they had maintained the habit of procrastinating until the literal last second.)
In their navy blazers and matching ties, they looked like something out of a corny 80's movie set at a boarding school in England, or even the characters from Dead Poets' Society. It would seemingly fit this setting apart from the lack of English accents and/or poetry books. The four boys did, however, have the same "corny friendship" as you might think to be in such films.
Now, though... back to the smoking thing.
When outside, cigarettes and lighters are a more-than-familiar sight. Nick had been smoking, which wasn't precisely permitted at Dalton, but it wasn't precisely outlawed either. Blaine had always wondered why Nick smoked. He was a member of the Warblers, after all. Smoking damaged and blackened your lungs. Your singing voice in return should turn out damaged too, right? It seemed illogical, at least to Blaine, that anyone would smoke- especially someone whose life revolved around singing.
"Hey, want one?" Nick offered. He plucked a cigarette out of his pack of Marlboros, which were conveniently placed in the pocket stitched to his uniform jacket. He gestured out to Blaine.
"I don't smoke," Blaine answers quickly, shaking his head. Peer pressure, he thinks. Isn't this what everyone warns you about when you're younger?
"It won't kill you," Nick replies, putting the cigarette a little closer to Blaine's face. Blaine scrunched up his nose. The cigarette even smelled terrible from here.
"It damages your lungs and can lead to emphysema and lung cancer," Wes states clearly, leaning against the bark of the tree.
"You read that out of a textbook," David remarks.
Wes scoffs. "Does it look like I have a textbook in front of me? Either way, we all learned about smoking in freshman year, David." he says. "It's absolutely horrible for your health and it's addictive and-"
"Yeah, that's why people still smoke," Nick interrupts, still holding the cigarette out to Blaine.
"Just because people do smoke it doesn't mean it's good for you," Wes snaps at him.
Nick rolls his eyes, ignoring Wes and turning back to Blaine. "Just try it, and if you hate it, never do it again. It's a simple compromise to both of our opinions," he says, regarding Wes.
"Nick, I'm sorry, but that's idiotic," Wes notes blankly, avoiding eye contact.
Peer pressure, Blaine thinks. Good or bad? Probably bad. Going to help me? No. Will this do me any good? No. Everyone who smokes sounds horrible and their lungs are ruined and they can't sing and I don't know if I want to do this but it's just one time and oh God I'm rambling again... Okay. Focus, Blaine.
If it's just one time... it's not going to hurt.
"I have a feeling I'm going to regret this," Blaine mutters. He gingerly takes the cigarette from Nick's hands.
"Don't smoke, Blaine," David adds in, wrinkling his nose as Nick lets out a huge puff of smoke towards him. "That's disgusting,"
"You're disgusting," Nick replies nonchalantly, flicking the ash from one cigarette onto the ground before pulling out another. He lights up one end, sucks in, and lets out the smoke. The smoke circles up into the air before disappearing.
Nick then hands the lighter over to Blaine. "You ready, man?" he asks, arching an eyebrow.
Blaine nods. He flicks the switch on the lighter, a tiny breath of orange fire puffing up. He puts the flame over the end of the cigarette. He puts it between his lips, takes one long drag, exhales- and coughs. He coughs a lot more than he think he probably should.
"Are you okay, Blaine?" Wes asks, watching Blaine in his coughing fit.
"I-I'm, uh, fine," Blaine says, coughing into his elbow now.
"That happens the first time," Nick adds, before drawing in his own cigarette and exhaling more of the wretched smelling smoke. "Forgot to mention it."
"Would've been helpful to know, don't you think?" David argues.
"I'm alright, David," Blaine says, regaining himself. "I'll just try it again."
He does. The inhaling doesn't last nearly as long this time. 3 seconds, tops, before letting the smoke out. It whirls around in the breeze, silvery and wispy and light, before fading into the air.
It tastes horrible, absolutely horrible, like ash and musk. It made Blaine want to throw up, to spit it out, to shout at Nick for supposedly tricking him into smoking a "bad cigarette", if there is such a thing. It was the most horrible thing that he may have ever done.
But it felt good.
Relaxing.
Like all your worries would just melt away.
Wes and David looked at each other. "You okay?" David asks. "You look kinda.. tired,"
"Blaine?" Wes asks. He puts his hand in front of Blaine's face and waves several times. "Are you going to speak?"
"How do you feel?" David questions.
Blaine stares at the three of them. Wes, David, and Nick, some of the best friends he'd ever had. People who accepted him no matter what the cause. People who he knew would only want what's best for him.
"Give me another one," Blaine states, reaching out his hand.
Nick smirks. "My pleasure."