Here's a short cause i got distracted away from my comic and other stories so sorry
He brought me out one morning to the coast, sitting on the wooden rails overseeing the sea as his lips curled around his cigarette. It was almost mysterious, seeing him suck on the glowing stick around his lips to breath out a clean stream of white when what was expected was it to be black.
What a metaphor that is, that smoke, almost like fog but much more deadly than we expect it to be.
If only I could replace the stick between his lips with my own…
It wouldn't happen, possibly, the men of addictions as we are we couldn't bring ourselves to become addicts of one more thing.
We couldn't handle that, we couldn't risk it for the side effects were worse than Drugs or Alcohol could bring.
Maybe I was already addicted though, to be thinking… craving for the touch of his lips, the taste of his tongue….
If I could even hold him? Touch him?
I took a step from the railing and walked along the pier, it would only cause grief if not his pity if I were to say anything to him.
How well can you tell me how love can create, break, and conquer. He was following me now. I needed a drink, it could make me forget those eyes of forests that glowed in the pale moonlight as if there was far more to them than colour, a meaning perhaps. It was so early, the sun wasn't rising just yet.
I stopped at the end, watching the moon with blinking eyes, wide and wondering, wishing on it for at least one kiss, one touch, one moment that would cause our pact to bend and break and let us become addicted to one more substance that we weren't used to having or knowing.
"Break it." my lips mouthed the words but couldn't say it, hands clasping to my chest before dropping to my sides once more as if that would solve it all, if it meant that by that action I could drop the pills and pick up a kiss instead. "please."
Standing next to me the smoke blew for the last time before the half smoked cigarette was flicked into the waters. I couldn't help but watch it float back towards the beach before looking at him. He was watching me, almost leaning over me before leaning closer to press a kiss to my lips, whispering a "sorry" as he pulled away. "You're too addictive not to taste."
I couldn't remember his voice properly.
But you can never truly remember numerous intakes of a drug. Of a being so close to heart that a rapid pounding becomes a side effect that seemed so close to a heart attack.
He was flushed away for me when cancer desired to be stronger than our disease that we seemed to share.
That's why I stuck to alcohol.
The image of him faded from my sight then, leaning up against the wooden pillar that kept the pier up I realized how much I had to drink, watching the water with my image blurred on it's surface, without his next to mine.
The tears streamed.
I could feel the shatters of my heart hurting.
It's an addiction, this love thing.
He was an addiction.
And I have my cravings, I need my fix.
And there's no other drug to fill it.