Quitting.
Quitting was hard. He rolled the cigarette between his fingers, trying his hardest not to light it up. He put it down, it was the last one he had on him. He tried quitting before, last year he dumped the carton he had on him in the bin and just walked away.
It lasted three months. He went to a party got plastered and someone passed him a fag, he finally got the sweet release he wanted at the cost of his lungs. The withdrawal symptoms were a bitch, hot an' cold flashes, small manic episodes where he pretty much went on about how he would die if he didn't have a smoke right then and throwing up was just disgusting. He knew smoking wasn't worth it, he'd seen all the depressing adds and shit, hadn't phased him in the least.
He glared down at the chipped wood of the bar. Maybe he shouldn't even bother, he didn't have a reason to quit anyways. He jumped when the cigarette left his hand, turning to his left he opened his mouth to shout at the offender when he noticed the long bright orange hair of the woman sitting next to him. The stranger looked stunning wearing a slinky red dress the colour of blood, it looked she had just been to a dinner party. She rolled the cigarette between her fingers once before lighting it up, placing it between full lips. Smiling apologetically she set in the ash tray.
"I just can't help myself, I'm trying to quit," she explained, inhaling another lung full of the toxic air. Lazily she blew smoke rings, amber eyes fixated on his sky blue orbs. He smiled back and sighed.
"Same here, I've been sitting here going over the reasons why 'm quitting but I've none. If my lungs were that important to me, I would never have started in the first place," he muttered, resting his head in his hand choosing to stare at the fiery haired beauty rather than mourn the loss of his cigarette. She smiled once more, tossing her hair over her shoulder and revealing a heavily pierced ear. She hummed in agreement to his earlier statement.
"I could careless about my lungs, but dying of cancer doesn't seem like a pretty way to die. Maybe instead of a reason you just need a distraction, I'm Ichigo," she said, holding out a hand. He shook it, marvelling at the softness of her hand.
"'M Grimmjow, know where I can find a good distraction?" He asked, feral grin plastered on his lips. She smirked, leaning forward till their noses were touch, ghosting her lips over his.
"I warn you 'm very addictive, one taste and you'll be coming back for more," he whispered, huskily. She drew back with a pout, the hint of a smile in her eyes.
"And I thought you wanted a distraction," she whined, moving to slide down from the bar stool. He grabbed her arm stopping her.
"I assure you this is an addiction you wouldn't want to quit." Her laughter ringed throughout the bar in a bell-like peal.
"I could do without another addiction, I'm still trying to find a distraction for the one I have now. Whoever said quitting was the easy way out was lying," she murmured, pulling her arm from his loose grip. Sitting back down she reached for the cigarette only to find he had it, taking one last puff before dashing it out in the ashtray. She swung her legs for a few seconds, thinking about what to say next.
"Hey Grimmjow if we both give up smoking can you take me on a date?" She asked sounding much like a child. He grinned amazed she could even ask a stranger a question like that. Pretending to think on it he smirked, loving the leading look in her eyes.
"I guess I just found my reason for quitting but I'd still like that distraction if your offering," he said, gazing right into her eyes. She laughed again, writing down her phone number on a napkin, sliding down from the bar stool and this time successfully getting away.
"I no longer need the distraction, call me once you've quit smoking." She waved, leaving him sitting there in amazement. Quitting seemed easier now, if only he could find a way to speed it up.