Disclaimer: Reno belongs to Squenix.
Sakura-Angel: This piece was a little different because I wrote with the title as my starting point. Did that even make sense? I usually write and then come up with a title after, but this happened the other way around. I just couldn't get the idea of Reno thinking about breathing while smoking out of my head once I saw the word. Don't ask... So there's my usual little backstory. Espirando is Italian for 'gasping'.
The stench of smoke hung in the air in the dank alleyway, effectively snuffing out any other smells.
A cigarette hung listlessly in between slim, pale fingers that seemed to have been made to pull a trigger.
He was drunk. Again.
Reno sat casually on the rough concrete, staring at the little wisps of smoke rising from the tip of his cancerstick.
He found that times like these were the best times to flip through his little imaginary photo album and look back on some moments. It was better than looking around now and seeing nothing but sewage-filled streets, better than remembering his latest mission and that man, that father, he had to kill.
He let his mind dance mad for a moment, an assortment of memories bigger than anyone twice his age could ever hope to have flitting through his head. But he found something interesting enough.
It was a little hard to remember, his life before the Turks was foggy and patchy all over, like a badly stitched quilt, torn all over again.
It was in an alleyway not unlike this one, he remembered. He'd been pinned to a gravelly wall and the kiss had been rough and pleading, bitter and sweet. He remembered that he had trouble breathing then, that the mouth over his seemed to have sucked all his secrets out of him and he came up flushed, gasping for air, gulping and choking on it.
The memory played like a battered record in his brain and he saw his crumpled shirt and his wrinkly pants that didn't seem to fit him in tones of grey. He saw his sweaty hair and his parted lips, still taking all that tainted air in.
She pulled out a lighter and slid her back down the wall to sit next to his crumpled form, cigarette between her lips.
He watched her with clouded eyes as she blew out smoke and he was briefly reminded of those crazy fire-eaters at talent shows that blew out flames so close to your face, you couldn't help but flinch.
"Could I have one?" his hand, fresh blood streaked on the palm, reached out and recieved a cancerstick of his own.
The girl took her cigarette out of her mouth and held the tips together to light the other cigarette up.
He cautiously placed it in his mouth and inhaled the smoke, only to cough it out with tears leaking from his eyes and water coming from his nose.
The girl eyed him curiously and he replied while out of breath again, "First time," and coughed desperately some more.
They sat there a little while longer, in the alley, Reno's fingers shaking as he held the cigarette. He was breathing heavily and choking on the smoke-laden air every once in a while, wishing that he could find something newer to breathe in.
He smiled to himself now and looked up at the dark clouds with a startling amount of clarity in his eyes. The smoke curled around him and he mused to himself that maybe, with the life he had now, all the air he deserved to breathe should be tainted.
