For the 100 Word Prompt Challenge (1/100: moth)
Regulus lights another cigarette, and you watch, unable to take your eyes off of him.
(You will follow him, you know you will.)
"Bad habit," he chuckles, pulling the cigarette from his mouth and tapping the filter, letting the ash dance in the gentle breeze.
(You know too much about bad habits. He is yours, the addiction you can't seem to quit.)
You watch the paper burn up with every passing second.
(You know that you will burn too, just like the tobacco within the hull.)
"You're staring again," he laughs, opening the pack and pushing it towards you. "Want one?"
(It's not the nicotine you crave, and he damn well knows it.)
"You know I don't smoke, Reg," you say, forcing your eyes away from him.
(Your bad habit is so much worse than smoke and chemicals. Your bad habit kills much more quickly.)
Regulus grins that crooked grin that makes you fall in love a little more with each twitch of the lip. "Suit yourself. Thought maybe it would calm you," he says, dropping the cigarette to the ground and crushing it. "I know it's been a big change for you."
(Will he toss you aside so easily one day? Will he crush you until you are nothing more than the battered remains of something used to kill the time?)
"I think I can manage," you say dryly. "I have you, after all.)
(But for how long? How long until you become a habit that he breaks?)
Regulus leans in, kissing you gently on the lips. He tastes like tobacco and bad decisions. "I'm glad you joined me," he says.
(You are the moth, and he is the flame. He burns so bright, and you are drawn closer and closer, knowing that it will be your downfall.)