——— nic sometimes like to think he smokes for the hell of it. that he's not addicted to nicotine and doesn't crave the feel of a cigarette between his fingers, the smoke in his lungs. he's wrong, of course, but he clings to the thought like a lifeline sometimes. even as he has his feet kicked up on the table outside the apartments with maybe his second or third cigarette that afternoon tucked between his lips as he scrolls idly through his phone. he's been feeling restless lately, wanting to know why he seems to only have a vague recollection of a blurry past that he surely should have existed in.
when he turns to flick the ashes, nic spots dylan approaching as he pulls out his own cigarette. tucking away his phone (and his uneasiness about the lack of results), nic pulls his feet off the table and turns towards a still approaching dylan. "you know," he starts, smirk sliding to his lips like a mask, "i thought it was an apple a day that kept the doctor away, not a cigarette." nic's pretty fucking funny, if you ask him, and his smile grows wider.
/ @fataldcse