Cigarette Buzz

Smoke poured from his mouth as he exhaled. It’s a filthy habit, but who am I to judge when there’s a cigarette dangling from my own lips? Besides, it was a little obvious he was kind of new it at, considering the stretches of time between drags and the occasional cough. Still, it suited him. It made me want to watch and there wasn’t even anything to stop me.

In an empty hotel lobby in the dead of night, I was content to sit and smoke and watch Bert smoke. I didn’t like the effect he had on me. Even without the cigarette, he looked dangerous—sexy, even. I liked it. The swirls of smoke around him enhanced the effect but his inexperience almost negated it. Badass and cute. What a combination.

I still didn’t like it. He was filthy, drunk, selfish and lazy. He was Bert McCracken. And, I noticed, as he coughed again, he was trying way too hard. He was a disgusting guy, trying to pick up a disgusting habit and I couldn’t give up either of them.

Watching, I let the stick ember in my mouth, not inhaling, just letting it hang there. I finally noticed when the ash dropped onto my finger. I must have hissed, because I heard something that I couldn’t let go. He chuckled. It was low, almost silent, but it was audible. Bert Mc-I-think-I’m-a-hotshot-because-I-fail-at-smoking-Cracken thought it was funny. That bastard. That stupid, attractive bastard.

He was smirking. It was infuriating and by God, it got me worked up. Jesus, I have got to stop. What if one of the guys caught me thinking like this? What if Gerard found out? I’d be a walking slab of meat, just waiting to die. Well, that’s hardly more than I am now, but as I took another drag, feeling some of the tension in my shoulders ease out, I couldn’t help but think that it’s sort of worth it.

Bert coughed again. Who’s laughing now, asshole?

“You’re a disgrace to smokers, McCracken.” My voice sounded louder than it normally would have. It was really just that empty and quiet.

Bert looked at me “Is that so?” came the uninterested reply.

I got up and strutted over, wishing to punch his smug face but the stubble on his cheeks really didn’t help. I didn’t know it was possible to feel this conflicted over someone so…I don’t even know. He just wasn’t worth it. Well, maybe a little. He let out some more smoke, without a cough this time.

“You’re such a fucking show off.” I sounded pissed off and I was. But all Bert did was look at me and smirk, which just did not help. It did not help at all. I leaned my elbow on the abandoned counter we were standing near and continued to watch him from the corner of my eye.

After another few sips, he turned to me and spoke. “You’re right Frankie; it’s not that great anyway.”

“Don’t call me Frankie,” was all I said. He stubbed out his cigarette and dropped it, crushing it under his sneakers. They looked terrible; I bet there was fungus growing on them or something. And it just made me want him more, the way he just didn’t care. Every single movement was rough and reckless. We just had to be in a hotel, didn’t we? Of all places in the world and of all the people in the world.

I couldn’t take it anymore and moved to the wall next to the reception, relaxing a little and leaning on it. My stick was half-burned out. I went slower, wanting to savor it. Bert came and leaned next to me, shoulder to the wall, licking his lips like he wanted to make the heat creep up my neck that way.

“You know,” he said, voice low and coarse as always, “if you’re looking for a buzz, there are better ways than smoking.” I grunted in reply. I knew I’d regret it if I opened my mouth. “I’m serious, Frankie, I’ve got something better.”

“Really.” My reply came out flat, not exactly a question.

“Really.” I felt him bend in closer towards me as he said this. I did nothing, but concentrated on another drag. I drew this one out and felt better when I watched the haze swirl out of me. It was kind of comforting. I needed comfort. I needed to be away from Bert before I pinned him to the wall and….no. Absolutely not.

“What’s a matter, Frankie?” he was mocking me now, stupid bastard, “You sound like you don’t believe me.”

“Don’t call me Frankie, Bert.”

“You should give my method a chance, Frankie.” He was doing it on purpose. Evil fucking incredibly hot bastard! I felt my index and middle fingers trembling as I breathed. I tightened my grip around the stick, just so I could stop shaking.

Bert bent in again, closer this time, before finally pushing me back up against the wall. I looked into his eyes and I swear I nearly fainted. He had this energy! He was raw and careless and disgusting and the things that were going through my mind would make a porn star blush.

He had me pinned up against the wall, in his grip. And then he kissed me. Bert McCracken lowered his lips to mine so fast I couldn’t have reacted if I wanted to. He kissed me. I felt his fingers in my hair. I could hear my own heart beating. I could taste the nicotine on his tongue. For thirty whole seconds, Bert kissed me. Gerard would cut my balls off if he found out.

I wanted to say something when he pulled away, but I couldn’t find my voice. I’d dropped my cigarette on the floor. I was—Bert had me completely dazed. He was looking at me, smirking like before, looking amused. I opened my mouth to speak and it just hung open like that for a little while.

He chuckled. I hate him. He laughed and he didn’t even try to stop himself. He was giggling like a fucking maniac after kissing me!

Still smiling to himself, he pulled out another cigarette, lit it and began to walk away. I was breathing. Deeply. That fucking tease. I stared at his backside as he walked.

He stopped suddenly and let out some smoke. He looked back at me and grinned. “Gave you a buzz, didn’t it?” Fuck you, McCracken. Fuck you.