Smother Me

“I love that picture.” I commented on one picture that I recalled Brandon took one day while we were at the mall.

“Yeah,” he chuckled.

Bert and I were lying on my bed on our stomachs going through photographs neatly placed in a photo album binder. I had changed that afternoon into a pair of black flip flops, a fitting black long-sleeved shirt with a faded black band t-shirt on top and with the same light blue skinny jeans from before.

We were currently sipping on cokes and staring at a picture taken at the mall. I was wearing a grey hoodie and skinny black pants that belonged to Quinn. It was the day I had gotten plum streaks in my electric black hair. I had gotten streaks in my bangs and a few on each side of my hair. In the photo, I had my infamous pout and Bert was smirking madly into the camera. My eyelids had a faded purple eye-shadow and I rarely had smeared lip gloss to my lips. I memorized that day was one of the best.

“I love this one.” Bert commented, his index finger pointing at the bottom end of the page.

This picture was taken in the park by Brandon as well. Bert was slightly drunk with his head resting on my shoulder, eyes closed. I, on the other hand, had my back against the bench placed in the same park where we met. A cigarette was dangling from my lips and my eyebrows were raised, eyes wide too, holding an innocent expression, wearing a knee length black skirt, a long purple top and plaid Vans.

I chuckled airily. “You know, this picture just makes me crave a cig.”

“Want one?” he asked, reaching into his cargo pants’ pocket.

“Please,” I pouted, opening my palm as he sited his white box of light Marlboros.

I slid off my bed, walking towards my desk which was scattered with books. I hadn’t bothered to tidy from yesterday. I found my purple lighter in the drawer. Picking a cancer stick from the pack, I placed it between my lips, holding it still. I used my right thumb to flick the lighter as the other hand shielded it from any wind drifting from my slight open window. I took two puffs and placed the lighter back in its original location, oblivious to Bert who’s been watching me since I got off the bed.

“Something wrong?” I asked, blowing out the remaining smoke to the side.

“When you smoke, you look really…” His head slightly shook as if thinking for an appropriate word.

Confused, I cocked an eyebrow. “Really… What?”

“You look very… beautiful and in a mysterious way.” He concluded with a twinkle in his eyes. “And it suits you. Kind of reflects you in a way,” he bit his bottom lip and gave me an interesting look.

“So I look mysteriously beautiful when I smoke?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows, a smirk evident on my lips having the stick between my index and middle finger.

“Y-yeah, especially when usually you smoke when you’re stressed, I mean. When you’re thinking deeply, and I see you puffing on a cigarette, it’s like in a way, I’ve seen a new side of you.” He explained, nodding.

“Bert, is this a new form of flattery?” I asked, smiling sincerely.

“I’m not trying to… Well yeah, I am. But I’m also being honest.” He retorted, honesty quite unmistakable in his light blue eyes.

I stood from the leather rolling chair and collapsed once again on the mattress. Folding my ankles, I smiled to him and glanced at the photos in the album, showing me and the boys but most was of me and Bert.

“Then, I’m flattered to know you think so. Thank you for calling me beautiful, by the way.” A smile plastered to my face, I moved the lit cigarette to face his lips. Instantly, his fingers brushed mine and he took a drag, releasing the smoke to his side. His fingers recoiled from mine and he pressed his lips to my cheek. My hand inched its way on the carpeted floor below, moving under the long bed covers and pulling out an ashtray and emptying the ashes hanging on the end of the cancer stick.

He leered at its location and shook his head. Bert wet his lips and moved a black strand behind his ear. I grinned and took a drag myself. He looked below, closed the photo album and stared out my window letting a long sigh escape his lips.

“You alright?” I asked. He jerked his head to meet my gaze, as his eyes traveled my features.

“Of course I am. I’m with you, aren’t I?” he raised his eyebrows, smirking. Though, that was not the case and I was sure of it.

“What are you thinking of?” I asked, truly interested.

“Nothing important,” he casually replied, though it wasn’t the response I was expecting; I was expecting him to elaborate.

“Doesn’t seem so,” I added.

He sighed, “Okay, it is important.” His head hung low. At this, I was beyond bewildered. It must’ve been serious, seeing as he wasn’t even looking at me.

Once more, I placed the ciggy centimeters away from his lips. He took another inhale and furthermore I did as well. He leaned in and sweetly kissed my cheek.

Turning to him, I smiled and lifted my body grabbing the ashtray. I slid backwards onto the bed and rested my back on the pillow against the headboard. Bert followed my example and twisted to face me.

“Remember this one time at Quinn’s house where I got wasted and I drank some sort of truth serum?” he posed, alertly. I nodded, mentally telling him to continue.

“And I confessed that I thought you were an incredibly amazing girl and no matter what happens, you’ll never be erased in my life. And that I’ll never open up to someone like I did with you.” He recalled, reminding me.
“It was when you rubbed my back while I was puking that I realized you were the first and only one who’s ever done that for me. You look out for me, even in school and I really appreciate you for it.” He reached for the cig.

His hands engulfed my fingers and he inhaled once again, taking the stick fully in his fingers and regularly, pressed his lips to my cheek. I scooted closer and allowed my head to loll onto his shoulder.

“You pulled my hair away, rubbed my back, sang to me and kissed my forehead. You hugged me when I smelled horrible and let me sleep in your lap on Quinn’s uncomfortable couch. And you always made sure after that I never drank too much, right Danny?” His fingers twirled my long hair, his eyes seeming in a daze.

“Uhuh,” I murmured, sighing deeply. He ushered his hand to my face; I took the last drag of the cigarette and blew it away in the other direction. He squished it in the ashtray which was in my lap, and snatched the tray to the bedside near him. I scooted closer towards him. My head lying on his chest, he wrapped an arm around my waist, causing me to close my eyes and breathe in his cologne.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you. Seriously, Danny…” his smile faltered and he situated his chin on my head. Subconsciously, my orbs became glossy.

“I love you, Danielle.” He whispered onto my forehead.

“I love you too,” I muttered into his neck. He craned his head and with his finger on my chin, lifted my face. Now, tears were freely leaking out of my light browns.

Warmth surged my insides as his fingers pushed away a strand of my hair, when almost immediately, our lips collided.