[blythe takes her bony fingers and forms a circle around audrey's wrist on the hand that's holding the cigarette. holding her ex steady, she leans forward and wraps her lips around the end, taking a long, slow drag like she's done too many times before. she leans back, lets audrey go, and plumes the smoke out above her, and for a moment she could swear it has a yellower tint to it as it leaves her body.]
Don't kill yourself. Cigarettes are so expensive. I'd go broke. [she rests her lunch on the bench and keeps her head tilted upward; even with the grey sky, it hurts her eyes.] I don't understand what keeps you coming back.
[ they've done this a hundred times before, shared cigs through puffs and passes and shotguns and kisses. doesn't make it any less intimate; there's a faint flush on audrey's face, a tension to her thighs as blythe leans away. ]
At least I'm worth a pack. Guess that's something. [ she breathes in the tar, tries not to think about blythe's thin and chapped lips against the filter. ] Can't believe the clinic still lets you smoke. Or did they just give up after the third time you outlasted the prognosis?
[she smiles with her flat, human teeth and closes her thin, human eyelids and tries to think of how she'd gotten away with keeping so many things secret from audrey for so long. maybe this week she'll tell her, she thinks. maybe this week, She won't choke the words from her throat.]
They can deliver me as many prognoses as they want. They'll always be wrong. I've been very good at living ever since I turned 18. [finally, she sits back up properly and looks at her ex. the thoughts that come to mind are only pleasant memories, but She tempers them with a wave of revulsion, a bolt of sudden nausea. blythe does not let it show on her face.]
I hope it won't be a surprise to learn that I regret it, on some days.
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[ she drops down onto the proffered seat without a question, taking a drag as she stares at nothing in particular. ]
Iunno. Haven't really thought about it. Kill myself, maybe?
[ ha. as if. the idea's too boring to even put up with. ]
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Don't kill yourself. Cigarettes are so expensive. I'd go broke. [she rests her lunch on the bench and keeps her head tilted upward; even with the grey sky, it hurts her eyes.] I don't understand what keeps you coming back.
no subject
At least I'm worth a pack. Guess that's something. [ she breathes in the tar, tries not to think about blythe's thin and chapped lips against the filter. ] Can't believe the clinic still lets you smoke. Or did they just give up after the third time you outlasted the prognosis?
no subject
They can deliver me as many prognoses as they want. They'll always be wrong. I've been very good at living ever since I turned 18. [finally, she sits back up properly and looks at her ex. the thoughts that come to mind are only pleasant memories, but She tempers them with a wave of revulsion, a bolt of sudden nausea. blythe does not let it show on her face.]
I hope it won't be a surprise to learn that I regret it, on some days.