Cigarettes
The smoke from the cigarettes burned extra hard in her lungs, the cold December air hitting her face did nothing to the flames latching in her heart.
December the 18th.
Every year since it happened, the day has become a time machine made only to bring back emotions that has long passed. The events coming back fresh and vivid to dance inside her brain, every step opening an old wound.
The first 18th of December since That Night found her on the cold tile of her bathroom floor, lying with her arms hugging her knees to her chest while her heart stang a thousand times per second. The words that were said that night came reaching to her through the time machine.
The second 18th of December she walked out of her apartment while the sun was still sitting down and went for a walk, and when she reached the pier and sat at one of the benches facing the freezing sea she found herself alone and for a moment, the pain stopped. The memories rushed in but it wasn't all at once instead it came in turns and at different paces. Maybe it was the cold air or the empty pier save for the once every few hours strangers passing through or maybe it was the sound of the waves, angry and loud, smacking on still rocks. Whatever it was.
She found peace.
So for the next 18th of December and the one after that and on and on and on, it became a habit, a tradition, and the wounds only lost a stitch instead of flying open at once.
One cigarette after the other, blowing warm smoke onto icy fog, ten years of pain unraveling with each breath. Her silver hair damp from the few drops of rain that had been falling earlier that morning but now as the sun was sitting, it's warmth escaping the cold to come. Her gaze pointed at the concrete covered in small bits of snow, the shadows of figures walking by imprinted on it momentarily.
Until for the first time in 9 years, one of the figures stopped.
It was a woman, evident by the click of her heels and the long locks dancing in the silhouette on the pavement, slender and tall. A breeze brought in a dazzling smell of warm Sandalwood and honey. And she approached the bench and equipped the empty space next to Rhaenyra, unaware of how she was paying attention to her every move even though her head was down, her frame slightly bend over with both her elbows resting on her knees, her hand occasionally coming up to drag a toxic breath out of her cigarette.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, until Rhaenyra was finished with her 3rd cigarette of the day, reaching for a 4th one almost immediately.
"Can I have one of these?" Soft. firm. sweet. The woman next to her spoke and Rhaenyra almost jumped onto the open sea in front of her, startled not by the voice, but the acknowledgment itself.
"Sure.." she didn't account for the fact that she haven't spoken in hours, her voice coming out so rough, "sure!" She repeated, clearer. Louder. And instead of offering the woman one, she handed her the entire pack with the lighter inside. Avoiding eye contact.
"You know, it's a nasty habit." She said as she put one between her teeth, "I've tried to quit several times but I was never able to" She said that then the sound of fire igniting the tip of tobacco wrapped in paper followed.
Rhaenyra didn't know what to do. What to say. So she just nodded. Thin fingers slid the pack of cigarettes back to her, she reached for them. Avoiding eye contact.
A minute of complete silence passed after that, the only sounds worth mentioning are the waves of the sea and the inhale then exhale of smoke each of them did every few seconds.
until Rhaenyra unexpectedly spoke again, slightly startling the other woman, "I don't smoke." And their eyes finally met.
Delicate yet strong. The woman's face was a mix of both, her features are all perfect aligned. Her eyes had a shine in them but a distant shadow of loneliness lurked about. Her smile was soft as she shock her head in disbelief at Rhaenyra's foolish statement, giving that she was holding a cigarette between her teeth when she said that.
"I mean, I do, but not the entire year. I only smoke now." She corrected herself, mumbling the words as her hands danced about.
"When it's cold?" The confused woman asked, her voice having a playful tone in it, "or is this a special day?"
Jackpot.
"Yeah. Something like that." She took another drag of her cigarette, the chill air hitting her face.
"I had a friend who only smoked on Fridays." Said long hair. Her free hand running through the silky darkness.
"How did that work for them?"
"Oh, he died." Rhaenyra's eyes slightly widened at that, "yeah, brain tumor. Nothing to do with smoking but he regretted only doing it on Fridays." She clicked her tongue, "that's why I don't fight the urge when I'm trying to quit and get tempted. I could die right now!"
They shared a smile, and Rhaenyra nodded her head again, "That's good."
"Mysaria" and she reached out her hand, still smiling.
Rhaenyra hesitated for half a second. she doesn't even know why but eventually she took the other woman's surprisingly warm hand in hers, "Rhaenyra" and she cursed the dryness in her voice.
Silence followed their interdiction.
But there was a sudden comfort in the air now, as if they spoke to each other in the breeze. The sky growing darker along the surrounding faraway streets. The walkway now barely having any traffic.
"They found a cure for alzahimers." Mysaria said. Rhaenyra turned her head and found glistening eyes staring at her. "In Japan, it's not a cure per say but it helps."
The random information shared made Rhaenyra chuckle, it was a light sound and her face didn't move but her eyes lit up slightly, "Your attempt at starting a conversation in such grim atmosphere is admirable" she gave Mysaria a look, only half a look.
"I like to share helpful informations!" She said playfully, and Rhaenyra could feel her staring. Staring for longer than she should. Longer than Rhaenyra could handle.
"What's so grim about this, though? You don't like this kind of weather?" Mysaria asked, and Rhaenyra couldn't help but notice the other woman's attention to details. Her attention for the words.
"Uh," Rhaenyra scoffed childishly, her feet sweeping through the light snow on top of the pavement, "I like the gloomy bit, that's why I'm here" her head hanged low, she rattled the box of cigarettes, pulling another one to her lips, well aware of the eyes on her, watching every move, tentatively.
"How long have you been living here?" And as she asked, Mysaria moved closer, it was unnoticeable and if Rhaenyra wasn't on such high alert she wouldn't have been able to catch the slight movement.
"Eight years" She answered, "two of them are by choice"
Mysaria's eyebrows furrowed and Rhaenyra caught herself before she stared too much. "I'm not following..."
"I was practically exiled from London" Rhaenyra explained and Mysaria seemed eager to know the rest of the story only for Rhaenyra to take her foot off the pedal, putting the cigarette in between her lips and taking a long drag.
"That sounds interesting." Mysaria watched her hold the smoke in, then letting it out through her nose instead of her mouth. Shurging at the cold air.
"Ten years, I do video games"
Now it was Rhaenyra's turn to furrowed her eyebrows, a tiny confused smile on her face.
"I design games"
"Oh.." Rhaenyra didn't bother hiding the surprised look on her face. "You don't look the type."
And Mysaria truly didn't look the type
By her looks. But the moment she starts talking. You can definitely hear it.
"What? Is it the smoking or the not wearing glasses part?"
Their eyes met and Rhaenyra found herself at a loss for words. Silence dragged.
Until she blinked, 70 blinks per second and broke the connection, clearing her throat too roughly. "You just look so...professor slash doctor anything that doesn't involve technology"
"Well that's a bit nerdphobic of you, Rhaenyra!"
She threw the last of her cigarette under her shoe and squashed it. "Oh Gods, please forgive my uneducated self"
"This one time, I'll let it slide."
"Thank you!"
They both chuckled lightly before silence fell again. This time comfortable and almost warm.
"I do houses." Rhaenyra broke the quietness after a while, her voice a little louder now that the waves have picked up their strength.
Mysaria let out something like a laugh but wasn't, it was more of a giggle, low and loud all at once, sweet as honey, soft as cotton.
Rhaenyra adored it.
"What's funny?" Hidden motive.
She wanted to know what elected that reaction so she could do it again and again and again.
Mysaria shock her head "No it's just..you don't look the type."
That was a lie. She did look the type.
Her hair silver and slicked back but still messy from the habit of running her hand through it, her outfit was well put together, not that Mysaria could see what was underneath the coat she had on but it was a suit, smart yet casual with no tie and a few buttons undone.
"What exactly is the stereotype for architects?"
"I don't know!" Mysaria shurged her hands vaguely, "you look too..." She looked her up and down, her eyes lingering on the silver hair, "legacy."
Rhaenyra laughed, hard.
"Legacy? What's that supposed to mean!?"
"I don't know!!! You look like you own a wine cellar of bottles from 1780"
Rhaenyra came closer unconsciously, "...well you see..."
"I knew it! You do own that, don't you?"
"Yes I do, not from 1780 though the oldest one is from 1900..I think.."
"You think?"
"I don't go there a lot"
"Then why do you own it?"
"I don't, I got it as a gift"
"Who gifts a wine cellar?!"
"My mother"
"Wow.."
"Yeah.." Rhaenyra leaned back, relaxing into the bench, into Mysaria, the coldness only getting colder by the second, "She always gifted me the most ridiculously extravagant things."
The past tense goes unnoticed or perhaps Mysaria made the decision not to poke the wounded looking bird in front of her.
"On my 17th birthday she got me a royal horse."
"No way!" Mysaria said and Rhaenyra just scoffed like it's a normal thing. "Wow...so you're a silver spoon kind of baby.."
It lasted for less than 2 seconds
But Her hand raised and hovered over silver hair, almost, almost, touching it, but she retracted it. The gesture too intimate.
It all happened too fast and it was gone unnoticed since Rhaenyra had her head down.
"A literal silver spoon." She concluded without the touch.
Rhaenyra nodded, head still down, shy, soft, her flushed cheeks invisible to the other woman. "Something of the sort."
A heavy sequence of freezing cold wind swept through the both of them.
Mysaria, seeking warmth, shifted closer, leaving nothing but a few feet between them, their legs resting next to one another.
Rhaenyra stayed still fearing a contact, feeling as if she'll fall to pieces if it was made. So she reached for the pack again, proceeding to pull another cigarette when a noise stopped her.
Mysaria clicking her tongue in disapproval.
"I know a place, not too far from here, let's go eat something before your lungs run out of your chest"
Straight forward.
Maybe too straight forward because Rhaenyra's eyes were lost, then panicked, then careful and torn, staring between the pack and deep dark eyes.
"Unless you've always dreamed of turning into a popsicle then be my guest!"
A faint smile, it was so calm compared to the winds and waves, so warm compared to the cold, so bright compared to the darkness.
It was the most beautiful smile Mysaria had ever seen.
"Let's go then."