𝕨𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙 || 𝕟. 𝕣𝕚𝕜𝕚

~ 𝕚 ~

The word "Nicotine" reminded Riki of the choking smoky stench that always surrounded his mother, nauseating and dark.

Cigarettes were the smell of his father's absence.

The smell of his loud, loud siblings, always screaming for attention while their mother ignored them all, and just rocked back and forth in her chair, glassy eyes still fixed on something far, far away, out the window.

Cigarettes were the smell of Riki's fatigue.

His exhaustion. 

He was so tired of it all. 

He began to look more and more like his mother every day. Empty eyes of glass, staring out the window, searching for something far off, far out of reach.

You were the only one who saw. 

The only one who watched. 

The only one who watched the tiredness in his face, and the way his features would darken whenever he said "shut up" anytime he was called a name.

You tried to stand up to the kids who would yell foul words at him, and you would try to yell back something, anything. But Riki would pull you back by the wrist, telling you it wasn't worth it.

You were the only one who watched his soul crack a little more everyday, and the only one who watched the shards of his very being die, one by one. And eveyday, tiny pieces of you died with him.

And you were the only one who watched what happened that day.