𝐑𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 |𝟏𝟖+

55 || Cigarettes After Sex

Song: Cigarettes After Sex - sweet  (slowed + reverb)

𝔚𝔚𝔚

The little Rosso was a quiet boy.

He liked to read, he liked to learn and he liked playing with dominos.

He didn't like the dark, he didn't like being alone, and he didn't like getting hurt.

He barely got the chance to interact with others, and when he did, they were adults, ones that never spoke nor acknowledged him.

But like a normal six year old boy, he wanted their attention. He wanted to be seen, heard, cared for.

But when Arturo Moretto started giving him that attention he wished for, the Little Rosso couldn't help but hate it.

He didn't come every night, but it was often enough where the darkness he left in his wake acted as an escape.

And when he did come, it was always the same.

He'd walk in, undress and flip on the lights. It was as though he liked to watch the look on the little Rosso's face when he did it.

When he tainted the delicate innocence every child came into this cruel world with.

And when he was done, he'd light a cigarette, take one single puff and stare down at him.

So fragile and lost.

Completely ignorant to the way this ritual would affect his future. How it would ruin his perception of everything good.

And when Arturo was done staring at the monster he was slowly creating, he would flick his lit cigarette to the ground, turn around, flip off the lights and shut the door.

Locking the Little Rosso in the room to stare into the darkness where the lit bud of the burnt out flame on the cigarette would spark in the darkness.

The Little Rosso lost his sense of innocence when he began turning to all the things he feared as a child.

He lost his innocence when he stopped fearing the dark and instead found comfort in it.

He lost his innocence when he stopped fearing loneliness and instead, cherished it.

He stopped being an innocent when he finally moved forward and took that lit cigarette in his small hands.

𝔚𝔚𝔚
Nico

There was something so therapeutic about smoking.

Perhaps it was the way it sent a wave of relief all throughout my body or perhaps it was the knowledge that I was slowly killing myself in a way that just felt so right.

Either way, it was engrained into my self care routine. Whatever the fuck that may have been.

Only my version of a self care routine is interrupted the moment I catch the faint sound of footsteps. I look away from the pack of cigarettes on the ledge to my left and up at the door as it slowly creaks open.

Bambi stands there, in absolutely nothing but my T-shirt and Rosso's pendant on her neck.

I fucking hated that thing and what it symbolized, yet somehow she managed to make it bearable enough to admire how pretty it looked around her neck when I looked at her.