i want to learn to fly // tommyinnit & timedeo

(a/n)

i am rewriting this fic from scratch. its going to be VERY different.

this fic was written before i was very good at writing these sorts of topics, so i'm giving it a shot at being finished someday by redoing it entirely. here's a snippet of the new version-

"There was nothing graceful about the way Tommy brought the cigarette to his lips. He was clumsy and his movements were shaky, not only from the winter weather biting at his hand but the nerves, the idea of getting caught, trying something that was so obviously against every rule. He almost dropped it a couple of times, trying to hold it between two of his fingers as he'd always seen people do. It didn't seem to fit right in his hand.

When Tommy inhaled, the taste infected his mouth so strongly that he coughed. The boy with the cigarettes laughed. "I didn't think you would like it," he said, fluently taking a drag of his cigarette. Eager to prove him wrong, Tommy tried again. He didn't quite know when to exhale. He coughed again.

Tommy was just a kid. A fifteen-year-old behind his friend's shed. Tommy asked the boy with the cigarettes where he could buy some, and the boy named a girl at school. The very next day, Tommy brought money to school, and he bought his own pack.

Now Tommy was eighteen, and he wasn't a kid anymore– or at least he didn't feel like one. His movements weren't nearly as gauche when he smoked. He had it all down to a T, from the way he pulled it from the pack to the way he held it in his hand to the way he let it fall and crushed it with his heel. He still shook, though, and it wasn't from the nerves anymore. Sometimes it was from the cold, but it was always, always from lack of sleep, from low blood sugar, from caffeine.

And these days, Tommy didn't cough from the taste of his cigarettes, but he did cough from the chemicals he put in his lungs. He didn't just cough when he smoked anymore, he coughed constantly, no matter what he was doing."

so yeah! :D