Leaves, Seasons, and Dead Trees (BxB)

5. - Come and Sit with Me (Pt. I)

"All out, I'd replicate your pain.
Climb down, if only for a taste."

- "Carry You" by Novo Amor -

*****

Samuel

Matty's attempt at discretion crumbles to pieces as he abruptly ditches me and Tyson in the smoking room, barely spending ten minutes at our table. His feeble excuse barely holds water: "I suddenly want to do some window shopping. This room is suffocating."

As I scrutinize the untouched bottle of water and the ashtray before me, Tyson munches on a small portion of nachos across from me. With Matty's departure, the atmosphere in the sparsely populated room undergoes a noticeable shift, and our conversation dwindles into an uncomfortable silence. The weight of the awkwardness becomes almost unbearable until Tyson can no longer contain himself.

"So... um... since when did you start smoking?"

Seriously?

I take a deliberate drag from my cigarette, allowing the smoke to permeate my lungs before exhaling slowly. "Why?"

Tyson's paws instinctively flail in a defensive manner, indicating his realization of the unintentional audacity of his question. "Oh, um, i-it's nothing, just... Just sorta curious."

A surreptitious smirk sneaks onto my lips. Perhaps I should toy with his buttons a little. "You wanna give it try?"

He shakes his head. "Nah, I-I don't smoke."

"Come on, a little puff won't hurt." I wave the Davidoff classic around with my claws.

"It's just that, um, I-I can't, you know? I-I'm a QB, after all, haha." Despite his forced laugh, his troubled gaze still lingers on the cigarette.

"Just one drag won't hurt."

Regretting his ill-fated decision to delve into this topic, Tyson reluctantly accepts the cigarette from my paw. He stares at the glowing tip for a moment before daringly placing the filter between his lips. However, as soon as he takes a drag, a fit of violent coughing engulfs him, causing him to accidentally drop the cigarette onto the table.

"F-ack! M-ack throat!" He thumps his hurting throat in an attempt to alleviate the discomfort, his longing eyes fixed on my bottled water. Displaying generosity, I offer it to him, and he eagerly snatches it, gulping down its contents while I retrieve the fallen cigarette, a full smirk now gracing my face.

So, this is how it feels to be a voluntary asshole, huh?

"Enjoying it?"

Still drinking, Tyson vehemently shakes his head. With half the bottle already consumed, Tyson releases a silent belch and screws the cap back on. "That was-" Tyson clears his throat, his raspy voice regaining its smoothness. "That was really strong."

"It's actually just a little strong." Tyson watches as I take another puff, and I playfully tease him once more. "Wanna give it another go?"

He promptly raises his paw to ward off the offer. "No, thanks." Then, the conversation falls back into silence.

As Tyson aimlessly pokes around at the nachos with his plastic fork, lost in his own thoughts, I continue my smoking session, anticipating yet another predictable question from him. The silence drags on, and just when I begin to believe it will last an eternity, he finally breaks it with a new inquiry while I absentmindedly tinker with my phone. "So, how are you finding Monteverde so far?"