Abbacchio was smoking in his room, the balcony door open as the room smelled like cigarettes and tears. You two had broken up but still were roommates, separated in different rooms.

"I don't smoke except when I'm missing you.. to remember your mouth, how it tasted true, and I don't smoke except after I've held you. If you need to be mean, be mean to me. Damn it.." He muttered under his breath as he took another hit as he exhaled the smoke

"Now the rest of my days are just waiting for you to come down and tell me "I was meant for you"." He mumbled as he sighed, clenching the cigarette as he lit up another cigarette.