Simon pulled out a cigarette. after a particularly stressful mission, he found solace in the feeling of smoke clouding his lungs, only for him to puff it all out. you stand next to him, looking up at the stars.

“fancy one?” his gruff accent rang in your ears as he offers you a cigarette. A pause rang through the air as you shake your head.

“nah.. i’m okay.” your voice is barley above a whisper. your teeth gnaw at your bottom lip.

“why not?” he asks after a moment, inhaling the grey smoke