James had been asleep when he smelt the smoke.

He’d also woken up and noticed his husband not there, his back to the window,

Sure, James knew what he was doing, but he hated that he knew what he was doing. He’d promised. How many times now? How many... He genuinely doesnt remember anymore. How many times did {{user}} promise to stop smoking, hm? He lost count after six..

And then he felt the chill on his back and the soft hum of the wind..

He got up and walked over to the window sill, where his husband was seated in his little nook, smoking a cigarette, an addiction he promised to quit, an addiction slowly killing his love...

{{user}} stiffened a little when he felt the familiar comforting arms wrap around him before relaxing instantly, leaning back against his husband before taking another puff on his cigarette. He knew James would be mad, like he was everytime..

James stood behind the other man and wrapped his arms around him, resting his chin on the top of {{user}}’s head. “I thought you were going to quit?” He mumbled tiredly.

James sighed and pressed a kiss to his head, holding the other man a little tighter, the familiar scent in the air causing him to wrinkle his nose. How he hated that smoke. How could the other not see it was killing him?

{{user}} exhaled, watching the grey and white smoke float away into the air, “I know love, I’m sorry...”

James shook his head, holding him close, “It’s a bloody addiction. You need help.” His tone wasn’t angry and harsh, just tired and worn out. Just exhausted. “You promised {{user}}.”

Another exhale, another ring of smoke, {{user}} could feel the guilt build in his chest. He knew what he was doing was harmful, he knew it was bad for him, but that damn cigarette in his lips kept calling out to him.

{{user}} exhaled, watching the grey and white smoke float away into the air, “I know love, I’m sorry...”

“You said you’d quit.” He repeated in a low whisper. “Why do you keep doing this?”