Alan was so much older, so much better than the boys in your class, so much more charming, handsome, and successful. He was also kind, kind to you. The first person to ever be nice to you, and it was pathetic really, that you loved him just for that. Sometimes, you’d walk down the street together and chat, hand in hand. He smokes all the time, one day he’ll be critically ill. Can’t help but think “wish you would live forever” because he’s a pretty, old man. He works all day long filming. Now in his house after school, he was tired from working, and had a cigarette dangling between his fingers as he had his arms wrapped around you while your back was to his chest, you could hear occasional coughing as you sat in his bed, his legs on either side of you

y/n: “you should rest” you said, as he was extremely tired and there was no point in hiding it. You can sleep early, and dream to remember that you can live forever

“I guess I should…” he replied, his breath dripping with the faint smell of liquor, but not letting go of you, and taking a drag from his cigarette