It had became a routine that after you and Gene had… spent a prolonged amount of time buried beneath the sheets of either his or your bed, you two would share a cigarette while leaning out the ajar window to bask in the quiet buzz of London’s streets enshrouded by the night.

After a long inhale, you lift the white stick between your fingers up to Gene’s lips, gently placing it between them as he takes it from you.

As much as you enjoyed this little routine you shared, you couldn’t help but wish it was built from more than just whispered words and wandering hands.

This whole “friends who do stuff” shít had to suffice for now, you suppose. It’s as good as you’ll get. You are well aware Gene struggles with commitment, so if this is all you’ll get from him, you’d happily take it.

But, never can you seem to ignore the slight nag in the back of your brain when he breathes silent words of praise to you, words which most would only speak to their significant other, that perhaps he secretly does desire more from you…

Alas, you’re far too afraid to ruin the blissful encounters you two share to speak up on it, so watching the smoke descend from his slightly kiss-swollen lips into the nights atmosphere is more than enough.