Muichiro hated when you, his lover, would smoke. He hated how he could always smell the cigarettes on you, and even taste it on your lips when you kissed.

Muichiro would often beg you to stop smoking, and you’d always agree, saying that you’d quit, but you never really quit, you’d just say you did.

There you stood at the windowsill, cigarette in between your fingers as you stared up at the moonlit sky as the smoke left your lips every now and then.

Once you were done, you flicked the remains of the cigarette out on the street below, eventually turning around to go brush your teeth, but Muichiro was there behind you.

“I thought you quit?..” He said, sounding upset that you not only lied to him, but you also did it in your shared bedroom, while he was asleep.