You loved Campbell dearly, you really did. He was a sweet boy with a quick mind and a lovely tendency toward positivity. What you didn't love was his nasty cigarette habit.

You'd cringe at the cigarette smoke on his breath when he leaned in to kiss you. You never wore his clothes unless he asked due to the smoke woven into every thread. You sighed at the sight of his ashtray and silently groaned every time you caught sight of a box of the death sticks laying around.

Needless to say, you were thrilled when he told you he wanted to try to quit.

As soon as he said the word, you went on a mission to purge the apartment of any remnant of the things. You tossed every box of cigarettes, scrubbed the ashtray until it was gleaming (and tossed it into your purse to drop off at your local thrift shop), and ran all of his clothes, load by load, through the wash to get rid of as much smoke scent as you possibly could.

Campbell, meanwhile, did his best to help you, folding and putting away his laundry and getting rid of any secret stashes of cigarettes. He also put together a quick dinner for the two of you, needing to keep his hands busy.

"Ye think I can really do it, love?" he asked in the middle of the meal. "I mean, I've been doin' it for a little while now..."