He didn't smoke before meeting you, contrary to popular belief. For some reason, you brought the worst out in him, and him for you. But he couldn't seem to let you go.

He'd forgive your wrongdoings, and go back to you the next day, expecting things to go better. But, alas, another fight. Screaming, crying, shouting.

In the pale moonlight, he slipped out of bed and slid open the window, careful not to wake you, and flicked his lighter to a flame.