through the haze; cl/g-dragon drabble
angst-ish, cl-centric
724 words
Everyone starts smoking for a reason. Some want to look cool, some need to ease their nerves, and some just like pretending to be dragons. Chaerin doesn’t take up the nasty habit for any of these reasons.
She’s sixteen when he offers up her first smoke. Her bangs are growing out and poke her eyes, she swiftly swipes them away and her hand reaches for the cigarette rolling it between her thumb and pointer finger before neatly placing it in her lips. She hopes she looks like a pro even though Jiyong knows she doesn’t smoke. He’s smirking when she leans into his lighter. She doesn’t even cough after her first puff and slowly lets the grey smoke leak out of her mouth.
Chaerin smokes because somehow she thinks that maybe it’ll make him stop looking at her like a little girl.
It becomes their tradition after long nights in the studio to light up together on the top of the building. They overlook the city at 2 am and their cigarettes burn bright almost like urban fireflies.
“You debut soon,” he says despite, or maybe because of, the cigarette dangling between his lips. “You should probably quit. They’ll tear you apart for it you know?”
“But you didn’t,” is all she can answer but she knows it’s not the same at all. Even with their different style there are still things she can’t overcome. On stage she can act bad, but off she must be a shining image of innocence and well-behaved youth. Chaerin doesn’t want to fit into their little box, so she takes a long drag and blows smoke into the dark sky (if she squints it kind of looks like someone flipping the bird).
She’s recording when she gets the news of his scandal. “Idiot…” she mutters under her breath when Teddy shows her the article online. Her hands reach for her box of Marlboros as she scrolls through the hateful comments. She can admit she should’ve listened to his warnings from that night three years ago, but stomping out ashes underneath her sponsored adidas sneakers gives her too much satisfaction. Besides, she’s not going to smoke a joint in a club anytime soon. She almost texts him, “stick to tobacco.” but she’s not that mean.
My room that’s filled with white smoke is cozy like home sweet home.
She tries not to flinch when she first listens to his new song. The girls happen to be practicing for a concert when it gets released. They’re all in the practice room dancing around to his songs during their break even though they’ve spent all day learning routines. Chaerin stands by the window with the screen pushed open (a trick he taught her) and carefully smokes a menthol.
They’re at their concert after party and everyone’s having fun, the fans line the balcony looking down at the artists cutting lose after grueling preparations. She finds her way over to Jiyong as she always inevitably does. “Wanna go outside?” she has to semi-yell to be heard. The question is ambiguous but he knows there can only be one meaning. It’s not like anything has changed over these 8 years. He follows her out the back entrance of the club and she offers up her lighter before she can even light her own and he quickly declines. He’s holding up a tube that she has to squint at in the dull light to make out. She can’t even stop the raspy laugh that escapes her throat. They used to make fun of people who used electronic cigs.
“I’m trying to quit,” he states nonchalantly and Chaerin just shrugs and flicks her lighter under her own.
“Suit yourself.”
He finishes a few puffs of his cotton candy flavored vapor and she tells him to head back to the party. Her (real) cigarette still has a few good drags in it and she refuses to waste any- smoking is an expensive vice. She watches his back retreat through the haze and wants to laugh at herself. When she finally finishes she drops it to the ground and it hisses slightly in the small puddle. Digging her designer heel into the butt, she pops a stick of peppermint gum in her mouth and follows after him.
Chaerin smokes because it’s the only thing she has left.
724 words
Everyone starts smoking for a reason. Some want to look cool, some need to ease their nerves, and some just like pretending to be dragons. Chaerin doesn’t take up the nasty habit for any of these reasons.
She’s sixteen when he offers up her first smoke. Her bangs are growing out and poke her eyes, she swiftly swipes them away and her hand reaches for the cigarette rolling it between her thumb and pointer finger before neatly placing it in her lips. She hopes she looks like a pro even though Jiyong knows she doesn’t smoke. He’s smirking when she leans into his lighter. She doesn’t even cough after her first puff and slowly lets the grey smoke leak out of her mouth.
Chaerin smokes because somehow she thinks that maybe it’ll make him stop looking at her like a little girl.
It becomes their tradition after long nights in the studio to light up together on the top of the building. They overlook the city at 2 am and their cigarettes burn bright almost like urban fireflies.
“You debut soon,” he says despite, or maybe because of, the cigarette dangling between his lips. “You should probably quit. They’ll tear you apart for it you know?”
“But you didn’t,” is all she can answer but she knows it’s not the same at all. Even with their different style there are still things she can’t overcome. On stage she can act bad, but off she must be a shining image of innocence and well-behaved youth. Chaerin doesn’t want to fit into their little box, so she takes a long drag and blows smoke into the dark sky (if she squints it kind of looks like someone flipping the bird).
She’s recording when she gets the news of his scandal. “Idiot…” she mutters under her breath when Teddy shows her the article online. Her hands reach for her box of Marlboros as she scrolls through the hateful comments. She can admit she should’ve listened to his warnings from that night three years ago, but stomping out ashes underneath her sponsored adidas sneakers gives her too much satisfaction. Besides, she’s not going to smoke a joint in a club anytime soon. She almost texts him, “stick to tobacco.” but she’s not that mean.
My room that’s filled with white smoke is cozy like home sweet home.
She tries not to flinch when she first listens to his new song. The girls happen to be practicing for a concert when it gets released. They’re all in the practice room dancing around to his songs during their break even though they’ve spent all day learning routines. Chaerin stands by the window with the screen pushed open (a trick he taught her) and carefully smokes a menthol.
They’re at their concert after party and everyone’s having fun, the fans line the balcony looking down at the artists cutting lose after grueling preparations. She finds her way over to Jiyong as she always inevitably does. “Wanna go outside?” she has to semi-yell to be heard. The question is ambiguous but he knows there can only be one meaning. It’s not like anything has changed over these 8 years. He follows her out the back entrance of the club and she offers up her lighter before she can even light her own and he quickly declines. He’s holding up a tube that she has to squint at in the dull light to make out. She can’t even stop the raspy laugh that escapes her throat. They used to make fun of people who used electronic cigs.
“I’m trying to quit,” he states nonchalantly and Chaerin just shrugs and flicks her lighter under her own.
“Suit yourself.”
He finishes a few puffs of his cotton candy flavored vapor and she tells him to head back to the party. Her (real) cigarette still has a few good drags in it and she refuses to waste any- smoking is an expensive vice. She watches his back retreat through the haze and wants to laugh at herself. When she finally finishes she drops it to the ground and it hisses slightly in the small puddle. Digging her designer heel into the butt, she pops a stick of peppermint gum in her mouth and follows after him.
Chaerin smokes because it’s the only thing she has left.