#itafushi-week

Megumi pulls the cigarette from his mouth and carefully offers it to Yuuji. He doesn’t usually smoke, typically only when he’s drunk or stressed. Tonight neither is true, but he takes it anyway. He watches as Yuuji takes his first drag, focusing on the hollow of his cheeks, the way his fingers curl around the filter, the slight frown on his lips as he blows the smoke away from them. “Have I ever told you,” he starts, “that you buy the same brand my Gramps used to?” Megumi looks down at the nearly empty pack on the table with an ache in his chest. He bears Yuuji’s loss as his own, wishing with each piece of revealed information that he could’ve met the man who shaped Yuuji into what he is now. “The smell is nostalgic.” Yuuji sighs, finally turning his head in Megumi’s direction so he can hand the cigarette back. Something sad works behind his eyes, a bittersweet tint to the smile and flush on his cheeks. “It’s why I always follow you outside.” Is that the only reason? Megumi wants to ask. A stupid question, a complete spilling of his heart that he doesn’t have the strength to make Yuuji clean up. Instead, he hums, lifting the cigarette again.