#kiillshot

the night is cold; colder than she remembers it to be around this time of year——— but she figures nuclear fallout has had a hand in changing the weather. she sits by the river bank, one hand curled in the dry blades of grass and the other by her lips, fingers pinching an unlit cigarette. there’s the faint hum of music from a far off radio, the beat drowning in the sounds of the water’s light waves. if she closes her eyes long enough, if she breathes deep enough, if she stays still enough, she can almost convince herself that everything is fine.

not that charlotte’s ever been fine. there’s a semblance of fine, a specific hue of fine that she’s capable of settling into—— and it’s in this shade that she can muffle the ever blaring sirens in her head down to just a meager whine. she’s never been ‘ okay ‘, but she’s always been ‘ okay enough ‘ to keep going, taking things one day at a time. maybe it’s not a coincidence that one of the things that keeps her ‘ okay enough ‘ is the occasional cigarette or two.

there’s a flick and a spark and the satisfying sound of paper slowly burning. she takes in a long drag, eyes still closed. she is not okay, but she is okay enough.

                                                                                     “ i hope you’re willing to share. “   

the voice catches her off guard so much so that her breath gets caught in her throat and she lets out a cough punctuated by a puff of smoke. eyes water slightly and she’s acutely aware of how amateurish she probably looks. there’s a searing tug of deja vu——– she’s suddenly fifteen again, back in sophomore year, smoking her brother’s cigarettes with the new boy. she inhales too sharply, the smoke burns her lungs——- her cheeks tint a slight red and she puts a hand to her chest, still clearing her throat.

               “ ah—- yeah, of course. i’ve got plenty. “

charlotte’s quick to dig the packet of cigarettes out of her pocket, virtually untouched. she’ll pass it to mac along with a lighter, still a little too embarrassed to look him in the eye. there are times when she regrets being so closed off—– late at night after she’s counted every star in the sky twice; whenever they pass her favourite haunts; and times like this when she’s alone with someone. she itches to fill the silence but can’t help but feel like she’s passing on a burden that only she should bear.

another flick, another spark. gravel crackles and the scent of smoke fills the air. maccready sits beside her and the quiet is even more choking than the smoke. she takes another crack at a drag, this time expelling smoke in a clean stream from her lips. she taps the ashes off and the wind picks the embers up like fleeting fireflies. the radio still plays, the waves still lap against the sore.      “ can’t sleep? “      she’ll finally ask, voice taking up an inflection of genuine curiosity. she’s already coming up with a diagnosis when there’s nothing to diagnose. 

“ something like that. still used to staying up late, y’know—– keeping watch and all that. “       charlotte offers him a small nod, watching as her cigarette burns slowly between her fingers. she’s much more reluctant to smoke it now that she’s in someone else’s presence. she’s not much of a smoker, remember?      “ how about you? “ 

and again, he’s caught her off guard. what could she possibly say? charlotte has a million and one reasons why she can’t fall asleep at night—– it would take more than a single pack of cigarettes to run through them all. she does, however, figure she owes him some transparency. between the gunners and med tek, she’s learned a handful of things about him—– and that’s more than she can say for herself .     “ i spent two hundred years asleep; i don’t feel like wasting any more time. “ 

he chuckles with small huffs of smoke,     “ that’s a good enough reason if i’ve ever heard one. just don’t——- well, just don’t wear yourself out, okay? “     he clears his throat; hesitance maybe? this time charlotte laughs, head canting to look at him, brows piqued ever so slightly.  

“ mm, don’t tell me you’re concerned about little ol’ me, “     her tone is teasing—— but it’s unintentional, really—– and it’s only a heartbeat before she realizes how her words can be misconstrued.     “ i mean—- well, not that… it’s a bad thing. if you are—- concerned, i mean. about me. and if you’re not, that’s okay too, i mean. what i’m trying to say is—- shit. i don’t know. just. yeah. ignore that. “     

“ it’s all good, you’re okay, no worries, “     he’ll reassure an inkling of a smile on his lips. it takes a few moments for his words to sink in, but she is in fact reassured, eventually. a few minutes drift by in a comfortable silence. at the very least, charlotte’s calm enough to not be worrying about what she should say next.

they both reach for the cigarette packet at the same time, hands fumbling over each other like a silly film cliche. there’s another twinge of deja vu---------- he lets her take the pack first, and as she brings one to her lips, he flips his lighter open and lets the flame dance before her eyes. it’s only then that she realizes how close they are----------- she lets him light it for her; inhaling softly. a beat; and she cranes her head away from him, blowing out smoke in a steady stream; eyes never leaving his. 

maccready’s about to light one up for himself, but in a rare moment of courage, charlotte plucks it between her index and middle finger, the same hand moving to rest against the back of his neck. in a single, quick motion, her lips are on his pulling him into a kiss. it’s a little longer---- a little deeper than she originally intended------ but she’s just grateful that he didn’t simply shove her away.

calling her rusty would be the understatement of the year. she tries her hardest not to think about the fact that this is the first time she’s ever kissed anyone aside from nathaniel------ that this is the first time she’s kissed anyone in two hundred god damn years. she can still taste the tobacco on his lips after she pulls away. still hovering closely, she can feel her face burn. 

her first instinct is to apologize; all too concerned with overstepping boundaries----- but she doesn’t. maybe it’s the time of night or maybe it’s the lack of sleep. hundreds of thoughts mill around in her head as she opens his hand and wraps his fingers around the unlit cigarette she had taken from his own mouth. for a moment, her hand lingers on his. charlotte clears her throat, face still radiating heat as she slowly rises to her feet.