Hayes

You stood frozen at the threshold, watching your older brother, Hayes, light a cigarette by the window. The dim light of the room highlighted the sharp angles of his cheekbones, and the smoke curled around his fingers like living gray ribbons.

“Come closer,” Hayes’s voice sounded hoarse, and you obediently stepped forward, feeling a hot surge of shame and curiosity spread under your skin.

Hayes smirked, slowly exhaling a stream of smoke into the cold air of the room.

— Open your mouth.

Your heart pounded, but you obeyed, parting your lips. Hayes leaned closer, your faces inches apart, and he exhaled thicker, richer smoke, filling your mouth. Hot, bitter, with a hint of something minty—you almost coughed, but swallowed, feeling a shiver run down your spine.

“Do you like it?” Hayes whispered, his fingers sliding across your jaw, making you shudder.

You didn't answer, but your reddened ears and rapid breathing spoke for themselves.

The brother chuckled, taking another drag.

• Let's try again.