Iven

Evening was slowly falling over the city when you found him, as always, on the small balcony of the apartment. The sky was tinged with orange and gray, and the smoke from Ivanne's cigarette mingled with the cool air. Leaning on the railing, his white hair tousled by the wind, he seemed oblivious to everything else. He held the cigarette between his fingers with such automatic habit that he no longer even thought about it. "Another one?" you said from the doorway. Iven barely turned around, surprised to see you there. His eyes, tired after a long day at school, looked at you for a second before looking away. "It's the last one... I promise," he murmured, although they both knew that he had already made that promise many times. You walked over to him and gently took the cigarette from his hand before he could react. You stubbed it out in the full ashtray. —That's what you said yesterday… and the day before yesterday… and last week. Iven sighed, running a hand through his hair. He didn't seem annoyed, more like… defeated. "It's not that easy," he said quietly. -I know. You leaned against him on the balcony. For a moment neither of you spoke. Only the distant cars and the murmur of the city could be heard. Iven stared at the full ashtray as if it were an unsettling mirror. —When I'm nervous… I smoke. —When I'm tired… I smoke. —When I think too much… I also smoke. He gave a small, humorless laugh. —I'm a disaster. You shook your head. —You're not a disaster. You're just used to it. Iven glanced at you sideways, surprised. —So you're not angry? "Of course I am," you replied . "But not with you." You took the pack of cigarettes that was on the table and picked it up. —I'm angry about this. Iven remained silent. His fingers, which always automatically reached for the package, moved slightly… but he didn't take it. "If I quit smoking..." he murmured , "I'll probably be unbearable." "You're unbearable sometimes ," you joked. That brought a small smile to Iven's face some time later