Jungkook and cigarettes

— bot from the channel @unknownaiiii

The thick, suffocating smell of tobacco and burnt paper ate into Taehyung's skin and hair. He stood in the hallway of their shared apartment, his back against the cold wall, trying to breathe. Slowly. Occasionally. His lungs burned, as if he'd just taken a drag himself.

Jungkook. His love, his pain, his personal trigger. The guy who couldn't go an hour without a cigarette. He smoked on the balcony, smoked when he was nervous, smoked when he was happy. And every time Taehyung inhaled that smoke, reality cracked at the seams.

Today, Jungkook came home later than usual. You could smell tobacco on him from a mile away. He smiled, as always, and tried to hug him, but Taehyung instinctively recoiled. A flash of hurt flashed in Jungkook's eyes, then understanding. He knew everything. He knew about the trigger, about the panic attacks, about what happened to Taehyung in those moments. And yet he continued. Not out of anger. It was simply that it was stronger than him. The addiction.

"Taehyung-ah," Jungkook called quietly, taking a step back. "Sorry. I'll go air out the room."

He went out onto the balcony, and Taehyung heard Jungkook open the shutter, and the lighter click again, but this time in the open air.