luissbelt

[luissbelt]

Up in Smoke

Hi hi <3 testing this all out by writing this- I love a good angst so I couldn’t help myself and I love Luis so why not give him some love? I adore this silly little guy in this silly little game. I hope to be writing some more about him after this in the future <3

TW: mentions of smoking and death

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The black smoke was in his sight long before he reached where it came from. It blocked the view of the stars above his head. It got brighter and brighter the closer he came to the familiar land of the village. Red and yellow engulfed the place he once called home. He had been gone a short time, but long enough it was too late. He could only stare with the fellow on lookers as his cabin slowly became ashes with his only parental figure left inside perishing from flames instead of illness. What else could he do? If he went in, he’d fall to the flames as well. He could feel the looks of others on him. He could feel the eyes studying his reaction. The flames reflecting off his eyes while he only paid mind to what was once his home and his life.

Despite not being in the fire, everything inside of him was ignited. Burning. He felt choked. The thick, smoky air weighing him down and challenging him for standing so close. The heat was caressing his now sweaty face. He didn’t move once to wipe it as he stood there for what felt like no time to see it all burn away so fast. The sky was becoming pink and orange while the sun slowly rose above the leftover smoke from the blaze. All that stood was crumbling wood and ashes. People finally slowly left and returned home. He couldn’t move his body. His heart was tight and his eyes stung with smoke filled tears. He shut them as tight as he could to avoid getting more smoke in them until it all stopped.

A new smell of sanitation and chemicals weighed him down on top of the smoke that lingered with him. A clipboard was in his hand full of his own hand writing and quickly scribbled down notes on his studies. He was gone from that place, but why did the smoke follow him so closely? He slid a hand down into the pocket of the lab coat that now hung around his body and pulled out a cigarette. It was soon lit and he sat down in a chair while slowly inhaling further smoke. A scent that burned his being, yet he couldn’t bring himself to let go of.

More eyes pried the biologist as he stopped his research when he found what it was being used for. So much tragedy followed him, just like the smoke did. It hung in the air and suffocated him all over again. He couldn’t breathe. Over and over again he lit the lighter in his now damp palm while he stood outside in the late night. His other hand held some half done notes he was once working on. He gripped them tight as he once thought how just days ago he was proud of his breakthroughs and progress toward this field. Guilt was wrapped around him like a blanket while knowing his contribution led to more people suffering and he couldn’t do anything to take it back. He turned his back as the papers became consumed by flames, a cigarette now resting between his lips to provide the only sense of comfort he could rely on anymore.

Heavier and heavier he felt as he was weighed down when he knew what he allowed to become parasites. Corrupted hands seemed to wrap around his body and pull him back. The light at the tunnel seemed like it would never be in his reach. The choking smoke plagued his eyes from finding his way out. Over and over again he fell into a place he didn’t want to be when he just wanted to set out and finally give himself a life so his grandfather’s effort wasn’t wasted. He found himself drowning pack after pack of the dangerous comfort yet reminder of what it could take away.

When would he finally have a breath of fresh air?

He slowly sat up from the bed, head hung low and in his palm as the scenes slowly faded from his mind. His eyes stayed on the palm he rested on as his mind caught up to the present. His head felt so heavy. His own room felt unfamiliar and distant. This place was where he currently resided, but he hardly would describe it as a place he calls home. It was always as it has been when he came, yet he couldn’t see it as his. He ran a hand through his now damp hair from his distress in his own mind. His thumb and index finger slowly rubbed circles on his temples to help bring him back to reality. The memories always seemed like it’d plague him until the day he let out his final breath. He’d turn his head and peer at his dresser. A slightly open pack of cigarettes lay on it beside a lighter among the other mess atop it he never found the motivation to clean. He took the cold lighter in his hand and fiddled with it a moment as he flipped it open and watched the small flame flicker up. How could one small thing cause so much destruction and comfort in his life?

A deep sigh left his lips while he closed it and grabbed the pack and walked out to the fresh air of the late night. The sound of cicadas filled his ears while he pulled out a cigarette and placed it between his lips. He placed the pack into his pocket and lit the end with the now warm lighter. He kept the lighter in hand while his eyes lingered on the smoke that slowly danced from the cigarette. He could feel it linger in his throat as he inhaled the unhealthy habit. It was eating him up inside, just like it once did many years ago on a similar night.

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