A Cigarette Between Them

Chapter Four – A Cigarette Between Them

She wasn’t expecting to see him.

It was late. The city had thinned to its bones, lights flickering in tired windows and the distant hum of traffic like a heartbeat too far to touch. Aria had climbed the fire escape to clear her head—she did that sometimes, wandered. Rooftops were one of the few places that still felt untouched. Out of reach.

But he was already there.

Lucien sat near the edge, one leg hanging over the side, the other pulled close, elbow resting on his knee. He had a cigarette in his hand, glowing faintly against the dark.

He didn’t turn when she approached.

Didn’t startle.

Just said, quietly, “Didn’t think anyone else came up here.”

She stopped a few steps away.

“Didn’t think you were the rooftop type.”

“I’m not,” he said, glancing at her. “But I like quiet. And high places. Something about the distance.”

She hesitated, then sat down beside him. Not close, but not far enough to call it space. They watched the skyline for a while—just shapes and light, blurred by the city’s haze.

“You smoke?” he asked, holding the cigarette between his fingers.

“Only when it feels like silence needs something.”

He passed it to her without a word.

She took a slow drag, let it burn at the back of her throat, then exhaled softly. The smoke curled upward, vanishing into the cold air.

Neither of them spoke for a long time. And yet, something moved between them—steady, careful. Like they were both holding a thread and pulling it gently, waiting to see if it would snap.

“You always climb rooftops at night?” he asked, not looking at her.

“Sometimes. It's easier to think when the world’s below your feet.”

Lucien nodded, like he understood that more than she knew.

Then:

“Tell me something real.”

She turned to him, startled by how gently he said it. There was no challenge in his voice. Just quiet interest. A shared loneliness.

“Real?”

“Something you don’t tell people.”

She thought about lying. Or joking. Or shrugging it off.

But instead, she said, “I haven’t had a real conversation that didn’t feel like a transaction in… I don’t know. Years.”

Lucien nodded once.

“That’s honest.”

Then he said, “Sometimes I forget how to say things that don’t sound like I’m trying to keep someone away.”

A gust of wind swept past them, cold and sharp.

“You do that?” she asked. “Keep people away?”

“Only the ones I don’t want to lose.”

It wasn’t a line. It didn’t feel like flirtation. More like he was handing her a piece of something fragile, unsure what she’d do with it.

She passed the cigarette back to him. Their fingers brushed.

“That’s backwards,” she said.

Lucien smiled, faint and tired.

“I know.”

They sat there until the cigarette burned out, and the lights in the windows below began to blink off one by one. Not saying much. Not needing to.

They didn’t make promises.

Didn’t lean in.

Didn’t ask for names or truths they weren’t ready to give.

But for a few quiet minutes, high above the city, it almost felt like they weren’t both pretending to be someone else.

It almost felt like something was starting.

...*****...

...--finally it's starting..🤭--...

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