Memories and Cigarettes

         I used to watch Max smoke, it was like art to me. He would delicately hold the cigarette between his fingers and light it carefully, then set it between his soft pink lips and let his eyes fall shut as he hollowed his cheeks and pulled the smoke into his lungs. Then he would open his eyes and grin at me watching in awe of his beauty, before letting out perfect rings of smoke. "You shouldn't stare baby," he smiled lazily, and took another drag.

        In my favorite memory of Max we're cuddled in our bed with the window open and he's got a cigarette settled in his mouth. "What are you looking at me for?" he asked, an amused grin playing on his face. "My god Max you're f*****g gorgeous, I could stare at you forever. It's like every time I look at you, you just get more beautiful." I snuggled closer to his bare chest, stealing warmth from him. "Do you want cuddles?" he asked in a low voice, meeting my wide eyes with his sleep cloaked ones. "I'm cold," I nodded, burying my face in the crook of his neck and nipping the sensitive skin lightly. He put out the cigarette and wrapped his arms around my waist, kissing my shoulder and rubbing his warm hands over my back under my shirt. "My angel," he hummed happily and rolled onto his back, holding me on top of him against his chest. "I love you so much," I tilted my head up and lightly pressed my lips against his. "I love you so,so much," he kissed me back. I fell asleep with my head on his shoulder and his lips against my forehead as he hummed quietly.

            Almost all of my happy memories feature Max with a cigarette in hand, with a smile on his face, holding my hand, throwing his head back laughing, pulling me close with lust and love filled eyes and kissing me gently. He was always gentle with me, every time he would kiss me or hold my hand he would have a soft look I his gorgeous eyes. Usually when I drift through memories it makes me cry, they're easier to handle when I'm with Frankie, easier to get through.