aroceu's ficsecond hand
by aroceu
Summary:
Wai, Korn, and smoke breaks behind the bar.
Notes:
Based on an idea that Ling and I had lightly riffed on like a year ago. And also for Ling. Because he asked me to.
It’s Korn who picks up the habit first. He had never smoked in university, as far as Wai could tell—but a year after graduation and two after purchasing the bar, Korn’s coming out of the break room with a package of cigarettes and a lighter and says to Wai, “I’m going for a smoke break.”
“I didn’t know you smoked,” Wai says, from where he’s cleaning the bar. It’s early afternoon, so it’s completely empty, and their staff are watching videos on their phone in preparation for the inevitable evening rush. At least, that’s what Wai tells himself. He likes to think of Korn and himself as cool bosses who don’t get on their employees for not doing anything when there’s nothing to do.
And it’s still strange, sometimes, to think of Korn like this. Korn who shrugs and says, “Yeah,” then gestures at the back door and asks, “Are you coming?”
Wai didn’t realize he was invited. “I don’t smoke,” he says.
Korn shrugs. “Suit yourself.”
He starts heading out. Wai second guesses himself, then puts the rag in the sink and says, “Hold on.” He washes up his hands, then comes around the bar to join Korn.
Korn grins and waves his lighter in his hand. “Allured by the unknown, weren’t you?”
“Allured by nothing. I should break, too,” Wai says, wiping his hands on his sweater. “And shitty company like you is better than no company at all.”
Korn laughs into the autumn air as he and Wai make their way outside. The polluted overcast sky hangs gray above them, but Wai finds himself more interested in seeing what Korn looks like when he smokes. Somewhere between deciding hating each other was pointless and working to hide Pat and Pran’s relationship, Wai’s found that Korn isn’t actually all that bad. Stupid and makes crass comments, but always meets Wai at a level that no one’s ever sunken to with him before. Wai can be an idiot around Korn. Mostly because Korn is always an idiot.
Korn taps the pack open and takes one out. “Want one?” he offers.
Wai shakes his head. He scowls at the cigarette in Korn’s hand. “Smoking is bad for you,” he says.
“Yeah, well.” Korn lights the cig, sticks it into his mouth. After an inhale, he puffs out a grey cloud, unsaturated against his dark eyes and brows, the bright blue of his windbreaker. “Sitting next to someone smoking is also bad for you.”
Wai shrugs, without a response. He stands with Korn, and says he’ll give a good eulogy at his funeral when Korn dies first, after.
*
Korn doesn’t ask him to come along next time. He says, “Break time,” while waving his lighter and pack, and Wai, at the bar, says, “I’ll be out there in a minute.”
It’s two a.m. Their friends had come earlier, getting along now longer than they had been enemies. Sometimes when the current Architecture and Engineering faculties come in and barely stop themselves from ending in an all-out brawl, it makes Wai nostalgic. This is better though, he knows.
Pat and Pran had escaped together sometime during the night, which meant that Wai and Korn had to call for a rideshare to get their friends home safely. Now with the bar mostly empty and the floor to be made less sticky, Wai figures he deserves a break too as he takes his apron off and joins Korn in the cool air.
Korn’s already smoking, leaning against the wall. The cherry burns bright, making Korn’s dark features even darker in the night. “You didn’t have to come out with me, you know,” Korn tells him, amusement in his voice.
Wai exhales and leans against the wall with him. The smell of smoke isn’t too bad, at least when it’s coming from Korn. “You didn’t have to invite me,” he replies.
Korn laughs. “Good point,” he says, even though he hadn’t. His cigarette dangles from his fingers. He flicks off the ashes at the end to the pavement beneath their feet. Wai watches him.
They stand in silence for a few minutes. Then Korn asks him, “What are you staring at?”
Caught, Wai turns away. He’s glad it’s so dark out, so Korn doesn’t have to see the pink running up his pale cheeks. “Nothing, asshole,” he says without any heat.
Korn grins; Wai can hear it in his voice when he says, “What, you want a cigarette?”
On instinct, Wai crinkles his nose and scoffs. “No. It’s unhealthy.”
“Are you sure?” Korn waves the pack in Wai’s face. “You can try if you want. I can tell you want to,” he sing-songs.
He’s teasing, but Wai can hear a challenge in his voice, too, maybe. It won’t make a difference if he doesn’t, but it wouldn’t be all that bad if he did. They’re alone; Wai doesn’t have anyone to impress here. The street isn’t too quiet, but barely anyone knows they’re out here like this.
Wai says, “Okay,” and then Korn is sliding out a cigarette with deft ease, sticking it into Wai’s mouth, igniting the end with a flick of his lighter. He’s so close, Wai could count his eyelashes. He watches the flame near Korn’s thumb as it burns, then he’s tasting the strange, sour heat that he always imagined smoke would taste like.
“Breathe in with your throat,” Korn instructs. Wai doesn’t know what that means, so he breathes in anyway.
His throat immediately fills, too thick and foreign all at once. “Fuck,” Wai coughs out, gagging at the force of the smoke. Beside him, Korn is laughing. “That’s vile. How do you do this?”
“Pussy,” says Korn, but he’s taking the cigarette away from Wai. “It’s not that bad once you get used to it.”
“Get used to something like that? No thank you.” Wai coughs a bit more in his hand, and tries not to retch. Korn continues smoking and watching him, a smile on his face.
“You’ve got a little—” Korn reaches out to him and wipes at a bit of spittle around Wai’s mouth.
Wai glares at him. “Thanks,” he says.
Korn shakes his head and smokes again. Looks at Wai again. Chuckles to himself. Wai asks, “What are you laughing at, idiot?” and Korn says, “Nothing.”
*
Korn invites him out for smoke breaks, anyway. Sometimes he offers Wai a cigarette, but usually he doesn’t. Wai knows he was right, that sitting around someone smoking can be just as bad as smoking itself. It’s worth it, he thinks.
Wai usually says no. Sometimes he says yes, because Korn makes it look so easy, and the haze in his eyes makes Wai think he can try it again. The taste is still awful, still makes Wai cough. Korn always laughs at him and finishes his barely smoked cigarette off each time.
He gets a new pack. “I went through that whole pack so much faster because of you,” he teases Wai. “You owe me one.”
Wai rolls his eyes, but makes a mental note in the back of his mind. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, and resolves to say no to Korn’s inevitable offer today.
Some days, they talk. Some, they don’t say anything at all. Korn says, “Wanna smoke today?” except this time instead of offering Wai a new cig, he offers up his own, already lit at the end.
Wai swallows. Korn fiddles with it in his fingers. “Sure,” he says.
He takes it. Korn told him he hadn’t been smoking long, just something he picked up from his cousins during a holiday. Wai told him that his cousins were a bad influence. Korn had shrugged and said, Now you know where I get it from.
Wai sticks the cigarette into his mouth and tries not to breathe. Tries not to think about how Korn’s lips were here just a few seconds ago, how he can still feel the dampness of Korn’s saliva on the paper underneath his lips. He smokes once and Korn looks impressed. Then again, and pulls away, hacking and wheezing.
Korn takes the cigarette from him and laughs. “You suck,” he tells Wai.
“You suck,” Wai retorts, as the grey escapes his mouth. Korn pats him on the back as Wai coughs and soothes his throat, and doesn’t really hide it, this time, when he watches Korn exhale into the city air.
*
When Korn kisses him for the first time, he tastes like ash and paper and his lips are dry. Wai opens his mouth against Korn’s; Korn blows smoke down Wai’s throat, and Wai doesn’t cough.
“You’re going to kill me one of these days,” Wai says against his lips. He doesn’t think of the cigarette pack sitting in his bedside drawer, waiting for Korn to run out so he has an excuse to give it to him.
Korn says, “Just as I planned.” Wai laughs into him, and against the taste of nicotine as he kisses him again.