This part is a little shorter, but it's all I felt like writing at the moment.
He grabbed the cigarette out of the front pocket of his hoodie along with the lighter. He couldn't wait to inhale the smoke into his lungs. It had been hours since the last one. He sat down on the cracked sidewalk. It was the same sidewalk that he drew monsters in colored chalk on when he was about 5. It was the same sidewalk that he fell and skinned his knee on and where he played with his Star Wars action figures or his metal Warhammer figurines.
He drew his legs up to his chest and took another drag. He didn't expect all those memories to come flooding back to him right at that moment. He was once just an innocent kid, but not anymore. Although he still felt like a kid, he'd done too much shit by that point to ever have that innocence again.
"So how many other bad habits have you picked up lately?"
The voice startled him, but he didn't turn around. He knew who it was and all he wanted to do was enjoy that one smoke without any interruption.
"It's just smoking. It's not like I'm doing drugs or anything."
That was a bit of a lie, but that was something else he hoped his parents never had to find out about.
"You know I used to smoke 3 packs a day, but that catches up to you. You're young and healthy now but one day, maybe when you start to have a family of your own, you'll want to stick around for them. You might wanna quit while you're ahead, you know?"
He sighed and took another drag, then tapped the cherry off onto the cement walk.
"I'll take that into consideration, Dad."
He rolled over in the bed. He could tell by the angle of the light coming in around the blinds that it was already mid afternoon. He didn't really give a fuck about the time. He was on vacation after all. He tried to sit up but the pounding in his head made him lay right back down again. He closed his eyes and tried to remember the events of the previous night. He knew it was a party. There was a ton of people at the apartment. He remembered drinking of course – what, he wasn't too clear on.
He remembered that the girl he couldn't get out of his mind had shown up. He hoped he hadn't said or done anything stupid while she was around. While he tried to keep from moving his head too much he reached over to the nightstand hoping that he'd left a pack of smokes there. His hand was coming up empty, which prompted him to open his eyes again and look around. Nothing. He got a sinking feeling realizing the very real possibility that he was out of smokes.
Even though his head was throbbing he swung his legs over edge of the bed and got down on his hands and knees on the floor hoping that the pack would somehow magically appear under a pile of clothes or papers. Still nothing.
He pulled on a pair of discarded and almost certainly dirty jeans. He started to feel more and more anxious as the minutes passed. Just then he remembered that he had an emergency pack he kept in the closet for just such an occasion. He flung open the door and reached up onto the shelf. They were there. He packed down the box and then tore it open like a kid with a present on Christmas morning.
A/N: I think I'll just write these whenever they pop into my head until I get bored with them.