Love, Lust and Nicotine

After 23 lonely Octobers, I'd gotten used to the bleakness. It was the first night of the month and the city seemed to share my loneliness. Everything was quiet and cold. There were dimly lit stores stocked with forgotten books and records covered in dust and cobwebs waiting to be held in one's arms.

It would've been around 1am when I desperately needed to numb myself. It was a terrible affinity I had with intoxication. In fact, I might have already been drunk as I stumbled from street to street among strangers to find a bar. I often frequented a bar that resided in an overt building of 13 floors and made my way to the elevator.

To my surprise, I was greeted by two lovestruck strangers caught up in a sloppy kiss. Taken aback, I grinned and said 'I'll just wait for the next elevator'. The couple then intercepted, apologised and made way for me. Well...that apology lasted a total of ten seconds because they were back to their affair.

I really was in between a rock and a hard place, but I can't blame them because I was that person once upon a time. Trying not to laugh out loud, I distracted myself by the dimly lit posters on the elevator wall.

13 floors seemed like forever and the second the doors opened, I darted out and was confronted by a mixed bag of humanity- broken souls, first dates, first times and breakups.

I gently sighed. I had given up on my mission of drinking- I didn't want to be another lost soul, but who was I kidding? I made my way past the bar counter and towards the terrace - Free of the prison of people.

I hurriedly took out a cigarette- and quickly inhaled the tobacco and contemplated the structure of the city. The skyscrapers stood tall like matchsticks in the distance with some windows lit by blazing fires. I wondered how they survive the icy winds of the night.

I looked across the length of the terrace and at the corner of my eye, I found a silhouette caught up in the same contemplation as me. He was intently writing and taking long drags of smoke...we were the only ones there.

Slowly advancing towards this stranger in a dark overcoat, I plucked up the courage to ask, 'Are you a writer?'. 'You could say that..' he said without looking up.

'I'm Venus, by the way' I said.

'Vulcan' he replied with a piercing look from his chocolate eyes.

Vulcan? This couldn’t be a coincidence. It’s just way too good to be true-

‘So what would you be doing at 2am talking to a random stranger like me...’ he continued

‘I don’t know. I’d like to find out...so what are you writing about?’

‘Solitude...Not the kind you hear Yeats talk about but the one that hurts rots your brain and plagues your body’

‘That’s a...a handful. Ironic isn’t it, you were sitting alone?’

‘Alone? Yes. Lonely? No.’

I couldn’t help but break into a half-smile. I was transfixed by his words, messy curls and deep hazel brown eyes. How could a stranger you met two minutes ago know about your favourite worst nightmare? My loneliness was everything to me- solitude, fear, comfort, terror…

He read my face like a book and smirked. He then offered his cigarette. I retired from smoking mine and obliged. I held it knowing his lush lips had touched it and wondered if he fantasied the same and tempted me on purpose…

I couldn’t take my eyes off him- he spoke with such eloquence and gestured his hands so delicately as if he were fragile...His hair would often fall over his eyes and I would grin like an idiot till he snapped me out of his spell by playfully asking ‘what?’

Lost in conversation- we lost track of time and didn’t get up to leave till the sky bled hues of blue and gold. We made our way down from the terrace and were welcomed by a confused bartender who was cleaning the remnants of the night- Vulcan and I smiled at each other astonishingly, bid the man at the bar good morning and left in haste.

And there we were in the elevator at first sharing laughter and soon glances of temptation. He reached out his delicate and veined hand and traced the length of my arm with his fingertips. In a quick yet gentle movement, his hand reached for my waist and I looked up into his eyes and was rendered speechless-could we be the sequel to the lovestruck strangers I met in the night?

The moment was timeless..until our moment was interrupted by the beam of the glimmering sun. In one goofy childlike smile, I could tell he had to bid goodbye. In response, I mockingly frowned and realised my mistake. He was long gone.

How utterly stupid I was. I didn’t even ask for his phone number or address? I totally blew my one chance of being held in his arms like that lost record or forgotten book…

Sometimes we miss the temptation of love more than the person. It’s almost like a curse- you love once but crave it for a lifetime- no wonder love is a drug. I spent hours if not days lost in the yearning for his crimson lips, his deep caramel eyes, his presence- I pondered if Vulcan felt the same desire.

Why would a stranger pour their heart out only to leave you stranded with love?

I couldn’t take it anymore. So one warm afternoon I made my way back to the night we met. This time the streets were busy and seemed to share my euphoria and excitement. A wave of people swarmed in cafes, bookstores and record shops. Everything seemed to be alive and the air brewed a sweet smell of vanilla and cinnamon.

Adrenaline coursed through my veins as I quickened my pace towards the bar and then rushed to the empty terrace with the single silhouette. Vulcan. He turned and wore the silliest smile and burst out laughing. I couldn’t help but laugh along.

‘Took you long enough to find me again eh ?’ he asked comically.

‘Seems like it’ I replied mid laughter.

‘Let’s get out of here…’

We spent the coffee-stained afternoon walking back to his apartment and this time we didn’t let go of each other’s hand. We stole stares and smiles every time we caught each other looking and continued venturing the streets. The population of the city was so distant and I was sure we were the only two alive…

The sky was infinitely pink once we reached his doorway on the 8th floor. I was wondering what awaits for me- a wall of poetry? Fragments of his childhood? Once he shared his world with me, I entered the familiar scent of strawberries and cigarettes. This is who he was.

Like a pop-up book, his apartment came alive. His open kitchen was to the left of me, and ahead was the living room carpeted with vinyl and paperbacks. In the corner of the room was an antique oak desk which wore scattered poetry, inkblots, a classic typewriter and an ashtray.

‘It’s not much, but it’s something.’, he said with a childish stare.

‘I really like the view from here…’ I said gesturing towards the open balcony of the lounge.

The once strawberry pink skies turned violet and soon every star glittered in the cloudless night sky. At a flick of a switch, the entire room was a lit orange. He then put on the soundtrack of his life and asked me to dance.

He held my waist and hand. I rested my head on his shoulder and was drowning in rhythm and lyric. Slowly swaying we made our way to his bedroom. It was so surreal. I looked into his eyes and tugged on his white button-up shirt and pulled him close for a short kiss that gradually built up to temptation.

He gently laid me down, peeled off his shirt and then mine. I remember we embraced until I fell asleep in his arms.

I woke up before him in the blurry golden light of the morning. My eyes wandered about his bronze skin and I moved closer till our foreheads touched. I sensed his gentle smile and slowly saw his eyes open to the sight of me.

Moving closer we brushed lips till I said, ‘I’m going to make tea...you stay here.’ He shook his head and innocently smiled. I then grabbed onto his oversized white shirt and covered my canvas.

His bittersweet aftertaste still lingered on my tongue as I entered his kitchen. I smiled and thought I would need more than tea to wash it down. Somehow I managed to navigate the unclean stove, dirty dishes and mislabelled containers and soon made my way to the balcony where Vulcan sat.

We overlooked the amber skyline and let the scent of ginger and lemon consume us whole. I held out my hand for his cigarette, but right when I made my move, he grabbed my waist as he pulled me in for an intense kiss.

We shared the smoke in his lungs and I ran my fingers through his curly hair. For a second we parted, and I let his cigarette command the air I breathed. I clasped onto his soft neck and let myself lose control during the liplock.

Perfect moments like these exist in fairytales, but there we were lost in love, lust and nicotine.