Cigarettes and Stars

Kiyoshi breathes in steadily, holding the smoke in his mouth for ten seconds before he releases it through his nose. A plume of grey crowds his vision, and for a moment, all he knows is the stinging of the smoke in his eyes and the nicotine in his veins. But then the smoke clears, and he can see the sky again. There are tiny pinpricks of light, barely making it through the strong cover the clouds have provided. Stars, he thinks, and reaches up his empty hand to touch them. His fingers close over nothing.

The stars are beautiful, yet almost mocking. Kiyoshi wants to touch them, he wants to hold them so bad. He knows that he cannot, for a star is not some sort of object he can simply hold in his palm. A star is made of hydrogen and helium, they produce light, blah blah blah.

He brings the cigarette to his mouth again, letting the hot ash fall onto his jean covered knee. As the smoke once again escapes through his nose in a cloud of grey, he rubs at the ash and lets it smudge over his old, worn, jeans.

“Kiyoshi!” He hears then. The voice is being called out into the night, and interrupts the silence. “Kiyoshi! Are you smoking again?”

The voice is his aunt. He knows it well, despite the short time he has known her. He has only been in contact with his aunt Amaya for two months, yet he already feels attached to the woman. She is the sort of person who wears leather jackets and black jeans and studded boots, yet is kinder than anyone Kiyoshi knows. Her appearance may be intimidating, but Kiyoshi wears roughly the same thing, so he is almost comforted by her punk-like clothing. 

Amaya calls his name again, and this time, he can hear it so closely it makes him jump. Kiyoshi quickly grinds the cigarette out into the grass, then turns as he hears heavy footsteps behind him. Amaya glares at him, barely visible in the dim light of the moon. Her hair, however, is bright pink, and shines like a lightbulb in the darkness. He doesn’t know how she spotted him -- he’s wearing all black and even his hair is dark. “I knew you were smoking, kiddo,” She scolds, almost playfully. “And you didn’t even share.”

With a heavy sigh, Kiyoshi pulls out a crushed packet of cigarettes and hands her one. She sticks it between her lips, then plonks down beside him and accepts his offer of a lighter. The flames make her skin glow orange. Several minutes pass before the silence is broken.

“Nightmares, huh?” Amaya murmurs. Kiyoshi turns away, instead deciding to look over at the trees around them. Being nineteen years old and still suffering from bad dreams is humiliating. Amaya tells him all the time that it’s normal, that it’s a symptom of trauma, but all Kiyoshi can think about is how people out there have had a much harder life and they don’t have nightmares. 

So, to avoid talking about the bad dreams that cloud his mind, Kiyoshi shrugs and says, “Nah, just couldn’t sleep.” It’s not entirely a lie, as Kiyoshi has been having trouble sleeping since the flood. All he can hear when he closes his eyes is the sound of the rushing water, the sound of their screams. And so, he often does not even try. But, a few hours beforehand, Kiyoshi had fallen asleep on his small, uncomfortable bed. When he woke up, he was sweating and panting and scared of the thought of a flood. So, he found himself wandering away from the place he now called home, with a packet of cigarettes in his pocket and his heart still beating quickly from the terror of the nightmare.

Amaya can see right through him. She raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow and nudges him in the side with her elbow. “I know it’s hard, kiddo,” She says. Her arm feels warm against Kiyoshi’s. “But one day, you’re going to stop having nightmares about them. Hell, I still have nightmares about that day. The water, and the wreckage, and…” She shudders, rubs her hand over her soft edged jaw, then continues to speak. “I know how you feel. Emica was my older sister. She was the only one I had for such a long time. But the thing is, Kiyoshi, we can’t control the past, nor can we control the future. You’ve had a hard life, but clinging onto your past isn’t going to help anyone. Talk about your problems, Kiyoshi. Just… Just talk to me.”

Kiyoshi feels guilty as he hears his aunt’s pleading. It is selfish of him to believe that she, too, isn’t pained by the tragic loss of his parents. His mother was his sister, after all. And his father, Noah, was one of Amaya’s best friends. She was there that day as well. She was the one that pulled them out of the water, tied to save them. So of course she feels pain, as much as Kiyoshi does. 

“I’m sorry,” He mumbles, lighting himself another cigarette. “I didn’t think about you at all. You miss Mama just as much as I do.”

The clouds that covered the stars have finally passed, and now Kiyoshi can see them perfectly. He remembers how passionate his father was about the stars, how in love his mother was with the sky. The stars almost feel like a gateway back to them. A pathway, perhaps. To his mother and father. 

He misses them. He misses them so much. 

Amaya sighs, the smoke shooting out of her mouth in a fast, heavy motion. It is blown away by the breeze barely a second later. She leans her head on Kiyoshi’s shoulder and flicks the butt of the cigarette out into the night. It glows red amongst the dew covered grass for a moment before it dies, darkening the terrain around it. Kiyoshi feels tears welling up in his eyes and tries to blink them away. However, one escapes past his efforts and slides down his face, dropping onto Amaya’s hand. She looks up. “You okay, kiddo?” She asks. Kiyoshi nods as more tears slip down his cheeks and plop onto the ground. 

“I’m fine,” He croaks. “It’s just…” He trails off, instead choosing to look up at the sky with narrowed eyes.

Amaya rubs her hand in a comforting manner on Kiyoshi’s knee. “Ah, kid,” She says. It’s not much, but for some unknown reason, it feels like the best thing she could say. Kiyoshi hates it when people baby him. When they say I’m sorry for your loss, and you’ll see them again one day. Amaya seems to know this, and instead chooses to say two words that are meaningless in any other context. Kiyoshi feels his muscles untense, then rubs his palm over his eyes, attempting to wipe the tears away. 

“I’m fine,” He repeats. He knows it’s a lie, and Amaya probably knows too. She presses her lips against her cheek, then pats his knee and stands up. 

“Come on,” She says. “Let's head inside, kiddo. I’ll make us some midnight macaroni.”