Scars

Y/N POV

Smoke fills my lungs, aching terribly and familiarly. The cigarette burns my fingertips where I'm holding it wrong, but I can't be bothered to care.
The smell is overwhelming, filling my head and swirling into an oddly bland combination with the random and mindless music on shuffle on my earbuds.

Smoke hangs like a raincloud overhead, thick and muffling. I sigh and stand up, joints popping and clicking like bubble wrap, and throw the window open. I'm not particularly motivated to, I'd let it pile up on my ceiling until the lights had no effect if I had the option, but the walls are already yellowed slightly from years of neglect. My landlord is getting nippy.
The window gives off a loud thump as it bangs open too far. The hinges are busted, so it doesn't slow down on its own. I flinch at the volume.
The night air is deathly cool on my skin, prompting forth a ripple of goosebumps on my bare arms and back. I shiver, but do so with an air of satisfaction toward the refreshing shock.
I take a drag of my cigarette and place the box it came from onto the window sill with a shaky hand.

A scrambling sound to my right, around my bins and the remnants of abandoned gardening ventures, makes me freeze.
I peer at it, convinced at first that it might be a stray animal, but there's definitely sentience in the terror there. Muscles coiled tight enough to snap, I open my mouth slowly.
"Who's there? Come out, or I'll call the police!" I yell, eyes straining to see. A laugh, nervous but still clearly mocking, echoes off of the cool air toward me.
"Are you shitting me? Your house is on fire, why would I come closer?! I'm trying to get away here!" A voice rough shouts. I stop for a second, confused.
"Are you stupid? I'm smoking a cigarette. That's the smoke. From my cigarette. What went wrong with you?" I snarl tiredly, leaning down on my elbows and tugging out my earbuds so I can focus on what's being said better.
Admittedly, I shouldn't be off my guard in a situation like this, but I can't be bothered to be in a panic. The mental effort it would take to freak out tires me just at the thought.
"Come into the light, asshole. Do as you're told, you're on my property." I bark. The laugh rings out again, but less unsure now. The person, whoever they are, seems genuinely amused.

"Yeah, sure. Lemme just hop on up to your window to talk. Me, a psychopathic murderer with no sense of empathy. I'm not the man for a face to face chit-chat, dumbass."
I note the 'man' first, not eager to be rude. Then the 'psychopathic murderer with no sense of empathy' part afterward.
I chuckle wryly, taking another drag of my cigarette.
"Well, that's just my luck isn't it? You could be anybody, anyone in the world could have been in my garden, but you're a murderer." I say, raising my voice a little so he can hear me.
There's a slight pause, from me and him both. He seems surprised by my reaction, but then again I suppose I can't see him.
"Are you gonna kill me?" I ask tiredly. He laughs again.
"Eh. Probably. Haven't killed anyone in a while."
"Don't s'pose you'll let me finish this?" I ask, holding my cigarette up to his direction. He flinches so violently at the movement that I can hear it his feet shuffle and his arm thump against a bag of fertiliser.
"Sure, whatever, just stop wavin' it around!" He shouts. I chuckle.

It only takes a few more drags for the cigarette to be on its last legs. Sniffing with distaste, I stare at it for a second as the glow dims and smoke floats from the tip in movement like the coiling of a snake. I blow at it gently, disrupting the patterns and making the glow ripple excitedly before settling back down.
I stub it against my forearm, wincing at the dying heat. The man flinches again, still audible. I chuckle sardonically as he huffs.
"Why'd you do that you crazy fuck?!" He demands. My eyes have adjusted to staring in his direction now, and I can just barely see him.
He's tall, at least six feet, and messy. I can't see anything properly, just the silhouette, but the shape is rough and ragged.
"Oh calm down. It was almost out anyway, it might not even blister. Stop shouting, my neighbours will hear." I throw the extinguished cigarette butt outside, and it lands in an empty plant pot. "Are you gonna come where I can see you yet, or am I seriously gonna have to call the police?"