sixty-five.

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"so you can smoke but i can't?"

"i've got nothing going for me, georgia," he shook his head, his hand still held out as i attempted to coax him into leaving me be, "i can get lung cancer and i can die and it won't make a difference because i'm nothing more than an addict. you? you can't do this, you're a fucking musician... haven't you seen how bad it gets? it's fucking horrible for you."

"miles..."

"i won't have you if you turn into a chain smoker and god, i need you."

"sounds like you're afraid of losing me..." i teased, reminding me of that time on the tracks where he'd had a witty comeback.

but miles just frowned, intensity burning in his chocolate brown eyes, "i'm fucking terrified."

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