Authors Note: I didn’t use any names for the children, I’ll let you infer that as you will! Its a little mature, just to let you all know!
Ashton: You were gathering your son’s clothing, ready to do laundry when you caught the smell of something that wasn’t normal. You smelled again, holding the hoodie that you had in your hands. You straightened up, feeling a certain weight that made the hoodie heavier. You couldn’t help but wonder, but also to confirm your present thought as you reached into the front kangaroo pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. You cringed, holding the packet in your hands. You stared at it, wondering how and when your son had began this filthy habit. You sighed, putting the sweater in the laundry basket, and ignoring it until later. You walked down the stairs to see Ashton, your husband, leaning back against his chair, reading the local newspaper. He looked up when you walked in, his eyebrows furrowing, surely at your expression. “What?” He said, folding up his paper, and putting it aside. You wordlessly held out the packet in his view, and his face dropped. “He smokes?” Ashton growled, his eyes ablaze. He stood up, pacing. “When’s he home?” Ash said. You shook your head, “He should be home around nine,” You said, glancing at the clock above the mantle. Only a few more hours, and than all hell would break loose. “He’s in for it,” Ashton threatened, sitting back down fuming. “Where did he even get this habit? One of his friends I bet you. Its not us, unless you want to tell me something?” He said, and you rolled your eyes. “Go easy on him.” You said, your maternal instincts kicking in. “Easy on him? He’s picking up a habit that could kill him. Easy on him?” He spat. “I’m livid. This will stop.” He said pointing accusingly at the pack in your hand. You sighed, knowing he was right. Later that night, your son walked through the front door to see yourself and Ashton sitting on the couch, the pack of cigarettes on the table in front of you. “Hey,” He said, walking past the both of you, his gaze trained on his phone. “Come back here. Now.” Ashton said, and you shot him a look. Your son walked back, slowly - you could judge by his footsteps as he came into view. “Come here,” Ashton said standing up. Your son walked towards his father, and as he came closer, you saw Ashton inhale. He scoffed, sitting down. “Tell me what that is.” He pointed to the pack on the table, and you saw his face drop. “Where did you get that?” He said, his voice low and hesitant. “I found them in your hoodie,” You finally spoke up and he shot you a look. “What were you doing going through my shit?” He spat at you. You sat up a little straighter. “Don’t you everspeak to your Mother like that.” Ashton growled. “I was doing your laundry you asked me to do. What did I find in your pocket?” You spoke coldly, disappointment coating your words like venom. “When did it start?” Ashton said. Your son hesitated before confessing. “A few months ago. I don’t do it often, its just when I’m with my friends.” He said, trying to sound nonchalant. “I don’t care if its casually. Its going to stop. I will not have my son inhaling toxic fumes to look cool.” Ashton said. “I see you with a cigarette, I even smell a whiff of smoke, if I see that filthy thing near you, you’re grounded, that trip your going on is cancelled. Oh, and your licence? Give it to me now.” You son stood there gaping at Ashton, and you were a little impressed with how Ashton was handling the situation. “That’s not fair! Its not like I do it all the time!” Your son protested. “Well, you don’t drive all the time either. Hand it up. Now.” Your son turned to you, his face distraught. “Mum, please.” He pleaded, but you shook your head. “Listen to your Father.” You said, as much as it hurt you to speak to your son like that, you were beyond disappointed. You son blinked, before turning an angry shade of red. He reached into his wallet, grabbing his licence with aggression and throwing it at Ashton. “Fuck you both.” He said, storming up the stairs, the door slamming loudly. You cringed, looking to Ashton. “Was I too hard on him?” He asked, picking up the licence. “No, you made your point. I can’t believe he would pick that up.” You shook your head, standing up and cringing as the bass shook the floor from his bedroom. “He’ll break it soon enough, and if he doesn’t, I’ll follow through with my threats.” He said, shrugging. You nodded your head, grabbing the pack of cigarettes, and tossing them into the trash. And hopefully, that would be the last pack you threw away.
