Demon Stories

Beau: I Hate Your Cigarette, 1999, Japan

I wanted to tell him that I would be there when he felt too stressed out. I wanted to ask him why I wasn't enough, why did he need these little white sticks to calm him down and make him feel good? But I knew how selfish that sounded. So I kept my mouth shut, and just kept walking, letting the clicking of my boots on the pavement be my words. 

"Okay, I'll stop for a while. I can't promise to stop altogether. I have to have them as a safety net. Come on, stop walking, let's take a cab. I know those boots hurt your feet, sweetie. Wait!"

No, I thought. And kept walking. But I knew I couldn't keep walking forever. I already missed him and felt bad for doing this. Guilt. What right did I have to make him stop doing something he loved? What was I doing? But there was just something in my heart that made me keep walking. Something upsetting. Something that said, what do you care about more? Me or those white sticks? And that was so selfish and awful for me to think. 

The worst part was, we had already been through this before. I knew what he must be thinking. I knew exactly what was going through his head. Addiction is not just something you can stop. It has to be worked through with caring, understanding, great patience, and love. But both parties have to be willing. And he wasn't willing, and I knew this no matter what he was saying right now to get me to stand still. 

"Are you thinking about that time? This is so much smaller than that. It can't be compared. Its just--"

RAGE. I flew into his face and then shoved him to the ground. We were alone now, in some back alley part of the city. I could not hold back. Not to what he had just DARED to say. Was he so far gone that he thought...did he really think...I couldn't think!

"You dare..." I whispered like a snake about to strike, "you dare..."

His face had gone up in fear and he looked like he wanted to cover his head like a child would. "I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have--"

"This is what I mean. Its not the cigarettes. Its who you've become!"

"What are you talking about?" he asked, his face shocked. But if he really didn't know, then...had he really not noticed his change in personality?

There was only one way I could convince him, make him see. I suddenly realized this, since he had brought it up just now.

I breathed deeply to calm my voice. I looked at him full on.

"Would you say," I said as calmly and as understanding as I could sound, "that I am a better person now that I no longer have my addiction?"

He opened his mouth with a obstinate look on his face.

I rose my finger up to stop him, and continued on, "and if you say 'this doesn't compare to that time' I will kill you. Because that is EXACTLY what I'm talking about."

"Well, you..." he sighed, gathering his thoughts. "...Yes, you are better now. Much happier and more stable in mood. I enjoy you more, I can honestly say."

"Addiction is addiction," I explained, intensifying my look to drive my point home. "It causes the same behaviors. You should know that, since you have been on the other end looking in. There is no difference to the indulgence of the addict. And I don't like who you've become as an addict, just like you didn't like who I became as an addict."

He nodded, looking like a defeated little boy. 

"We've been through this countless times before. I mean, last year, good lord. But thank god this one is as 'little' as you say. Let's make this the last one, and put this behavior behind us. We have eachother, you have me. I'll help you. I love you," I said firmly, extending my hand out to him to help him up off the ground. 

He was still looking down at the ground with a sad expression. I waited patiently.

"...I can't just stop," he said in almost a whisper. "You know I can't."

I smiled gently. I crouched down to him, and lifted his face by his chin with my hand so we were face to face. I gave him my gentle, loving smile. "I'm not asking you to," I said quietly, "I just want your word that you will try. For us." 

He nodded in a sad way. "I will try," he said, with an unsure tone. 

But I didn't mind if he was unsure. I knew he wanted to try, and that this unsureness was low confidence in himself. But I would be there to help him. Gently. I would not push and be too strong. I knew he loved me, trusted me. And I trusted him. That's all that mattered. Just to work towards the dream of being clean and happy. That was just the simple dream. For both of us. And though he had strayed from the dream a little bit, we could still get there together. With gentle love.