song- strawberries & cigarettes
artist- troye sivan
every lyric is used, bolded, and in order.
word count- 1226

spring1002

___________________

bxb story

I remember when we first met. I was standing outside the gas station, waiting for my parents to buy milk and bread, and smoking. I thought I was alone, and your voice made me jump.

You said, "Light my cigarette."

I did my best to look unfazed but it was clear that I hadn't been expecting you. I'm still not sure that anything could've possibly prepared me to meet you, to know you, to taste you, the boy in black jeans and a black jacket, leaning against the wall of a gas station and holding an unlit cigarette between his fingers.

I wanted to give a witty comeback, but those were rare for boys like me. I wanted to impress you, but I don't impress many people, especially not boys like you. Instead, I gave a weak, "Sure."

We met at the gas station three times after that. The first time you caught my name, the second my number, the third my heart. And me? I caught your eye.

I got a text one night that told me to come outside. You had asked for my address, and I figured I wanted you to have it if you had my heart as well.

So I lied to my mom and dad.

I told them I was going out with a friend, but I already knew you were more than that.

You were standing on the sidewalk in front of my house, and as soon as you knew I saw you, you disappeared around the corner. Maybe you did it to entice me. Maybe it worked.

I jogged after you and caught you running down a dimly lit alley, then hop over a chain fence.

I wanted to hesitate, but I also wanted you.

I jumped the fence and I ran.

You were sitting next to a black car on a side street. The dark scared me, but you did too, in completely different ways.

I walked over to you and sat down, asking where we were going.

It turned out we couldn't go very far, cause you locked your keys in your car.

"That's fine," I whispered, looking over at you next to me.

So you sat and stared at my lips, and I could already feel your kiss.

I could feel so much, because of you.

We stayed there for hours. I hoped for more long nights, for moments that felt more like daydreams. You weren't very sweet, but you liked sugar, and you pulled two strawberry hard candies from the pocket of your black jacket. We blew smoke rings and I wanted your lips to touch mine the way they touched your cigarette. I don't know if you were reading my mind or if you wanted it too, but they did.

I've been a fool, but strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you.

I ran home high on whatever drug you were.

You came the next night, displaying your keys out in front of me before you disappeared again.

That time I ran after you without hesitation, and felt your headlights on me as I turned the corner.

There's no better feeling than racing through 60 with the window down. Well, maybe there is. Maybe I'd rather feel your hands in my hair and your lips on mine.

I've been a fool, but strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you. I couldn't help but look over at your shockingly blue eyes and wonder why you only ever wore black jeans. I wondered so much about you.

You told me you collected lighters, and I knew the element of thievery heavily contributed to your collection. You pulled more candy from your jacket pocket and I made you pull over. I wanted another taste of your strawberry-and-cigarette lips.

I've been a fool, but strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you.

I knew cigarettes were addictive, but I didn't know they were lethal when combined with your taste.

I remember when you taught me fate.

I wanted to rush through high school just as much as I wanted you.

You said it'd all be worth the wait. You were right.

Like that night in the back of the cab. You insisted that we walk to the next town over, which was ten times more urban that ours. I was too tired to back.

We sat in the backseat of the cab you called together and said nothing, not even when your fingers walked in my hand.

I got home and I waited. Next day nothing on my phone, but I could still smell you on my clothes.

I wanted you to text me. I wanted to taste them again, your strawberry-and-cigarette lips.

I was hoping that things had changed, after that night. The night in the cab. I'd always thought that holding hands, or rather, almost holding hands, was the closest you could come to feeling complete.

But we went right back to your games, and you didn't text me again for three days.

You always had the upper hand.

The whole time I couldn't stop thinking of our long nights together, sitting outside your car on the concrete. My daydreams, where I tasted you again and again, and you always tasted like sugar and smoke rings. Strawberries and cigarettes.

I've been a fool, and maybe I still am one, but strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you.

I couldn't stop thinking about that second night, your headlights on me, windows down and racing through 60. I thought about how I'd tasted you. I though that maybe I've been a fool to wait for your text, but either way strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you. They always did, and they always will.

I thought of your blue eyes, your black jeans, your collection of stolen lighters and the candy I wanted to taste so bad.

I've been a fool, but strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you.

You texted me, and I tasted you again that night. You strawberry-and-cigarette lips.

I knew I was in too deep. I thought that if I waited a while, I could dig myself out of the hole that was you. But even if I run away, give my heart a holiday, I still want to taste it. Strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you.

It almost makes me wish I hadn't been outside the gas station that day. The thought, of course, is crazy. Because you always leave me wanting more. I didn't think it was possible for a boy like me to fall for a boy like you. Now, I don't think it's possible for me to forget you. I can't shake my hunger for strawberries and cigarettes.

They always taste like you.

They always taste like you, you and your beautiful strawberry-and-cigarette lips.

You and your long nights that consume my daydreams. Sugar and smoke rings always taste like you.

I can always feel your headlights on me. I can always feel the wind on my face from racing through 60.

I've been a fool, still strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you.

You and your blue eyes. Your black jeans. The lighters you stole, and the candy I can always taste in the back of my mind.

I've been a fool, but strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you.