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“THE HOT BARISTA YOU FACEBOOK STALKED DOESN’T LIKE SMOKERS.”
Rest scowls. It was 2146, and she was the last smoker alive. The stupid quit smoking ads were starting to get very personal to her now. She was almost horrified by the fact They knew she was Facebook stalking a barista, but it was something she was a bit too used to at this point.
Despite everyone trying to get her to stop smoking, she still lights up another cigarette. She’s thirty six years old for crying out loud. When she was a kid, there were a few hundred smokers left, but the anti-smoking ads had worked on all of them except her. By the time she started smoking, there were only seventy four smokers left, making her the seventy fifth.
People stared. A lot. They’d take pictures of her, parents would avert their children’s eyes, a lot of people spat at her. It was hell, but it’s not like she could quit all of a sudden. No tobacco companies even existed anymore. She made and rolled all her own cigarettes (which made her very popular with the stoners).
“Mommy, that’s her!” a small child exclaims, pointing at her as she blows the smoke out of her mouth.
“Don’t stare!” their mother scolds, staring Rest down as they turn their child away. Rest glares but waves.
She rolls her eyes again and continues walking down the road to her apartment. It was after her shift, and all she wanted to do was go home and relax for a few hours without being stared at like she was some sort of zoo exhibit instead of a human being.
Rest was twenty nine when the first article was written about her. She’d only realized when she noticed more people were staring, whispering, pointing. Then, someone handed her their phone with a quiet apology. She still remembers the fear she felt when she read the article title.
LAST SMOKER LIVING: TWENTY NINE YEAR OLD WOMAN.
Further down in the article was her full name and where she was living at the time. Even seven years later, she had no idea who wrote the article or how they knew these things about her, but she stopped talking to people and making friends with them after that. She handed back the phone without a thanks or anything. What she wanted was to be left alone.
After a few years, she stopped hiding from pictures. She’d make sure everyone knew how pissed off she was at the harassment. When people would give her money, she’d pose. It was an awful side gig, but if they weren’t going to allow her any sort of privacy, she’d want to make them pay.
When she finally gets back to her apartment building, a short, pink haired woman nods at her then stares longingly at her lit cigarette.
Rest is seriously not wanting to deal with someone staring at her right now. God forbid a woman wants to be left alone.
“Can I come in?” the pink haired woman asks. She’s still staring at the cigarette, following it as Rest brings it up to her mouth. “I know it sounds insane, but I was meant to meet up with someone here, a-and he ghosted me.”
Rest looks the woman up and down. She looks young, no older than twenty two. Not a likely threat. Plus, Rest knew how awful men could be. She tried a few in her early twenties before realizing she was a lesbian.
“Whatever,” Rest says. She can already tell that she’s going to regret this. “But you can’t say anything to any reporter or whatever that you were with me. I’m not some cover story for your fifteen minutes of fame.”
The woman looks confused. “Why would I-? Nevermind. Thank you so much. I promise to leave tomorrow,” she says. Rest puts out her cigarette then unlocks the apartment door, allowing the young woman inside first.
“What’d you say your name was?” the woman asks once they’re in Rest’s apartment. She kicks off her shoes and tosses the cigarette butt in the garbage.
“I didn’t,” she replies, almost coldly.
“Oh.”
“My guest room is this way,” Rest says, motioning towards the hallway of her apartment. She’d moved here back when she actually had friends, but ever since her unwanted fame, no one slept in there anymore.
The last person to sleep in her guest room was Eve, after their fight that led to her not sleeping in Rest’s bed anymore. She pushes down the deep ache that memory gives her.
“Thank you, again,” the woman says. “I’m, uh, Beat. Yup.”
She says it like she’s trying to convince herself that that’s her name, but Rest literally could not care if this woman was lying to her about her name. There’s no way she’d know regardless.
“Cool. I’m Rest,” she introduces herself. Beat nods and shoots some very awkward finger guns. Rest looks at her weird before walking away so the younger woman can get comfortable or whatever it is she needs to be.
And she hates to admit it, but that night she feels a lot less lonely. She hates that the presence of this stranger brings her comfort, and she hates herself even more when she tells the young woman that she can stay as long as she wants.
After the weekend ends, Rest goes back to work. The only rule she leaves for Beat, who doesn’t have a job currently, is to clean up any messes she makes. That’s all she wanted.
But when she gets home, the apartment is cleaner than she left it. Her garbage is taken out, the dishes are done, the hardwood is swept and mopped, the carpet is vacuumed, and the laundry has been done and folded. Rest is in absolute awe, and she lets Beat know that she can stay as long as she wants.
“And it’s not because I like having you around,” Rest tells her. “The cleaning isn’t why either. That’s simply a nice perk. It’s only because I know you need a place.”
“I’ll repay you as soon as I can,” Beat promises. Rest isn’t sure how much she believes that, but she gives her a nod of approval nonetheless.
And she hates that, over the next few weeks, she starts to enjoy being around Beat. Sometimes, Beat would go visit her friends at local bars. She kept saying that these friends would let Beat stay with her if Rest wanted her out, but every time, Rest found herself saying that she could stay before even realizing the words were coming out of her.
It’s not like she wants to keep Beat around. The company was only convenient and made her mental health better. It never occurred to her that her forced isolation was bad for her.
It was late one Saturday night. Beat was a bit drunker than she usually got with her friends, so Rest had put her to bed a few hours ago and given her a glass of water with painkillers. Now, Rest was on her balcony, smoking one of her cigarettes, simply enjoying the quiet.
She’s not even sure of the time; all she knows is that it’s far too late for her to be awake right now, but she couldn’t sleep, so here she is.
The sliding of her glass door makes her jump and nearly drop her lit cigarette off the edge.
“Hey,” Beat says quietly. She was definitely still drunk, but not nearly as much as before.
“Hey.” Rest flicks the ash at the end of her cigarette. “Thought you were asleep.”
Beat shrugs, stumbling into the railing. “Couldn’t sleep.” She pauses for a moment, staring at Rest’s cigarette like she did the first day they met, then teases, “Thought you’d be asleep.”
Rest laughs. “Also couldn’t sleep,” she admits, puffing on her cigarette. “Can I ask you something?”
Beat shrugs, resting her head on the railing. “Everything fucking spins when I- when. When I look. Or move my head. So I’m gonna-.” She trails off.
“Why do you always stare?” Rest asks. Beat hiccups and glances at her.
“Can you put that out on me?”
“Sorry, what?”
“Nothing. I don’t know.” Beat hiccups again. “Kinda wanna bum one off of you.”
“Do you smoke or something?” Rest asks. She hates how desperate she sounds, like she wants someone to smoke with, even though that’s not something she’s ever had before.
“I’ve never bought cigarettes, so They don’t know anything,” she admits. “Doesn’t mean I don’t do that shit.” She hiccups, but this time she seems a lot more annoyed than the other two times.
“Don’t you have asthma?” Rest asks. “Didn’t you tell me that a while ago?”
Beat shrugs. “As if that used to stop smokers before,” she laughs. “Most people vape now, y’know.”
She can’t stop giggling, and even though there’s nothing funny, Rest starts giggling too.
“What are you laughing at?” Beat asks through her laughter. She’s back to resting her head on the cold metal again.
“I don’t know!” Rest exclaims. “Because you are! Why are you giggling?”
“Vape. It’s such a stupid word,” she says. “And who over the age of, like, twenty five vapes anymore?”
“You, clearly,” Rest jokes.
Beat stares at her blankly.
“What?”
“I’m twenty one.”
“No way. What year were you born?” She finishes her cigarette and puts it out, noticing as Beat’s eyes stay trained on it.
“2125,” Beat replies casually. She blinks then rests her head back on the rail. “I am so fucking nauseous.”
“First of all, that’s not a real year people can be born in-”
“I wish it wasn’t. And also, fuck you.” Beat sticks up her middle finger.
“-and secondly, a cigarette won’t help your nausea,” Rest finishes.
“Might.”
“No, it won’t. Shut up about it.”
“Tomorrow?”
Rest pauses to think about it. It’s probable that Beat would end up stealing her cigarettes when she’s not paying attention or home, so she might as well. Plus, she was already smoking (and vaping) apparently, along with a lot more people. It turns out that because people stopped buying them, no one knew that there were people besides Rest smoking.
“Maybe,” Rest says. “But you shouldn’t be smoking.”
Beat crouches down, and Rest notices that her eyes are closed. “Neither should you, asshole. Now either you let me bum a smoke off you, or I. I don’t know. I’ll do something.”
“Go back to bed, Beat,” Rest says.
“Only if you come with me.”
Rest freezes. She wants to say yes, because it’s been so cold and lonely recently, something she only noticed after she started becoming friends with Beat. Something about her reminded her of Eve, which she always chose to ignore. But part of her thinks she should say no, simply because Beat’s drunk, and she doesn’t want her waking up and being uncomfortable.
“You’re drunk,” Rest starts.
“God, Rest, it’s not like we’re going to have sex,” Beat cuts her off, talking a bit too loudly. She’s lucky that all of her neighbours are probably asleep.
“No! No, I don’t want to sleep with you. I’m not going to try, and that didn’t even cross my mind!”
“Rude.”
“Will you shut up!? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable when you wake up tomorrow morning,” Rest explains.
Beat softens, like no one’s ever been this thoughtful with her before.
“I won’t,” Beat says. The way she says it sounds like she’s sobered up for a moment. “I want you there. I want to feel your weight next to me and I want to sync our breaths and I want to open my eyes and whisper good morning to you.” She pauses. “Rest, I lo-.”
“You’re drunk,” Rest reminds her, cutting her off before her confession. “You don’t actually want any of that.”
“Will you stop telling me what I want?” Beat shouts.
“Go to bed,” Rest tells her. There’s no room for arguments. “I’ll come lay in there with you until you go to sleep if it’ll stop you from yelling.”
Beat frowns but nods.
While they lay there in the dark, Rest thinks about everything. About how finding Beat seemed like fate, about how they were so close already, about how when they spoke, it felt like they were made for each other. But then, Beat starts snoring, and she has to hold her breath so she doesn’t laugh and wake her up.
She thinks about what it would mean for her to be with Beat the way the younger woman wants her to be. The last person she ever ended up with ended up dying after a fight, and Rest thought she’d never be able to love again. However, there was something special about Beat.
She’s not sure how to describe it. The way she would laugh and cover her mouth made Rest smile; the way that her eyes would damn near sparkle when she smiled. There was a look in her eyes that she got when she’d think she was sneakily staring at Rest, especially after a shower when she was in nothing but a towel.
Rest doesn’t notice that she falls asleep until she wakes up with a jolt of panic.
“Shit,” she mutters to herself. She feels around her jean pockets, searching for her lighter to make sure it didn’t get lost in the bed while she slept.
“What’re you looking for?” Beat asks sleepily.
“My lighter,” she replies absentmindedly.
“Mm. Maybe I hid it,” Beat says. Rest glances up at her, only now realizing that Beat was awake, and Rest had fallen asleep in her bed. She takes in the sleepy smile. “Hi.”
“Shit,” she says again. “God, Beat, I- I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be a prude,” Beat teases. “See, I told you we weren’t gonna have sex.” Her voice is almost singsongy, an I told you so tone.
“Please, just give me back my lighter,” Rest pleads. “I’ll give you a cigarette if you do.”
Beat makes a hum of disagreement, still smiling with her eyes closed. “Nope, not good enough.”
Rest thinks she can tell where this is going. She sighs and sits down on the bed, tilting her head at Beat until she opens her eyes slightly.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Beat asks. She frowns for a moment.
“Don’t be cocky. If you really want something, use your words, princess.” Rest doesn’t miss how Beat’s face changes, and she straight up laughs at her. “What, cat’s got your tongue?”
“You should have my tongue instead,” Beat says. “That came out weird. I’m telling you to kiss me in order to get your lighter back.”
Rest hesitates, trying to find a way she can get back at Beat for stealing her lighter while also giving her what she wants (because let’s admit it, she wants it too).
“Please, beautiful, don’t be coy. Come on, kiss me,” Beat tells her.
“No, no, I’m going to,” Rest laughs. “I just need to find a way to get back at you for this.”
“What?!”
Before Beat can expect anything else, Rest kisses her for a moment before immediately tickling her. Beat squeals and shoves Rest, handing her her lighter.
“You’re an absolute dickhead,” Beat pouts. Rest laughs at her again.
“But you still love me!”
She heads out to the balcony before Beat can say anything about the admittance of love.
Rest hadn’t noticed her feelings for Beat until the night before but admitting them and kissing her didn’t make their relationship feel any different. And even though Rest missed Eve like nothing in the world sometimes, she thinks she can try to love again if it’s with Beat.