[G] Petrichor

The startling sound of glass shattering silenced the entire bar for the third time that night. The customers briefly erupted into laughter and applause and conversation resumed quickly. The commotion deafened steadily as the back door swung closed, swivelling back and forth a few times before settling to a halt.

The smoke burned his throat as it slid into his lungs at each drag taken from the cigarette. Ivan wasn't a habitual smoker, but it helped dull the inevitable incoming piercing migraine while he was on a shift. He kept the smoke in for a lingering moment, and hissed before exhaling it slowly. He watched it dissipate in the thick late night air, the smell of burnt herbs and paper mingling with that of trash and of fresh after rain dampness. He ran some fingers through his hair - humidity really had made it unruly - and let his hand come to rest on his shoulder. He stretched his neck left and right, which only pulled his knotted muscles even more taut.

A server pushed past the door, carrying a heap of trash for disposal. Ivan didn't even bother acknowledging his coworker, his pulsing migraine having pulled him into some kind of hellish, ringing trance.

"Ivan," the man called out. Ivan opened eyes he didn't remember closing and turned to greet his co-worker with a grunt. "Headache?" Although they had worked together for a long time, he startled at the third eye on Ivan's forehead darting in his direction menacingly. 

"I'm fine," Ivan responded with a sigh, pressing the burning tip of his half-smoked cigarette into the wall wet with rain before flicking it into a pile of trash.

"Sure don't look like it," the server retorted. He rolled his wrinkled left sleeve up - it had come undone at some point - and wiped his palms on the front of his apron. "Just go home, I'll cover."

Ivan was generally the one offering to take over shifts; he avoided going home before dawn as to not wake his sleeping husband. Their clashing schedules weren't an issue, but he wished he could see his husband for more than the time it took the sun to reach its apex in the sky. He wanted to refuse, but a needle-like pain stabbed into the very core of his brain and that changed his mind almost instantly. "Yeah, all right."

-

Just as he thought, Ciera was sound asleep in the mess of sheets and pillows that was their bed, cradled by the dim darkness of early morning. Ivan carefully sat on the bed and lightly brushed a stray hair away from his husband's face. He smiled as Ciera's nose scrunched and as he mumbled something in his sleep. He peeked one eye open, pulled from his dreams, and let out a soft sigh.

"It's not time to wake up yet," Ivan whispered. "Go back to sleep." He placed a gentle, loving kiss on Ciera's temple, which earned him a smile and a content hum.

"Don't smoke..." Ciera mumbled before falling silent. Ivan leaned back against the headboard and let Ciera snuggle into his side. His left hand found the other's, so small and delicate compared to his, and he brushed a thumb over the small wedding band on the pale finger. Ciera's breathing slowed to a steady rhythm, already drifting back to deep slumber. It made Ivan a little jealous while he fought against insomnia and a throbbing headache that shut his eyes. Even behind closed lids, he could see the violet and blue light of rising dawn flooding the room as the sun peeked shyly over the horizon.