Thin trails of smoke curled, dancing towards the milky sky, orange from the setting sun, as Race let out a heavy breath. He was really trying to quit, dammit, but between stressful days and unending cravings, he wasn't as strong as he'd like to be. He felt like laughing. But only because he didn't want to cry.

He was on the verge of a mental break down.

He could feel it, creeping up towards the forefront of his mind despite the fact that he kept slamming doors, boarding them up inside his mind. Sure, it slowed the process, but not by much. Not enough to truly make a difference.

Fuck, he could really use a drink.

Too bad he was broke and didn't have any lying around his apartment.

He could always message someone, Finch usually had at least one bottle of something, but that would require interacting with another person.

A thought that just took way too much effort to even consider. So that wasn't going to happen.

Pushing the butt of his cigarette back between his lips, the dim gow of the tip of his nearly gone cigarette illuminating his face as he breathes in a lungful of smoke, holding it in until he felt like he was going to cough and then holding it a bit longer.

Today was exhausting.

Today was the worst.

And of course it was highly unlikely that tomorrow would be any better.

The smoke comes out in a huff as he buries his empty hand into his blond curls, tears were building up already. He takes a shaky breath. It doesn't help.

Crushing the yellow butt under his boot, he stays out in the fresh Manhattan air for another ten minutes before sighing, turning his back on the glow of the city, and trudging back into his apartment.

It's dark.

It's quiet.

It's almost cold in its emptiness.

But it's his home.

He curls up onto his bed, wearing only an oversized sweater, not bothering with blankets as he hugs his only pillow to his chest, burying his face into it.

Tears begin to seep into the soft fabric of his pillowcase and knowing that he would be unable to stop it tonight, he allows the sobs to overcome his body, stifled by only the padding his thin pillow provided.

It was a while after that, a long time later, when he had finally caught his breath and his eyes were now only slightly damp that he managed to fall asleep, still clutching his pillow to his chest.