the good old days - THE STROKES

Part Twenty One - Really Fucking Sexy

The Museum of Modern Art, Manhattan, NYC

Sunday, May 25th, 1997

Nick Valensi

I rush through the main entrance of the Museum of Modern Arts, looking down at my watch, 12:00 exactly. I take a quiet breath, looking at myself in the mirrored walls, ruffling up my hair a bit with my right hand, my left hand holding a small bouquet of roses that I picked up on the way here. You look fine, Valensi, I think to myself, looking away from my reflection and walking to the front desk of the building. I look around the lobby I'm in, for the first time admiring its quirkiness. Sculptures decorate the room, the walls are painted in murals and the ceiling is slanted with patterns and figures etched into it.

"Hello?", the old woman at the counter greets coldly, looking up at me.

I approach the desk, "Hi, I'm here for Maya Sorensen, floor 2.", my voice speaks nervously.

She sighs through gritted teeth, "It's pronounced Sørensen, not Sorensen.", the woman emphasises on the 'o'.

Shit, I've been fucking up her name this whole time. "Oh, thanks.", she wrinkles her forehead in response. Wait, how the fuck does she know Maya's name when I didn't even know? "Does Maya work here?".

The old lady scoffs at me, that's really fucking nice of her. "Do you even know her?", she asks, voice bitter.

I think about that question for a short moment. Technically no, I mean, shit, I don't know that much about her, not even how to pronounce her name prior to a minute ago. But what I do know is that heart-stopping smile, that laugh that'll make any sane person melt, what I do know is her soft lips and how they fit so perfectly on mine. "Yes.", I say confidently.

The woman rolls her eyes and picks up the phone in front of her, pressing a button and waiting for the person down the line to pick up. A few moments of awkward silence pass before the electronic voice of a man scratches out of the receiver. "There's this young man down here at the desk saying he's here for Maya, can you confirm?", she speaks. 'Can you confirm?', what the fuck is this secret agent spy bullshit? Is Maya the president's daughter? The voice on the phone speaks again and the old receptionist tells him "Goodbye.". The woman hangs up the phone and opens a drawer beside her, pulling out a lanyard. She passes it to me and I take a look at it, "VIP, FLOOR 2 CLEARANCE", it reads in big, red letters. Shit, maybe Maya is the president's daughter. "The stairs are over there.", she points to the back of the lobby. I nod and follow her directions, eager to retreat from the rude fossil.

While walking up the flight of stairs, a middle-aged lady stumbles down them. I quickly put down the flowers in my hands and help her up, picking her off the steps by her arms. She laughs before slurring a thank you.

"Are you sure you're okay?", I ask concerned. She just keeps laughing, looking at me, the blue of her eyes familiar but I forget that as a white powder sits on the rim of her nostrils. "You have a little something there?", I gesture, pointing my hand to my own nose to show her.

"Oh, that's just some setting powder, silly boy,", the lady smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "Thank you, again.", she exclaims before continuing down the stairs, wiping away the powder viciously with the back of her hand. Man, junkies these days.

I pick up the flowers and go up the rest of the stairs, walking down a large hallway until I pass by a door with a security guard standing next to it, the sign above it reading 'GALLERY 1'. "Sir, this is a closed exhibit. Do you have identification?", the guard asks. I grab the card on my lanyard and show it to the guard to which they nod and open the door for me.

I enter the exhibit, paintings surround me. People swarm the large gallery, moving in herds led by what I believe to be conductors. Walking deeper into the room, I spot one person standing alone in front of a large landscape painting of what looks like Times Square on New Year's Eve, all bright and colourful. Her blue hair under the gallery's bright light makes it look like it's glowing like she's some magical fairy. I approach, my footsteps quiet on the concrete floor. I open my mouth to talk but she beats me to it, "What do you think?", her soft voice speaks.

"About what?", I ask, her back still facing me.

"The painting.", Maya says simply.

I walk beside her, my hand centimetres away from hers. Looking up at the coated canvas, I stare at it for a long moment, analyzing it. In the centre of the painting is Times Square's Famous Ball Drop, the large sphere edging down. There's a clock on a big billboard, the hand's millimetres away striking midnight. Thousands of people all huddled together, holding their cameras out, the spark of firework fuses starting to go off lights the tops of the building, yet not one loose explosion of colour, like the quiet before the storm hits.

"You could cut the tension in this painting with a knife. It's all building up but with no payoff. I dunno, I guess it's just strange.", I spill my thoughts.

"How come?"

"You'd expect the painting to be exactly on the countdown, you know, when there's fireworks and there's confetti everywhere. But it's not, all that anticipation, it just leaves you feeling kinda empty.", as I finish explaining what I think about the painting Maya looks at me for the first time since I've been here. Shit, I sound so fucking cringe right now. "Uh, I mean, I'm probably wrong, what do you think about the painting?", I throw the question back at her, embarrassed.

Maya laughs before reaching forward to the painting and tapping on a plaque beneath it that reads "UNFULFILLMENT painted by Maya Sørensen". I stand there pathetically for a moment, thinking my eyes are fucking with me. I read it again, "UNFULFILLMENT painted by Maya Sørensen". Fucking hell, I'm the world's biggest idiot.

When I look back at her, she's facing me, her beautiful face brandishing a wide smile. Maya throws her arms up and wraps them around my neck tightly. My hands grip her waist, a task proved difficult while also holding a bouquet of flowers. The warmth of her cheek radiates through my suit as she rests it against my chest. "Believe me, I'm not always this slow.", I whisper, my chin resting on the top of her head.

Maya laughs, letting go of me. "Are those for me?", she looks down at the flowers in my hand.

"Of course not, why would you think that?", I smirk, passing them to her.

She brings the rose petals to her nose, taking a deep sniff. "Uhh, the horrid smell of pollen. I love them.", she jokes, quickly grabbing my hand and tugging me.

"Where are we going?", I ask, walking with her.

"It's stuffy in here, let's go get some fresh air."

"Isn't this your exhibit?", I say, confused.

"It's a co-exhibit. Nobody would care, if anyone wanted to speak to me they would have already. It'll only take a minute anyways.", Maya replies as she takes me to a back room. As we enter she lets go of my hand, sets down the roses on a table and opens a door that leads to a balcony. I follow her.

The second the door slams shut behind us, Maya leans up and kisses me. Not wildly or passionately but softly. Like pressing too hard would break me or something. I kiss her back, trying to match her gentleness. She pulls away for a moment, "You look really fucking sexy in this suit.", she mumbles before our lips meet again. Kudos to Albert.

Y/N:

I saw a picture of Nick today that made me cry because it was so adorable. I LOVE HIM SM! also new måneskin mv, very exciting! Don't forget to vote and comment literally whatever you want, it's so fun going through all of them. ummm comment ur fave strokes album, mines probably comedown machine or fioe!

-2sad2die <3