Insomniacs (#1)

28. yours

I wanted to be around it all the time, the swiftness and scramble of people living their own lives and getting to their own places even when the sun had long gone to bed.

New York was beautiful when it was raining.

We'd parked up outside the address Malik had given us and ran out into the rain, Luca's jacket sheltering us as we hurried inside the large building.

It had an unconventional and abnormal architecture. The entire exterior was white and resembled large box-like shapes all stacked on top of one other and each of them alternating to different sides, unbelievably tall and oddly beautiful.

As soon as we rushed inside, rain slipping off our bodies, we were met with a large reception area.

Everything was white and glass, pristine and perplexing. I couldn't help but gawk around while Everest talked to a woman - a mesmerising woman with long legs and voluminous red hair, green eyes as sharp as a feline's.

Before I knew it, she was leading us somewhere and into an elevator. Again, it was totally transparent, situated in the middle of the floor so you were visible to everyone as you ascended upwards.

The entire atmosphere evoked placidity and hush. There was no bustle as there was outside, only a few people wandering here and there.

Each floor was visible as we passed through them, complex architecture and obscure art pieces everywhere. There were open rooms of exhibits, all with selected themes of ambiguousness.

There was a floor solely dedicated to sculptures, all placed on uniformed pedestals all around you. It was a perfect formation and difficult for my eyes to keep up with.

The elevator dinged and I snapped out of it, glancing at Luca who was already looking at me with a small smile, his camera hung around his neck. I liked it on him.

The dinging of the elevator snapped us out of it as we followed the woman out. Immediately, this floor was much more populous with kids our age - still calm but more youthful.

"The exhibit was designed for young, aspiring artists. It's an unbelievable opportunity - being able to say your art has held place in this building. It practically guarantees the success of your career." The woman explained, a gentle smile on her face, "Your friend must be incredibly talented."

"He is." We all said at the same time.

And then we caught sight of Malik just as he turned and caught sight of us. He hurried over immediately, a beautifully wide smile on his face. He wore a mocha turtleneck with a matching blazer and black slacks, the colours complimenting his darker skin tone and making him look formal, deserving.

"You made it." He grasped my shoulders. I couldn't get a word out before he'd wrapped me up in a hug. I laughed and wrapped my arms back around him.

"I'm so proud of you, Mal." I said to him and his arms tightened around me just the slightest. I'd known this idiot since we were little freshmans and he was always sketching on textbooks.

"Thank you." He kissed the side of my head before pulling away, "Ready for the final reveal?"

"Lead the way, artiste." I plastered on a French accent, waving him to go ahead.

There were beautiful pieces all around us, hung up on walls with families and friends gathered around them, in support of what their loved one had created.

We'd reached the select painting Malik had never even let me glimpse but the guys were in front of me so the view was blocked momentarily.

"God, I hope you like it." Malik breathed out a sigh in an attempt to compose himself before stepping to the side and revealing his piece.