Welcome to The New Classic, where the past and the present merge, to form a new future.
Once that no one can see coming...
Join Angelo, Vanessa and the rest of the gang three and a half long years after that fateful night.
Lo kept count. V didn't...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Picture this.
He uses the tip of his index finger to trace the shape of your nail beds. When he gets to the cuticle of your pinky, he feels a little bit of roughness, caused by your nail tech accidentally pushing on it too hard. He uses his grip on your hand to raise it to his lips, just so he can kiss it better.
The act is so innocuous, he has no way of knowing what it triggered for you.
Emblematic of his return to your life, he intuitively rooted out minuscule injuries that you saw as the kind of weathering that came part and parcel with life. Whether that came in the shape of a kiss, or his unique ability to decipher your most cryptic thoughts; the fact remained that he was thorough in his exploration of you. And he was always willing to extend some much needed tenderness when required.
This was a side of him that was reserved for you. You bring out the best in him, after all.
His investigation of your manicure initially emerged out of a need to distract himself from the emotions he coursing through him. He was currently narrating the process of identifying his biggest fear, which was being up al sorts of feelings.
Decidedly, these kinds of heavy topics were left for this time of day. It felt more natural to unburden one's mind of doubt and its many companions under the cover of nightfall, in hopes of ridding yourself of anything that might prevent you starting the next day afresh.
Despite having spent the whole day together, you two had yet to run out of things to talk about.
Even though this was not his city, he still made the effort to take you out to some of the most underrated spots in town. In fact, the two of you were just settling into bed from your latest outing; a breakfast date which had turned into an all-day-long affair.
You listen intently while he recounts stories of the many people whom he once admired, who all seemed to have prioritised wealth in one realm in their lives, over the other.
He tells you about a point when he couldn't see a path for his own life that wouldn't lead him to the same destination; rich in materials but bereft in connection. A person who inflicted pain on those he loved the most, because he didn't know how to exist in any other way.
It went beyond a fear of dying alone. He was scared of leading life in such a way that the people that survived him felt a sense of relief he was gone. To have negatively impacted someone's life so profoundly, they could only breathe again when he passed on.
Damn.
What a fear to have.
And yet, when you framed it with everything he'd learned about himself over the years, it was easy to see where it came from.
