new york nights - aryan simhadri

𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 - 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨, 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞

♥

the morning of night one

𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐫𝐤. it's not good for customers - imagine you walk into a romance bookstore to get a cute little enemies-to-lovers story about two boys who are both the heartthrobs of england and the united states, and you walk in there and you see a guy just sobbing his heart out, getting his tears all over the hardcovers.

so i decided i could wait a few little hours and go cry a little bit at home, until my lovely co-worker imogen said the worst, worst possible thing she ever could've said at that moment. "how's your little friend- the one who's always smiling... ary, right?" 

my heart feels like shards of glass that are tugging the edges, begging to stay together as a window. imogen's words are kind of like a hammer, shattering the weak pieces of glass anyway. that was a dramatic metaphor, but i'm a romance reader, what can i say?

"um..." my voice gets all wobbly, and i reach for my face as my vision blurs, tears stinging at the corners of my eyes. "i-" pathetically, i can't get another word out before i start ugly-sobbing.

imogen's eyes widen as she throws her arms around me, comforting me by shushing similar to as if i'm an inconsolable child. which i guess i am right now. "lor, what happened?"

choking back a sob, i manage to croak out, "he- went to the airport a- and left." i inhale and wipe my nose, snot getting all over my forearm. i'm not one of those people who cry and post it on pinterest then get comments like "gorgeous!!!<3". i'd probably get more comments like, "are you okay?" and stuff like "you look like you got ran over!! <3"

"oh, honey..." she trails off, looking at me like a heartbroken mother. "how do you feel?"

in between sobs i cough, "like shit!" i choke out a laugh even though tears are streaming down my face. regaining the littlest bit of composure i have, i added, "not good."

"yeah, that... that makes sense. do you want to come back to my place?" her eyes dart around the bookstore, probably looking at all the people staring at me. i weakly nod and imogen whisks me away like we're fleeing the scene of a crime. i wipe my eyes as i weave through the bustling streets of new york, my head down to not make eye contact with anyone as i get lead to imogen's apartment aimlessly.

she opens the door and upon seeing her apartment, her jaw drops. "oh, shit."

"what?" i peak my head out from behind her to see four people in the kitchen, laughing as they shove pepperoni pizza down their throats.

a petite girl with long, curly brown hair and a splash of freckles on her cheeks bounces over to the two of us. "hey babygirl!" she rests her head on imogen's shoulder and raises her eyebrows at me. "who's this cutie?"

"i'm taken," i stammer an immediate, robotic response. i'm taken? why would i say that? i swallow the lump in my throat and sniffle again.

she stares at me with her dark eyes that are practically the size of planets. then, she looks at imogen with a grin that could only mean some kind of inside joke between them. "i'm gay, don't worry."

"oh! oh. sorry." my cheeks burn as i blink rapidly, wishing i had the superpower to be invisible right now.

"it's fine, honey." she draws out the honey part just like imogen does, but instead of saying it like a concerned mother like imogen does it, honey sounds more sweet and laid-back.