new york nights - aryan simhadri

𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞. - 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫, 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞

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night seven

𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐬 𝐢 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐲'𝐬 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞. but before i can even get a word in, he speaks so quickly his words slur together.

"do you have a girlfriend?" the silence is so thick i can hear the sound of someone washing their hands behind him. is he with his co-stars? are they in the fancy cast bathroom or something? or is he in a random person's bathroom?

confused, i tease, "well, say hello first."

my face falls as he says my full name with a bitterness in his voice i'm not used to. "lorcan," he pleads. 

my eyes widen as i try to swallow the lump in my throat. lorcan. not even my mother calls me that. and ary never does. normally i call him ary, sometimes aryan, but they're both interchangable. i've never been lorcan to him though- it's always been lorie. i manage to croak out, "i- no, i don't."

"you don't?" he breathes out like he's been holding it in this whole time and seems to regain himself. "but sonya posted-"

my voice laced with disbelief, i scoff. "sonya?" is he stalking her page? maybe he's asking me about a girlfriend because he has one. but then why would he ask me? does he stalk all my friend's pages? there are some embarrassing photos of me on their pages...

"yeah. walker wanted to dm her... anyway, there was a photo of you two and..." he trails off, his voice deadpan. guess ary doesn't have a secret girlfriend. even though i'm still confused, the knot in my chest loosens a little bit. probably because he's not mad anymore. "it said lorie and i- with a heart. i call you lorie. that's my thing." his voice cracks, shattering my heart into a thousand pieces. i'd rather walk through hell barefoot than ever hear that ever again. when he cries my heart becomes so heavy i can barely speak. not fun for either of us.

my eyebrows furrow as i try to lighten the situation by cracking a joke. "hey, you don't own the nickname, but no-"

"you met these guys like, a week ago! they can call you whatever you want, but this isn't... it isn't just about the nickname," his voice goes from loud to quiet by the end of the sentence.

my fists clench and i spit out, "so what if i met them a week ago? and what's it about then, aryan?"

he winces. doesn't feel good when it happens to you, does it? "i don't want you to like them more than me," he admits.

"ary-" i try to interrupt, but he keeps rambling.

"no, because why wouldn't you? they're with you in new york. they'll probably stay instead of taking a job offer four hundred miles away. they're probably always checking in on you and they're-" he chokes back a sob and sniffles. "they're better than me."

"that's not true! that's not true, ary," i try to soothe him, repeating the words over and over he used to tell me.

his voice is so low that if my ear wasn't pressed so close to the phone i'm practically part of it, i wouldn't hear him. "but i left you."

"no, you didn't leave me! i mean, you're going to come back," i chuckle in between words at the absurdity of it. i mean, i told him to go. there's no reason to feel bad about it, i'm fine. i mean, i haven't left the house besides the day imogen invited me over, but i'm just an introvert. besides work, but that's because i have to.

his voice raises a little bit. "have you even left the fucking house today? i mean, lorie, you're a wreck right now." his voice quivers near the end again, but this time the bubbling anger ignores the ache in my heart.