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milayah.
I don't compromise.
What's the point? Things will always be more in one person's favour than the other. Nothing is ever really fair.
It's impossible.
I sprawl on the plush, absurdly large sofa in the dimly lit penthouse, bored out of my mind. The city lights sparkled as the city stayed alive through the night, but they did little to lift my spirits.
I glance at the clock- 01:46. Azrael still wasn't back.
I sigh, adjusting my pink sweatpants and flipping through the channels on the TV, though nothing could hold my interest.
The only things that seemed to be on at this time of night were true crime and dodgy 90s cartoons.
The sound of the elevator doors opening pulls me from the sleep that had begun to cloud my senses. When I turn my head, I see Azrael walk in, his usually immaculate appearance slightly tarnished- his shirt was crumpled and more buttons seemed to be undone than from earlier that day and the locks on his head that had always been untamed seemed even wilder now.
His tie was askew and a dull, worn out looke plagued his grey eyes.
He barely acknowledged me as he headed to the kitchen, throwing a black duffel bag onto the kitchen counter.
"I'm going to get some air." He mutters, running a hand through his dark hair.
I watch him, my curiosity peaked. "Can I come with you?" I ask, more out of boredom than genuine interest.
Azrael pauses, looking at me with tired eyes. "Sure."
I quickly slip on a pair of sliders and a hoodie over my pyjamas under his watchful gaze and walk towards him, the closer I get the more prominent the smell of tobacco and cologne radiating from his clothes.
We leave the penthouse and ride the elevator down in silence.
He sends a quick, dismissive nod to his guards and we make our way outside, the cool night air a pleasureable change from the stifling atmosphere inside.
In silence, yet again, we walk towards the quiet streets of Los Angeles, me slightly freaked out by the silence and the darkness, him seemingly unfazed and lost in thought.
After a few minutes of walking, we find ourselves in a small park a few blocks away from the hotel, the night around us so still, as if it had been frozen in time and quiet, except for the occasional rustle of the leaves or the crackle of the branches beneath our feet.
The park at 2am was like a silent oasis, draped in the soft glow of the starlight above.
The moon also hung high, casting a silvery shine over the uncut grass and the trees that were gently swaying in the summer breeze.
