Wish

The cold wind caressed his dark brown hair and little bursts of steam escaped his mouth. The green light woke up his feet that has settled into the shallow white layer beneath him. He cursed himself silently in his head for not bringing a hat because fog would occasionally cover his lenses and blur his view. This is his second visit to this city. The city that never sleeps as they call it. He thinks it's a fitting place for him since his runaway soul keeps him awake even on the other side of the globe. He looked up at the endless buildings towering over him.

If I climb up there, would I reach heaven?

He wondered as he raises his head in an attempt to search for the end of these spires. The black glove hugging his right hand made it difficult for him to open his side pocket to get his wiper. When his glasses have finally become clear, he started walking again, a Boston bag dangling from his left shoulder.

It's been a week since he arrived in Manhattan. Counting his first visit last year, today would mark a month's stay in this city that's bustling with people who seem to live their lives in fast forward time. In the blink of an eye, he would see five people, and when he blinks his eyes again, a completely different set of people would appear. A city filled with wonder, strangers, and dreams. To him, that is what New York will always be. Even living here for a month isn't enough to scratch the surface of what this city has to offer.

Stores in the street are garnished with lights of various colors and the holiday medley rings through the air. The entrances to theatre halls are guarded by people giving away flyers. Their hotel is in the middle of this street, a bit far from his destination tonight, but he chose to let his feet guide him there. He watched as the small ounce of reddish orange in the sky fades, only to be replaced by a deep dark blue. A sign that says "Broadway" tightly clings at a light post and for some reason, excitement boiled up inside him. He found himself stopping in front of a theater hall, humbly accepting a flyer from a man dressed in a black suit, and he skimmed through the plot summary of tonight's play. Apparently, the 7:00 show is their main play for their monthly cycle. If only he had the time, he would definitely see it. But someone's waiting for him, and he's been itching to see this person for weeks.

He folded the flyer and put it inside his bag before resuming his walk. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. In his mind, he taunted himself because of how fast his heart started beating when he saw the sender of the message. He sent a quick reply and began walking fast, so fast that in just five minutes, he has caught sight of the flag of his destination. New York University is a prestigious university in itself but specifically, the Tisch School of the Arts is home to famous artists in the field of acting, film and theatre. The awe and excitement he felt when he first laid his eyes on this university has never faded, even after multiple visits to this place.

His pace quickened when he saw a familiar figure in a black coat waiting by the entrance gate. Their face was partially covered with a white scarf, but he would recognize that beautiful pair of eyes, that sharp nose and those light brown locks anywhere. He snuck behind the boy who was busy fumbling with his phone and caught him in his embrace. The person almost let out a shout before covering his mouth in embarrassment.

"Krit!"

He could only laugh as the other showered his hands with slaps. The other's white scarf failed to hide his reddening face. Whether he's blushing because of the cold or because of his hug, Krit didn't know. But he knew what to do when the other's arms moved to wrap around his waist. He returned the hug, almost crushing the life out of the other as he buries his face on the pale neck and takes in his scent. A rosy fragrance, most likely from the air freshener in the room he just came out of.