Spring Flower (A Seventeen Fanfiction)

Chapter One: Chicago

There's something serene about wandering through a city at night. The skyscrapers twinkle with lights, taking the weight off of the stars, even if it's for just a moment. Cars silently coast over black asphalt, their bodies clinking when crossing over yet another untouched pothole. There are a few drunken revelers leaving the bars for the night, their raucous calls dancing across the damp sidewalk. My breath turns into a cloud of puffy white air before me.

It's not like I have a death wish or anything, especially when you consider that I'm walking around in the murder capital of the world. But, there's a strange sense of clarity that comes with being alone in a quiet, sleeping city. It allows you to finally settle into your thoughts, and maybe help figure out what it is that you've been feeling lately.

Well, at least, I've been missing that clarity in my life. I'm twenty-four years old, and two and a half years out of undergrad. I have a degree in journalism, but a job working full-time at my nearby Target. I just failed yet another secondary interview at a newspaper in Chicago, which left me to wallow in a drunken haze all weekend—much to my friends' chagrin. Tess was one drunken rant away from kicking me out of her place and she knew I was well aware of that fact. Maybe that's the reason why I've been aimlessly wandering through the city for the past hour or so now. While Tess went to bed, my mind couldn't possibly be more awake.

I'm not saying I'm proud of my drunken wandering through life. All I'm saying is that things are difficult right now. But, then again, they're difficult for everyone, aren't they?

My phone buzzes in my pocket. Most likely my sister, yet again wondering why I'm not back at home yet. I laugh at nothing, taking one last drag from the butt of my cigarette.

Another habit I'm not proud of.

I toss the cigarette on the ground and grind into it with my heel. I reach my trembling fingers into the depths of my coat pocket. My hand brushes against the cold metal of my car keys and wraps around the rectangle of my phone.

Back home. Concert was great, btw. You should've come—plenty of scalper tickets for sale and there was a section of empty seats.

When are you coming back? Mom's expecting you tonight.

Zara? ZARA!

Seriously? It's almost 1am and you're still in the city? Don't you work tomorrow morning? You know... like six hours from now?

I slip my phone back into my pocket and turn to make my way back toward Tess's apartment. My sister, Maya, means well, but sometimes she can be as overbearing as my mother. But I know she's right—I do have to be at work in the morning, and the last thing I need is to lose my job over one-too-many call-ins.

A harried figure rushes down the sidewalk, his head hanging low, a puffy black winter jacket hugging his frame. The drifting light from the street lamps brush across his lean figure. His head is lowered, his eyes most likely tracing patterns across the grimy ground. Skyscrapers and apartment buildings hug against us tightly; I've never felt so small before.

Standing on the slim sidewalk, I try to step around him, but it's too late. Like a bull in full charge, he walks straight toward me and knocks me onto the ground. Dirty snow begins melting into the seat of my pants, further freezing me in the cold weather. I curse under my breath as the melting snow burns against my skin. In the dim street light, I peer up at the hooded figure that knocked me down. Silvered hair peeks out from beneath a knitted black cap. His eyes are shaped like a cat, the colored indiscernible. His lips are parted in a surprised 'O.'

With a groan, I get to my feet.

"You okay?" his English is hesitant and heavy with an accent. "I'm sorry."