4 | the forgotten boy
Feeling the cold breeze out in the balcony and gazing at the little stars that can be seen through this part of town seemed almost unreal. This was New York at its finest hours. The buzz of music and chatters of people heading towards a party (there were a lot of those here), the reflection of bright lights indicating that this city never truly sleeps, and the soft chilly wind reminding me that Winter's coming.
It was almost 3 a.m. now and the idea of sleep seemed like a waste seeing as I had to be up and going by 7 in the morning for my class. It had been almost... 4 years now?
Exhaling a heavy sigh I ruffled my hair. It had been 4 years since my sister's death, and have been 3 years since I'd been able to sleep peacefully without any reminders of the past. So why tonight, of all nights, did I dream about the boy I grew up with?
Was it because I was finally thinking about moving a little forward from where I had been? Or the fact that I have been thinking about actually attending one of those memorial days for my sister?
I thought about the night of, the night I have always regretted and still somehow thankful that it happened. The guilt that I felt the morning after, guilty, so so so guilty, because it felt right. I felt comforted and... ashamed that it happened the way it happened.
Ashamed that it happened in my sister's room, on her bed, on the day she died. All because I was being selfish. All because I had blamed her. Choking back on a sob, I leaned on the wall for support and unlocked my phone, scrolling through my photos to find an old screenshot of a message I kept.
Why didn't you say goodbye? -Michael
I'm sorry. -Michael
I don't even know what I'm sorry for though? I was there for you wasn't I? -Michael
I don't regret it. -Michael
If this is your way of moving on, then I get it. I thought we had a bigger history between us. I just have one question? Did you ever consider us as friends? I didn't until that night. I didn't realize how much you challenged me to be my best self until that night. UGHHHH. This is so lame. Don't ever show anyone I sent this. I still have a reputation to care about. Just... Don't forget me A. -Michael
Truth be told I hadn't a clue why I screenshotted and kept the conversation. I had changed my number shortly after arriving at Julliard hell-bent on leaving my past behind. Refusing to acknowledge it to anyone.
Did you ever consider us as friends? I don't know. He was always there growing up and I didn't exactly fit in well enough in high school to be able to bond and make friends as easily as him. I was also always away for the competitions, and I had been bumped up a grade which meant a lot of my classmates felt like an inferior compared to me. It wasn't until college did I find others like me, who shared similar views and accepted me the way I am.
I was scouted when I was performing a piece at a recital that Julliard holds every now and then, and ever since I've been modeling part-time as another means to earn money. Sometimes the cash was large, and sometimes small. But it was an easy enough job that didn't take too much of my time.
I had met a guy during a fashion show with an uncanny resemblance to Michael. I remembered freezing up backstage as I stared at him, mouth open and all. He thought I was a fan. That was a year ago when it happened.
If I met him now, will I still freeze up? How will I know that I'll be fine? How will I know those thoughts of myself won't resurface and push me to the abys again?
Groaning, I took another sip of my wine. And another. And another. I stopped when I finally felt tipsy enough to be able to sleep. I set up at least 3 different alarms all from different areas of my room so that it'll annoy me enough to get out of bed.
This time a different boy came to my dreams.
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"How've you been anyway? How's NYU?" Sebastian asked as he joined John at the bar. John only grunted a short fine and observed his surroundings. John have always hated attending social events. The unnecessary old rich white men shaking hands with one another ready to make another deal, the younger sons being played like a piece in chess, and he especially hated how the people from new money were treated like. It was almost like, if you weren't born into it, then you weren't wealthy enough.
Scoffing at the thought, he finished the remaining of his scotch and slid his card for the bartender.
"Well aren't you delightful. Stop frowning. You'll get crinkles and look more like your old man." Sebastian laughed when John showed him his displeased face and nudged his shoulders. His engagement ring took John's attention. Right. This guy's about to get hitched. He thought to himself smiling.
Finally giving in, he asked a simple question. "How's Rebecca?" At that, Sebastian gave a huge grin showing off his dimples. His forest green eyes twinkling with passion.
"She's great. So great at dealing with all these wedding nuisances our parents cooked up that's for sure...��� He answered distantly.
Raising an eyebrow, John wondered if everything was truly okay. He had heard about how their marriage had been arranged ever since they were born. There were rumors that it was all just a facade to bring their families together. But he knew Sebastian, and he knew Rebecca. And he's seen how much love the two have for each other.
"So? Why the long face? Need me to host a bachelor party or something?" John jokingly asked, while also hoping that Seb would say no. It had already been an hour and he had been itching to leave the party.
Sebastian only gave him a polite smile and shook his head. "I heard you caught a princess today."
"Oh my god stop stalking me and getting information about me from your cousin!" John half yelled as Seb guffawed in laughter, losing his composure as he felt his face turned red at yesterday's event.
He was so going to talk to Carl about privacy.
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I don't actually know a lot about NY.
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