#views from the manhattan bridge

[israelcastillophoto]

Rooftops….

[tikkunolamresistance]

A Torah scroll that survived desecration by British troops during the American Revolution is now on display at the New-York Historical Society, part of an exhibit connected to the society’s three-year, $65 million reopening.

The scroll from the Shearith Israel synagogue, the oldest Jewish congregation in the United States and New York’s only Judaic house of worship for nearly a century, still has burn marks on it from the British ransacking of the city in 1776.

In August of that year, shortly after the signing of the Declaration of Independence, George Washington and his troops retreated to Manhattan Island after being routed by the British on Long Island.

Washington wanted desperately to hold onto whatever small scrap of New York he could, but by November his army had been booted from Manhattan. The British would occupy the area for the remainder of the war, according to The Jewish Week.

During the occupation, thousands of rebel sympathizers fled the city as British troops looted and pillaged, setting fire to homes, bridges and even Congregation Shearith Israel, which was built in 1729.

The synagogue had bought two Torah scrolls when it was built, one Sephardic and one Ashkenazi, since the community was split.

And during the Revolution, the British attacked both scrolls, though it is the Ashkenazi one that is now on display, according to The Jewish Week.

“They set one on fire, and they slashed the other with a sword,” said Rabbi Hayyim Angel, the current rabbi at Temple Shearith Israel.

Jewish law requires that desecrated holy texts be buried, but Angel and other scholars speculate that the community realized the historic value of the damaged scrolls and kept them instead, according to the publication. 

It’s not clear where the scrolls were kept during the seven years of the British occupation. Most of the Shearith Israel congregants fled the city, since they were rebel sympathizers and some believe they may have taken the scrolls with them.

Another possibility is that the British forces protected them. The British employed Hessian soldiers, troops hired out by German rulers to the British to help fight the war, and at least one of them in the city was Jewish, said Debra Schmidt Bach, a curator at the society.

Whatever the case, the attack on the scrolls was probably not an anti-Semitic attack, according to Bach.

“It was part and parcel of the vandalism that was going on throughout the city,” she said.

Moreover, British commanders harshly punished the two British soldiers who attacked the synagogue. “One was lashed so severely he died from his wounds,” Bach added.

Other items on display during the exhibition include features Sabbath candle holders and a Chanukah menorah by famed Colonial silversmith Myer Myers; two portraits of Jews who fought in the War of 1812; and a book of poems by Emma Lazarus, a congregation member whose poem, “The New Colossus,” adorns the Statue of Liberty.

The exhibition opened Nov. 11 at the New-York Historical Society, and will be on view for about four months. The museum is located at 170 Central Park West.

(Above: The Shearith Israel Torah scroll that was burned by British troops in 1776. Photo by The Jewish Week.)

[make-friends-with-the-rats]

I found another map! Bird's-eye-view of Manhattan and adjacent districts, New York City, c 1903(?)

Red: The Brooklyn Bridge Yellow: The New York World Building Green: Duane Street and the Newsboys' Lodging House Blue: Baxter Street, the location of the Jacobs family's tenement apartment according to the original Hard Promises script

Here's a closer view of the lodging house (green) and "Newspaper Row."

Newspaper Row, or Park Row, ia adjacent to City Hall Park and was the location of the World (yellow), the Sun (obscured by the Tribune), the Tribune (blue), and the times (red) in the late 19th century. [source]

Newspaper Row, c 1900. Left to Right: the New York World, The Sun, The Tribune, and the New York Times.

The New York Tribune, founded by Horace Greely in 1841, was the original location of the Horace Greely statue featured in Newsies. It was dedicated in 1890 and was later moved from the Tribune to City Hall Park in 1915 where it still stands today.

Horace Greeley Statue Outside New York Tribune Building, c January 1, 1900. and Greeley statue in City Hall Park, c 1915 - 1920.

The New York Sun, at which Bryan Denton and Katherine Plumber work, was located beside the Tribune on the intersection of Nassau and Frankfort streets.

"The Sun," 1893 black and white halftone print.

The Newsboy's Lodging House, or the Brace Memorial Lodging House, was opened in 1874 by the Children's Aid Society. It stood at the intersection of three streets: William Street, Duane Street, and Chambers Street (all three of which I have highlighted in green in the above map). In 1899, the lodging house's address was 9 Duane Street. [source]

Newsboys' Lodging House, c 1899.

If you travel up north, you can also locate on this map the Irving Place Theatre, otherwise known as Irving Hall or Medda's Theatre.

Originally opened in 1860 as Irving Hall, Irving Place Theatre was rebuilt in 1888 as "Amberg's German Theatre." It became known as the Irving Place Theatre in 1893. [source]

The theatre's address was 118 E. 15th Street and was located between 14th and 15th streets, at the southwest corner of 15th street and Irving Place. Irving Place Theatre was demolished in 1894 to build the Zeckendorf Towers. [source]

Top: Irving Place Theatre, undated. Bottom: Irving Place Theatre, c 1912.

---

(link to reblog with the refuge added)

[lwtperseus]

opinion: I read Alabaster's short story and really enjoyed seeing his point of view on the war. It's pretty obvious that he's bitter, but he's right in everything he said about the gods. But one thing I didn't understand is Alabaster saying that during the war the CHB only had 16 casualties. Like, Percy says that the CHB has very few people, he keeps count, while Kronos' army was much larger. We know that demigods died in the CHB invasion of PJO⁴ and that others joined Kronos, that's why there were so few left, and Percy says that many died in the battle of Manhattan, I believe that a large part of them were from cabin 7 when the bridge fell. So for me this number doesn't make sense and maybe it was a scoop from Halley. But I thank Halley for this short story, the guy did a great job and answered some cool questions about the universe.

[artbyblastweave]

Curious if you'd say you've ever seen a superhero work that genuinely deserved the alt-history genre classifier, and otherwise at what point its even possible to use it vs going 'this has decades of in-universe history but doesn't deserve to be called alt-history for [REASONS]'

Only one I can think of off-hand that has enough granulated timeline-development would be Wild Cards, but curious if you think others qualify and/or if you think WC doesn't qualify

I can't really comment on Wild Cards extensively (haven't read that much of it) but I can comment on a few other works. To briefly be the guy who talks about the same three works all the time:

Watchmen I think totally qualifies- Nixon is on his fifth term, electric cars are ubiquitous due to Dr. Manhattan's ability to synthesize lithium, Vietnam is the 51st state, the zeitgeist is consumed by pirate comics, and everyone in New York got murdered by a giant fake squid. And superheroes are real.

Unfortunately I also have to note that The Boys flirted with this; among other things, superheroic "intervention" resulted in the Brooklyn Bridge getting destroyed during 9/11, Prescott Bush and some of the other Business plot guys got wiped out during an attempted superheroic field test in World War 2, The War on Terror is being fought primarily in Pakistan, and Dakota Bob is president because George Bush Jr. killed himself playing with a chainsaw. The fact that none of this really pans out into a tangibly different society is deliberate, as part of the comic's drumbeat that superheroes, while roundly bad, also fundamentally don't matter, and are at best able to make things bad in different ways without really changing the shape of the structures that produced them.

Worm is in kind of a weird spot here- it objectively is an alternate history, countless things are different, whole nations are gone, we see a lot of alterations to the culture- but it gives limited airtime to a lot of the specifics of how things got to where they are, beyond the broad clusterfuck generated by the parahumans. To some extent, the fact that the world is radically different is downplayed until the back half because society at the start of the story is Stepford-smiling through an immanent apocalypse- and, you know, the immanent apocalypse is ultimately kind of the relevant difference from our world. But on the whole, I doubt there's a really tight worldbuilding document documenting all the ripple effects on the dramatis personae of history. The story's pretty vague about, for example, what the American presidential lineup has been since Reagan, what electoral politics look like in a world of Capes. It's vague about basically everything else in that nitty-gritty, concrete-details vein.

I do think that all of these, Worm in particular, highlight a major issue you're gonna run into when trying to do alternate universe stuff with capes, and it's that, first of all, doing really robust, thoughtful and fleshed-out alternate history is already really fucking hard, requiring a strong command of the history and culture of maybe up to the entire world, depending on the scope of your project- and superhero stuff already suffers from really strong American provincialism, so the depictions can get stupid fast if you aren't careful. Then on top of that the nature of the cape genre is that you're going to be following a pretty pared-down central cast; authorial and audience bandwidth will be tied up with what's going on with these specific guys over the course of their story, which can get in the way of a birds-eye view of their world, unless you're specifically structuring the story in a way to dodge that issue (which, you know, I get the impression Wild Cards did.)

I also think a commonality in the above works is that a lot of the alt-history changes are instrumental, included not as the result of the author trying to hyper specifically model falling dominoes from a specific point of change, but because they help the work to make its point. I doubt Alan Moore has a one-hundred-page forum thread detailing the fallout of America winning the Vietnam War, but such a thing would be beside the point- which is that God being an American Agent would fuck shit up geopolitically, regardless of the specifics. I mean a lot of this is vibes-based already, right? In objective terms the MCU has been an alternate history for years, but it doesn't claim that label, doesn't market itself as such, so it isn't. I think it comes down to whether you decide to wear that outfit on the runway, and how well it hangs on you once you've opened yourself to judgement on those grounds.

[jules-writes-stories]

The Night Court Lounge | Tribeca, NYC

Azriel x Eris

Chapter 4 on AO3

Once again, he was taken by the magic of the Night Court, with its flickering candles and panoramic views of Manhattan. Points of light upon bridges and thoroughfares below glowed like strands of jewels reflecting off the river and sky. 

Azriel’s heart pushed against his ribs as scarred hands rubbed his smooth thighs. He remembered his breaths, and the cool chain of the leash brushing his bare chest grounded him. Feyre winked and held up three fingers, a reminder of his safe signal. 

She made her way to the front of the platform, gliding in the dim lights, a Queen of Night, holding each leash she’d lengthened to allow for the berth needed with two pairs of wings. 

Az glanced from his periphery just in time to spot a flash of red hair and a sleek frame in an expensive suit. A cord tugged low in his core. Eris Vanserra was watching him with golden serpentine eyes. The flame from a table centerpiece cast a shadow along his face that caressed his high cheekbone, then traveled down the long column of his neck like a lover's finger. Mine.

Azriel involuntarily glanced down at the space between the Dom’s slightly parted legs and stepped toward him, pulling against the leash. Feyre tugged his sternum back. Eris smirked at the correction, and Azriel swore those lush lips formed the word, “soon.”

* * *

The Night Court never failed to turn the most pedestrian tasks into the highest of dramas. The forms were notarized, and the money was wired. Azriel should already be his. But as with every preceding business transaction, Rhysand added a clause stating that all deals started at midnight. 

Eris noted it immediately. Everyone knew bargains and contracts tasted of dark magic. The spellwork and double-speak so often woven invisibly between the lines could lead to ruin. 

And while Eris had a team of lawyers to cleave through Night Court jargon, he doubted it would come to that.

At midnight, Azriel would be his. But first, Eris would sit through whatever charade Rhys had planned. It would involve parading Azriel out with Thesan for the entire Night Court. The man was clearly retaliating against Eris's upper hand at their last meeting. And he was willing to use his cousin to do it.

Well, the joke was on Rhysand if he thought Eris was the jealous type. In fact, the thought of Thesan and Azriel together, pleasuring each other… gave him wicked ideas. Perhaps he would have his treasure and his beloved bat play together, for his benefit.

Azriel was clearly a jealous lover, and Eris secretly enjoyed the sub’s bratty, possessive streak.

He glanced at his watch. Sixty minutes. 

Please let me know if you ever want on/off the tag

| @the-darkestminds @fieldofdaisiies @mistandmemories @secret-third-thing @chunkypossum @talibunny30 @amalhe-kofee @shadowsandlint @queercontrarian @molcat07 @c-starstuff-man0 @lovely-vanserra-sunshine @hieragalbatorixdottir @brunetterebel010 @pippsmcgee @theartofmischief

[federer7]

Lower Manhattan and the East River. Riverfront from the Brooklyn Bridge, New York. Circa 1901

Photo: Detroit Photographic Company.

View full size

[travelingare]

📍New York City! 🇺🇸

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[infocusby-g]

View of Brooklyn bridge from Manhattan Bridge

[jadesenigma]

View from Manhattan Bridge

Kodak Gold 200

[israelcastillophoto]

Caged….

[wandering-jana]

View of Lower Manhattan from the Brooklyn Bridge.

Nov. 2014

[grusik]

IMGP6120 View from Manhattan Bridge by New York Underworld

[kat-is-laem-oa]

Chapter 6: Park Slope

(Previous Chapter) (Next Chapter)

Eljah’s phone woke him up around noon—too early. Being angry so fresh into consciousness was not the move.

“Rafa, I swear to the God that’s forsaken us, I will throw you into the first patch of sunlight I see. I was out late last night. I need-”

“This is actually Magnus.” Giggles were heard, the warlock’s amusement on display. In hindsight, it was too early for Raphael to be awake either. Who else could it have been?

“Oh, shit,” he groaned, stuffing his face into the neighboring pillow.

“It’s alright, dove. Maybe I should’ve let you get more sleep before I called.” Eljah murmured, flipping his entire body over and rubbing his nose bridge with his fingers.

“No, you’re fine, Magnus. What did you need help with?” He lifted himself up, discomforted by feeling the blood rush through his body and exhaustion present from last night that he hadn’t acknowledged before going to sleep. After throwing off his blanket, he went looking for the stele he assumed was still in his clothing.

“Who says I need help with anything? I can’t just want to call you?” Magnus sounded almost flirty.

Eljah wished he had another answer. He hadn’t made connections for almost five decades, or at least not any that weren’t business-only. It’s embarrassing to tell such a recognizable warlock that you’re a loser.

“Nobody besides Rafa calls me for anything besides assistance, to be honest.”

“That’s unfortunate. I’ll have to fix that.” If Eljah hadn’t muted himself, Magnus could’ve heard the strangled scream he held back. “If you’d like me to, of course.”

“Uh, cool, cool,” his subconscious screamed shut the fuck up, Eljah, “yeah, that would be… nice?”

“I’m glad. I do have a proposition for you, though. Would you be interested in having drinks later? I’ve asked Alexander, but he seems too busy. Said he’ll join us some other time.”

“Oh, I’m the backup, huh?” Eljah feigned humor, rather disappointed in reality. Magnus and Alec were both attractive men, and while Alec had confusing vibes around sexuality, Eljah was sure they’d work around it. He let his enthusiasm get the better of him and felt disheartened yet again. But Magnus didn’t give him time to overthink any more.

“You were never the backup, darling. I wanted to invite you both out.” Oh.

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Oh! That’s… sweet of you, really.” He could hear Magnus’ hushed laughing again, Eljah’s unease growing. Out of habit, he swiped the outgrown hair behind his ear, jolting at the heat in his cheeks. He felt dumber as the call carried on.

“I’ll buy you dinner. How’s 7:00?”

Eljah cleared his throat and kicked his hanging feet back and forth off the bed. “I’d love that. I have to shower, so I’ll talk to you later.”

The last thing Magnus said was, “think of me fondly,” before hanging up.

Eljah’s body screenshotted itself with the effort to not squeal. A couple of books on his corner shelf sprawled across the floor and the curtains blew open comedically. That wasn’t a very calm and detached reaction, and he was incredibly grateful for the privacy of his room.

—

Investing time to take walks for his “mental health” was Eljah’s new hobby. Exploring random parts of Manhattan and Brooklyn combined, no matter the distance, he walked until he couldn’t anymore. Anyone else would have viewed this as self-punishment. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. Eljah just let his body take control so his mind wouldn’t.

Eljah overused his endurance rune to the point Raphael told him it was abuse. It was easy to push himself beyond his limits and erase it with a swipe of his stele, just to progress further into a shutdown. He wasn’t used to having someone keep him in check, offer help, or care.

Raphael had begun calling once the vampire realized he’d left the DuMort with no destination in mind (again). It’s like he’d developed a sense for Eljah’s exact location, always knowing when he took off.

Eljah didn’t feel like picking up, burrowed in the depths of his brain and debating whether he was worth Magnus’ time, or anyone’s, for that matter. He always had amazing days followed by harrowing nights, or months without an episode, followed by lockdowns in the DuMort. The seesaw of emotions felt unbecoming and burdensome, which only added onto the weight his shoulders bore constantly.

Eljah had maintained composure and stability throughout the preceding hours he roamed, but the stress seized him upon conveniently passing an alley of lofts. He trudged over and plopped onto the nearby stairs, breath pulling away from him as stars swirled in his vision.

He could hear mumbles of angry conversation close by, but he couldn’t focus as he fumbled through his pockets looking for his stele. It wasn’t in his sweatpants pockets or hidden within his shoe. The yelling changed direction.

Eljah assumed his dizziness was only fatigue from wandering, but as his gaze blurred, pools of silver washed over his eyes and the muscles in his neck tensed.

It always felt gross, viscous, and seizing when he got visions and more so when he hadn’t received them for a time. His last was on the anniversary of his father’s death. It happened in a Brooklyn club, just outside of East Harlem, where the Hotel DuMort resided. He couldn’t remember the name, nor did he care, busy rolling a joint in the bathroom (not his finest or most hygienic move).

His head had shot up like usual, body lax against the folded toilet seat and unmoving like an exorcism (or so he’d heard). He saw nothing at first, random shapes, colors, and static taking peculiar forms behind his eyelids. And then altogether he saw bright lights and felt a heavy heartbeat.

He was in the body of a teenage boy, walking down a familiar road lined with dark alleys and aimlessly placed restaurants. He saw the key-shaped sign with yellow lettering, shaded but readable. That, alongside the iconic and recognizable “R” painted on the sign, informed him this young boy was outside Hotel DuMort. He seemed wobbly and all-too-giggly, which might’ve been fine if he wasn’t so young and completely alone.

He could sense danger nearby, auras packed like sardines in the distance; vampires waiting for an unsuspecting snack. Everyone needed to eat, or in their case, feed, but this innocent boy wouldn’t become dinner if Eljah could help it.

This would be one of the few times he fought with his fellow residents. He understood their needs, their situation. But the undead morals often needed checked.

His body released, muscles and jaw unclenching with the rush of energy leaving fast enough it made his head spin. Trying hard to move his limbs despite their resistance, he stumbled forward, catching on the stall door and snatching it open. He could save this kid if he just pushed forward. He snapped his fingers repeatedly as he faced the tiled wall, trying to spark his magic and watching the portal form and dispel again. His hands were icy, but the magic was heating him up.

He feared when he got the portal open that he’d been too late. His visions rotated between the past, present, and future at random. He shot out with newfound energy as he exited the portal and flexed his hands forward to release a burst of power. The group of vampires were like mosquitoes in summer, rushing at the dazed young boy. Eljah’s burst sent them stumbling back and cowering like the young boy they’d attempted to catch until they realized who he was.

“This is a child! How could you!?” Eljah shouted fiercely. He was beyond angry at their lack of compassion for a human at the dawn of their life.

“We could smell him. He shouldn’t have walked down our alley,” a random vamp Eljah couldn’t remember the name of spoke up.

“So according to your logic, your brothers and sisters should get executed for innocently walking past the Institute’s steps?” Referencing their mortal enemy only annoyed the other, small party more.

“Who cares?”

“You should,” Raphael startled the crowd and Eljah, vamps backing away to huddle near the DuMort entrance. With his usual rasp and lack of emotion, he reminded, “this is a mundane, you can’t hunt them for fun. If you break the accords and hurt a human, that provokes execution by the Clave.” Raphael flicked his eyes over to meet Eljah’s, who had hints of silver lining the veins of his eyes, sporting his dominant emotion like a stroke of paint and mirroring his natural hair.

Eljah felt guilty, despite having nothing to do with the situation. “Fix this,” he whispered desperately at Raphael’s side. The other shared the same sentiments, but avoided eye contact because of the mess his kin made.

The young boy was breathing sporadically, pure terror illustrated on his face. His glasses made him look even younger, breaking Eljah’s heart more. When Raphael approached him, the teenager backed himself against the wall.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, I promise,” hands up in submission. “What’s your name?”

“S… Simon. It’s Simon. What the hell are you people!?”

“It’s okay, Simon. My people made a mistake. They didn’t mean to hurt you.” Raphael made his body level with the young boy. His eyes gazed into Simon’s and formed a connection. Encanto is what it was called. A vampire’s ability to attach and command another being’s mind. He was using Encanto to ensure Simon wouldn’t remember this and possibly blab to the whole of New York that vampires and warlocks existed (Eljah liked to pretend he was doing it for Simon’s well-being and sanity).

They’d flocked the den members back into the hotel and placed Simon outside the alleyway. Raphael and Eljah waited just inside the darkness for confirmation of the mundane’s condition. Simon woke up and stretched as if he’d just risen out of bed, adorable in Eljah’s eyes. Two women called out from afar, Simon giggling while hailing them. He’d successfully made it out safely, thanks to Raphael and Eljah.

Although Eljah was physically on the stairs in the middle of Park Slope, Brooklyn, he mentally found himself locked in a storage room, faded blue lockers lining one wall and frantic scratches clawed into another. The body seemed familiar energetically, wildly pacing between thin red bars and the previous surfaces with a phone raised high. They were attempting to call someone and when the line picked up they exclaimed, “Oh, I thought I’d never utter these words, but thank God it’s you! It’s me, Simon.”

Well… how many Simons do you think live in New York?

“Where are you? Where’s Clary?” The audio was mush to Eljah, but the names and voices were familiar enough to fill in the missing details.

“I don’t know. Some Chinese restaurant, I think?” He stuttered as he tried to explain, frustrating Eljah as he spent more time panicking than looking for clues as to his whereabouts. “This cop Alaric arrested us, but it was a total fake-out! Him and his buddy, they took us- They took us to their hangout and then they told Clary that they’ll kill her if they don’t find the Cup!”

“Just calm down, all right? Tell us what you see!” Simon acknowledged and rushed to the only window near him, jumping on a surface to gaze at a pier below, passing the information on to the caller.

“There’s a ton of water. Uh… I see lockers and…” startling when he found the deep claw marks embedded into the grain of the walls. “I’m in some sort of torture chamber! There are claw marks all over the walls!”

Mumbles sounded over the phone before someone said, “okay, Simon. You need to get more specific. Tell us what you see. Help us find you.”

Simon was growing angry and his aura was bursting into flames of red and gray reminiscent of Eljah’s hair strands. “There’s nothing else that can help—Wait! Hold on, hold on!” Calming substantially as he uncovered stacks of paper in a locker.

Eljah could see the Jade Wolf Chinese Restaurant logo in the middle of an old cocktail guide, vision fading now that’d seen what he needed to, alongside his strength. He was crawling out of his skin, trying to get out of the vision that was no longer of quality. He gasped for air, unknowingly notifying one of the very callers Simon was contacting.

Isabelle heard the gasps and cries, hair flocking to her back as she flipped around. Jace was finishing his call with Simon, saying, “we’re on our way.” As desperate as Izzy was to collect her newfound friends, a stranger in need also warranted help.

“Guys, something’s wrong. Do you hear that??” She brought attention to the croaks outside the alleyway. She took off, Jace and Alec desperately chasing after her after sharing an eye roll. When breaching the corner, Izzy did not expect to see Eljah seized up on the concrete stairs, but as she did, she cried out for him.

“Eljah? Eljah, what’s wrong?” She felt his forehead and neck before turning his head lightly, anything to diagnose his fit. Jace and Alec stood with drawn eyebrows and unintentionally flared noses. Izzy’s alarm grew as she pushed his hair out of the way and stared into his silver eyes.

“I’ve never seen something like this. Someone help me, I don’t know what to do!” Isabelle shouted. Both men rushed forward to help with Jace flocking to his back to support his head and Alec replacing Izzy in front of him.

Eljah genuinely believed he’d activated his luck rune at some point today, because the very shadowhunters supporting his body now was a one in a million blessing. Most notably, Alec was brushing the hair back off Eljah’s face, whispering his name repeatedly. It sounded heavenly coming from Alec’s mouth. He never particularly liked his name, but it sounded beautiful when Alec said it.

“Hey, hey,” he comforted, “what’s wrong? Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Do we need to get Magnus?” Isabelle asked. Eljah shook his head harshly, catching his breath now that his muscles were releasing. His head dropped forward and the silver clouds dispersed.

Stele.

Stele.

Stele.

He kept trying, forming the words, but unsure if they came out right.

“Where’s your healing rune?” Alec pressed on, understanding the mumbles between sputtering coughs. Eljah rolled up his left sleeve and extended his arm. Alec rested a firm hand on the man’s right shoulder as he activated the rune that burned as usual. “I got him, guys. Go get Simon and Clary.” He ordered. It was getting dark and Eljah already felt overexposed like an old polaroid, thankful Alec was staying.

All shadowhunters smelled like hints of sunlight to Eljah, but Alec had a touch of the freshest linen and a basic cologne. It stabilized him further as the healing kicked in. The other two shadowhunters ran off together, Eljah wondering how Isabelle could move so fast in heels.

“You should go with them,” Eljah told Alec. “I don’t know how far the restaurant is, and Clary and Simon are more important than me.” Alec looked puzzled and froze.

“How did you know that? Eljah, how did you know where they were?”

“Heard you… from over here.” He lied poorly. “Endurance is on my lower back. Pass your stele, please.” Trying to maintain composure despite embarrassing himself. Alec conceded and huffed, retrieving his phone from his commonly worn jacket and subduing the stele into the outstretched hand. Endurance didn’t sting like Iratze did, and Eljah surrendered his body to lie back on the stairs.

“I’m calling Magnus.” At the sound of ringing, Eljah shot up, forgetting how to act and reaching for the phone. Alec was faster. Much faster.

“No! We have plans later. I don’t want to ruin them…” Alec looked considerate but didn’t respond.

“Magnus. I need your help.”

“What’s wrong, Alexander?”

“I don’t really know. Eljah collapsed and was seizing. I just- are you home?” Alec guided Eljah back down without looking by the hand still connecting to his shoulder.

“Send me your location. I’ll portal as close as I can.”

Alec said nothing more, and the two ended the call. Beeps sounded from the phone and Alec sighed once again. Eljah was staring up at him, unsure of what to do, and Alec shared the same sentiment as he looked down. Time passed before Alec realized he was still holding onto the smaller man and it was like he’d touched sunlit metal with how fast he pulled back. He mumbled sorry before moving to sit further away. Disappointment filled Eljah, and the two waited together for Magnus’ arrival.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

Multiple uploads coming your way! (Borderline spam cause I've been WORKING HARD).

[ask-molly-hh]

Dearest Molly, what was your favorite thing to do when you were alive, I heard your from New York. So what place do you recommend to visit for a traveler like myself?

But yeah, the pier by the factories in the Brooklyn. Expecially the stone one. I'd sit there for hours.

Now mod time ⬇️

Hi so, I visit new york a lot cause of family and I know a lot you can do.

If you like history 100% go to the museum of natural history, and bring your student ID for cheaper entry. Its in manhattan. There's a lot to see, it's not interactive but there's litterally so many rooms to see.

Another museum that I liked is the Immigration Museum on Ellis Island. Ellis Island is right next to the statue of liberty, you take a ferry there, and it's where everyone went to get into the country and was entered through there. It has a lot of history and is kinda depressing but if you visit the statue of liberty, visit ellis.

Bronx zoo, donations on Wednesday for cheep entry, if you like animals, and are okay with the sun it's nice, pretty big

Coney island - take the train there, and walk the board walk. There's the beach, luna park (amusement park), go on the ferris wheel, and eat at the Nathan's hot dogs. It's fun. It's hot as hell in the summer. Avoid the bathrooms like the plauge.

One world observatory - this is on the world trade center, highest point in new york, it's indoors, I was scared out if my mind but it's one hell of a view

Empire state biulding- this one you can go outdoors- go inside, buy a ticket, and go up. There's something amazing about seeing the city so high in an old biulding. Pinicale of modernist architecture. I almost flew off when I was nine cause of how windy it was.

Central Park - it was snowing last time I went to the park and it was so pretty. But yeah, no matter when, it's a nice park.

Winter time, Rockefeller center, there's a giant Christmas tree and it's so worth the view, and go ice skating, it's a blast.

42 street - manhattan. You've heard the song, you know.

34th street - manhattan. Winter only. to see the Macy's Santa windows

Dumbo - mom told me to add, I don't know what she's talking about???

5th Avenue - Brooklyn. Bunch of shops to go down and see.

Industry city - Brooklyn- this used to be a bunch of factories but one they shut down they all got abandoned. Recently they've been turned into stores and plaza and stuff and it's a blast, expecially at night.

Greenwood cemetery- my mom said to add this. Be respectful to the dead please if you visit. It's very peaceful there.

walk the bridges. There's a few. You know about the Brooklyn bridge and yeah. It's a walk but the bridge is pretty if your into exercise.

And general advice. Keep track of you phone and wallet at all times. And always be aware of your surroundings. Expecially the people. Don't go walking alone, look over your shoulder, make sure your not being followed. As much as I love new york it's a city. And citys, expecially new york with how it is right now, is dangerous. Stay safe - al

[easypeasylindyvesey]

Summary: After the unforeseen death of Abby’s boyfriend, one of the NHL’s star defenseman and her teammate, she severely struggles with managing her grief. She confides in Jimmy Vesey, who is not only another teammate of hers, but is one of the very few people she has a strong friendship with. That is until that night and the days that followed. Does this life-altering news change the trajectory of their personal perceptions of each other? Or does it entail a chance of crossing boundaries for the risk of moving on?

Word Count (excluding title and heading): 8,446

*(General) Warnings: (foul) language, mentions/discussion of death, suicide attempt (brief, closed door description), eventual confession of feelings, grief, panic attack(s), angst, eventual sexual implications but no smut, age gap (24-25/33-35)

----

JANUARY 2028  (Warnings: foul language (omg that’s it?? wow. i’m evolving!))

Did I start off the year in the way I anticipated? Obviously not. When do I ever?

I’m reminded that New York winters tend to be colder than my heart. There have already been two instances where practice was cancelled because of snow, and we just ended up having free days off. Of course, that affected the outcome of some games, but nonetheless, we’re reacting to it appropriately.

And on an unexpected day off, what does Jimmy want to do?

Drive to Brooklyn and go ice skating.

Well, we end up having to wait until the afternoon, around 3:00 or so, until it stops snowing and breaks out into a bright blue sky.

Glide at Brooklyn Bridge Park can not be compared to the Rockefeller rink by any means, but it’s never frowned upon to leave Manhattan and its repetitive antics behind for a little bit. There’s actually not too many people skating by the time we find a bench and lace up our skates, but that never hurt anybody.

“Have you even ever been here?” I ask Jimmy. “Just wanna know why you wouldn’t wanna go back to Rockefeller.”

“New year, new experiences,” is all he tells me.

I slightly nod. “Got it.”

“Besides,” Jimmy interjects, “the views are unbeatable. You can literally see the Manhattan skyline. Hey, if we look close enough, we might be able to find the apartment.”

“That is most certainly a long shot, but I’ll take your word for it.”

After our skates are tied, we step on the ice, doing casual skating motions to get used to it. Music is playing nearby, it’s really fucking cold, and based on the thin clouds over the horizon, I have no doubt there’s going to be a beautiful sunset.

We don’t automatically separate from each other, as both of us look around, taking in the views. I forget there’s so many different towns in New York to explore, especially when you’re based in the city. There’s Queens, Staten Island, the Bronx, and now Brooklyn. Maybe this should be a goal of ours this year: visiting the rest of the NYC boroughs. It’d be four new trips, all within a decent driving distance. It sounds a lot more reasonable than driving 6 hours to Boston and an even further drive to Toronto with Will.

Yeah. About that.

I let him know that I was definitely interested in still going up there during the All-Star weekend. He told me it would probably be the last 3 days. We’d take a flight out, have his parents pick us up at the airport, and just spend that time back at his house, getting to know his mom and dad. I’m still not certain it’s going to end up being a casual visit. There’s definitely something secret planned.

Whatever the case may be, I’m just looking forward to an actual trip. Jimmy doesn’t know about it yet, but if he ends up going back home for the break anyway, then there won’t be a use in telling him. Of course, it would end up being admitted on accident later on.

As for those two and their animosity toward each other, I’ve taken it upon myself to stay the hell out of it. I’m not saying that I won’t listen to the both of them, but I am not picking sides. The key is to hang out with them separately before I surprise them with the three of us going somewhere together, where they’ll be forced to get along. Being embarrassed in public has happened to everyone a fair share of times, but if they see two grown men getting into it, with one tiny woman attempting to break up their verbal scuffle, who is everyone going to look at first? Me.

In order to keep my mental sanity, I try to not entertain the possibility of that actually happening. I focus on where I am right now. As much as I would have been okay with hanging out at the apartment and spending our snow day in the way they should be utilized, I’m fine with Brooklyn and their fancy shmancy outdoor rink.

We start out by skating around the border of the rink, taking in the sights and strangers. Carefully moving around in slow, steady strides, observing the views around us, I break the silence before it gets to be too long. “I keep forgetting how relaxing this usually is.”

I can imagine Jimmy giving me a weird face in return. “That’s because you’re not under any pressure.”

I elbow him through his coat. “Yeah, and that we can go incognito, along with not having every moment of ours be televised.”

“There should be some sort of thing where we just don’t even end up playing a game,” he suggests. “Both teams compete in a speed contest around the rink, winner gets bragging rights and access to the best skate sharpening tools out there.”

“Don’t forget the trophy,” I remind him.

He sighs. “How could I forget about the plastic gold thing? Here Abb, want a gold star?”

Giving him a light shove, I start to skate a little further past him while maintaining enough space where we can hear each other. “I’m already a gold star.”

Jimmy pauses. “No, you’re silver at best.”

“And you’re bronze.”

“Hey, I can’t argue with that.” He catches up to me. “Single digit ice time doesn’t earn you medals.”

“Oh, would you cut it out?” I roll my eyes, smiling. “If you were not good enough to be in this league, you would have never been given the opportunity. You would not be here right now. Living your best life in New York doesn’t happen for the weak.”

“It is most certainly a life,” he trails off.

I take that comment with a hint of sarcasm instead of choosing to analytically reflect on it. I’m not sure if it’s what he truly meant, but I am not ruining the mood by asking.

We make it halfway around the rink before I stop short and he almost trips over my skate. “The hell you stoppin for?” He breathes out.

 I skate toward the glass rail. “The sky.”

It’s a 50/50 mesh of pink and orange, with the slightest tinge of yellow. I start fumbling in my coat pocket for my phone, taking off my glove so I can unlock it and open my camera, snapping a couple pictures before opening Instagram and taking a picture with that camera for my story highlight. After putting the location, I make sure it fully uploads before closing the app.

Turning around, I notice Jimmy’s phone is out too, aimed toward the top of the sky. I try jumping on my skates to photobomb the view.

He shakes his head. “Lemme get a pic of you.”

I scrunch up my face. “Really?”

“Yeah. He’s finally gonna be in one.”

I give him a little smile and lean against the rail, keeping it plastered on my face as I keep an eye on the camera lens.

After what I can imagine one too many pictures, unless he took a burst, he lowers his phone and looks toward me as if he’s going to drift off. “Stay here.”

And so he glides away. My best explanation is that he’s going to ask someone to take a picture of us. Sticking to that goal might not end up seeming like too much of a challenge for him after all.

It’s really unfortunate because I wanted us to have a pic together on New Year’s Eve. Since he got slightly buzzed and somewhat altered the mood, I’m not sure if there was ever going to be a good time to ask. I know it wouldn’t have worked after he stormed off. He was already in somewhat of a mood before everyone arrived. I guess it worked in my benefit, because staring at the potential photo we could’ve had would only be outweighed with bad memories instead of good. And I’m so tired of the bad.

As I continue to admire the view, out of the corner of my eye, I see him approach me next to the rink and tap me on the arm, whipping around as I catch him looking at me. “Gotta switch spots,” he informs.

Skating in front of him, I move over to the left side, and since I’m already left-handed, I feel more comfortable taking pictures if I’m on the left. I don’t know if there’s a justifiable phenomena for that, but it never fails.

A random couple stands in front of us, with the man holding Jimmy’s phone in his hand. “All right guys!” He says enthusiastically. “Smile!”

So we do.

The phone is lowered and returned, us exchanging “thank yous” and continuing to remain by the rail, taking in the view. Winters have some of the best sunsets, and I’m fortunate enough to live in a place where I can experience each of the four seasons.

“I’ll send it to you later,” Jimmy tells me.

I nod. “Okay.”

He’s able to pick up on the short response. “You alright?”

I gaze out, fixating on the skyline. “Yeah.”

“That didn’t sound convincing.”

“Well, then. You caught me.” I lean my arms over the rail.

“He painted such a nice view tonight,” Jimmy nudges my shoulder. “It’s almost as if he knew we’d be here.”

My face contorts. “I don’t think so.”

“Hey, come on. Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Be doubtful.”

“I’m not being doubtful. Just thinking rationally.”

He sighs, the frost leaving his mouth. “Not always your best approach.”

I don’t even bother to argue back, so I stand up and return the favor by nudging him. “Don’t test me.”

“Oh, I could never do that,” Jimmy defends. “Otherwise I’d be pushed over the rail.”

“And down into the water?” I smile. “I’d pay good money to see that.”

“You know what I would pay good money for?”

“Me moving out?”

“I was gonna say us going all the way this year, but I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed.” He flashes me a smile to prove he’s joking. Deep down in wherever his soul might be, I know he’s not.

I don’t respond.

“Am I crazy to think that?” 

“No.” I watch the colors in the sky start to sink lower. “Not at all.”

I feel a shiver roll down my spine. Either it’s due to the cold or perhaps it’s my nervous system warning me in some way.

“It’s definitely not out of the question,” Jimmy suggests quietly.

“Never,” I curtly reply. “Everyone’s gotta be willing to put in the effort, that’s all.”

I listen to the sound of nearby speakers, blasting music so everyone around the rink can hear it.

“It’s just not really what I’m thinking about right now, you know? I don’t want you to get so far ahead that you’re missing out on what you currently have.”

“Trust me, I won’t. This entire thing feels like a documentary.”

“Should we go book a film crew?”

“Can’t be that hard.”

“No, wait.” I pretend to ponder. “You might be onto something. This could make great reality TV!”

It really could.

We get ourselves off the rink and return our skates before beelining toward the Jeep and preparing for our 10 minute ride back, which turns into 25 because of traffic. New year, same shit.

The apartment, for whatever reason, feels colder as we walk back in, which does not help with the slush we dragged in on our shoes. We let them sit by the door in hopes it’ll melt while hanging up our coats.

“Same time next snow day?” Jimmy jokes, walking across the floor.

I remain by the door. “Book it.”

“Want me to make dinner?”

Sarcastically, I take my hand and hold it near my chest. “You would do that for me?”

“Long as I don’t burn the place down.”

I roll my eyes. “Shut up. You won’t.”

“Anyway,” he says, changing the subject, “you got any ideas?”

“I’m thinking chicken fettuccine alfredo, but there’s no alfredo sauce, so I’d resort to pesto sauce instead.” 

“Sign me up. You want to take your shower first so that I don’t interrupt when you’re cooking?”

Since when has he acted this thoughtful? I’m starting to think never.

I give him a little smile. “If you don’t mind…”

“Yeah, go for it.” He walks over to the coffee table and retrieves the remote. “No rush.”

Could this be the turning of a new leaf I’ve been waiting for??

No, it’s not. Don’t get sucked up in his little act.

Heading into my room, I look around my closet and find my Martha’s Vineyard shirt. Damn. I actually forgot about that.

It’s ironic I haven’t even worn it once yet. 

After finding a pair of sweats in my dresser drawer, I tuck the pajamas under my arm and head for the bathroom, shutting the door and turning on the light before pulling out the faucet and watching the water fall out. I take a look at myself in the mirror. My face is still red from the cold. Other than that, everything about my appearance remains unchanged.

As I step into the shower and pull the curtain closed, I feel like I could stay in here forever. Warm water is severely underappreciated during the winter. I’ll pay the heating bill, for all I care. Surely, Jimmy wouldn’t mind if I took an expense off his plate.

I cut my shower time incredibly short because I truly am hungry, so I dry off, change, and throw my hair up into an unbrushed ponytail, opening the door and walking out of the bathroom, retracting back onto the tiled floor to turn off the light. Going back into my room, I put my towel and underwear in my laundry basket and head back out into the kitchen.

My feet stop abruptly, as I’m taken aback by the sound of boiling water.

Jimmy turns around, standing near the pot. “I just dropped the fettuccine in there,” he says.

Questioning his tactics, I ask him, “You threw in a pinch of salt?”

“Course I did. You don’t wanna be eating bland pasta.”

Okay. This turning over a leaf thing might be real after all.

“You want me to cut the chicken?” 

I shake my head. “It’s already cooked. Just some left over.” I tug at my fingers. “But thanks.”

“Yeah, always.”

“I can take over.” Walking up next to him at the pot, I stir the pasta with the silicone spoon. “You go get a shower.”

“Sure you don’t want my help?” He insists.

I smile, meeting his eyes. “You’ve already done more than enough. Thank you.”

He returns the smile and walks around me, footsteps trailing off into his room and then hearing the bathroom door close less than two minutes later. I take advantage of the alone time by finishing up dinner and having it prepared by the time Jimmy’s done with his shower, taking out two reasonably large bowls and placing them on the coffee table, each with their own utensils and TV on, airing various pregame shows. I retrieve our water bottles from our rooms and place them down next to the bowls, cleaning out the pot by the time the bathroom door opens.

“You didn’t eat without me, did you?” is the first suspicious assumption he makes when he reappears.

“No,” I say over the running water. “It’s already on the table.”

“Oh, sweet,” he says in return, hearing him sit down on the couch as I start drying the pot with the dish rag, placing it back into the cabinet and going over to join him.

Sitting on the other end of the couch, I reach for my bowl and focus on the TV. We sit in silence for a few minutes while trying to figure out how to initiate a new conversation.

“So, uh, quick little question,” I say.

“I might have a quick little answer,” Jimmy replies. I can only imagine one of those dumb smirks appear on his face.

“Are you, uh, staying here during the All-Star break?”

The sound of a fork lightly scrapes against his bowl. “I haven’t fully decided yet, but I’m leaning toward going home.”

I remain quiet.

“We’re not obligated to be here anyway, so I don’t wanna have to stay here if I don’t need to.”

Well, that’s the thing. You stayed here all summer.

“But yeah, I’m definitely getting outta here. Why, you wanna come with?”

I turn my head to look at him. “No, no, no, I’ll stay here.”

“By yourself?” 

My lips draw together. “Why not? I’m not gonna destroy anything.”

“I know that, but I just would hate for you to be alone in here.”

That’s the other thing. I won’t be. Not in here, at least.

But I’m not gonna tell him, probably ever.

“You need a break,” I say. “You’ve quite literally been confined to this place. It’d do wonders. Trust me.”

“Just don’t adopt a cat when I’m gone.”

I guffaw. “You’re right. I won’t.”

He nods.

“I’ll adopt two!”

“Okay, fine. That would be my final straw, though. I’d officially kick you out. Bring them back to your own place.”

“Why won’t you just admit you like cats?” I put a forkful of chicken into my mouth. “You wanna act all macho and say you like dogs, but something in that little brain of yours tells me you would not be opposed to a cute meowing creature running around here.”

“I’m not saying I don’t,” Jimmy seems to contradict. “I just like dogs a little bit more.”

Shaking my head, I turn up the volume. “Lame.”

“Alright, I get it,” he says sarcastically. “God forbid I wanna be mundane. Leave me alone, will ya?”

“Not until you decorate for holidays around here. You don’t have any-”

“I have nothing for Valentine’s Day, before you even ask. And no, I am not buying anything.”

Pointing in his direction, I reach for my water on the table. “Lame again.”

“Men don’t decorate. That’s more of a woman thing.”

“Hey, you’re not pulling the sexist card here. Men can decorate. Y’all just choose not to.”

“It’s weird.”

I make a mental note of that. “Fine. I’m not getting balloons for your birthday, then.”

“Good. I don’t need them.”

“You don’t want cake, either?”

“Just give me a bagel breakfast.”

“Done. No presents?”

“Nope.”

“K. Don’t act all surprised when you don’t see any wrapped boxes.”

“I won’t. I’ve got a good poker face.”

“Have I seen it?”

He extends his arm and pushes my shoulder. “You will in 4 months.”

“Can’t wait.”

For the next 40 minutes, we watch the first period of a game, raving about how good dinner is, along with voicing our own commentary. I want to nitpick his brain a little more in terms of him leaving for break, only so I can plan accordingly. The trip to Toronto will be toward the end, so I have to figure out what I’ll be doing for the beginning. Maybe I will take advantage of the empty apartment.

Or maybe I can pay my condo a visit.

It won’t be the permanent one.

During the 2nd period intermission, both of us finish dinner, so I take our bowls to the sink and wash them out before loading them in the dishwasher. When I close it, I lean back against the countertop and take a minute to watch Jimmy in his rare state of contentment. 

Not being surrounded by that for a week will be odd. I shouldn’t even jump to conclusions yet. I still don’t have a timeframe as to when he’s leaving.

Only difference is he has the full ability now to not even walk back through the door.

—------

“Sure we’re going the right way?”

I stop in the middle of the sidewalk, gloved hands being shoved into my coat pockets. “Jim, we’re literally not going anywhere.”

“So we’re just, walking around aimlessly? That’s the whole point of this?”

Letting out a long sigh, I resume walking. “It’s called a walk for a reason, dumbass.”

We’re continuing our streak of outdoor activities, and nothing says outdoor activities like a walk around the city. I insisted we get out of the apartment for a bit since all we’ve recently been doing is rotting away, and although this is as mundane of an idea as it sounds, we can freeze our asses off in another way.

It’s almost noon, with the sun reaching its highest peak in the sky. Bundled up in our coats and hats, we welcome the cold air to invisibly hit our faces, meaning that we’re also open to the inevitable consequences of frostbite and crimson-colored cheeks when we go back. I’m glad we’re doing this.

“Wanna go sledding?” I joke, pointing to the fresh blanket of snow after last night’s accumulation.

“You got a sled?”

“No. But we can go buy one somewhere!”

“There aren’t any hills around here,” Jimmy confirms to me. “Guess you’re out of luck.”

Listening to our shoes scrape against the slush on the pavement, we follow the curve in the sidewalk, finding ourselves walking further down through Manhattan. My senses heighten when I notice we’re slowly approaching Central Park, almost tripping off the curb because of that lone distraction.

“You sneak in a beer this morning?” I hear him ask.

“I don’t drink that shit.”

“Come on,” he teases. “Sure you didn’t have one?”

“I swear on his grave.”

“Can’t argue with you there.”

Pointing my finger toward the Bethesda Fountain, I start speedwalking. “Look! The water’s spewing out!”

“Almost like you’ve never seen it before!” The sarcasm is extremely strong with this statement.

Ignoring Jimmy’s remark, I make it to the front of the fountain after having to pass several other people, because of the common social aspects you’ll notice in New York is how nobody likes to move. It’s as if they all want to get hit by oncoming traffic because they’re so consumed with the idea of wanting to replicate a statue, not knowing they could easily get pushed over by that one impatient person.

“Wanna go ahead and throw a penny in there?” He remarks again.

“I’m gonna throw you in there,” I mutter to myself.

“What was that?”

“I said that I am gonna throw you in that fountain,” I say loudly, on purpose, just so he can clearly hear me this time.

A few people look at us, and then divert back to what they were previously focused on. That’s another thing you’ll notice in New York. Everyone hears everything.

I’m honestly not surprised at how empty it is, considering how cold it’s been the last few days. This type of weather wants me curled up with blankets on the couch, watching TV, and drinking hot chocolate. But the more I think about it, I really feel the need to break free from the confinement and get outdoors. Winter is the season where you mainly stay inside, given the changes in the weather, but on days where you can watch the sun reflect off the snow, watching it glimmer, you almost start to think it’s not so bad for three months after all.

We walk closer to the fountain, watching the water make continuous circles, it also shining bright as the sun points down on it. I can almost see our reflections. Getting way too close would cause me to fall in. Then Jimmy would get the last laugh, and I’d hate him for it.

“Think it’s safe to drink?”

I turn my head to look up at him. “That’s your question?”

“I’m thirsty!” He complains.

“Then you should’ve brought water with you!” I mock at him.

“Wanna run across and pick up some coffee?”

“But we just got here!”

“We’ll come back!” He rolls his eyes. “God almighty, relax.”

I step closer, invading his personal space. “You don’t ever tell a woman to relax unless you want her to punch your teeth out of your mouth.”

As I trail off, waiting for him to catch up with me once again, I approach the door to the coffee shop on the opposite side of the fountain, holding the door open as I watch him shuffle over, hands in pockets, leaning out to grab the door as I step inside, relishing in the warm air that I have not felt since before we left.

Immediately, the indecisiveness has kicked in. Am I really in the mood for coffee? Or do I want to branch out and steer away from the norm?

So I order a hot chocolate while Jimmy orders his bland, boring, brutally brutal black coffee. Seriously, I don’t know how this man finds that appealing. Unless he tends to not find beauty in the small things. That actually makes sense to me.

We pay and walk back out the door and return to the fountain, opting to sit on a bench in the corner, far away from the people as possible.

“Don’t burn your tongue,” he tells me as I have my mouth on the opening of the cup.

I lower the cup and wrap my hands around the outside. “I’ll make sure your little friend gets the brunt of it,” I say, gesturing toward his lower half.

“I think it’d have its best effect if my pants were off,” he whispers. “Gonna wait till we leave.”

A devious smile forms on my face. “You’d really let me do that?”

“Oh, of course not,” he says, returning to his normal speaking voice. “That’d be a hospital trip, and quite an embarrassing one.”

“Just say it was an accident. You accidentally spilled it on yourself.”

“And it somehow seeped through? They’d know I’m lying.”

“I mean…it just sits there anyway.” I take a sip of my hot chocolate. “Doesn’t really serve a purpose.”

“How else am I gonna pee?” He looks around aimlessly, as if the answer will just fall out of the sky.

“You just won’t,” I say confidently. “Boom. Done.”

“I would love to know how your brain got wired like this.” He scoffs. “You sure didn’t learn it from me.”

“It’s literally been this way since I was seventeen,” I rush in to defend myself. “That wire exists in your brain, too.”

“Yeah, but not quite frequently. You change a normal conversation into an innuendo.”

“That’s where the fun is!” I tap the sides of my cup. “God, you’re literally so boring. Those thoughts are inevitable. It’s not like they’re…illegal or anything.”

“Just inappropriate.”

I pause. “Depends.”

“They about me?”

Thank goodness I didn’t take another sip when I was intending to because I would’ve choked. “Me? Dreaming about you? Ha! Never in a million years.”

“They about….” He continues pestering. “Another man?”

“Oh, get over yourself. No.”

“I overheard at New Year’s how you might get set up.” The intonation in his voice changes with those two words.

“Yeah, I already told them to not even think about it. I’m not ready for that.”

Jimmy nudges me in the arm. “Sure you are.”

“I’m not,” I deadpan. “Still way too soon.”

“Abb,” he says gently in case I start a riot in front of him, which I obviously won’t because we’re in public. “You can’t wait around forever.”

“Funny that you’re doing the exact same thing.”

“It’s different circumstances.”

“Sure, but I just don’t wanna feel unnecessary stress. I’d have to spill my trauma to a stranger. Does the sound of that not terrify you?”

“I mean, yeah, it sounds scary, but if he can’t handle it, let alone you, he doesn’t deserve an ounce of your time.”

I look down at my sneakers. “At least I can refute that since I already know a man whose been through it all with me.”

There’s a pause. “Tell him to give me a call if he starts fucking around with you.”

“Or what?” I turn to look up. “You’re gonna punch him?”

He shrugs. “Eh. Maybe make him lose a tooth.”

“Or burn his little friend,” I whisper hushedly, eyeing toward Jimmy’s lower half again.

“I am officially uncomfortable with this conversation,” he responds, to which I giggle. God, it feels so good to get under his skin like that.

Letting out a sigh, I watch the frost leave my mouth and disappear into the air, looking out at the fountain. I find it admirable how no matter what might be thrown in its path, whether it be inclement weather or the littering of city goers, it manages to continue standing tall, showcasing its beauty and strength. Perhaps that’s something I need to start doing. Maybe it’ll speed this process up so that I can stop thinking about it.

In an attempt to stop thinking about it, I change the subject. “Want me to set you up?”

Jimmy laughs. “Please. All the girls you’re friends with are taken. By our teammates.”

“I’m sure I could find someone. Or just create a fake profile for you on Hinge.”

“Yuck.” I watch his mouth interlock around the opening of his cup, swallowing a little bit of his coffee. “That is, quite literally, the wrong way to date. Filled with a bunch of lies and exploitation through dumb photos.”

“You’ll be happy to know I’ve never resorted to that.”

“Good,” he says, a little bit on the serious side. “You’re too authentic for that.”

I make sure to keep it brief, but I smile in the slightest.

“Besides, you’d be able to detect the lies right away. You don’t even have time to play games.”

I nod in agreement. “Yep. Not anymore.”

“But like….” Oh my God, does he have an off switch? “You wouldn’t be open to a fling?”

I take a few seconds to process what has literally just come out of his mouth before turning my head. “That’s literally considered a game.”

“Oh.” Stupid ass.

“Why? Would you?”

“I, uh-”

“Have done it before, haven’t you?” It comes out so serious as if his response could completely contemplate our friendship moving forward.

“N-no, I have not.”

And then a lightbulb appears atop my head. Right. He hasn’t done the deed yet.

But not all flings require that, right?

“Then what was the stutter for?” I form a smile. “You had to think about what you were gonna say, huh?”

“Just- just short circuited for a quick minute.”

I’m not buying it. “Uh huh. Sure.”

“I did!”

“Okayyy.” I watch a group of birds search around for crumbs on the brick pavement.

“Don’t you wanna get back out there, though?” God, he is so insistent on this. It’s not like it’s any of his business.

Standing up with my empty cup, I respond. “I do. Just not now when I’m having the concept being shoved down my throat.”

“That’s not- that’s not what I’m trying to do.” Jimmy rolls his eyes. “I’m just telling you to at least, even if it’s considered your bare minimum, put it in perspective.”

“I don’t need you telling me what to do.”

“I’m not-”

“Yes, you are, and I’m getting really tired of it.” I walk away from the bench and over to the nearby trash can, discarding my cup before making my way back. Resorting to the opposite end, I sit down, staring out past the fountain, choosing to not engage in any conversation that could send us down into a spiral.

It’s a couple minutes before he says something. “You’re right.”

I keep looking ahead. “About?”

“Pressuring you into the whole dating thing.”

“You’re one to talk for someone who isn’t even doing it.”

“And that may be true, but I’m just-”

“Looking out for me, I know,” I say annoyedly. 

He looks at me, eyes softening. Or maybe squinting due to the wind, who knows. “Not all hope is lost.”

I cock my head. “What are you implying?”

Now he softly smiles. “The truth.”

“Oh, shut up,” I say, my smile getting the best of me.

The corner of my eye picks up the movement of his hand as he pushes himself off the bench and stands before turning around. “I bet you won’t do that on the walk home.”

Lifting myself up, I flash him a smug look. “You thought wrong.”

I follow Jimmy through the sparse crowd and find ourselves back on the sidewalk in no time, braving the nipping winds and the end of morning traffic to return to the one place where there actually is heat. The hot chocolate counts, I guess. Even though it provided me with a temporary feeling of warmth, it lasted longer than anticipated.

And yes, we talk the other ear’s off for the 20 minute walk back. What else is there to do?

Well, just as we turned the corner of the street where the complex is, I stopped walking to see if he would notice, which he didn’t at first, but I picked up a clump of snow and rolled it into a ball with my gloves, and decided on where to aim it, before deciding on his back.

He stopped walking and turned around quite slowly, a confused expression on his face. “That was you?”

I look from side to side. “No���”

Bending down on the sidewalk, it’s his turn for his glove to be filled with snow. “You’re dead.”

Backing up, I try to outrun it, but it hits me at the hood of my coat, a couple pieces trickling down past and down the back of my sweatshirt. “No, you’re dead!”

Returning the favor, I make another snowball, throwing it straight at his midsection, planting my feet on the ground in case he tries to make a run for it.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t, so I bend down to create another one.

Until I’m quite literally swept off my feet as I’m lifted into the air, snowball falling to the pavement and breaking apart as I squeal. “What are you doing?!”

“Seeking my revenge!” 

“Put me down!”

“Are you forgetting something?”

I sigh, feeling my lips grow even more chapped. “Please put me down.”

As I sense the change in gravity, it’s another abrupt gesture that, this time, does not involve getting hit by snow, but rather me hitting it, as I feel my back hit the blanket of snow, my entire body almost covered in the white flakes. Thank goodness it’s fluffy and not rock hard.

And then my legs buck up to meet his, which I guess you could say is the initial catalyst for feeling the entire weight of his body fall on top of me, a low chuckle vibrating from his mouth as I continue laughing. In that moment, I don’t feel like I need to push him off of me. This, unlike the past two instances which involved body contact, is more of a tease rather than a proposed trick up his sleeve.

We spend a couple minutes looking at each other while we feel the snow start to seep into our clothes before Jimmy rolls over next to me, lying in the snow and letting out a sharp exhale, but one that’s filled with adrenaline in contrast to anxiety, dusts himself off, and then helps me up.

Our physical imprints will remain in that very spot until they’re covered up. But both of us know the truth.

—-----

“Over here is the kitchen, which is also easily accessible through the living room area,” the leasing agent explains to Will and I. “Plenty of storage space, room for pretty much anything your heart desires.”

We take a look around. I accompanied Will, as promised, to an apartment tour in Flushing. It’s pretty much a studio apartment, but it’s only for him, anyway. I, for one, would say it’s been a nice living space to see so far, however, I’m just here for support, and by no means trying to influence his opinion. Besides, he still has 2 more scheduled tours after this one, none of which until next week, so he’s keeping all of his options close together.

“And if you’ll follow me,” the leasing agent continues, listening to her heels click on the marble floor and down the hallway, “behind this door is the main bedroom.”

When the door pushes all the way open, my jaw could quite literally drop.

“That window is fucking huge,” I whisper, stepping onto the carpet.

“You’re right about that,” Will says, similarly taken aback.

The room itself is big, with a king bed, nightstand tables boarding both sides, a closet, and then, the big elephant in the room, the gigantic ass window. It’s safe to say he’d have to buy more than one pair of floor-length curtains to cover that.

“Quite the view,” the leasing agent pipes up. “Especially at night.”

“Hell, I could see myself living here,” I joke. “Been here for almost three years and it still never fails to amaze me.” I turn around to look at Will. “Think of all the sunlight you’ll get in here!” I exclaim, gesturing to the sun rays reflecting on the carpet.

“I’ll keep it in the back of my mind.”

We’re shown the in-washer and dryer unit, along with the outdoor facilities, like the pool and tennis court, before Will takes the business card with the agent’s contact information and we walk back to his car, which is quite a walk since there was no space on the street.

When we get in, the engine turns over and I hear him exhale the loudest of sighs.

I turn my head in his direction. “Overwhelmed already?”

He looks at me. “I didn’t like it.”

I raise my eyebrows. “What? Why not?”

“I don’t know.” He fiddles with his beanie. “Not really my style.”

My eyes roll to the back of my head as we pull out of the parking lot across from the complex. “Is it, like, a space factor, or you just think it’s ugly?”

“I don’t think it’s ugly, per se, but I just wasn’t a fan.”

“So you wouldn’t be upset if I ended up renting it?”

Will’s eyes divert from the road before returning his gaze. “Wait, like, actually?”

“No, you bozo. I already have a condo.”

“That’s right, that’s right,” Will digresses. “Sorry. You’ve just been at the apartment for so long that I forgot you had a place of your own.”

Me too.

“Maybe we can stop by and you can give me a tour,” he suggests.

“Like, right now?”

“Unless you have anything better to do.”

I really don’t.

Instead, I nod, taking his phone and opening Maps, typing in the address. “Let’s do it.”

Around half an hour later, because, you know, city traffic and all, we’re standing in front of my door as I fumble with the keys, having the immediate realization that I still have the condo key attached on my lanyard, along with the ones belonging to the apartment and my car. I could’ve sworn I stored it away in a drawer or something.

Inserting the key into the lock, I swing the door open and both of us step up into the entrance, shuffling around the other as I shut the door behind me. “Voila.”

Will looks around, as if he’s totally engaged in the sights. Nothing has moved, nor changed since I was last here, which was over a month ago. Now that I think about it, the reality is kind of pathetic.

“Nice place,” he remarks. His footsteps continue moving forward past the TV and halting near the bathroom.

“It really is.”

“This is the kinda space I need. I mean, this is, like, what? A thousand square feet?”

I shrug. “I don’t know the actual estimates, but yeah, probably around there.”

He scans the couch, the carpet, the kitchen counter, the microwave, and finally turns the corner to look in the bathroom. “How do you not feel claustrophobic in here?” I hear him call out.

“Because it’s just me,” I answer back.

His face re-emerges. “Wayyy too small.”

“Oh, you need a bathroom the size of a mansion?”

“Sure. Gotta get that superstar look somehow.”

Rolling my eyes, I go to join Will, looking into my own bathroom for the first time, and I mean really looking at it since that night.

“I remember getting ready in here,” I say aloud, “for dinner.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Curling my hair, putting on my dress.” I sigh. “Anxiously waiting to be picked up.”

Still nothing.

“The last memory I had in here was a good one.” I shuffle behind him and walk into the doorway of my room. “Oh, how times have changed.”

I stand over toward my closet as I watch Will slowly enter, looking like a lost puppy. “Yeah, this is definitely a decent sized bedroom, too.”

“But I thought you wanted fancy shmancy richey shit,” I sarcastically whine.

He breaks out into a grin. “I’ve really failed if you’ve come up with the assumption that I have a self-entitled ego.”

“No, it’s just fun to push your buttons.” I smile back to prove I’m not lying.

I watch him walk over to the window and push the curtains aside, letting the sun pour through. “It’s a nice view.”

A puff of air slips between my teeth. “A very scenic one.” I walk over to stand next to him, pointing to the trees in the distance.

Will laughs. “And yet, there are no leaves.”

“Welcome to winter in New York. That’s why spring’s my favorite.”

“Not just because it’s your birthday?”

I shake my head. “No. Weather gets nicer, the sun’s out longer…” 

“And?”

“Would’ve been three years.”

That eerie silence infiltrates again.

“Abb, I am-”

“So sorry, yeah, yeah, blah blah blah.” I cut him off. “God. It’s crazy how time flies like that.”

“But you know what?” Will suggests. “There’s so much to look forward to this year.”

“Oh, really?” 

“Yep. There’s the rest of the season, Legoland…”

I can’t help but laugh.

“Toronto in a few days, my birthday, your birthday, Jim’s birthday.”

“As long as I don’t ruin it again.”

“You won’t.”

I let out a groan. “I hope so.”

“Maybe…signing a new contract?”

I give him a dumbfounded look. “Trying to pressure me, I see.”

“By no means at all.”

My concentration is on the bare trees. “I don’t know.”

“Abb,” he says somewhat seriously, “no one else is gonna mediate with me and Jimmy the way you have.”

“Hey, that’s not even my issue to fix,” I defend. “Whatever problems you have with each other have to be worked out between the both of you. I’m not picking sides.”

“And I would never expect you to, but it’s just stupid.”

“Which is why it needs to be talked about!” I roll my eyes. “But not now. You guys are my friends. I can’t make arguments saying that you’re each amazing and this and that because it’s all a bunch of crap. Grow up and hash it out, or maybe I will be the one that leaves.”

“Yeah!” Will exclaims. “Don’t even think of doing that.”

I walk back across the carpet and stop in the doorframe. “You’d see how easily provoked I can get.”

The sound of curtains shutting rings through my ears as I stand near the couch, waiting for Will to come out of my room. His keys escape the pocket of his coat, glancing around at everything one last time. “Ready?”

That word alone has me hightailing out the door, turning off the lights and securing the locks before we walk across the parking lot and back into the car.

When we’re finally on the road, Will breaks the quick moment of silence first. “I was only nagging you about the space because I just wanted to see how much extra I would have with the extra bedroom.”

I blink, then turn in my seat to look at him, eyes still remaining on the road. “Wait. You were actually serious about that?”

“I thought I made it perfectly clear. Anytime you get sick of him, between now and perhaps forever, or whatever! Even if you need to just get out of your own place.” The car stops at a red light and he shifts to look my way. “You can come stay with me.”

“I-”

“You don’t even need to tell him. Just come over.”

“I can’t do that.”

The car starts moving again. “And why’s that?”

Because it’ll only be a repeat of what I’m currently enduring.

“I’m just afraid of repeating the past.”

“What are you afraid of repeating?”

Leaning my head against the seat, I look up at the top of the windshield. “That night.” 

Taking a breath, I continue. “And everything else.”

We slowly enter back into Manhattan. Few words were exchanged after my ‘confession.’ I cannot make that decision again. If someone offers me to stay with them, even if they claim I won’t be imposing, and we’ll “work it out,” I won’t be doing it. I’ll deal with it all on my own. The last thing I want people thinking is “Hey! Look what the cat dragged in. Again!”

Will pulls up to the front of the entrance to drop me off. I unbuckle my seatbelt and have my hand on the door handle before he locks me in.

I turn around. “Hey, c’mon.”

“What’s the rush?” He drags out. 

I tap my fingers on the lock/unlock switch.

“So Vinny and I are gonna pick you up here, he’ll drop us off at the airport, and then we’ll board, fly in, and my parents will drive us back to the house. Just warning you right now they are very, very chatty.”

“Oh, great,” I say sarcastically.

“But they’re so excited to meet you, so just let them bombard you with questions, okay?”

I nod. “K.”

“And same thing, well, I guess, for when we leave. They’ll drop us off at the airport, we’ll fly back here, and Vinny will pick us up, drop you off back here.”

“Sounds like you already got it all planned out.”

“I do.” He adjusts the rim of his hat. “Is Jim going anywhere during break?”

I make an uncertain face. “He said he was thinking of going home, but I’m not sure yet. That’s why I wanna get back to figure out what the deal is.”

Will holds down on the unlock button, smiling. “You should’ve just told me that first. Go.”

I smile back. “Why, thank you.”

“No, thank you for coming with. It’s nice to not do these sort of things alone.”

“Yeah.”

Another bit of silence. 

I clear my throat. “Well, uh, I’ll see you.”

“We’ll let you know when we’re leaving to come get you, okay?”

“You got it. Bye.”

“Bye, future roomie.”

I stamp my foot. “God, shut up,” I mutter under my breath, and shut the door. I can hear him laughing before driving off.

When I get back inside, I take the elevator up to the top floor and get out, putting my key in the lock and turning it, letting the door move to the side as I step back into the apartment. The sound of the TV, for whatever reason, caused me to slightly jump, and as I shut the door and lock it, I remember that another person, who has the lease in his name, lives here too. In fact, he’s not even on the couch where I pictured him. He’s by the counter, coffee pot in hand. His eyebrows draw together. “Uh…hi.”

My head tilts. “Hi?”

“Where you been?”

“Just out.” I slide off my sneakers and then my coat, hanging it up on the hook by the door.

“I see.”

I scoff. “You okay?”

Jimmy rubs his hand over his eye. “Yeah. Just uh, just got up.”

I look toward the cable box. “It’s 11:30.”

“And it’s also a Saturday.”

I click my tongue. “Okay, fair.”

“Want a cup?” 

“I’m good, thanks.”

He comes from around the counter and moves to stand in front of me. “You weren’t here when I got up.”

“I told you,” I reiterate. “I was out.”

“And you didn’t come back with bagels?”

I just stand there.

His chapped lips break into a smile. “Relax, I’m just messing with you.”

I laugh to validate his attempt.

“So, listen.” He moves to sit down on the couch, placing his cup on the table. “I’m just letting you know about break, and, uh, that I’m gonna be going to Boston.”

Pretending to be surprised (which I’m not. In fact, I’m more relieved), it’s time to question him. “Well, good. You need a break.”

“It’s the only time I’ll really be getting one, anyway.” 

“How long are you gonna be gone for?”

“The whole week. I’ll drive back next Sunday.”

“And when are you planning on getting there?”

“I’m leaving tomorrow afternoon.”

My head decides on a slight nod. “Oh.”

“But hey. You’ll have this whole place to yourself for an entire week.”

Technically only four and a half days, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Oh, you bet I’m excited,” I tell Jimmy. “Aren’t you excited?”

“Very.” His lips enclose around the rim of his cup.

“And I’m sure your dad will be thrilled that I’m not there? Tell him I can hold my own now.”

He scoffs. “How about I don’t mention you the whole trip?”

“That’s only if he doesn’t ask, which he definitely will.”

“To hell with that.”

I continue lingering by the door. “Need help packing?”

“No, I’m not bringing too much anyway.”

Typical male response.

I sniff, pretending to start crying. “How am I gonna survive without you?”

He turns around. “Oh, chill out, Abb. It’s one week, not forever. You’ll see me walk back through that very door.”

“I will?”

“Yeah.”

We’ll wait and see on that one.

And to distract myself from the 0.1% chance of that actual reality occurring, I finally find myself walking toward the couch and sitting down next to him, inhaling the warm aroma of his coffee.

A new version of ourselves always develops after walking through here.

The early morning hours of March 21st, post-funeral, Jimmy’s birthday, Martha’s Vineyard, Halloween, Christmas dinner.

I might not recognize him when he comes back.

He’ll be alone.

And I’ll be surrounded by all of those haunting versions of him, wondering how the next one will be worse than the last.

Because that’s how it always ends up.