Illicit Affairs (LMM x Reader)

Three: Boho Days

I can and will confess that it feels good to be around other people, especially when you live by yourself. In this huge city, you're almost constantly surrounded by other humans and yet it is possible to still feel entirely alone - so this quiet night in with my friends is massively comforting.

This is the thought I linger on as I survey the aftermath of my dinner party, after copious amounts of pasta and wine. Of my four friends, Max is already out cold on one couch, and Gina and Jon are curled up together on the sectional sofa, fast asleep. Though this doesn't bother me, it does make me ponder over how chaotic their week has been to have caused this degree of exhaustion.

In silent understanding, Anya helps me pick up our plates and glasses, and I carry the dishes across the open plan space into the kitchen to start washing up. She perches on the countertop beside me with a dishcloth.

"Thank you for dinner, this whole evening was actually so wonderful," Anya says sincerely, taking a glass from my hands and drying it. We speak in hushed tones, mindful of the sleepy trio in the living area.

"Of course. I just wanted you guys to feel welcome, you know? It's nice having you all around," I smile.

"Yeah. We don't normally do anything this fancy, so... it's nice," she confesses. "It's a different lifestyle, and I don't ever want to make those three feel bad with it."

"Do they?" I ask, suddenly concerned. Like me, Anya was a finance grad and works in a similar major firm to mine, but Max, Jon and Gina are all struggling artists with big dreams, working hard for their big breaks and subsequently living on the bare basics until then. But until that happens, as friends the most we can do is support them and encourage them to keep going.

"They haven't said anything, so I think we're good... But Max and Gina are starting to lose hope after all these auditions, and Jon, I don't even know anymore. If even one of them can score a decent gig somewhere, any stage out there, then..." Anya sighs, wistfully looking over at them.

"I know what you mean..." I nod, scrubbing at a stubborn bit of sauce on a fork.

"Do you think it's worth asking Lin? He must know someone..." she suggests, holding out her hand to take the next clean utensil from me.

"I don't want to impose, Anya. Lin and I aren't exactly friends, you know?" I say with a sigh, "I didn't even know he was married until this afternoon."

"You're telling me you didn't Google him? Wait, why does that even matter?" she asks, but barely a second later it dawns on her, "Oh."

"I... He's sweet, okay? And I hear him singing sometimes, and I just, sort of..." I trail off, thinking about him again, replaying that moment in my mind where he's smiling at me in the street, pushing his hair back... But I can't. And I won't.

"You like him. And you honestly thought..."

"Shamefully, yes."

"And the age gap?"

"He's not that old!"

"He's forty-one, sweetie."

The wine glass I'm washing slips from my hands into the sink, thankfully remaining intact. What kind of absolute ageless sorcery is this?

"Well, fuck that, he doesn't look it," I quip in disbelief.

Anya laughs, "Of all the men in this city... But I guess I can't blame you."

"What, you're into guys now? Back off my man," I joke.

"Urgh, no. Objectively, though, Lin isn't an awful choice... Just a shame he's taken!" she teases, and I vengefully splash her with some soap suds.