Betwixt and Between

Chapter 1

I've always been perplexed by the concept of romantic relationships and commitment.

I don't mind people being in relationships, of course, but I just don't see myself being in one. I like things that have a definite outcome and minimal amount of risk. Relationships? Oh, they're far from that. 

The problem is though, from where I come from, marriage, which is widely accepted as the pinnacle of all romantic relationships, is not even an option. It's a necessity. So I guess I'll have to face that whole procedure, however I can't really picture what would happen with my significant other before I deliver that anticipated "Yes, I do". It's something I try not to think about too much.

The fact that people chase after love also greatly bothers me. Now that it's just a week away from Christmas, everyone's just like "I wanna get kissed under the mistletoe!" or "I wish I find my soulmate on New Year's Eve!" or something of the sort. All of that is just a bit too cheesy and forced for my liking. I believe that love would somehow find a way, whether you like it or not. There's no "perfect time" or "perfect moment". It'll just come by when you least expect it to.

I look down at the ground and smile to myself.

Wow, my thoughts seem to have a mind of their own today.

Noticing that the warm cup of coffee in my hands was almost empty, I take the last sip and dispose it in a bin I find nearby on the side of the pavement. Now that I wasn't preoccupied with any random theories building up in my mind, I put my empty hands in the pockets of my navy blue trench coat and start observing what was going on around me.

Brooklyn, being the most populous borough of New York, was always rather busy. The Christmas season was at its peak, with families and couples coming to visit the city for the holidays. I could see just a glimpse of the Brooklyn bridge through all the skyscrapers from when I was standing, decorated with red and green lights, illuminating the moonlit night. The people here get very excited for Christmas, at least more than where I came from. Judging by the 40-foot-tall Christmas Tree I saw in front of the Brooklyn Borough Hall Plaza, they indeed put a lot of effort into the decorations.

Seeing all the little kids happily strolling along with their parents made me feel a knot form in the pit of my stomach. This was the first Christmas I was spending without my family, and although I hate to admit it, I really do miss them greatly. We never really payed much attention to Christmas as the folks here do, but the nostalgia still kept creeping through me, like a bad cold that just won't go away.

It felt good to just get lost town away from my neighborhood and escape reality for a while, but it was getting late, and I should really start heading home. I pull back the arm of my coat to reveal my watch and check the time: 19:46. It isn't as late as I thought it was, but there wasn't much left to do or see around here, so it was honestly pointless for me to just roam around anyway.

Something cold and moist falls on the bridge of my nose. I squint and wipe it off while looking up, realizing that snowflakes have actually started falling from the sky. I hadn't even noticed that it had started snowing for the first time this winter.

Ah, it's gonna be a White Christmas this time.

As I walk down one of the narrow pedestrian streets, the faint tune of the strumming of a guitar catches my attention, followed by a soft and mellow voice accompanying it. I immediately recognize the song being played, as it's been one of my favorites ever since it was released: "Fools" by Troye Sivan. I let my ears be my compass as they guide me towards the source of the sound.

Only fools fall for you ~

It's when I'm halfway towards my destination do I realize what I'm doing. My mind has an uncontrollable fondness for good music, and this was undoubtedly no exception, so I had basically just carried myself to where I was completely unintentionally, like a bumble bee buzzing towards an attractively colored and sweet-scented flower. Oh well, there's no need to turn back now. Might as well just keep letting my mind have its own way today.

I walk for around five minutes and finally witness where the sound is coming from. Under the light of a vintage- looking lamp post sits a boy around my age, deeply lost in the music. As I approach closer to him, I notice that he too has features of East Asian origin, just like me.

Another one of us I see.

He wears a red beanie over his straight hair, a black leather jacket with an oversized white shirt and some denim jeans. I look at down and see that he has light brown timberlands on his feet, which look like they've been slightly worn out from constant use. Judging by his build, he looks slightly taller than me, and standing at 5'7" I was already quite tall for a girl of my age too.

The boy in the beanie sat on a short metal stool, with his guitar sitting on his leg, his fingers gliding effortlessly across its strings with utter grace. You could hear a slight hint of an accent as he sang, but that didn't affect the beauty of the song in the slightest. In fact, it actually added a nice touch to it.

A guitar case lay open in front of him, and in it was a few coins and dollar bills, but not much. I looked up at his face again. His eyes were closed, entranced in the lyrical excellence of the words flowing from his mouth. True passion. It was something rare to find among people nowadays. But this boy seems to be putting his heart and soul into what he was singing, as if he too had experienced an unforgettable heartbreak that scarred his past. As if he was born to sing this particular song.

I was standing directly in front of him now, but he didn't seem to realize I was even there. There were people hurriedly passing behind me, not bothering to stop and listen to the amazing talent that was right in front of them. I guess people are just too busy nowadays, that's too bad.

But I had to admit, I was utterly impressed by his performance, and as the saying goes, 'If a street musician is able to make you stop in your tracks and listen to them, you definitely owe them something'. I took out my wallet, withdrew twenty dollars from it and dropped it in his guitar case. He deserved it anyway, even though I was basically broke at the moment and gave him half of my money I had.

He was approaching the end of the song, so I start making my way back home again. I look over my shoulder for a final glimpse at the boy in the beanie, then turn around and walk away slowly, thinking maybe that's a life story I'm just not supposed to be a part of.