Solangelo One Shots

Breaking Down the Walls(Part 2)

We pushed our way through the subway station and out into the cool air, taking our first breath in what felt like forever. After standing in silence for a few seconds, appreciating the uncrowdedness of the streets Nico glanced at me, a smile dancing across his lips. "I don't care how long I live in the city, I'll never get used to rush hour on the subway," he said. 

"It's the worst," I said. "You can't move your finger without having it in one person's mouth and another's ear. That one was better than most, though."

"How come?"

"You were there," I responded. He stood in silence, the breeze playing with a lock of his dark hair until he burst out laughing. "What?"

"That was the cheesiest thing I've ever heard," he said. "You artists are all the same."

"You might not want to say that where we're going," I pointed out. "We're going to an art museum, after all."

"I didn't say it as a bad thing," he said, walking. In the distance we could see the museum, the flags waving in the wind broadcasting it's location to the city. "I like your cheesiness." He smiled and I could almost hear more of the wall beginning to crumble, revealing just a small bit more of the person pulling me in the doors.

I had been to the art museum dozens of times but that night it seemed better, the art more beautiful than ever before. My mouth was moving a mile a minute but Nico didn't seem to mind, listening to me spill the useless art knowledge I had somehow accumulated over the years. "This is one of my favorites," I said, staring at one of the paintings. The bright colors were a stark contrast to the plain white of the walls, the hues somehow brighter with Nico by my side. "Do you like it?" He gave my hand a gentle squeeze. 

"I love it." 

The hours felt like minutes and the minutes felt like seconds and soon there was a voice booming through the museum telling us that the doors would be closed in five minutes so Nico and I slipped out of the building just as it was locked behind us. "What should we do now?" Nico asked. "I don't want to go home."

"Me, neither," I said. "You hungry?" Nico nodded. "Let's find food. We can figure out what to do later."

"Do you have a place in mind?"

"We don't have to have a destination," I said. "We have time, we can find one. We have all the time in the world. The city is ours." 

I was almost disappointed when we found a tiny bakery at a street corner. Ramona's Sandwich Shop read the sign above the heavy glass door. Family owned since 1908. We were greeted with warm smiles and the scent of fresh bread when we stepped inside and the toasty air felt like a hug. "Get whatever you want," I told him, staring down into a glass case filled with sandwiches of all kind. "I'm paying."

"I can pay, if you want," he said. "It's not that expensive."

"I'm paying," I said. "I asked you out, so I'm paying. You can pay next date, if you want." He said nothing at the mention of a second date but the smile that spread across his lips told me all I needed to know.

I slid into a booth holding a plate taken up by the biggest egg sandwich I had ever seen and Nico plopped down next to me, setting his italian on the table in front of him. "This is massive," he said, staring at the sandwich with wide eyes. "I'm not sure I can finish this."

"Anything is possible if you believe in yourself," I said, giving him a playful nudge. "Besides, this place closes at midnight. We can stay here for hours, if you want."

It didn't take hours for him to finish the sandwich. Within the span of ten minutes all that was left were crumbs, sparse on the plate. Nico's head was resting on my shoulder, his fingers intertwined with mine. He yawned, closing his eyes before opening them and staring up at me blearily. "Are you tired?" I asked.