August 25th, 2025.
Her eyes settled on the hundreds of people outside the window, focusing on the loud honks and tire screeches on the busy streets of the city, as she brought her cup of coffee to her moisturized lips.
She had caved last night. It was nearing the end of what was once her favorite month of the year and despite what she had promised herself, y/n caved and booked a flight to NYC.
It felt wrong. Every fiber in her body told her that not going was wrong. It was where she had to be. What she didn't know, was that it would feel even worse being here without him. It was pure agony, and if she had anticipated that she would feel half this bad by just being there, she never would've shot out of bed so late last night, just to spend over two thousand dollars on a piece of paper.
She went to the same hotel, a nostalgic smile settling on her face when she heard that the room she had the first time she'd been here was available. The smile turning to a slight frown when she remembered who she met right outside that very room.
After an hour or so of sulking around the room, she decided to pick herself up and give into her guilty pleasure, coffee. Now she was here. Coffee, heartbeat racing and a million souvenirs.
He dragged his feet along the stone path, his chest tightening with every laugh of her's resonating one his head. He had memorized this street like he had memorized her entire being.
He remembered how she intertwined her pinky with his for the very first time just a couple of steps left of where he was standing. He remembered eating up all her frozen yoghurt and making it up to her with his touch only an hour later.
I remember kissing you in every corner, I remember how you fumbled for your key in the elevator, I remember the taste of that 1993 Bordeaux on your tongue when you kissed me.
And now it's all over.
He kicked the door open with his boot. It wasn't anger. It was rage. Rage towards you, and himself. Why wouldn't you fight for him? Why would he let you go? Why couldn't you make it work? Why would he come back here if it was to be without you?
"Why'd you let me go so easy?" His sulking figure slid down against the wall, as he let himself bathe in the memory of her fingers tracing the dark ink on his chest, her lips on every inch of his being, her breath tickling his skin, her frame residing against his when she slept, her eyes swimming in his.
She was just as much of a souvenir to him as he was to her.
Their roles reversed when she was selfish enough to be taking wide steps towards Presidential Suite A.
This time it was all too heavy. They could only blame themselves for coming back. Her breath was dangerously uneven, hands shaking and eyes watering. She had to know if he had come back too.
She was skeptical at first, what if she knocked and the room was empty? What if a stranger opened the door instead of him, that would be embarrassing. She went through every scenario in her head, red stop signs blurring her thoughts left and right, screaming at her not to do this.
But she didn't care, her desire to know if he had been falling and breaking as much as she had in the past few months was stronger than her need to be rational.
