Another day, another disagreement.
Subaru Sumeragi wasn’t looking where he was going.
Not that it mattered: the Financial District was a total maze at the best of times, but in the middle of the night after a fight with your boyfriend, it was especially impenetrable.
“Are you intentionally stressing me out?” Seishiro had asked, eyebrows raised.
“No! I just…” but Subaru lost his words and looked away, angry with himself.
He lit a new cigarette, turned a corner and suddenly knew where he was. Zuccotti Park stretched down ahead of him, a sheet of concrete with strips of light sown throughout like luminous scars.
Trees stuck out here and there, lonely and skinny and pale. The term “park” had rather a looser definition in New York, but it was at least quiet.
Subaru chose a bench and sat down on it, shivering slightly in the early spring cold. He stared blankly at the ground, watching his cigarette smolder, its glowing end the only natural light.
It was always too cloudy for stars, but would you be able to see them anyway? Not that Tokyo had been any different, but…
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