The night was cold.
He looked out onto the dark streets from his penthouse balcony, letting the wind ruffle his platinum hair. He sloshed the glass in his hands, tempted to chug one last swig of the bitter brandy.
He hadn't remembered feeling this drunk since he was young, back when he spent his life trying to become another teenage statistic.
The lights from cars and buildings below him blurred together and he took a step back, not wanting to do something stupid.
Instead, he sat down, leaning his back against the glass, disappointed that he got dressed up for nothing once again. He wasn't entirely sure what he was expecting to happen, but something about this day seemed significant.
April 13th.
He rubbed his temples, laying his stupid sunglasses on the concrete next to him, trying desperately to remember something he wasn't sure ever happened.
It seemed so vivid, and it felt like it was trying to burst through his mind. He raked his hands through his hair, using every ounce of self-control he had, trying not to scream.
He searched through his vague memories. Everything was convoluted and confusing, as if they had been jumbled with the life of someone else.
First kisses, dates, high school; none of it seemed to belong. This disorganized nostalgia was too much, but he'd felt it before. It was a constant ache that he tried so hard to dull, with whatever poison seemed like it would last the longest.
Tonight, it seemed, brandy hadn't done the trick.
He could always see that face. That little bright face, giving him a gap-toothed grin as he went on and on about shit he couldn't have cared less about. It was so hazy though, like some half-remembered dream. It was his job to do something, right?
Yes.
He had to be prepared.
But for what?
He pounded his fist onto ground, trying not to stain his good suit with tears.
He felt like a shell of himself, plagued by these god-awful visions.
These afternoons on the swings, hugs shared at a house he had never seen, lazy afternoons in a room covered in shitty posters, jokes that never made sense; they all seemed like scenes from a movie.
He turned his teary eyes towards the sky, wanting it to just fall on him and wipe away the memories that never mattered; the ones that never existed.
Instead, he saw a star, shooting across the sky faster than he thought possible. He squinted, trying to make out the shape. It was too big to be moving that quickly.
Another flew by, this one brighter than the last, leaving a blazing orange streak across the dark sky.
His eyes grew wide.
No.
He heard the patter of light footsteps near the balcony door. He stood up quickly, wiping the tears from underneath his eyes as he addressed the blonde, bed-headed young boy looking at him sleepy-eyed from inside.
Everything okay?
yeah, i'll be inside in a second
The boy only shrugged, and he was astounded by how quickly he had to be forced back into his reality. But as he looked back to the sky, things were different.
The comets were still out in the stratosphere, but the boy.
The name. The date.
He picked his glasses up from the ground, shoving his hands into his pockets as he closed the door to the balcony behind him.
And in the silence of his penthouse that felt too immaculate, and in his room that felt too empty, he dreamt of the memories that existed in a reality that wasn't his, and of the dark-haired, toothy nerd that he would never love.