Summary: Arvin gets stationed in Brooklyn after a tour in Vietnam but had never really gone into the city before. When he does, he meets Y/N, who makes it a point to get this small town boy to see the city. (Requested by @euphoriaoxygen)
Warnings: Brief mentions of PTSD from the war
Word Count: 3950
A/N: Sorry this took so long to get out. I killed my computer, had to buy a new one, and then I had to catch up on school but I’m hoping to get more fics out.
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When Arvin left Knockemstiff, he had no idea what he was planning to do with his life. What could he do? He murdered four people. The idea alone left him feeling sick to his stomach but he knew that at the end of the day, that was exactly what had happened. It wasn’t that he regretted any of it. Preston Teagarden had to pay for his role in Lenora’s suicide and the harm of who knows how many other girls. Carl, Sandy, and Sheriff Lee were all going to kill him first. He knew at least the last three were self-defense, but what did the police think?
A few weeks had gone by since he left Knockemstiff, traveling to Cincinnati with that nice fella that had given him a ride. Those weeks had given him time to really sit and think about his future. That was when he realized that he didn’t really have plans. His entire life, he told himself he’d get out of Coal Creek eventually. The last thing he wanted to do was die in that little God forsaken town but, beyond that, he didn’t really know. He honestly figured that his life would begin whenever his grandmother and Uncle Earskell passed away so they didn’t need him to care for them anymore. That was all out of the cards now, though, knowing that he’d endanger them just by going back.
On Tuesday of the third week, he found himself at a recruiter’s office in Fort Thomas, Kentucky, enlisting for the army. If he was being honest with himself, even as he signed the papers, he knew he didn’t want to go overseas. The Vietnam War was one that practically nobody supported, including Arvin. He never understood why the U.S. felt the need to be involved in a battle that had literally nothing to do with us but the army came with a bed to sleep in, food to eat, a paycheck, and some benefits after (if) you got out. All of those were things that Arvin desperately needed.
Basic training was a breeze. He’d been hardened by years of manual labor, both around his grandmother’s farm and doing construction around town. The other men had initially poked fun at him for his accent and his seemingly smaller stature compared to some of the 6’0”+ giants. That all stopped though the first time they saw him shed his shirt, revealing a rippling six pack of abs beneath taught skin and arms that had definitely seen more work than half of these bigger men.
After basic training, he found himself stationed at Fort Hamilton Army Base in Brooklyn, NY. The army life was pretty close to what he’d imagined: rigorous, demanding, exhausting. Shortly after “settling in” at Fort Hamilton (if you can call being there for two weeks “settling in”), he was deployed across seas to fight in the battle of Ia Drang Valley before returning shortly after.
It was a Saturday morning and Arvin found himself picking through his food like he did every morning. With a heavy sigh, he set down his meal pack.
“You alright?” Willard Kast, one of his friends that had survived Ia Drang with him, asked from across the table.
Arvin began to nod but it turned more into a head shake, “Ya ever just feel like everythin’s the same?”
Kast laughed, “Well, yeah,” He said as if it was obvious, “They don’t exactly have us here to have fun.”
“Yeah, but I… I don’t know. Guess I just sorta feel like my life is going on around me but I’m not goin’ with it.” Arvin was never known to be the person who actually spoke about his feelings. For some reason though, this war had just brought out a sudden mortality crisis of sorts. Every time he thought back to those memories of everyone he’d lost, whether it be his mother, father, dog, sister, or war buddies, the dead, blank eyes that stared back at him only seemed to be ghosts of lives still unlived. He didn’t want to be haunted by those same spirits.
Kast smacked Arvin’s arm and beckoned for him to stand up, “Alright, you, up. Now. You’re getting off base today.”
“I don’t even know where I’d go if I left.” Arvin huffed, standing up.
“That’s the fun of it. Just go! Get out of this God forsaken place. See what you find.” Kast had always been oddly upbeat, especially compared to all the people Arvin had ever known growing up. Maybe it was the fact that anything Arvin had ever done felt like an accumulation of negativity so that it felt like there was no “fun in it” as Kast would put it. His friend noticed his hesitation before adding, “You do know what fun is, right?”
Arvin chuckled a little bit, “Honestly, I don’t know if I do.”
Within the hour, Arvin found himself dressed in civilian clothes for the first time in a while, a plain white t-shirt with blue jeans and some old, beat-up, black converse with his denim jacket slung over his shoulders. It was getting into autumn now and, though the sun still shone, there was a chill in the breeze.
Once he stepped off base, he started on his aimless wandering down the streets. Arvin looked up in awe at the tenements and office buildings, sometimes built over restaurants or drug stores. Even though he'd been stationed in Brooklyn for a little while now, he'd never actually taken the time to explore the city. This small town boy was almost overwhelmed.
Horns of vehicles beeped occasionally and trains roared overhead on raised tracks. On many streets, kids played with balls or some version of baseball with a busted off plank of wood instead of a real bat. Some others were running around just playing tag. A small smile upturned the corner of his lips as he watched them laugh out of the corner of his eye. He wished he'd had something like this growing up. Friends.
Off to his left, a drug store caught his eye and he dipped in to grab a pack of cigarettes. They didn’t have anything fancy, not that he needed anything that was. Just a pack of the most mediocre selection they had was what he’d left with, lighting one up as he continued his stroll down the street.
He kept his baseball cap down low, trying to blend in with the rest of the passerby. Arvin had never been one for calling attention to himself. Even in a new place, like Brooklyn, he figured passing through unnoticed would be the best way to go.
“Mother fu- Just work!”
Arvin hadn’t had his curiosity piqued by much on this stroll through the city but the disgruntled groans of a girl definitely drew his attention. He slowed his walk just slightly and looked around for the root of the complaints. There was a group of kids playing jacks to his right on the steps leading into a tenement but it was clear that they weren’t the angry woman in question.
Just ahead, to his left, a car was pulled off to the side of the street and you popped up from the front right side of your car, an annoyed look on your face. You pressed against the car and leaned back, stretching your back out for a moment, before kicking what he assumed to be the tire with a frustrated outcry.
“Okay, okay…” You breathed, trying to calm down, an almost hysterically frustrated smile on your face, like when you’re so mad that you have no choice but to laugh because, if you don’t, you’re going to punch a wall. Again, you disappeared, crouching back down. Arvin couldn’t see what you were doing but judging by the dragging of metal, he assumed you were trying to fix a tire.
Arvin approached the back of your car to see you knelt down, the knees of your flare jeans rubbed black from the pavement. You were leaning with all your might onto a bar that curved and hooked onto the bolts on your very flat tire. However, he was impressed to see the jack placed properly and already up in the right position- not that it was a woman thing…. He’d just seen plenty of idiots place the jack in the wrong place.
“Sorry to bother but you look like you could use a hand.” Arvin offered politely, stepping closer.
You turned to look at him with a start, not expecting anyone to speak. Arvin couldn’t help the small smile that crept on his face when he noticed the smear of grease across your cheek. Hair stuck up astray in a few places from you brushing it back and out of your face.
It had always been a goal of yours to not need a man. You’d seen plenty of women in your life dependent on their husbands, daddies, and brothers to do everything for them and then seen them lose everything when they realized all they could do was cook and clean. Not to discredit cooking and cleaning as valuable life skills, because they absolutely were, but you were not going to be some damsel in distress whenever you needed an oil change or got a flat tire.
But, as much as you hated to admit it, these bolts were giving you a run for your money. After having been at this for nearly twenty minutes to no avail, you sighed in defeat, “I mean, if you wouldn’t mind giving it a try, that would be real nice. I’ve been working at it for nearly twenty minutes and nothing.”
“Here,” Arvin reached his hand out for the pull bar and you stepped aside to allow him room. He notched the socket over the bolt and pushed, trying to crack the bolt. You definitely weren’t exaggerating. Whoever put this on had done a number tightening it. Arvin tried again, leaning into the bar. The denim of his jacket tightened around his flexing muscles as he did so until, finally, it cracked loose and the bolt gave way, twisting.
With a wipe of your hand across your face, you sighed. It took all your might to (unsuccessfully) not imagine the way this man’s muscles must have been bulging beneath his jacket as he cranked the bar.
Once it cracked loose, it was easy work to get the bolt off. By the time Arvin had arrived, you’d already managed to get all but two bolts off so he continued to work on the last one without you asking.
“Oh- I can get that!” You interjected, leaning down to go to grab the bar back.
Arvin stood up and shook his head, “No, no, it’s no problem. I’m glad to help.”
When he returned to turning the bolts, you took a step back, brow cocked and arms crossed, “You’re not from around here, are you?”
The bolt clanged to the ground with a metal clink and Arvin knelt down to shimmy the tire off, “Is it that obvious?” He chuckled, looking up at you as he rolled it to the side. You’d already had the spare ready to go right beside the old one and he grabbed it, wiggling it into place.
You chuckled, “People don’t really go out of their way to help strangers here. And I like the accent. It’s cute. You from Tennessee or something?”
Arvin froze up. Should he tell you? What were the chances of you knowing anything relating to the issues of his past? “Ohio.”
“I didn’t know you guys had accents back there.” You leaned against the side of the car, watching him work on the tire for you.
He tightened up the bolts all within the tire, “Depends on where you live, I guess.” Arvin pressed himself up, wiping his hands on his jeans as he did, “There ya go. You should be all set.”
You stood up straight and ran your hands on your striped brown, black, and white turtleneck, your face contorting in annoyance when you realized you smeared grease on your favorite sweater. Arvin smirked a little when he noticed the action.
You were pretty cute. Arvin felt a little confused. Girls back in Coal Creek had never really caught his eye. They were all so similar, just slight variations of each other. There were the hyper-religious good girls but they all reminded him too much of his sister. Either that or they were the girls who hung out with boys like Gene Dinwoodie and that was just a whole crowd that Arvin had no intention of associated with.
“You really didn’t have to do all that… but thank you for the help.” Your hands rubbed together, the faint black debris marking your fingers. “I have a few bucks. Let me buy you a coffee or something as a thank you?”
“Oh, no, you don’t have to do that.” Arvin readjusted his hat on his head.
“Please, I insist. You just changed my tire.” You pressed, tucking your hand into your back pocket and crossing your ankles as you leaned against the car. Arvin stood a little closer to you, still a polite distance away, but there was a way he looked down at you that just made butterflies go through your stomach.
Maybe this was what Kast meant. Maybe this was some of that life he should be living, that adventure he should be having. “Alright. But I don’t really know where anything is around here so….”
“Don’t worry, I got you.” You smiled, “I know a place a few blocks away if you’re up for it? They have some pretty good pie too. Oh, and I’m Y/N by the way.”
Nerves bubbled in Arvin’s stomach but something made him nod his head, almost against his will, “Arvin,” He nodded a small greeting, “And, yeah, that sounds nice.”
With a smile, you tapped on the hood of your car and nodded your head over to the passenger side, “It’s not too far but it’s kind of cold. I’d rather drive personally but we can walk if you’re more comfortable with that.”
The offer took Arvin back to his time hitchhiking his way out of Coal Creek and Knockemstiff. There had been a few bad experiences with handsy truckers and women who’d picked him up but they didn’t erase the memory of his first pick-up with Carl and Sandy. We all know how that ended…
But he’d made it out of all of those situations, even if just barely, and he honestly didn’t feel uneasy around you. There was an endearing, hardworking, down-to-earth yet friendly energy you gave off that managed to put Arvin at ease. Before he knew it, he was sitting in the front seat of your car as you sped off down the road.
The day had passed quickly with you and before Arvin knew it, it was already almost sunset. Coffee and pie had turned into a two hour long stay with the two of you talking about life which had in turn turned into a stroll through the city.
He’d told you about how he had some family issues growing up and left his hometown to join the army. Your exact response was, “I’d say thank you for your service but I don’t exactly support the war if I’m being honest.”
Arvin sipped his coffee and raised his eyebrows exasperatedly, “Neither do I.”
You told him about how you had been born and raised in Brooklyn, working at a local record shop to save up for a place of your own. You told him all about your career goals and how you wanted to find somewhere you felt like you really belonged. Brooklyn was your home, it always would be, but you felt like there was something else out there for you.
Talking to you was easy- easier than anyone since Arvin’s mother. He couldn’t explain it but the quiet, secretive boy found himself at ease with you, not only willing to but wanting to open up to you. Maybe it was the adorable way you made it a point to smell your coffee before you drank it, taking in the comforting, rich scent, or maybe it was residue of grease still on your shirt. Arvin couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but he was attracted to you in a way he hadn’t been attracted to anyone in his entire life.
“Hey,” You perked up, “You said you’ve never really left base, right?”
Arvin nodded, self-conscious about his lack of adventurous spirit, as Kast would put it, “Unfortunately.”
“You need to do all the stupid tourist things in New York.” You hit the countertop excitedly, as if the grandest idea anyone had ever had had occurred o you.
Arvin’s face scrunched up and he shook his head, looking away, “Nah, that ain’t really my thing.”
“C’mon,” You pressed, holding onto his forearm enthusiastically, “I’m not saying you gotta go stand around and get mugged in Time Square or anything but I think you should experience the city while you’re out here!”
Sightseeing had never interested Arvin. Hell, he never really even thought he’d make it out of Coal Creek, if he was being honest with himself. Even if he did, he just expected to end up in some other shit hole town that was the same with different people. He never really put much thought into what he wanted to do. His mind had just been so consumed with what he needed to do.
Arvin swivelled in his chair to face you, “Well what would you suggest that a newcomer go see here?”
It didn’t take you long at all to think up an idea, “Can you stay out till sunset?”
_____
Manhattan was definitely a different feel from Brooklyn. Arvin felt almost anxious here with all the cars and people and whatnot. He thought the army base was crowded but that was nothing compared to the bustle of the heart of New York City. Skyscrapers dwarfed neighboring buildings, casting shadows that somehow made Arvin feel miniscule in comparison.
“Here we are!” You exclaimed excitedly, disappearing through the revolving door of a classy looking building. Arvin followed you inside, meeting with you in the large main room. There was a window with a man behind it that you approached, “Two tickets to the top please.” You dug into your small white purse and pulled out a few bills and handed them to the man in exchange for tickets.
“Wait, what’re you buyin’?” Arvin stepped over to you, about to interject the transaction. The last thing he wanted was you spending more money on him.
“Tickets.” You said as if it were obvious.
“To what?” He asked, confused.
You turned around, two tickets in hand, with a smile, “Do you not know where we are yet?” Arvin slowly shook his head, wondering why he was supposed to. “We’re at the Empire State Building!”
Arvin had heard of the building, even seen pictures of it in a history book one time, but he really didn’t know much about it. Big cities had never been his interest but seeing the way your eyes lit up with excitement to show him made all reservations melt.
The elevator ride up was nerve wracking to say the least. It wasn’t severe but Arvin had developed minor PTSD from the war. He’d seen many men get killed or trapped, dragged away and unable to escape. This metal death box traveling up hundreds of stories made him feel trapped. He hadn’t noticed that he started rocking back and forth on his heels, gripping his own biceps, until you put a gentle hand on his arm, “You okay?”
With a shaky breath, Arvin nodded and put on a smile, “Yeah. Elevators just make me kinda nervous.”
The elevator stopped at one level but you dragged him up several flights of stairs to get to the very top where you could stand on the balcony.
It was fairly busy but not unenjoyably so. “Okay, come over here!” Yet again, Arvin found himself being led by you to the very edge, leaning on the high railing. “What do you think?”
It was breathtaking, beyond anything Arvin had ever seen. The sun was now setting, casting a warm orange-pink hugh on the city. The buildings and streets were illuminated with tiny lights, creating a sea of little flickering stars. In the far distance, the ocean stretched on for miles. Even the sky was beginning to try and match the city, though the few stars that were beginning to peek through the sunset were nearly drowned out by the light of the city.
“It’s amazin’.” Arvin sighed out, almost overwhelmed. So this was the world outside of Coal Creek?
“Isn’t it something?” Arvin glanced down to see you looking down at the city with such adoration. A warm, orange glow cast across your face, accenting every beautiful feature. But then you turned to face him and he nearly stopped breathing. He knew from the first moment he met you that you were an attractive woman but you looked absolutely radiant now.
Tension began to rise when you realized how close you were to the man. Your hips were almost touching as you stood side by side. Your hands were mere centimeters apart on the safety railing.
Arvin could have gotten lost in your eyes but you tore your gaze away, returning it to the city. Instead, you slowly inched your hand towards his until your fingers touched his, testing the waters. He tensed up, looking down to see your fingers nudging his. He glanced back over at you to see your eyes flick questioningly to his.
Arvin closed the gap between you, intertwining his fingers with yours. Your heart fluttered out of your chest when you felt him pull you ever so slightly closer to him. Your head rested on his shoulder and your free hand came up to grab his arm.
“Y’know, if changing strangers’ tires is gonna turn out like this, I’m gonna have to start doin’ it more often.” He teased but his voice sounded sincere. Of all the possibilities that today had, this was not one that he had imagined when he left base this morning. Holding onto a beautiful girl at the top of the Empire State Building seemed like something out of a movie, not something that happened to real people.
The sun fully set and the stars came out, rivaling the city lights in a display of firework-like sparkles. The full moon acted almost as a spot light in the dark sky, drawing your attention. Arvin had no idea how long the two of you had been standing there but he felt like he could stand there for forever.
Eventually, you shifted against his side and your voice popped up, soft and quiet, “Hey, Arvin?”
“Hm?”
“Maybe we can see each other again?” You twisted in his grasp, which had now traveled to be around your shoulders. Now you looked straight up at him, faces only a small distance apart.
The corners of Arvin’s lips turned up, “I’d like that.”
Your arms were wrapped around his torso and his arms were encasing your body, resting on your upper back. Arvin’s eyes flicked from your lips to your eyes and back down again, as if asking for permission before going in. Both of you slowly inched towards each other before your lips touched in the middle. His lips were surprisingly soft and gentle against yours in the sweet, slow kiss.
When you pulled away, neither of you opened your eyes for a few moments, just resting your foreheads against each other. “Call me a fool for falling for a girl I just met but I think I like you.” Arvin admitted with a satisfied smile, pulling you closer to him.
The good news about having a son living in New York is that he directs me to the best places for breakfast, coffee or pastries. The photo above is from the Silver Moon bakery near 100th Street. As you can see the quality of the tarts, creme brulee and chocolate desserts is superb but I go for the sourdough bread which I take home to their apartment.
The almond croissant is one of the best inventions for a mid morning snack.
This is Riverside Park. Foreigners tend to forget that Manhattan is not all skyscrapers and this is the park four minutes walk from the friends I was staying with.
Back in my son’s apartment this is the view from their bedroom window. Being so high up, one has no idea of whether it is cold or warm outside, or whether it is actually raining (unless you look to see if people are carrying umbrellas!). Every day the sunset is magical.
Anyone who says that money can't buy happiness has never shared a one-bedroom apartment with three other ramen-chomping millennials. They've never had to empty their bank account to replace a 30-day MetroCard that fell onto the subway tracks. And they've almost certainly never been forced to choose between eating and paying rent.
But even though financial stability brings a certain level comfort and happiness, studies show that joy and elation peaks when people hit a certain level of income. A new study from Gallup and Time shows that the chances of experiencing positive emotions (happiness, enjoyment and smiling/laughter) increase with household income, but those chances reach a limit depending on where you live and how much you make.
In the New York metropolitan area, Gallup found that residents reached peak happiness with an income of $105,000 per year. Any income made on top of that only serves to distract them from the fact that their life is insignificant and nothing they do with their time on Earth matters in the grand scheme of the universe.
So if you find yourself wandering about the city at night, wondering why you haven't found joy in life, it could be because you're not raking in a six-figure income...
Imagine this: the sun is melting behind the Empire State Building, turning the entire city into a shimmering pool of liquid gold while you’re tucked away in your own private sanctuary. There is something absolutely ethereal about the way New York City glows at 7:00 PM—it’s that quiet, heavy luxury that makes the world feel like it’s standing still just for you. From the marble floors reflecting the skyline to the way the light hits the water, this is the ultimate urban dream. It’s not just a view; it’s a whole frequency. Penthouse living, but make it high-art aesthetic. 🥂🏙️🐚
Reblog if you’d never leave this room and follow for more luxury city aesthetics to elevate your dashboard.
