He probably should have thought twice before returning to the Big Apple, taking into consideration that he’d just..., packed his bags and disappeared two months earlier. Whether it was his abrupt breakup with Samantha, or the way each and every single person seemed to stare him down in the hallways at school ( as if though he’d really just decide to drop dead then and there in front of the entire world ), he needed out — he needed time to figure out what exactly it was that he wanted from himself, from life, from everything. There had to be more than just sex, alcohol, and keeping up overbearing relationship with his twin brother. Fingers tucked into the pockets of the black coat that curtained his lanky physique, Faris’ fingers graze the unopened box of cigarettes in his pocket. He hadn’t touched one in a week — that was one entire week sans cigarettes but he kept them on board, just in case he ever had a gruesome breakdown and found himself in dire need of a smoke. He’s steering through the New Years Eve’ crowds of people nestled together for the big show, and there’s a fat scowl resting on his face. He didn’t really miss the crowds of the city, sure, the scent of the barely running car ( or piece of junk rather ) he’d bought was overwhelming and made him miss the Kattan penthouse more than anything in the world, but..., he’d still choose the shitty car. Lips sinking down on his lesser lip as his gaze skims through the familiar names of his brightly lit phone screen, Faris’ breath hitches. Unsure if it’s because of the body it’s collided with or the name on the screen, the male gives his head a firm shake. “Shit, sorry— I didn’t mean to—”
