Chapter Text
Thomas stuck his arm in-between the closing elevator doors and muttered an apology as he pushed his way into the slither of empty space that was left. He was surrounded by a multitude of middle-aged men, all with different heights and weights, but all possessing the same unsatisfied look on their faces. They all stood stiffly in their tailored suits, uncomfortably shifting their briefcases in their sweaty hands, and adjusting their hair and ties. Thomas felt their eyes on his back as he pressed the button for the ground floor, judging his hand-me-down suit he had received from his brother 4 years ago on his 18th birthday. It was tight around his shoulders, and short on the arms and legs, but he had nothing better, and had no money to get anything better, so this was it.
He loosened the red tie that tightly hugged his neck and undid the top button of his wrinkled white shirt. He was suddenly glad his interview had gone so badly; he didn't want to live the same lives that these men surrounding him lived. He was young; there was much more out there for him.
The elevator ground to a halt and he sighed with relief as he felt the soft, cooling stream of air from the air conditioning wash over his damp skin. He placed a shiny shoe onto the floor of the equally as shiny marble lobby and slid his phone out from his pocket, expecting to see missed calls and desperate texts, her begging for him to come back, but his screen was blank.
He sighed. It hadn't even been a week and he already felt like his life was crumbling before him. He had 3 interviews this week and blown all of them. He had eaten nothing but instant noodles since he moved in with his old college best-friend Gally, and he felt trapped, and depressed and lost. The concrete jungle had never really felt like home, more like a cage. He wanted nothing more than to be successful, to make his family proud, but no matter what he did, he wasn't getting anywhere.
She hadn't given him much of a reason for breaking it off. She was just 'unhappy' and had assured him 'it's not you, it's me' but he still felt that really, it was all him.
He crossed the street and flopped down onto the nearest bench, resting his head in his hands. He had never felt so hopeless in his life, and he wanted nothing more than to talk to his mom, but that was impossible. She'd been dead for 3 years.
"Thomas?" he heard a familiar voice exclaim. He lifted his head up swiftly. Before him was a good friend he had met in the year above him at NYU. He hadn't seen him since he graduated.
"Minho! Hey man, how've you been?" he said, standing up and reaching out a hand for him to shake. Minho laughed and pulled him into a hug.
"Yeah, I'm alright buddy. You aren't looking too hot right now, if you don't mind me saying" he said, with a laugh that put Thomas at ease.
"Just absolutely fucked my third interview of the week, and broken up with my girlfriend, do you blame me?"
Minho winced on his behalf. "I'm sorry, man"
Thomas shrugged it off, sitting back down onto the bench, tilting his head back to look at the sky. "I wanna get out of here, you know? There's something out there for me, but it isn't here."
Minho nodded and slumped down beside him.
"Weird you should say that actually, I'm leaving for Italy tomorrow morning. I'm working there for the next 3 months, maybe more. I was feeling just as trapped as you were, and thought I'd actually do something about it."
"God, I wish I could do that" Thomas replied, sighing deeply and closing his eyes.
"I mean.." Minho began, stopping mid-sentence.
"What?" Thomas said, snapping his head up and turning his body to face Minho.
"You could come with me. My friend dropped out last minute. You're gonna have to find work on your own, and you'd have to figure out a way to pay me back for the ticket, but if you really think you'd feel better, I don't see why you can't."
Thomas was listening intently to every word Minho was saying, clinging to every syllable. He wanted this, in fact, he needed it. He needed to escape, to start fresh, in a new city, in a new country, on a new continent.
"Okay" he said, without a single hint of doubt in his mind.
"Really? Just like that, you're dropping everything?" Minho said, his brows furrowing, confused or surprised, Thomas couldn't tell.
"It's not like I've got a lot to drop, Minho. I have a job in a shitty grocery store, no apartment or anywhere to call home, approximately 2 friends, and literally no hope of a happy future. I have every single reason in the world to go with you"
Minho looked away from Thomas' eager eyes, like he was processing and thinking. "Okay. Text me your address and I'll come get you at 6am. Pack a bag, buy an Italian dictionary, and we're good to go"
Thomas felt tears spring to his eyes. Tears of what, he wasn't sure. Of happiness? Of hope? He thought it was a mix of them both.
"I really owe you my life, man. Thank you."
Minho smiled, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "See you tomorrow"
Thomas walked home, taking in everything around him, allowing himself to reminisce over the city, and letting all of the dislike for the city melt away. He was able to look back on it with fresh and kinder eyes now that he knew he was leaving it behind, for a while anyway.
He stopped by work to explain, and apologise. His manager had become a friend and assured Thomas that when he returned, his job would still be there for him if he wanted it. Thomas was grateful for that, and felt his heart drop as he shut the door behind him, hearing the familiar creak. He had been saying for months that he would get oil for the hinge, but unsurprisingly, he never did.
He quickly reached Gally's front door and sat down on the steps facing onto Tompkins Square park in the East Village. Thomas hadn't been there long, but he'd miss it nonetheless.
"Hey man" Gally said, pressing a hand down on Thomas' shoulder for support as he lowered himself on the step next to Thomas, two beers hanging precariously from his other hand. "Long day?"
"Actually, I got some pretty good news" Thomas said, taking the beer and bringing it up to his lips.
"You got the job? Congrats Tom, that's hu-"
"No it isn't that. I blew the interview actually" Thomas said with a sigh. "I bumped into Minho, you know, the Korean guy from the year above us at college?" He glanced at Gally to look for a hint of recognition. Gally nodded.
"I was feeling pretty sorry for myself, and I explained everything to him, you know, about how shitty my life is?"
Gally laughed. "Go on then"
"and he said he was going to Italy tomorrow, to work, and he uh-" Thomas fixed his eyes on Gally's face "-he uh, told me to come with him"
Gally raised his eyebrows comically. "That's insane, Thomas."
"I know bu-"
"Woah, woah, I never told you not to go. I think you should. You've always said you've felt trapped here. It'll be good for you, man" Gally exclaimed, enthusiastically, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and squeezing. "I mean, gonna be a bit lonely, but you deserve to be happier, it'll bring me peace knowing you're out there living your life"
Thomas grinned, taking another sip of beer, feeling content in the evening summer sun, thinking that in 24 hours, he'd be sitting somewhere in Italy, where no one knew what he had achieved in his life before that moment (or in his case what he hadn't achieved) and no one would know so much as his name. He would be anonymous, with a completely clean and glistening slate, re-building himself from scratch.
He was so god damn excited.
6am - the next day
Thomas stood outside on the steps, the crisp morning air making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He had a suitcase leaning against one leg, and his Italian dictionary open in his right hand. He flicked through the pages of "helpful phrases" and muttered them under his breath, entirely conscious that he was entirely butchering the pronunciation.
He was busy learning how to ask where the restrooms were when a yellow cab pulled up outside, the window rolled down, with a grinning Minho sitting in the back. "Get your ass into gear, Thomas, Italy awaits"