Deprivation binds more effectively than words ever could. The mind seeks patterns, familiarity, the comfort of what once was. When they reach for what is no longer there, let them feel the weight of the space you once filled.  The strongest chains are the ones they call themselves.  Upon your return, they will beg to be locked in.

-Excerpt from The Infernal Guidebook: The Art of Unraveling a Soul

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The tears eventually fade, but the ache in my chest still leaves me feeling raw and exposed.  I take a shaky breath as the realization of how reckless tonight was hits me in waves. Both the realization of how easily it could have gone wrong, and how naive it was to follow Azrael into that park with no one else around.

The thought of how distant I've felt since moving here creeps in, stirring up a pang of guilt.  I haven't really doneanything here yet, and I'm in New York City for crying out loud.  Sure, I'm still an introvert in my settling in phase, so waiting this long to explore and find my regular places isn't super out of the ordinary, but, and I hate to say it, after weeks of seeing Azrael, I feel a bit empty now that I'm back to having nothing here.

I reach for my phone, pulling up a search engine and type in "fitness centers near me" and hit enter, hoping to find a place where I can at least let off some steam, and maybe even take classes to get to know more people.

I click the first link, and score!  It looks like they offer one free day for newcomers on Sundays.  I scroll through a list of classes to see that there's a yoga class next weekend.  That's something I've always wanted to try, so I fill in my information on their signup form and am officially set to go next Sunday.  With the promise of a fresh start, I finally let myself drift off to sleep.

*  *  *

It's too soon for me to want to sit at my usual Starbucks again this week, so I make a point to explore more of the city with my time.  I've been checking out new cafes, shopping more for my apartment, and as a bonus, one of my coworkers must have noticed something off about me so she suggested taking me to a club after I said I hadn't been to one here yet.  I was hesitant at first since it's not really my scene, but after everything, finally letting my guard down around someone safe feels too tempting to pass up.

Friday night comes fast, and as I grab my bag I try to remind myself that today is about not overthinking.  Thankfully the city is buzzing with energy as I make my way to the club, making for the perfect distraction.  The streets are alive with people heading out for the weekend.

I see Ashley outside the club in line. 

"You ready?" she grins, clearly in her element.

I smile back, letting the excitement shed some of my nerves, "Let's do it!"

The beat of the music hits us like a wave-- loud, heavy, and completely alive. Lights swirl across the packed dance floor where people are moving and laughing with drinks in hand and swaying to the rhythm.  This is what I needed, I think, following Ashley to the bar.

She orders a round of shots and hands me one.  "To new experiences," she toasts.  We clink glasses and I grimace as I down the shot, letting the burn of alcohol spread through me.  For the first time in days, I feel the tension start to lift into something freer. 

Several drinks later my head feels light.  At some point Ashley and I pushed ourselves through the crowd and are now dancing like we've known each other forever, laughing uncontrollably as we both sway and jump to the beat.  The world outside the club might as well not exist!

"See? I told you this would be fun!" Ashley shouts, raising her drink in the air before downing the rest of it.

"You were right!" I yell back, breathless but grinning wide.  Another absolute banger starts blasting through the speakers and I lose myself even more, fully embracing the people dancing around us who are just as drunk and happy as we are.

Sweating, we eventually collapse into a booth along the wall.  My heart is still racing and my hair's a little messy, but I couldn't care less. "I haven't danced like that in forever!" she shouts, fanning herself with a napkin.

I giggle, "I don't think I've ever danced like that," I slur, slightly hypnotized by the world spinning around me.  Two more cocktails end up in front of us somehow.  "To..." I pause, laughing again, "to being drunker than I've ever been in this city!"

She laughs, clinking her glass against mine with a loud clink. "Hell yeah!"

Leaning back into the booth, I close my eyes for a second and laugh out loud at nothing in particular, just overwhelmed by the pure exhilaration of the moment.  "Thanks for inviting me!" I yell above the music.

Ashley beams at me with a face flushed from the drinks and the dancing. "Well, don't thank me yet; we've still got the rest of the night!" she shouts back, "Next time we'll have to come with Josh and Trista.  We usually all go out together once a month or so!  Usually here, but sometimes we branch out."

"What about here do you like best? There's gotta be hundreds of clubs in this city," I laugh.

"It's not even the club itself, it's the vibe. You know? It's not too pretentious, not packed with creeps, and you can actually dance here without someone grinding up behind you every five seconds." She giggles, taking another sip.  "Plus the martinis here are extra good, and the bartender's a total sweetheart. He always gives me extra green olives." She holds up her glass proudly.

"Well, I wouldn't say no to coming again, especially if becoming a regular has such nice perks," I nod toward her olives.

She throws her head back and laughs, "See? I knew you'd get it!" she grins, "That's how it starts!  First the extra olives, then you're on a first-name basis with the DJ, and before you know it, you're getting free shots on your birthday."

At some point after midnight Ashley throws her arm around my shoulders, pulling me to the bar, "Hydrate, babe. We don't want you passing out on me just yet." She takes a big sip of her own water.  I down half the glass in one go, trying not to think about how nasty it tastes after all the alcohol.  "Alright," she says slightly slurred, but full of pride, "I officially consider your club initiation complete." She gives me a playful shake. "You didn't pass out, you danced like a maniac, and you didn't even lose your shoes. That's more than most people manage their first night out."

I laugh, leaning into her, "I'm honored," I joke, "But I don't think I could have made it much longer anyway."

"We'll build up to it! By next month, you'll be able to stay out till the clubs close like a true pro!"

I shake my head, laughing. "We'll see about that. But for now I think I'm gonna collapse into my bed the second I get home."

"Same," Ashley agrees, rubbing her temples, "I can already feel tomorrow's hangover creeping in."

We both gather our things, still slightly unsteady.  Outside, the cool night air hits me like a wave, sobering me up just enough to feel the exhaustion in my body.

"Text me when you get home," Ashley says, pulling me into one last hug, "and next time, we're staying until four. No excuses."

"Deal," I laugh.

I glide through the city streets, feeling at peace with the cool breeze against my flushed skin as I head toward the subway station. The world feels soft around the edges.

Reaching the subway entrance, I grip the cool metal railings a bit too tightly as I descend the stairs, trying not to trip over my own feet. The faint hum of the arriving train echoes through the tunnels, and I squint at the glowing signs, making sure I'm heading in the right direction.

I sink into one of the subway seats, gripping the edge just a little too tightly as the world continues its slow, relentless spin around me.  Even with my eyes closed the spinning persists, like I might as well be upside down.  I count the stops in my head, focusing on the acceleration and deacceleration of the train at each station, using the breaks as checkpoints to my stop.

I step out of the subway station and walk my usual path home.  When I pass by the oh so familiar closed cafe where I usually write, I narrow my eyes at it in annoyance.  "Starbucks," I scoff lightly, before pushing the thoughts away to focus on getting home.

Finally I'm able to kick off my shoes, drop my bag by the door, and flop into bed without bothering to change clothes, letting out a long, content sigh before letting the spinning world pull me to sleep.

*  *  *

I wake up to a dull pain behind my eyes that seems to throb with every beat of my heart.  As soon as I shift on the bed, a strong wave of nausea rolls over me and I groan.  My mouth feels like sandpaper and the light seeping through the curtains feels way too bright.  I grab my phone and hide myself under the covers.

"Nadia girl how's the hangover? XD  Worth it though, right? Lmk if you're alive. Drink water!!"

I let out a weak laugh, though it immediately turns into another groan as my stomach flips again.

I push myself up into a sitting position very slowly.  "I'd say it was," I smile to myself before braving the idea of standing up and making my way to the kitchen for some water... and maybe a piece of toast if my stomach can handle it.

"I'm alive, barely, but it was worth it!" I text back.  Almost immediately my phone buzzes.

"HA! Knew it!"

Then again.

"Hydrate, nap, greasy food. Trust me. Oh, and Gatorade. Total lifesaver."

And again.

"Next time we're pushing to 4!"

I chuckle softly, even though laughing makes my head throb too.

"Greasy food sounds like heaven right now. Not sure about the 4AM plan yet though... baby steps. XD"

I force down a few bites of toast, but it's like chewing sand, and doing nothing to help my stomach. I stare at the half-eaten slice for a moment before finally pushing it away with a frustrated sigh.  "I'm ordering a burger," I mutter to myself before pulling out my phone and tapping on DoorDash.  That burger and fries end up being the best decision ever.

The rest of the day I spend in recovery.  After finishing my feast, I curl up on the couch with a blanket, feeling the worst of the nausea finally start to fade.  Twilight movie marathon here I come!  Then hopefully I'll feel better enough to be able to move and stretch my body tomorrow.

*  *  *

The next morning I get ready, grabbing a tight work-out top that won't ride up when gravity hits me at new angles, and a pair of yoga pants that, for the first time, will finally be used for their intended purpose.

"Alright," I say to my reflection, taking a breath. "New experiences."

My heart races a little faster as I approach the fitness center and head straight to the woman in blue workout clothes at the front desk.  After she verifies my identity, she directs me to the class, where a few people are already setting up their mats.  I choose an empty spot next to a guy seated with his legs awkwardly splayed out, shifting uncomfortably like the mat itself is attacking him.  He's likely a beginner too, which will make things less embarrassing for me when my inflexible self inevitably looks like a fool.

He turns to face me when I set my mat down, "Yes, come suffer with me," he says completely deadpanned.  I let out a laugh.

"You make it sound like you were dragged here against your will," I say.

He nods, "That one there is to blame," he says, jerking a thumb at the person to the other side of him.  I lean forward to see a girl smirking as she reaches forward into a perfect seated stretch.

"It's not suffering.  It's surrender," she says before the instructor walks in.

"Welcome everyone," the instructor says softly, "We'll begin by centering ourselves, finding our breath, and settling into presence."

The class quiets and everyone adjusts to mirror the her meditative position and breathing.

"Am I doing it right, or do I sound like Darth Vader?" the guy next to me whispers to the girl he came with.  I bite my lip to keep from laughing, but the girl just mumbles something without opening her eyes.

The class progresses with downward dog, warrior poses, tree pose, and so on until we wind down into the resting pose.  I hear a soft exhale from the guy, and after a few seconds of silence-

"I think I just transcended."

I press my lips together but can't help the breathy snicker that escapes through my nose.

When class finishes I roll up my mat and glance over at the two next to me, doing the same. 

"Okay, I survived, but at what cost?" the guy asks the air in front of him.

"A little mobility?  Some flexibility?  Maybe a better appreciation for your hamstrings?" the girl smirks, clipping her mat strap into place.

"Unlikely, they hate me more than ever," he replies.

"Have you been doing this a while?" I ask the girl, "I'm Nadia by the way."

"I'm Olivia, and this is Cam, and yeah, since high school," she smiles, "This instructor's great, structured but not too intense, unlike some classes that feel like you've accidently joined a cult.  I swear there were some 'chosen ones' in one of the studio I went to before finding this one."

"I wish she would have dragged me to that one," Cam jokes.

Olivia laughs, tilting her head, "Hey, we were about to go grab the coffee I owe Cam for coming with today.  You wanna come?"

"I'd love that!  I'm still learning my way around the city, so more coffee spots are always a plus."

As we walk out of the building, Olivia turns to me, "So, what'd you think of the class?"

I smile.  "It was good!  I didn't really know what to expect, but it was less pressure than I thought.  I'm not sure how it compares with other studios and fitness centers, but I think I'll sign up for a membership next week."

We reach the café and settle into a table by the window.  "How long have you both been in the city?" I ask.

Cam leans back in his chair, "Let's see... I moved here about five years ago? Right after college. I grew up in a small town in Vermont, so coming to NYC was a bit of a culture shock.  Like any little small-town boy, I couldn't figure out how people managed to not get lost in this place, but now I can't imagine living away from it."

Olivia then gestures to herself. "I'm the opposite, born and raised in Queens. I moved out on my own a few years ago, but the city's always been home. Though," she grins, "I still get lost sometimes. No one really masters this place."

"And you?  How's it been adjusting to the city so far? I know moving here can be... a lot," Olivia asks.

I take a sip absentmindedly, thinking about the whirlwind it's been since I arrived.  "Overall it's been... good, I think? Overwhelming sometimes, but I kind of like that. There's always something happening, always something new to figure out."

Cam nods in understanding. "That's how it starts. Then, little by little, it just clicks. You find your spots, your coffee shop, your late-night pizza place... Did you find your pizza place already?  That's like, a New York rite of passage."

I laugh, shaking my head.

"Tragic," he says.

"I promise to taste-test one this week if you guys come.  I need experts for that kind of decision," I say.

Cam grins, "Deal, but we're going to my spot first.  If you don't know how high the bar is, I fear you'll settle for cardboard."

"Absolutely not," Olivia rolls her eyes, "Your spot is an absolute tourist trap."

"It doesn't have to be authentic to be good," Cam retorts.

As we finish our coffee Olivia glances at her watch, sighing lightly. "Alright, I should head out. I promised my roommate I'd help assemble some IKEA furniture today," she rolls her eyes playfully, "Pray for me."

"I've been there. I'll light a candle," I laugh, standing up.

I go home and relax the rest of the day, but I need to get back to my writing soon.  I've been putting it off for too long.  My stomach sinks again thinking of my usual Starbucks, but it would be ridiculous to avoid a whole place that has brought me comfort just because of Azrael.  I won't let him have that power over me.  Does he even still go there?  Would he come up to me if he saw me there writing again?  He hasn't tried to contact me since that day at the park, so maybe he was serious about ignoring whatever compulsion he'd typically have to keep pushing?  Either way, it's just coffee, I tell myself.  My Starbucks is my Starbucks and I'll start going again after work this week.

The week passes in a blur of working, commuting, and then slipping into Starbucks with my laptop. The first day back, my heart raced as I pushed open the door, half-expecting to see Azrael sitting there waiting, but he wasn't.  I set up at my usual table by the window and opened my laptop, but the memories were too big of a distraction so I moved to a spot on the other side of the room.  He never showed up.

Each day became easier to focus, but yet I'd still catch myself glancing at the door sometimes when it chimed open.  It was never him.

By Thursday, my routine feels almost normal again and this Starbucks has officially reclaimed its status as my space.  I'm in the midst of revising my latest chapter when my phone my phone buzzes with a message from Olivia.

"Hey!  How about getting pizza tomorrow night?  Don't tell Cam we're going to my spot!"

I smile, typing back, "I'd love to!  Just send me the address!"

As I hit send, the door to the café chimes again.

"I was wondering when you'd come back."

My heart stops.  I look up slowly, meeting Azrael's gaze.

He's standing there, hands in his pockets, and with that same infuriatingly confident smirk on his face. But there's something heavier in his eyes this time.  My nerves spike.

"Miss me?" he asks, dropping down into the seat across from me and studying me like he's trying to read every hint of emotion on my face.  I take a careful bite of my vanilla macaron.  Stay calm. It's still my space.

"What brings you back? Business?"  I ask, trying to keep things simple even as my heart pounds.

There's a pause that extends a bit longer before he speaks. "Maybe, or maybe I was waiting to see if you'd still want me here."

I can't help but scoff in disbelief, though the nerves still bubble in my chest. "You couldn't have sent a text to find that out?  It probably would have been easier."

His jaw tightens just slightly, but the smirk returns, like a shield. "I figured you needed time to... process.  I wasn't sure how much time that would take."

Process what?  I want to ask. The fact that he hinted at some dark, possibly criminal life and then just brushed over it like it was nothing?  But the words stick in my throat.  Instead, I bite into the rest of my dessert, chewing slowly, forcing myself to stay calm.

"Well," I say after swallowing, "I've been busy. Deadlines, writing contests, and unicorns don't write themselves."

Azrael chuckles softly, his eyes still locked on mine.  "I get it. It's easier to control stories on a page than ones in real life."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes but meet his gaze head-on.  "It's not about control," I say softly, "Real life is harder to rewrite when I risk it in unknown situations."

His smile falters just slightly, but he continues on playfully, "Well, I'm here to explain, and I'd really hate for those unicorns to keep me from your attention."

I shut my laptop and cross my arms in front of me.  "Okay, you have it."

"That was easier than I thought," he says.

My eyes narrow into a glare. "Don't flatter yourself. You've got my attention but that doesn't mean I'm letting my guard down again."

"You think your guard's still up?  Nadia, there are hundreds of cafes around here, including other Starbucks, yet this is the one you're still coming to.  I know you've been trying to convince yourself you didn't need more closure from the moment you walked away," he says softly. 

I open my mouth to say something, but his next words cut me off. 

"I came back because I didn't like how we left things. I don't usually care how things end, but with you, I do," he says, his voice at a near whisper.  Meanwhile, my mind races with questions again.  Why me?  What's his endgame?  Is this all part of his leveled-up performance now?  But at the same time, I can't help that my heart twists painfully at the raw edge in his voice.  I swallow hard, feeling that same pull I had toward him spark again.

"That's a nice speech, but you're still avoiding the real question. What do you want from me, Azrael?" I ask, keeping my voice steady despite the storm inside.

For a split second, something flashes in his expression.  Guilt? Hesitation?

"Everything," he says softly.