#astrorahi

It's one thing to invite another man, and quite another to follow through- to wait outside for him to walk in on your arm. While Mars has spoken honestly to Rahi about his feelings, of course there's nerves. Being seen as anything other than the charismatic and effortlessly charming straight man... this changes things. Regardless of everything, it will change many things. There's a vice grip on his stomach and an adrenaline rush easing its way into his system. But he's alright.

He's especially alright when he sees Rahi approaching. Mars is in all black, down to the shirt. Sleek with silk lapels. But he pales in comparison to the man he's invited. He always will. "Doesn't seem fair to show me up at my own event, love." Mars stands from where he's been sitting on the front steps. "Christ. You look... bloody magnificent."

This was meant as a thank you gesture - that's all. Two knocks with the back of his hand at the door, the other holding on to a rather expensive bottle of bourbon - one of his favorites. In the past month or so, the bruises have faded and the stitching job Rahi had done had healed up nicely. All that's left were nice slightly red marks or pink scars. When the door opens, he doesn't smile but holds the bottle up to him. "Thought a drink would be sufficient thanks."

Mars might've jumped the gun a bit. An assumption based on where their last conversation had devolved had led him to one of the most architecturally interesting hotels that Mars could find in NYC. Because Rahi wanted a pool - and so a pool he would get.

The architect has connections in spades, and it only takes a few phone calls and a few charming 'well if it's not too much trouble....' to get what he needs. And all he really needs is pool access. But what he gets is a beautiful king suite, dinner for two at Philipe Downtown, and access to the Rooftop Lounge. Mars isn't even sure if he'll be using any of it... but it's nice to know he's still got his sway.

He texts Rahi in advance, of course. Makes sure they have access on a day when he's free. And he gives the address for him to meet up with Mars there in front, because isn't it more impressive to walk up and see it for yourself? These giant, bubble-like windows showing inner atriums, greenery, and fancy suites. Stone embossment that reaches up into modernized buttresses. It's somehow cathedral-like, somehow brutalist, all in its majesty. Mars is so engulfed in it that he hasn't checked the time, and he's startled out of his daydream by the man he's been waiting for, realizing he's beside him. It takes him a second, remembering their last conversation. "...Hey." It's less sure than he normally is. His smile is small, but genuine. Excited. "What d'you think, yeah? Fuckin'... beautiful building. Wish I'd thought of it, frankly."

He’s never held the belief that everything dies in wintertime. It just seems unfair to put so much overwhelming sadness into one season. And yet, there’s a despondence, a shift after Silas headed back to be with family and work on himself. Rehab. He can't be mad - so the only feeling is the renewal of an old life, maybe. Mars has been sucked back into work, and his poor dog is practically an office pet lately. Not something he’d intended, but there it is. The cycle is back again.

But the therapist says longer walks, take more breaks. Ease himself away from sitting at the damned desk all day. So today after a slightly nervous text, he’s fixing a black pea coat and scarf and walking the cocker spaniel along a less trodden pathway. Zach sees someone familiar waiting and Mars is tugged along. “He must’ve missed you, aye?” Not just him. Mars smile is soft in the eyes as he lets Zachary lead him straight to Rahi, little stub of a tail wagging.

It's only a brief moment of hesitation before he decides to hold arms out in greeting. It's been a while. “How are you, love?”

Lara would’ve loved the theme. She always had a flair for the arts, and had dragged him to a few museums during their time together. She’d always enjoyed the Egyptian hieroglyphs more, though. But gods and goddesses seem fitting for a night of the who’s who in NYC. Mars is as confident as ever when he walks himself in, and wastes no time finding a drink to hold in his hand and people to schmooze. Socialites rampant, the most influential idiots chattering away. And Mars plays the gentleman, the humble, talented architect as he discusses and learns, backlogs information for later use. Every little bit is something. Oh, your materials must cost a fortune that way, have you not tried Vitas Construction? They outsource, it’s lovely, and they only work with high profile. I’ll get you their card. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t work tonight but how could he not? Mars, you must meet my colleague- he was just thinking of a new yacht club over in-

He’s off to the bathroom after storing away everything he can remember, almost wishing he’d brought a notebook. He could always type it up on his phone, but he doesn’t trust that technology as far as he can throw it. Pushing a heavy and ornate door, he nearly runs right into a familiar face. “Well, well, well.” Mars grins. “You asked if I was coming, and here I am.” He says, leaning himself into the doorframe. “I was hoping you’d be around, though. Have to make good on my time with you before you blast off again.” Mars has a feeling he’ll be using that excuse often.

He wonders if he should feel better. Blood pumping in his ears from an intense fight, anger in the form of two hard fists. Any frustration or bad feelings... that should've been it, right? Gone on the ring. Pounded into someone else's face.

But he walks slow, bloodied knuckles on a sore hand, sitting on a battered and bruised chest. Breaths come out a bit wheezy and one eye squints from a blossoming black eye. "Told you I'd be alright." Voice catches as he drops himself in a chair next to Rahi, who, through his one open eye, looks just as lovely in the gritty lighting of the Arène. A split lip causes blood to stain his teeth as he talks.

11﹕ a  text  sent  from  across  the  room .