#sunnythreads

@ the weiss wedding @boneyardstarters

Sunny had the luck to be someone’s- someone desperate- plus one. Dressed in traditional Gujarati clothing, though dark blue in color so as to not attract too much attention, he was flitting about the dancefloor hoping his date would soon return so he could dance. His eyes were bright with anticipation. And while he knew this was not an Indian wedding, he could not help the eagerness and excitement to dance to every single song.

At some point he couldn’t take it anymore, he held a hand out to the first person he saw and announced: “Please accept me as your dance partner, I am simply dying to twirl.”

Sunny was leaning his head on the counter at the old-school cafe, a judebox playing music from the sixties in the back, a lady walking around with long legs refilling coffee mugs, and the smell of freshly baked apple pie wafting from the kitchen.

He tried not to notice all those things, he was beat, exhausted. He'd followed Doctor Eric's orders and not worked for six weeks until the caste could come off. And now he was doing extra work to make up for it. Just a few more nights, he promised himself. Until he felt stable enough.

He opened his eyes, and noticed a pair of legs on the seat beside him. He quickly straightened, ran a hand through his hair, and slapped his own cheeks. He'd grown up on the Mehra mantra, never to be caught looking anything but picture perfect. Luckily, he had the face for it.

"Did you see if someone already came by to refill the mugs?" he asked, smiling brightly. He could see his mug was empty, no steam coming off it.

Sunny always lived up to his name, but the world around him didn't always live up to what they wanted it to be. It was much easier to pretend everything was going alright rather than accepting things went wrong. However, some things couldn't be ignored away. Sometimes it was just too bad, and when it was too bad, Sunny really didn't know how to handle it.

Perhaps a smarter person would think twice about going into the hospital and crying bloody murder - or well, in Sunny's case nursing a broken arm, split lip, and a bruise on his cheek, and crying about it.

Of course, anyone at the hopsital would be asking questions about how he got his injuries, and Sunny was totally going to tell them.

At current, he was simply sitting on one of the beds, letting a nurse check out his arm at the ER, and sniffling loudly. "It hurts so much! I am certain it's broken! Can you feel it's broken?"

Sunny was out much too late these days, when the sun went down sooner and their clients stayed out later. Usually, when those ended in something more than just sitting around, drinking something, looking pretty, they barely dared to brave the streets and sleek off back to their little humble villa. Now, they smelled like wine, cheeks rosy, and jacket thrown snuggly around their body, and felt much braver than they should be feeling.

When they heard footsteps and screams behind them, their first reaction was to move out of the way instead of jumping, and watch the kids stomp off with some amusement. Then they looked back the way they'd come from and frowned. "Oh... they didn't steal your wallet or anything, right?" Perhaps they'd misheard who the screams were actually from. "I'd chase them if I could, but I fear I can barely walk a straight line. I can stay call the police if needed!" They called towards the stranger, no idea if their alcohol-meddled brain was sensing the situation correctly or if he was just making things up.

location ; a random cafe

Sunny knew Ava Adler was living in Las Vegas. He knew not because he'd met her before - face to face that was - but because he'd seen hints of her, because he'd kept tabs on her.

They'd been best friends at high school - though Sunny knew in a way he'd been more of her guardian, the older sensible person who pulled Ava away from potential dangers. She had been pulled to terrible people, to bad choices, and he'd been amazing at steering her away. He hadn't minded, but at times when his own life had been too heavy, helping her felt more like a chore than anything else. Especially with how it ramped up.

And then he'd left, disappeared out of her life when he ran away from home. He'd never given her an explanation, he hadn't really... given her much of a backstory to his decision either. But before he'd run away, he'd already felt the wedge between them. He didn't want to be her keeper, and he knew he'd made that clear with his actions.

It was why now, when Ava walked into the cafe that Sunny was in almost every weekend, he was instantly worried what she'd bring in with her. A bad-partner, a destructive tendency, a con. He couldn't be sure she was still living the same kind of life she'd been aspiring to.

He considered not talking to her. But he wasn't that person. So he raised a hand and waved to her. "Ava?" Then gestured at the empty seat opposite of him.

Sunny smiled fondly as he let his fingers trail down the front of Dion’s outfit, the place they were in was loud, hot, and terribly crowded. A man such as Dion might almost be able to go completely unnoticed. If not for being placed exactly there.

Sunny never questioned his jobs. He didn’t have it in him to fight that battle. It didn’t go wrong often enough for him to start putting up boundaries. He was called or told to be somewhere and he showed up. A few layers of makeup on, his hair perfectly curled, and beard perfectly trimmed. His outfit chosen because it was both discrete and a bit flaunting. If Dion had bought his services himself or been offered them, Sunny would only learn if he asked, and he had no intention to ask. He simply acted.

“You look absolutely lovely tonight,” he whispered into Dion’s ear. His movements were hidden, not flirtatious, but almost familiar. As if they were pals sharing a drink. Openly flirting with a famous artist never went over well in the press. “I am glad to get your attention again for the night.”