We both promised that our paths would never cross ever again, yet here we were. Getting drunk at a club, running into each other, making out in the boys bathroom, then proceeding to go your apartment and fuck was not how I originally planned tonight to go. I lean in next to you on the balcony, my knee pressed against yours as we pass a cigarette back and forth. My body ached all over, but it was a good kind of aching. I was sober now, but the way the night had gone still made me feel dazed and buzzed.

”The city lights are pretty.”

I murmur. My eyes darting over to you a few times, taking in all of your muscles on display due to the fact you were in nothing but your sweatpants. I was currently in nothing but my boxers and an old hoodie of yours, resting my head on your shoulder for added warmth. Is it wrong to say that I didn’t view this as a mistake? That to me this was something I was grateful for? Is it such a cruel thing to have no regrets?