Destiny

A sound like a damaged violin crawls out of his mouth in a whisper. "My dream is New York." The word "destiny" is hanging off his lips. Fang takes my hand and pulls me to the buildings and streetlights of Brooklyn. "But-" I start. "The train already left." I stop, not sure - it's been two years. "Come on, Max," he says, "let's get lost." ONE-SHOT. AU.