“Fuck.”

Nikhil can only curse as he comes to consciousness, a beam of sunlight shining right into his eyes. Odd, as Nik usually closes his curtains before he goes to bed to avoid this problem.

The pounding he feels in his head is enough to get him to roll over and bury his face in the pillow, but he pauses as soon as his face sinks into the material. It was the softest pillow he’d ever felt- definitely not his.

Ignoring the rising panic that grips his heart, Nik opens his eyes, drinking in his surroundings. He’s lying on a white down pillow, a stark contrast to the rock-hard pillows he has at home, everything black as to limit stain visibility.

The room he’s in is nice, completely tidy to the point that Nik can only stare as he jolts up in the bed. A million questions and solutions run through his head, but he chooses the one that makes the most sense in his still hungover state; get the hell out of there.

Nik throws the covers off of himself, making to slide out of the bed when he gets a glimpse at bare skin.

“Where are my…?” Nik asks the question to himself as he scans the room once more, looking for his-

“Pants,” Nik says as he makes eye contact with them. At least that mystery wasn’t hard to solve.

Nik gets out of the bed and makes his way over to his slacks, which have been neatly folded on a side table. He slips them on quickly and looks down at himself, patting his wrinkled clothing. Wallet, phone, keys. All accounted for. Thank the Gods.

His shoes are next to the bed, easy enough to slip on. He moves to the door and pushes it ajar, peaking out of the room through the small crack. Sensing no sign of life, Nik begins to briskly walk down the hallway, keeping an eye out for any other person that might live there.

Finally, he sees a door that looks like it’s an entrance and rushes towards it, ignoring his surroundings as he moves swiftly across the space. He ignores what he believes is yelling- someone is yelling his name, but his mind panics. He grabs the handle and throws the door open, taking the steps two at a time until he is back on the street level, and finally, the sidewalk.

He could finally catch his breath; where exactly was he? He looks up at the house he had just exited and gasps softly at the size of it.

It’s a modern style house, all glass and concrete and odd shapes, and looks to be expensive. Much more expensive than Nik could afford even if he saves for the rest of his life. He idly wonders how he might have gotten there when the bright yellow of a taxi distracts him.

He quickly flaggs it down and watches his breath come out in little puffs of steam, finally realizing he is cold. Climbing into the taxi was like walking in a sauna-heaven, the heat on full blast. The taxi driver asks Nik where he’s going, and it was easy enough to answer him. The car immediately falls into a comfortable silence and Nik closes his eyes before the driver speaks again.

“Fun night?” he almost growls in a stereotypical New York accent, glancing at Nik through the rear view mirror.

“Ah- oh...” Nik looks down, seeing his wrinkled clothes and realizing what the guy must be thinking. Nik’s cheeks flare, heating him up even more. He doesn’t even have a chance to explain before the driver is laughing, taking his eyes off the road for more time than Nik is comfortable with.

“Atta boy. I’ve heard tales of the rich kid in that house,” the driver is smug as he navigates his way easily through the city. Nik decides not to ask questions, not that the driver seems keen on answering anyways- now the silence is less comfortable.

Nik is relieved when he finally reaches his apartment. He tosses the driver some money, probably too much, and hops out of the car, booking it up to his apartment and inside. His neighbor is outside watering her flowers she keeps on the landing, but guiltily ignores her greetings and he shuffles inside.

********

As soon as the door shuts, Nik falls back against it as all the feelings he had shoved down this morning now came spilling up, out, and over. He presses the palms of his hands hard against his eyes, willing himself not to cry.

Waking up in a stranger’s home may not be the strangest thing he’s done, but the anxiety of not being in a familiar environment in a country he was barely used to had stressed him to the point of breaking. Suddenly everything was too much, not made any better by his remembrance of his jobless title.

His knees buckle, his body sliding down the door as his legs come up close to his chest and he hugs them as sobs rack through his body, harsh and rhythmic. It’s the hardest he’s cried in a long time, but he feels as the tension slowly leaves his body from the physical release.

“Okay,” he hiccups, slowly pushing himself to stand. His breathing is uneven, still cut by sobs every so often, but he makes his way to the kitchen nonetheless. He ignores the pounding in his head as he easily pops some pain killers and throws a pot of water on the stove.

Cooking was something he knew would calm him; Nik loves to cook, and was taught by his parents from a young age how to make traditional Indian and different European meals. He’d taken some cooking classes at University, even learning some Western-style meals he thought were actually edible.

Most of his income was spent on food, ingredients and spices, desserts and tableware. ‘A good meal is what makes a house a home,’ his mother had always said.

The thought of doing something easy crossed his mind; he could make some instant ramen, be done in five minutes and just eat that. But he smiles as an image of his mother passes through his head, a disapproving smile stretching her features. ‘How could you give up so early my boy? You are young, you have your whole life ahead of you.’

Rogan Josh- lamb curry. He sifts through his cabinets and fridge as he finds the things he needs; an array of spices, tomatoes, ginger, and garlic. It takes him awhile, but so do most things that take care and time, so he doesn’t mind.

It isn’t until he’s finished with his second bowl of curry that he gets a text on his phone from an unknown number. He glances at the notification and squints before opening his phone.

Unknown Contact: “Hey, you left without saying hi this morning! I was going to offer you some coffee for that killer headache you probably have, and also ask when you’d like to schedule that interview. My bosses seem pretty thrilled about you.”

Nik stares at his phone for five minutes before his brain finally catches up. He feels a thread of recognition in the words but can’t place it.

Nik: “Um sorry, I don’t have this number saved. Who is this?”

His heart leaps in his chest as three dots popped up, indicating the person typing. Was it a wrong number? Did he talk to someone about an interview? Or was it... shit-

Unknown Contact: “Oh, it’s Finn. We met at the bar last night?”

Nik frowns to himself, trying to cast his mind back to the club last night, and who all he had met. The bartender’s face crosses his mind, but his name had been Feng and Nik was acutely aware of the unprofessionalism of giving a customer your phone number.

Nik contemplates not answering, banishing this mystery person from his head forever, but...

The word ‘interview’ was flashing in bright lights in Nik’s mind, something being handed to him with a giant bow. He was desperate, desperate enough to go to a coffee shop with someone he believed to be a total stranger for even a chance at a job.