A/n: Hey guys! This is one I had on my old book, I'm just editing it and publishing it here. It's the last of my old one-shots, so from now on they'll be new :)

Word count- 530 words.

Enjoy~

Your POV

You forgot how much you had missed New York in your time being gone. As a child you loved exploring the city. There was always something to see, to watch, to observe, and now wasn't any different. That is, except that you were now alone.

You had just bought an apartment of your own, returning to New York for college. You always had wanted to be a writer. Short stories and poetry were your favorite. You loved the emotion and images that you were able to create, pouring your soul out onto the paper.

Three men walked out of one of the many, sketchy alleyways of the city. "Hey, sweetheart," one of them said.

"Want to have some fun?" Another one pitched in.

Maybe being alone wasn't so good after all, but if you could remember it from when you were a child—what you were taught from when you were a child—you may just be able to protect yourself. Still, the odds were three to one, and you weren't sure that you could go off of a fragment of a memory.

So, you did the next best thing; you ran.

Within seconds one of the men grabbed the hood of your sweatshirt, yanking you harshly backyards and towards him. Your knuckles met his jaw, spitting your skin open at the rough contact. It felt familiar.

"Bad decision, pretty girl." The man you hit pulled out a switchblade.

But in a blink of an eye, all three of the thugs were laying on the ground, knocked out cold. You watched as a figure threw the man's switchblade down the alley. The figure then turned to look at you. You saw familiar eyes trying to be hid by a hood pulled over their face. But you could recognize those eyes anywhere.

"Swift," you said.

"No time no see, (y/n)," he replied.

"Oh my god, it's been so long. Hasn't it?" You couldn't help but agree.

"Yep. So long that you ran away from a fight. So unlike you."

You laughed. "The odds were three to one, one having a knife!"

"Ah, you could've beaten them," He insisted.

"Maybe, I've just been out of practice," you admitted.

"Remember when we used to run around at night together, beating up all the punks?" Swift stated.

"Yep. Those were the good old days," you admitted.

You remembered those days so clearly. It's not like you liked to pick fights—well, you guess you did.

"Want to go back out there?" He asked, glancing into the darker part of the city. "For old times sake?"

"Fine," you said sarcastically, as if you'd actually pass for a night out with him, running around the city.

Moving back here just because a whole lot more interesting.

*

A/n: I don't really know much about Swift and the others, but I hoped it was all right anyways.

See ya next time, my dudes.

~Becca