The rooftop became a sanctuary for Rian and Nathan, its quiet corners a stark contrast to the city's relentless noise. Rian arrived just as the sun dipped below the skyline, painting the sky in hues of violet and gold.
He set up his telescope with practiced ease, but his mind was elsewhere -- on Nathan, on the way his laughter felt like a melody last night, on the fleeting shadow that had crossed his face when his phone buzzed with Lila's name flashed on it.
Rian adjusted his glasses, his fingers lingering on the telescope's lens. His day was packed and busy; his seminar notes a mess of half-finished equations and doodled constellations. His advisor had pulled him aside after class, her tone sharp.
"You're slipping, Mister Arden. If you want that observatory internship, you need to focus." The words had stung, not because they were untrue, but because they echoed his father's voice from years ago: "You'll never make it chasing stars." He'd left home to escape that doubt, but it followed and haunted him still, a shadow he couldn't outrun.
The door to the rooftop creaked open, and Nathan stepped out, his guitar case slung over his shoulder, he's wearing a black t-shirt that clung to his frame. His chestnut hair was messier than usual, and his brown eyes held a flicker of something Rian couldn't quite read -- maybe it was excitement, or exhaustion.
"Caught the tail end of the sunset," Nathan said, setting his guitar case down. "Almost as good as your meteors." Rian smiled, pushing up his glasses. "Almost. Sky's clear tonight. You want to see something new?"
Nathan's grin was all the answer Rian needed. They settled beside the telescope, Rian pointing out Orion's Belt and the faint smudge of the nebula below it.
Nathan listened with quiet intensity, his questions sharp and curious, like he was trying to map the stars in his own way. Their shoulders brushed as they took turns at the lens, the contact sending a warmth through Rian that he tried to ignore.
As the night went on, Nathan grew quieter, his fingers tapping restlessly against his knee. Rian noticed the shift in his demeanor, the way Nathan's gaze kept drifting to his guitar case, like it held more than just strings and wood.
"Everything okay?" Rian asked, his voice soft. Nathan hesitated, then pulled out his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen. "Got a gig offer today," he said. "The Blue Note. Next Friday. It's... kind of a big deal."
Rian's chest swelled with pride, but he caught the tension in Nathan's voice. "That's amazing, Nathan! But... why do you sound like it's bad news?"
Nathan lets out a short laugh, but it was hollow. "It's not. Just... means I would stick around longer than I planned." He glanced at Rian, his eyes searching. "I'm not good at staying, you know? Never have been." Rian nodded, understanding more than he wanted to. "Because of your ghosts?"
Nathan's jaw tightened, and for a moment, Rian thought he'd shut down. But then Nathan reached into his guitar case and pulled out a small, worn notebook, its pages curling at the edges.
"This was my sister's," he said quietly. "Mara. She used to write lyrics in it, back when we were kids. I've been carrying it since... since she died." Rian's breath caught. He'd sensed Nathan's grief before, but hearing it officially from him felt different, heavier. "I'm sorry," he said, the words felt too small.
Nathan shrugged, but his fingers traced the notebook's cover like it was a lifeline. "She's why I play. She taught me everything -- chords, rhythm, how to feel the music... When she was gone, I... I didn't know how to stop moving. Like if I stayed anywhere too long, I'd have to face how much I let her down."
Rian wanted to reach out, to close the distance between them, but he held back. "You didn't let her down," he said softly. "You're still carrying her with you." Nathan's eyes met his, vulnerable. "Maybe. But it doesn't feel like enough."
They sat in silence, the stars above them a quiet witness. Then Nathan opened the notebook, flipping to a page with Mara's handwriting -- slanted, messy, full of life. "She wrote this one about home, he said. "Never finished it. I've been trying to, but... I don't know what home even means anymore."
Rian's heart ached, not just for Nathan, but also for himself too, knowing that he understood that feeling all too well. "I get it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I left home because it didn't feel like one. My dad... he thought I was wasting my life on studying the stars. My mom just watched, never said anything. I thought coming here and studying astronomy would fix it. But sometimes I feel like I'm still proving something to them."
Nathan looked at him and Rian felt exposed. "You're not just proving something," Nathan said. "You're building something. That's more than most people do."
The words settled over Rian like a warm blanket. He smiled, small but genuine. "Thanks. And... for what it's worth, I think Mara would be proud of you. You're not just carrying her notebook -- you're carrying her music. Her legacy. Her memories."
Nathan's throat bobbed, and he looked away, blinking quickly. "You're gonna make me cry, stargazer." He said, his voice rough but teasing. Rian laughed, the sound easing the tension. "Wouldn't want that. You've got a gig to prep for."
Nathan grinned warmly. "Yeah. Guess I do." He picked up his guitar, then strummed a few chords. The melody tentative but growing stronger. "Wanna hear something new? Been working on it since last night."
Rian nodded, settling back against the wall. Nathan played, his voice low and soulful, singing about a sky that held secrets and a heart that dared to stay. The words weren't finished, but they didn't need to be. Because they were Nathan's -- raw, searching, beautiful.
As the final note faded, Rian clapped softly, his chest tight with something he wasn't ready to name. "You're gonna kill it at The Blue Note," he said.
Nathan's eyes held his, steady and bright. "Hope so. But... I kinda like this stage better." He gestured to the rooftop garden, to the stars, to Rian.
Rian's heart skipped, and for the first time, he didn't look away. "Me too." he said, and the words felt like a promise, small but shining, like a star just beginning to burn