Rian arrived at the rooftop garden earlier than usual. His telescope case slung over his shoulder, his mind buzzing with the memory of Nathan's song from the night before. The melody and lyrics lingered, weaving itself into his dreams -- a quiet plea for something to hold onto, something to call home. Nathan wasn't here yet, but Rian's chest tightened with anticipation, a feeling he wasn't used to carrying.
His day had been a blue or lectures and lab work, the university's astronomy department a maze of deadlines and expectations. During a break, he'd overheard classmates joking about the upcoming observatory internship -- one spot, dozens of applicants.
Rian's name had come up, but so had the whispers: "He's brilliant, but too quiet. Keeps to himself and doesn't interact with anyone." The words had stung, left him feeling misunderstood and reminded of the boy who'd left home to prove he could be more than his father's disappointment.
Rian set up his telescope, the familiar ritual grounding him. The sky was crisp tonight, the stars sharper than they'd been in weeks. He peered through the lens, focusing on Sirius, its bright pulse a steady anchor.
But his thoughts drifted to Nathan -- to the notebook he'd shared, Mara's lyrics a ghost between them. Rian wondered what it was like to carry someone's memory so closely, to let it shape every chord you played.
The rooftop garden door swung open, and Nathan stepped out, his guitar case in one hand, a paper coffee cup in the other. His chestnut hair was tucked under a beanie, and his brown eyes sparkled with a mix of mischief and warmth. "Brought you something," he said, holding out the cup. "Figured stargazers need fuel."
Rian blinked, caught off guard by the gesture. He took the cup, the warmth seeping through his fingers. "Thanks," he said, his voice softer than he meant. "Didn't peg you for the coffee-run type."
Nathan grinned, setting his guitar case down. "I'm full of surprises. Besides, I was up early. Had to meet Leo about the Blue Note gig." His tone was light, but Rian caught the flicker of nerves in his eyes.
"Leo's your drummer friend, right?" Rian asked, sipping the coffee -- black, with a hint of cinnamon, exactly how he liked it. He wondered if Nathan had guessed or just gotten lucky.
"Yeah. He's been hyping me up for this gig, but..." Nathan shrugged, leaning against the stone wall. "It's a lot. Never played a place like The Blue Note before. Feels like a step into something bigger, you know?"
Rian nodded, understanding the weight of ambition and opportunities, "You'll do great. That song you played last night? It's already something special."
Nathan's smile softened, and he looked at Rian with an intensity that made his pulse quicken. "You're biased, stargazer. But... thanks. Means a lot."
They settled into their routine, Rian guiding Nathan through the telescope to spot Sirius and its faint companion star. Nathan's questions were sharp, his curiosity genuine, but Rian noticed the way his fingers kept fidgeting with the ring on his thumb.
As they sat on the garden wall, and Nathan touched some plants, Rian decided to take a chance. "You said you're not good at staying," he began, his voice careful. "But you're still here. For the gig, yeah, but... is there anything else keeping you?"
Nathan's gaze flicked to him, then away, his expression guarded but not closed off. "You're asking if I've got a reason to stick around, Rian?" His tone was teasing, but there was a vulnerability beneath it, a question he wasn't ready to answer himself.
Rian's cheeks flushed, but he held Nathan's gaze. "Maybe. Just... trying to figure you out." Nathan let out a soft laugh as he runs a hand through his hair. "Good luck with that. I'm a mess half of the time." He paused. "Truth is, I don't know. I've been running so long. staying feels... dangerous. Like I'm tempting fate or something."
Rian understood that fear, the way permanence could feel like a trap, a false hope. "I used to think leaving was the answer," he said quietly. "Got as far from home as I could. But it didn't fix anything. Just made me realize I was running from myself."
Nathan's eyes softened and leaned closer, their shoulders brushing. "You don't seem like someone who's running anymore. You've got your stars, your studies. That's solid."
Rian shook his head, smiling wryly. "Solid's one way to put it. I'm drowning in deadlines half of the time. There's this internship I'm up for, but it's competitive, and I'm not exactly the poster child for confidence. Sometimes I wonder if I'm chasing the right thing."
Nathan tilted his head, studying him. "You're chasing what makes you light up. That's more than most people figure out. And for the record, you're not as quiet as you think. Not up here, anyway."
Rian gulped, unsure of what to say. Nathan's words cutting through his doubts like a star through the dark. He wanted to say something, to bridge the space between them, but Nathan spoke first, pulling out his notebook.
"Wanna see something?" Nathan asked, flipping to a page with fresh ink. "Been messing with Mara's lyrics. Added a verse last night, after... well, after we talked."
Rian nodded, leaning in as Nathan read aloud, his voice low and steady. The words were about a sky that held you close, a home you carried in your bones. They were unfinished, but honest. These lyrics carried Nathan's heart -- his grief, his hope, his search for something to anchor him.
"That's beautiful," Rian said. "It's... you." Nathan's smile was small, almost shy. "Yeah? Maybe it's a little bit you, too. You and your stars."
The air between them shifted, charged with something unspoken. Nathan set the notebook down and picked up his guitar, strumming a soft chord. "Got an idea," he said. "Pick a star. Any star. I'll make up a song for it."
Rian laughed, the sound easing the tension. "You're serious?" "Dead serious. Come on, stargazer. Give me something to work with." Nathan said, chuckling. Rian pointed to Vega, bright and steady in the Lyra constellation. "That one. Vega. It's one of the brightest stars we can see."
Nathan nodded, his fingers moving over the strings, coaxing out a melody that was light and wistful, like a breeze across an open field. He hummed, then sang a single line: "Vega burns, a light that calls you home." It was simple, yet it felt like a gift, crafted just for this moment.
Rian watched, mesmerized by the way Nathan's hands moved, the way his voice carried a piece of his soul. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world was just them -- the stars, the music, the quiet promise of something growing.
As Nathan's song faded, Rian spoke without thinking. "You should stay. For the gig, for... whatever comes next." Nathan's fingers froze, and his expression was a mix of hope and fear. "You make it sound easy." he said. There was no edge to his words, only a question.
"It's not," Rian admitted. "But sometimes the hard things are worth it." Nathan didn't answer, but his gaze lingered, warm and searching.
They sat in silence, the stars above them a map of possibilities, and for the first time, Rian felt like they were both standing still, not running, not hiding -- just here, together, in the dawn of something new.