Late Night
Ash stepped out of the building, exhaustion clinging to his bones. The office lights behind him flickered as the glass doors slid shut, locking the day away.
He barely made it five steps before the sky cracked open.
Rain poured—sudden and loud.
He blinked up at the clouds. No umbrella.
Of course.
But his apartment was only five blocks away.
He didn't stop to think. Just shoved his phone deeper into his coat pocket and started running—soaked in seconds, shoes splashing through puddles, tie loose around his neck.
The city blurred around him—lights, horns, the sting of cold water in his eyes.
And there's one thing he couldn't stop thinking about.
Celeste.
Her laugh when she teased him.
The way her perfume clung to his jacket for hours after a hug.
The way she used to call his name—not just "Ash," but "Ashhh" like it was always laced with mischief.
He didn't know when their silence had started feeling like a punishment.
But it did.
He reached his apartment soaked, breathless, heart thudding beneath layers of rainwater and something heavier.
The receptionist gave him a brief worried glance as he passed. He said nothing.
The elevator ride felt eternal.
Ding.
Ash stepped into his apartment and locked the door behind him.
Then he stood there, dripping, staring at the silence.
________
Morning
Ash woke up with a slight cough and an ache in his shoulders.
His throat felt raw.
His eyes burned.
He blinked blearily at the ceiling, rolled over, and checked his phone again.
Still no message. Not even a meme. Or a heart. Or a casual "are you alive?" from Celeste.
He didn't know what he was expecting.
With a sigh, he got up, showered, ate a quick breakfast, brushed his teeth, and put on his usual office wear.
Routine. Clean. Controlled.
.
.
.
Ash stepped inside the elevator, his shoulders heavy with exhaustion. He pressed the button for the ground floor, the soft hum of the lift filling the silence. His eyes were dull, lips pressed into a line. His clothes were neat—but he didn't look put together.
As the elevator began to descend—
*Ding.
The doors opened again.
Rowan stepped in, a lazy grin on his face, holding a paper bag in one hand and his phone in the other.
"Yo, Princess," Rowan said with a lazy grin.
Ash tried to smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Morning."
"You look like death warmed over. You good?"
Ash kept his posture, eyes straight ahead.
"I'm fine. It's nothing."
Rowan raised a brow.
"You sure? You sound like a funeral."
"Yes," Ash said, voice even. "It's not much."
The elevator hummed in silence.
Then Ash asked, quietly, not even turning his head—
"…Has Isadora left the country already?"
Rowan blinked. His grip on the paper bag tightened slightly.
"Y-Yeah. She flew out yesterday."
Ash nodded slowly, jaw tight.
"I see."
Another beat of silence.
*Ding.
The elevator reached the ground floor.
They stepped out side by side.
Neither spoke at first—but before splitting toward opposite wings of the building, Rowan said lightly,
"Alright… see you later."
Ash gave a small nod.
"Yeah. See you."
Rowan replied, softer this time,
"See ya."
They parted ways.
Both holding secrets neither was ready to say out loud.
___________