The silence that settled between us after our unspoken conversation wasn't uncomfortable, not entirely. After the intensity of the motorcycle ride and the raw vulnerability he'd shown, this quiet felt like a strange, fragile thing, something tentative and new.
We stood there by the canal bridge, the distant city lights casting long, cool shadows, the only sounds the gentle lap of water and the distant city hum. Kris leaned against the cold metal railing, arms crossed, his gaze distant as if scanning the dark water. I leaned against the opposite side, watching him, the adrenaline from the ride slowly cooling into a strange sense of awe and lingering confusion.
He seemed content, finally getting a moment of peace away from the demands of school, the pressure of expectations, the constant push and pull of our interactions. It was a rare sight, this stillness in him, and an odd tenderness unexpectedly bloomed in my chest. It was just a moment, brief and fleeting, but it felt significant.
Suddenly, a soft, hesitant melody escaped his lips. At first, I thought I'd imagined it. Then, he hummed again, a few more notes of a familiar tune drifting through the night air. It was soft, melodic, completely unlike the sharp edges of his usual scoffs and taunts.
I blinked, unsure if I'd heard correctly. He was humming. Him. Kris. The boy who thrived on disruption, on chaos, on making me want to throw something at his head, was humming. And not just any tune. The melody was gentle, almost wistful, the opening bars of a song I knew well – "Rewrite the Stars" from The Greatest Showman. It was a song about impossible dreams, about yearning, about defying the odds.
"You know I want you
It's not a secret I try to hide
I know you want me
So don't keep sayin' our hands are tied
You claim it's not in the cards
And fate is pullin' you miles away
And out of reach from me
But you're here in my heart
So who can stop me if I decide
That you're my destiny?
What if we rewrite the stars?
Say you were made to be mine
Nothing could keep us apart
You'd be the one I was meant to find
It's up to you, and it's up to me
No one can say what we get to be
So why don't we rewrite the stars?
Maybe the world could be ours
Tonight"
My breath caught in my throat. The sound was... surprisingly pleasant. It was clear, surprisingly clear, with a soft vulnerability underneath the surface. It wasn't a showy, powerful belt; it was more like a quiet confession, tentative and filled with emotion. The notes hung in the air between us, fragile and beautiful, completely out of place in the gritty reality of the canal bridge.
For a few precious moments, neither of us moved, suspended in the unexpected beauty of the sound. The harsh edges of his "rich brat" persona seemed to soften, replaced by something more vulnerable, more human. This wasn't the calculating, disruptive boy I thought I knew. This was... something else. Something that sent a different kind of warmth through me, warmer and more confusing than the wind on the motorcycle.
When the last note faded, the silence returned, but it felt different now, thick with the resonance of the song and the shock of hearing him sing. I couldn't just stand there stunned. A smile, incredulous and genuine, tugged at my lips. "Kris," I started, my voice barely above a whisper, filled with a mixture of surprise and a strange sort of appreciation. "That was... actually really good."