UNTIL THE STARS ALIGN
Chapter 22 — RAIN ON PAPER
The day after submission dragged.
Luka woke up with his phone in his hand. No new notifications. No email. Nothing.
By the time he got to school, the weight of waiting had settled like a stone in his chest.
He pushed through the morning in a blur — classes, noise, whispers he didn't care to hear. It all melted away when lunch came.
The art room was quiet when he stepped in.
Alison sat near the window, knees tucked under the chair, violet hair spilling forward as she sketched. Light from the window caught the streaks of purple, and for a second Luka forgot how to breathe.
She looked up briefly. "You're early."
"Couldn't sit in class," he said, setting his bag down.
She hummed but didn't look away from her page. Her hand moved in sharp, precise strokes, eyes narrowed in focus. Luka sat across from her, opened his notebook, and stared at the blank page.
Silence filled the space. Comfortable. Heavy.
After a while, Alison spoke.
"You think we did enough?"
Her voice was even, but the faint tension in her shoulders betrayed her.
"Yes," Luka said without pause. "We gave it everything."
Her green eyes flicked up, sharp as glass. For a second, they held his, unflinching. Then she nodded once and went back to drawing.
Kenji burst in a few minutes later, carrying two energy drinks and his usual noise.
"You two are gonna burn holes in the table if you keep staring like that," he said, tossing a can toward Luka.
Luka caught it without looking. "Morning, Kenji."
"Morning, writer-boy. And morning to you, Miss Artist Extraordinaire."
Alison's lips twitched, almost a smile, but she didn't lift her eyes from the page.
Kenji leaned against the table. "Sera's on her way. She said something about grabbing coffee, which probably means she's mad at me again."
"You probably deserved it," Luka muttered.
"Probably," Kenji said with a grin.
When Sera arrived, she shot Kenji her usual glare, though it was softer now. Luka noticed. He didn't mention it.
The group stayed there through lunch. Talking. Laughing. Pretending they weren't all waiting for the same email.
By the last bell, everyone but Luka and Alison had left.
The room felt different. Quieter.
Alison leaned back in her chair, sketchpad balanced on her knees. "You're thinking too much again."
He looked up from his notebook. "And you're assuming too much."
Her lips curved slightly. "I'm right, though."
"Maybe," Luka said, and something in his chest loosened when her laugh — small, soft — filled the room.
She closed her sketchpad. "Walk with me?"
Outside, the rain was light but steady. They shared an umbrella Luka had grabbed from his bag, both stepping in rhythm down the empty street.
Alison broke the quiet. "How's your mom?"
"She's fine. Busy with work, like always," Luka said. Then, after a pause, "Dad wired me money yesterday. He always does that. No calls. No messages. Just the transfer."
Alison tilted her head. "Does that bother you?"
He thought about it. "It doesn't surprise me anymore."
They stopped at the corner café. Luka ordered coffee, Alison ordered tea, and they sat in their usual booth.
"You're quiet," she said after a moment.
"You're observant," Luka replied.
"Someone has to be," she said, sipping her tea. Then, softer, "You think too far ahead. Look at what's in front of you."
Luka met her gaze. Her eyes were calm, steady, sharp. It felt like she was reading every word he hadn't said.
He nodded once. "Thanks."
She only hummed and stole a sip of his coffee, wrinkling her nose when it was bitter.
Evening crept in. They walked back to the school, the city lights painting the wet streets in muted golds and reds.
Back in the art room, Alison sat on the edge of a desk, swinging her legs slightly as she flipped through her sketches. Luka stood by the storyboard wall, eyes scanning every panel they'd worked on.
"Feels different now," she said.
"Yeah," Luka answered, voice quiet.
"Scary different," she added.
"Yeah," he said again, and she smiled faintly.
The hours slipped by. Sera texted Alison twice to check in. Kenji called once and left a ridiculous voicemail Luka overheard but didn't comment on.
By the time the clock hit nine, the rain had picked up, heavy against the windows.
Alison sat cross-legged on the floor, sketching. Luka sat nearby, notebook open but untouched.
"You're distracted," she said without looking up.
"You too," Luka said.
She tilted her head, a strand of hair falling forward. "Maybe."
Silence stretched, soft and familiar.
Then Luka's phone buzzed.
The sound cut through the quiet. He froze, staring at the screen.
A new email.
His heartbeat stumbled, then kicked hard against his ribs.
Across from him, Alison's phone vibrated on the floor.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then Alison set her pencil down. Slowly. Deliberately. Her hand hovered over her phone.
Her green eyes met his, sharp and steady, but there was something trembling at the edges.
"The results," she said quietly.
The rain pounded harder against the windows.
Her voice didn't waver the second time.
"The results are in."
TO BE CONTINUED...