The night always belonged to them.

Not the world, not the city with its dimming lights and distant noise but the quiet stretch of sky above their home, where everything felt slower, softer… almost like time had agreed to leave them alone.

“Look,” Dahlia whispered, her voice gentle, a little thinner than it used to be.

Martinez followed the direction of her finger, his small hand curled into the fabric of her sleeve. “That one?” he asked. “No, no—beside it. The brighter one.” She paused briefly, as if catching her breath, then smiled when he finally found it. “That’s ours.”

“Ours?” he asked, eyes wide with the kind of wonder only children carried so easily.

She nodded, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead, her fingers lingering there a second longer than needed. “Yes. We can name it whatever we want. No one else gets to decide.”

He thought for a moment ,serious in the way only a child pretending to be grown could be. “…Then it should be something special.”

Dahlia let out a soft laugh, quieter than the night around them. “Of course. It’s our star.”

He looked back at the sky, then at her, as if weighing something important.

“Can it be you?”

The question caught her off guard, not because of its innocence, but because of how certain he sounded. “Me?” she echoed gently. He nodded. “So even if you’re not here, I can still see you.”

For a moment, she said nothing. The wind moved around them, cool and slow, carrying the faint scent of flowers from the garden below. Somewhere in the distance, a light flickered off in a neighboring house. The world continued quietly, unaware.

Dahlia’s gaze softened as it rested on him studying, memorizing, holding.

“… Alright,” she said at last, her voice almost a whisper. “Then that one is me.”

He beamed, satisfied, and leaned against her side, his head resting just beneath her shoulder. She wrapped an arm around him, though her grip wasn’t as strong as it once had been. Still, she held him close,carefully, like something she wasn’t ready to let go of.

“Then you can’t ever leave,” he added, almost as an afterthought. Dahlia’s hand stilled for just a second.

“I’ll always be where you can find me,” she said softly. It wasn’t quite an answer—but it was enough for him. Martinez yawned, the night settling into him, his earlier excitement fading into something softer, sleepier.

She glanced down at him, smiling when his grip on her sleeve tightened just slightly, as if even in sleep he was afraid of letting go.

“You’re getting heavier,” she murmured, though there was no complaint in her voice only something quieter, something fond.

“Am not,” he mumbled, already half asleep.

She let out a faint breath of laughter, then a small cough followed, one she quickly turned away from, as if it were nothing at all.

“Stay with me,” he whispered, eyes closed.

“I am,” she said.

And she was.

___________

The stars did not change. Years later, they still burned in the same places, distant and indifferent to everything below them.

Martinez stood beneath them now, hands tucked into his pockets, his gaze fixed on a single point of light. He knew better. Stars didn’t belong to anyone. They didn’t carry names. They didn’t keep promises.

And yet, that one still felt different.

His eyes lingered, steady, searching, not with wonder, not anymore, but with something quieter… heavier.

Like he was waiting.

Like he always would be.

People think silence is peaceful.

It’s not. It just makes everything else louder. The hallway is too bright. Lockers slam. Someone laughs too loudly at something that probably isn’t even funny. A group of juniors runs past like they’ve got somewhere important to be.

No one notices me. Or maybe they do. They just don’t say anything. I’m not sure which one I prefer.

“Oi.” I don’t have to turn to know who it is. Only one person says it like that, like it’s both a greeting and a complaint. “Noah,” I say, still facing my locker.

“You planning on standing here all day,” he asks, “or actually coming to class?”

I shut the locker a little harder than necessary. “I am going to class.” “Right. Because it really looks like it.”

I glance at him then. Nothing about Noah Clarke has changed. Same calm face. Same steady eyes. Same way of looking at me like he’s not trying to figure me out—just waiting for me to speak.

He doesn’t ask how I am. He never does. That’s why he’s still here. “I’m coming,” I mutter.

“Good,” he says. “Because if I have to sit through another lecture alone, I might actually start paying attention.” I huff out something that almost counts as a laugh. Almost.

We start walking, side by side. He doesn’t fill the silence. Doesn’t push it away either. Just lets it exist. Most people can’t do that.

                         ____________

“You look like you haven’t slept in a week.” That one, I didn’t need to guess.

“Good morning to you too, Leo,” I say flatly.

Leo Carter grins like he just said something clever. He’s leaning against the classroom door, arms crossed like he owns the place.

“You’re welcome,” he says. “I bring honesty into people’s lives.” “You bring noise,” I reply. “Same thing.”

Noah walks past him without a word, heading inside. Leo watches him go, then looks back at me.

“You gonna stand out here and brood, or—”

“I’m not brooding.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You say that, but your whole face disagrees.” I don’t answer. Because he’s not wrong. He just doesn’t need to say it out loud.

Leo sighs dramatically. “God, you’re exhausting.”

“And yet you keep talking to me.”

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “I like challenges.”

I shake my head slightly and step into the classroom. He follows, still talking, of course. He always does.

                         ____________

“Martinez.”

I stop.

Not because of the name. Because of the voice. I turn slightly.

Iris Vaughn is standing a few steps away, a book tucked against her chest. She doesn’t smile. She rarely does.

“You’re late,” she says.

“I’m not,” I reply.

“You were yesterday.”

“That was yesterday.”

She studies me for a second longer than necessary. I don’t look away. She doesn’t either.

Then, quietly,

“You didn’t come to the rooftop.”

It’s not a question. I shift my gaze past her, toward nothing in particular. “I wasn’t in the mood.”

“You’re never in the mood anymore.” There’s no accusation in her voice. That somehow makes it worse. I shrug lightly. “Things change.”

Her grip on the book tightens just slightly. “Not everything,” she says. I don’t respond. Because I don’t know if I agree.

Or if I want to.

                           _______

“Move.”

I step aside without argument as Marcus Flynn pushes past, dropping into his seat like the world owes him space.

“You’re in my way,” he adds, like I needed clarification.

“Good to see you too,” I mutter.

He glances at me briefly, unimpressed. “You always this slow in the morning?”

“Only when people talk to me.”

“Then stop being interesting.”

I almost laugh at that. Almost. Marcus isn’t trying to be funny. That’s just how he is. Blunt, straightforward, no effort to soften anything. Sometimes it’s annoying.

 Sometimes it’s… easier.

At least with him, there’s no pretending.

                           ________

The class fills up slowly. Noise settles into something steady. Familiar. Distant. I sit down, staring at the desk in front of me without really seeing it.

Leo is talking again. Noah is listening, or at least pretending to. Iris has already opened her book. Marcus is tapping his pen against the table, like he’s counting something only he understands.

Everything is normal. It looks normal. It sounds normal. And for a second, I wonder if I’m the only thing that isn’t.

My gaze drifts toward the window. The sky is there. Of course it is. It always is. I look away before I can think about it too much.

“Hey,” Leo nudges my shoulder lightly. “You alive?” I blink once, then lean back slightly in my chair. “Unfortunately,” I say.

He grins. “Good. Would’ve been awkward otherwise.” Noah glances at me for a brief second. Not questioning. Not worried. Just… there.

I look away first. Because if I don’t—I might start thinking again. And I’m not sure I want to do that here. Not now. Not in a room full of people who wouldn’t understand anyway.

The gate is louder than it should be.

Not because anything about it has changed. Because she has. People move the same way they always do, laughing, talking, pretending like mornings are not repetitions of the same day. Lockers slam somewhere behind me. Someone calls out a name I don’t register. The world continues as if it has no memory at all.

And then—It stops. Or maybe I do. She’s standing near the entrance. Like she belongs there. Like she never left.

Ashlyn Perez.

Hazel eyes that catch light too easily. Auburn hair—soft waves falling over her shoulders like they’ve always known how to fall into place. Nothing about her is loud. Nothing about her needs attention. And yet everything about her has it.

“M-Martinez?” My name sounds unfamiliar in her voice. Like it belongs to someone I used to be. I don’t answer. Not because I don’t hear her. Because I do. Too clearly. She tilts her head slightly, studying me like I’m something she remembers differently.

“You got taller,” she says, like it’s supposed to fix everything that time broke. Still nothing from me. Silence used to be easy. Now it feels like something I have to carry. She exhales softly, half amused, half uncertain.

“Wow,” she adds. “You’re really just going to stand there?” I should say something. Anything. But my voice doesn’t come the way it used to.

Instead—

“…You shouldn’t say things like that,” I finally say. Flat. Controlled.

Wrong.

Ashlyn blinks, slightly thrown off. I force myself to continue, even though I don’t know why. “You’re making it sound like nothing changed.”

A pause. Too long. Too visible. Around us, the gate keeps moving, keeps existing, like we are not frozen inside it. She studies me again, softer now.

“You used to talk more when you didn’t think so much,” she says quietly. And something in my chest tightens. Not because of her. Because of the tone. Soft. Certain. Familiar in a way I shouldn’t recognize. For a second—I’m not here anymore. I’m smaller. The sky feels higher. And Dahlia is beside me again, brushing my hair back like it’s the easiest thing in the world. You think too much, Martinez. Not loud. Not sharp. Just true.

I inhale sharply. The memory doesn’t stay. It never does. But it leaves something behind anyway. I look at Ashlyn again. She’s still here. Still waiting. Still not understanding what she just touched.

“I didn’t expect you back,” I say finally. Honest. Simple. Too honest. Her expression shifts slightly. Not hurt. Just… aware. Before anything else can settle between us...

“OH MY GOD.” The voice breaks through everything. I close my eyes for half a second. Of course. Leo Carter appears like he has been personally assigned to destroy emotional silence.

He points between us immediately.

“That was intense. That was like cinematic reunion level intense.”

“Leo,” I mutter. “No, no, don’t ‘Leo’ me,” he says, stepping closer like he’s narrating a story. “I leave you alone for ten seconds, and you start doing tragic romance at the gate?”

Ashlyn looks at him, confused but amused. “I’m not sure what I walked into,” she says.

“You walked into lore,” Leo replies seriously. I rub my temple. This is going nowhere good. Noah appears behind him, calm as always.

“Are we going inside or are we doing introductions all day?” he asks. Leo gasps. “You see? He supports structure.”

Ashlyn lets out a small laugh. It’s light. Unexpected. Marcus is already walking past us. “If you’re here, don’t be annoying.”

Ashlyn nods. “I’ll try.”

“Try harder,” Marcus replies without stopping.

Iris stands slightly apart, watching all of this carefully. “You’re not what I expected,” she says to Ashlyn.

“Is that bad?”

“I haven’t decided.”

That is Iris. Nothing ever fully finished.

Leo gestures dramatically. “This is amazing. New character introduced. Emotional possibilities everywhere.”

“Sit down,” I say. He ignores me. We start walking. The noise of the school returns, slowly rebuilding itself around her presence. Like it adjusted for her without asking.

Inside the classroom, everything feels more compressed. Leo walks in first like he owns the space.

“Everyone, gather round! We have a guest appearance.” A few heads turn. Most don’t care. Noah already sits at our usual place like nothing has changed in the world. Marcus barely looks up. Iris does. Ashlyn steps inside slowly, taking it in. Not overwhelmed. Just observing.

Leo gestures at her like a presentation. “Ashlyn Perez. Childhood comeback arc. Very emotionally charged backstory potential.”

“Stop talking,” I say.

“It’s my personality,” he replies.

Ashlyn smiles slightly again. Noah looks at her properly. “You’re the one who left.”

“Yeah,” she says after a pause. “That would be me.”

“Cool,” he replies, and goes back to his seat.

Leo is still entertained. Of course he is. “This is peak storytelling,” he says. I don’t respond. Because Ashlyn is still standing.

And she’s looking at me again. Like she’s waiting for something I haven’t figured out how to give her yet. Then she moves. And sits. Right beside me. The chair makes a small sound when she pulls it closer. Not enough for anyone else to notice. Enough for me to.

The classroom continues. But the space between us doesn’t. Not yet...