The city buzzed below, its noise unrelenting, but up on the rooftop park, the world felt softer, more peaceful. Rian adjusted the telescope case on his shoulder, his steps lighter than they'd been in days. He couldn't explain it -- the pull that had brought him back to this spot, barely a week after his chance encounter with Nathan. Maybe it was the memory of that melody, the way Nathan's guitar seemed to hum with a life of its own. Or maybe it was the way Nathan had looked at the stars, like they held answers Rian hadn't known he was seeking.
Rian was used to keeping his world small. He'd learned early that people came and went, that long-lasting connections were a luxury he couldn't afford.
His dark hair fell over his glasses as he went up the staircase, his hazel eyes scanning the rooftop as he opened the door. The park was empty, save for the faint glow of the city skyline and the rustle of leaves in the night breeze. Weirdly enough, disappointment tugged at him, sharper than he'd expected.
Rian set up his telescope anyway, more out of habit than hope. The sky was clearer tonight; the meteor shower he had mentioned to Nathan just starting to streak across the night sky. Rian peered through the lens, adjusting it until the Pleiades came into focus, its faint glow a reminder of why he kept coming back to the stars. They didn't change, didn't leave. They just were.
A soft strum broke the silence, and Rian's heart went fast. He straightened, turning towards the sound. There, on the same stone wall as before, sat Nathan, his guitar resting across his lap. The lamp casts a warm halo around his chestnut hair, and his brown eyes glinted playfully as they met Rian's.
"Back for more stars, stargazer?" Nathan's voice was warm, teasing, but there was a softness to it that hadn't been there last time. Rian pushed up his glasses, suddenly aware of how his sweater clung to his frame. "Didn't expect to see you here," he said, expecting it to sound casual, but it came closer to flustered. "Thought you were just passing through."
Nathan's fingers danced lightly over the guitar strings, coaxing out a quiet melody. "Thought about it," he admitted, his gaze briefly drifted to the sky. "But this spot's got a certain.... charm. Made me come back to it." His eyes flicked back to Rian, and the corner of his mouth lifted to a half-smile.
Rian's cheeks flushed. He busied himself with the telescope, gesturing to it. "The meteor shower's about to start. Wanna take a look?"
Nathan sets his guitar down and slid off the wall, he crouched beside Rian, close enough that Rian could smell the faint scent of his cologne. "Show me," Nathan said.
Rian adjusted the angle of the telescope, pointing out a streak of light that darted across the sky. "There. That's one. They'll keep coming for a while."
Nathan leaned in, his shoulder brushing Rian's as he peered through the lens. For a moment, they were silent, then Rian found himself holding his breath, watching the way Nathan's expression softened. "It's like the sky's putting on a show," Nathan murmured. "You see this stuff all the time?"
"Not like this," Rian said, the words slipping out before he could stop them. He meant the meteors, but something in Nathan's gaze made him wonder if he meant something else.
They took turns gazing via the telescope, the conversation flowing easier than Rian expected. Nathan began talking about his music -- how he'd been busking since he was a teenager, how each city had its own personality. Rian shared fragments of his world too, explaining his love and passion for the stars and the cosmos. It was strange, how natural it felt, like they'd been meeting like this for years instead of days.
But then, Nathan's expression shifted, a shadow passing over his face. "You ever feel like you're running away from something, even if you're just standing still?" he asked, his voice vulnerable, barely above a whisper.
Rian knew that feeling all too well -- the weight of a past that haunts him every day, the fear that stopping would mean facing it. "Yeah," he said quietly. "All the time."
Nathan looked at him, really looked at him, and Rian felt exposed, as if Nathan could see every crack he'd tried to hide. as if Nathan could see the very essence of his soul. "What's your story, Rian?" Nathan asked, his tone gentle but curious. "Why do you keep coming back to this rooftop?"
Rian hesitated, his fingers tightening around the telescope's edge. He could deflect the question and change the subject because he'd done it a thousand times before, yet something about Nathan -- the way he asked, the way he waited, the way he... genuinely cared -- made Rian want to answer.
"I guess... I come here every night because it's the only place that feels like mine, where I could just be me," he finally said. "The stars don't care who you are or what you've done. They're just there, shining brightly."
Nathan nodded, his eyes softening. "Sounds like you've been carrying a lot for a while." Rian swallowed nervously, "What about you? What's got you running?"
Nathan's smile turned bittersweet, and he looked down to the ground. "Let's just say I've got a knack for leaving before things get too real," he said. "It's easier that way."
Their words hung between them, heavy with unspoken truths and suppressed feelings. Rian wanted to ask more, to peel back the layers of Nathan's guarded charm, but something held him back. Not yet. Instead, he pointed at the sky. "Another meteor," he said, changing the subject to lessen the tension of their conversation.
Nathan took it, leaning back to watch the streak of light. But as the night went on, their conversation shifted to simpler things -- their hobbies, songs Nathan had written, the way the city felt different at 2 a.m. When Rian finally packed up his telescope, the air felt charged, like the moment before a storm.
"See you around, stargazer?" Nathan asked, slinging his guitar over his shoulder. Rian adjusted his glasses, a small smile tugging at his lips. "If you're lucky," he said, and Nathan's laugh followed him down the stairs.
As Rian stepped back into the city, the meteors still burned in his mind, but so did Nathan -- the way his music had felt like a confession, the way his question had lingered like a challenge. For the first time in a long time, Rian didn't feel like running. Not from this.