Young Writers Society

Dinner finished quickly, and if it wasn't for their waiter continually checking in on them asking if they needed anything, Alan was sure they could be here talking for hours. Eventually, they finished their food and the waiter left them their bill.

"Here's for that promise," Shane joked, moving it towards him and taking out his wallet.

"Oh, you really don't need to do that. I don't mind splitting it. It's fine," Alan said, already taking his wallet out to take out some cash.

Shane looked amused. "Oh, no, I'm really more than happy to."

Alan placed some bills at the center of the table anyways. "Don't worry about it."

Shane hesitated, something like uncertainty and surprise on his face before he turned it into a smile. "Well, I owed you for the Peruvian food."

Alan lowly hummed. It seemed that Shane was insistent, but so was he -- although he didn't want to push it too far.

"Alright. Well, at least let me cover the tip," he said, landing on a compromise instead.

Shane nodded, looking relieved as he took out a credit card. "Deal," he said with a laugh.

Not long after, they finished paying up and then left the restaurant. It was still evening, and the sun was beginning to hang low in the sky. The streets were livelier than before, but Alan didn't plan on taking him around Boston. They had to get on the train to Cambridge, which wasn't too far off, although he did have to do extensive research ahead of time since he didn't take this route often.

Of course, he didn't tell Shane any of the plans. Yet.

"This way," he said as he led Shane away from the main downtown strip and back towards the main station they passed earlier on, just a block over. Alan spoke again before Shane could ask too many more questions, because he saw the look of intrigue on his face. "Your parents went to Ivy and Harvard, right? Which parent went to which school?"

"My dad was the Ivy student, and my mom went to Harvard," Shane said.

"Have you ever visited the Harvard campus before?" Alan asked.

Shane looked up, like he was recalling old information. "I've seen it, but I've never been on a tour of it. Have you?"

"I've only passed it, really. Back when I was a freshman and getting a grasp on the new city. Plus, naturally, I was curious to compare it to Ivy's campus." He gestured to the subway entrance, glancing over to him with a smile. "We're taking the Red Line there, by the way."

Shane's look turned more curious, scanning Alan's face again, before he laughed and went with him down the subway steps. "Got it."

They both scanned their way through the gate, and Alan followed the signs towards Cambridge, following the northbound train. Conveniently, the train was already ready to be boarded when they arrived, so they rushed in and sat down. Surprisingly, it wasn't as busy as he thought it would be. Maybe they got lucky.

It was only a fifteen minute ride, and Alan resumed conversation as normal.

"What's your family like?" he asked. "I know how they met, and that your mom is Greek and went to Harvard, and your dad is Irish and went to Ivy. They seem like great people, but I'm curious to know what they're like-- in your own words."

Shane laughed. "They are both great people, yeah." He shifted his position to face Alan a little more. "My mom was born in Santorini, but her family moved to NYC when she was five, I think. She works at Amazon, like a lot of the people in Seattle. She's really cool. I'm pretty close to her, which is probably part of being an only child, I guess. I got a lot of my love of history from her, because she took me to museums a lot. She probably didn't know she'd be making me a historian, but I think she's happy she did."

"I think it's really lovely that she had a great influence on you," Alan said, then paused. "You said she works at Amazon? Does she work in their offices?"

"Systems and software engineering," Shane explained, before he added with a chuckle, "She did not instill that interest in me at all."

"Oh wow, yeah, that's pretty different," Alan said. He was surprised of the stark difference in the types of career paths they took. "What about your dad?"

Shane paused. "Funnily enough, he does the exact same work, just at Microsoft. They have a relationship of friendly, light-hearted rivalries, as you can see."

Alan let out a breathy laugh. "Seems that their rivalries transcend their schools. How does it feel studying history while being the child of two competitive software engineers?"

"I guess it seems like they would have guided me towards their careers or at least something in STEM from the sound of it, right?" Shane laughed. "It would be funny if I'd gone down that road and then had to flip a coin for a choice between Amazon and Microsoft. But no, they really let me choose for myself. Of course they exposed me to computer science growing up, but they also taught me about their cultures-- my cultures, I guess-- and showed me a lot about the world and how it came to be that way through its past. Apparently, I was more curious about that than about whatever a computer could do."

"Wow, that's really interesting. I'd never would have guessed that your parents were software engineers. It's great that they were supportive of your different career path, although they did seem to guide you in that direction anyways," Alan said with a smile.

"Yeah," Shane said, grinning shyly. "Does the rest of your family play music, too? I remember that your brother doesn't."

"Oh, yes," Alan said eagerly with a bigger smile, his thoughts drifting to his parents. "My story is opposite of yours. My parents are both musicians. My mom -- maybe unsurprisingly -- plays piano and sings. She performs with a group and also by herself, usually at jazz clubs or bars. My dad -- also unsurprisingly -- plays violin, but he also knows the other string instruments well. He's a luthier and has a violin shop, but also gives private lessons. They may not play the same instruments, but they did meet each other through music."

Shane laughed. "You picked up two different instruments, one from each parent. I had two parents doing the exact same thing and took after neither. That really is an opposite story."

"It is ironic, isn't it?" Alan said with a grin. "It wasn't like I purposefully wanted to play both, though. My mom taught me piano when I was really young, so I grew up learning it, and I didn't mind it. The violin was more of a free will choice that I made when I was old enough to have actual opinions on things."

"It's a good thing you didn't flip a coin between them," Shane joked. "You got really good at both."

Alan let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. "Lucky me, I guess. Although, I still have a lot to learn. Playing with other Ivy students is definitely a humbling experience."

Shane hummed in agreement. "Have you got plans to play in an orchestra one day, after Ivy? That sounds like it'd be amazing."

"You mean professionally? Like to be paid to play rather than pay to play?" He scoffed, but shook his head, still smiling. "That's the dream. I'd love to one day play in the New York Philharmonic. It's competitive -- but it's still the dream."

"The New York Philharmonic? That's a really great symphony, and a wonderful dream too." Shane matched his smile. "I'll cross my fingers for you, but I'm sure I won't have to. It's bound to work out for you."

Shane was being very kind, offering compliments and encouragement to Alan -- although he knew that he didn't hear him play yet. When they first met, Shane did mention that he heard his solo during the previous performance season, but that was when Alan was sitting at the second violin section, which he felt was not indicative of his capability. Shane hadn't heard him play a worthy solo -- yet. Alan wondered when would be the next best time to let Shane listen in.

"Thanks. I hope so," he said with a smile. "What about you? What's your professional dream?"

Shane chuckled, almost nervously. "I guess-- well, I know I want to be a historian. It's just a matter of the steps to get there and what that looks like. It means grad school, either a Master's or PhD program, and from there... I'd like to go into historical research and interpretation, write papers or maybe even a book. It feels a bit vague next to your dream, I'll admit."

"I don't think that's a bad thing at all. Everyone's dreams look a little different from one another. I think it's lovely that you have different possible branches you'd be happy to take. Each one sounds fulfilling in their own way, and it's uniquely yours."

Shane's smile spread a little wider. "Thanks. That's helpful to hear, actually."

They eventually made it to their last train stop, and Alan led Shane out of the train station. He made a few turns, not revealing the destination yet -- although it started to feel obvious since Alan was taking him through Harvard's campus. There were some students passing by, but for the most part, the campus was more empty than usual since it was Friday evening.

Finally, Alan turned one last time until they were in front of the large brick building, standing in front of the double doors.

"We're here," Alan announced, gesturing to the sign that read Harvard Museum of Natural History. "You said you preferred to learn new things outside your areas of study, didn't you?" He smiled and held up two tickets for Shane to see. "I know the coin flip wanted you to stay away from Harvard, but turns out, they open the museums to late hours once every month. Today is that day."

Shane's gaze flicked between Alan, the tickets, the doors, then back to him, green eyes shining with excitement. "I have to say, you're on point with these surprises," he said with a grin and a laugh.

"I think you bring it out of me." He beamed, offering Shane one of the tickets. "Ready to go in and spend our Friday night learning about the world together?"

Shane was quick to nod and accept the ticket, grinning even brighter. "I couldn't think of a better way to spend it."

They went through the double doors, stopping in front of the museum map, and Alan let Shane choose an exhibit to start on. After a few moments of thinking, Shane suggested they start with the evolution exhibit of fossils and skeletons, and they went up the marble staircase to find it.

The room was wide and tall to allow for the towering displays of long dead dinosaurs, mammals, and sea creatures to stretch to the ceiling. Shane first drifted to the central display-- an impressive structure of bones that made up what had once between a large, predatory dinosaur. Its jaw was now split in a silent roar.

"I think it must have been really surprising for the first person who found one of these," Shane remarked, tearing his gaze away from the dinosaur and back to Alan with a smile. "We only know about extinct animals because of their bones, so what must they have made of this? A sign of a past that no one could have imagined?" He shook his head. "It might have been scary, but that seems like such an exciting discovery. Breakthroughs like that don't happen often."

Alan hummed, placing his hands in his pockets as he lifted his gaze from Shane back to the dinosaur. It really was a spectacle and a fascinating point of history, and it was amazing that this could be put up on display millions of years later so they could have this conversation.

"It is amazing, isn't it?" he mused, pausing for a moment to think. "I imagine that whoever discovered the first dinosaur bones had more questions than answers. It would be haunting, I think, to discover ancient remains and not understand its history. It makes the world feel bigger, and your place in the world smaller."

Shane nodded. "It's so hard to grasp the magnitude of millions of years of time. This might have been one of the world's first glimpses at how far back history goes."

"And they likely thought, 'What else used to roam the Earth, and how long ago was this?' I think fossils are a good snapshot in time to tell us select information of the past, but there's also an element of luck," Alan went on. "Not everything that was once alive can be preserved. What other species existed that we don't know about because they decayed before they could tell their story? What crucial piece of history went unwritten and was therefore forgotten? And most importantly, did any other life forms think the same thought, or will think the same thought, millions of years in the past or in the future, because the universe is so vast, and time is so limitless?" Alan smiled and shook his head. "Food for thought."

Shane smiled again, laughing softly. "I would love to know the answers to those. I doubt I'd figure those out, but I'm already learning tonight, about new ways to see the world, and about you." He then pointed to the exhibit sign with a grin. "With some fun dinosaur facts thrown in, for good measure. Apparently, these ones hunted in packs of ten to fifteen."

Alan found himself grinning as well. "Funny. I'm pretty sure I took you to the museum to learn about the Earth's natural history, not about me. But that can easily change." He gestured to the same exhibit sign. "For instance, I usually hunt in a pack of two, including myself."

Shane laughed. "Perfect. It seemed like we were hunting knowledge." He scanned the sign for a moment longer before he looked back at Alan. "If we're here for more than natural history, the exhibits aren't the only thing with history here. Can I ask for a piece of your history?"

Alan smiled, letting out an airy laugh. "Of course. What do you want to know?"

Shane thought for a moment, tilting his head to the side with a slight smile. "Let's see. What's something that's haunted you? That can be in the good way, as we know, of course."

It took half a second for Alan to remember their past wordplay with the word haunting, and he nodded, wondering if he ought to say an actual haunting memory for the irony. Instead he slowly nodded, quickly thinking through a few options. There were a couple memories that came to mind, but considering this was a date, he didn't want to share anything insensitive, too personal, or negative.

Alan finally smiled and met Shane's captivating green eyes when he decided on an answer. "That's a complex question, but I have a simple answer for you: it would be when I played my first violin solo. I was fourteen and it was for high school orchestra, and thinking back on it now, it really wasn't that impressive, but it did feel like a turning point for me. I was quite proud of it at the time."

Shane nodded, smiling softly. "That must have been a really lovely moment. What about it stuck with you?"

Alan briefly tilted his head up to think. "Hmm. It was my first time being in the spotlight in front of an audience. I practiced hard for it, and I felt like it paid off. Both my parents also attended, which was rare, so it felt extra special. And since they're both musicians, they were very proud." He turned his attention back to Shane with another smile. "But most importantly, that was when I came to the conclusion that I wanted to pursue violin professionally."

Shane grinned. "That's wonderful. I'm glad you had that moment, and the world of music must be glad too. It sounds like it was pretty defining."

"It definitely was," Alan said, still with the wide smile, pausing for a brief second but continuing on before Shane could say anything else. "What about you? What's your life's haunting?"

Shane paused to think, but he didn't seem surprised that the question was being returned. "It's of a different nature, I guess," he said. "There was a summer when I was ten that my family went on a vacation to a lake, out by the Pacific coast. We rented a cabin by the lakeside and stayed there for about a week. One of those days, I was out by the water, and my dad was out on the other side of the house, making smoked salmon for dinner-- that's my favorite food. It smelled so good." Shane hesitated, chuckling for a moment. "It's also a grizzly bear's favorite food, and one of them must have smelled it too, because a bear showed up in the yard while I was out there."

Alan painted the picture in his head as Shane went on, making sure to note his favorite food. At the last sentence, he raised his brow in concern and curiosity. "This is a memory that's a good haunting, right?"

"It is, it just starts out a little dramatic," Shane assured him, nodding quickly. "I saw the bear, but I didn't know what to do. It was starting to move towards me, because I was between it and the food, but I couldn't seem to move. I'd seen bears in zoos before, but they all seemed so small next to this one. I was scared, but I couldn't scream out of fear or for help." Shane paused again, with a slightly distant look in his eyes as he pursed his lips together thoughtfully. "I don't know how, but my dad noticed and came running from around the house, picking me up in his arms and lifting me off the ground. He broke all the rules when it comes to bear encounters-- he ran towards it, he was loud and shouting, he confronted it directly-- but somehow, the bear backed off and ran away. It didn't come back." Shane shook his head as if to clear it, chuckling quietly. "I hardly understand it, but I remember it clearly. My dad totally would've fought off a grizzly bear for me."

"Wow," Alan said in awe when he finished. "That's quite a story. Your dad was brave and acted so fast. I can see how that would be a thrilling but also a scary memory."

Shane nodded, laughing again. "It's one I don't share all that much, because it would rarely ever come up, but it does make for a good story, I guess. I have a lot about my dad, but this is one of the best ones. It's definitely stayed with me."

Alan smiled, admiring how Shane talked fondly of his father. "It's a good one. I'm sure he thinks the same thing and retells the story with pride. Do you think it's also one of his core memories?"

Shane's smile seemed to slip just the slightest amount before it brightened again, but this time it looked more wistful. "I think it would be, yeah."

Alan's smile and gaze lingered, noticing how Shane seemed to be lost in thought, possibly thinking through more memories with his dad.

"Come on," he said as he gestured with his head for Shane to follow as he headed towards the hallway of various fossil exhibits. "We may be here to learn about each other's history, but the world awaits us."

Shane followed along, his smile turning teasing. "Wouldn't want to miss any of it."

"It's nice to hear you talk about your dad, though. I always like hearing treasured memories, but it's even better when it involves family," Alan said as they walked.

"Yeah, they can be really great," Shane said with a nod. "That moment showed me a lot about my dad, and I would guess it showed him something different about me. There's something about knowing that someone else valued a moment as much as you did."

"Very true. It's what makes it special." Alan glanced over to smile at him again. "Thanks for sharing it with me."

Shane smiled back. "Of course. Thanks for sharing your history as well."

They drifted away from the large structures of skeletons, moving towards the array of display cases. The fossils behind the glass were smaller but more numerous, with bright lights shining on them to highlight them in all their detail. Many of them were easily recognizable-- impressions of trilobites, mollusks, or dinosaur prints-- but there were plenty in shapes of completely unfamiliar creatures.

Like Shane, Alan did enjoy learning new things, even if it was outside his comfort zone. He didn't often go out of his way to learn about subjects more technical and scientific in nature, like the scaling or history of the world that one would learn about in natural history museums. That only made his few trips even more fascinating and humbling, since he was guaranteed to learn something new and broaden his horizons even more.

They both spent a few minutes walking down the pathway, reading in silence about the different arrays of hollow husks and shells left behind. The hallways started with older exhibits, and gradually they stepped through hundreds and thousands and millions of years of time, which by itself was a compelling thought.

Every once in a while, either of them would make a short statement here and there about what they read, but it wasn't until they reached the ammonite section-- a display of gleaming iridescent shells that were placed next to a slab of rock that bore the inprint of the familiar spiral-- that Shane started to think out loud.

"The shells themselves are very pretty, but there's something almost poetic about fossils like this one," Shane said, and Alan saw he was referring to the stone. "A lot of people think of these fossils like they're the animal itself, because that's what they're imagining when they look at it, but it isn't. It isn't even the remains of an animal. It's the stone's memory of what used to be a real creature, the rock remembering its shape even when there's nothing left of it except for its print. I think it's strangely wonderful that we know it existed because of what's essentially art that the world made and left for us."

Alan nodded, running with this train of thought. "I like that. That is hauntingly poetic, and this time I say that sincerely." He paused. "This art, or the stone's memory, withstood the test of time for us to wonder of what was. It makes you wonder if, someday, the same would happen to us."

"It's happened to some," Shane reflected. "There's people calcified in ash in Pompeii, and while that's an extremely tragic and sobering example, it might be one of the only ones we have of people. But there's far less tragic ways to leave one's mark on the world-- the art we create ourselves, if it lasts, can do that for us."

"True," Alan replied. "There are less tragic ways to leave one's mark, but tragedy is the loudest. It is often the artists with inner demons who are the memorable ones. From cutting off one's own ear, to putting one's head in an oven, to writing the most famous piano songs despite being deaf... one could argue that it is because of this that these artists are so famous. The tragedy is the art left behind."

Shane nodded in agreement. "Van Gogh, Plath and Beethoven definitely were some of the loudest voices in their fields. It's hard to separate them from that tragedy." He paused. "I have a job at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, actually, and there's a few paintings of Van Gogh's there. The job isn't anything too special, it's mostly biographical work on artists, but I did get to contribute a little to his biography for an audioguide. He really did immortalize his pain in his artwork, but I can't help but wonder what he would have done if he'd had a happier life. What all of them would have done, really."

Alan had to delay the urge to smile brightly upon hearing that Shane not only easily understood all of his references, but that he worked at the Museum of Fine Arts. "It's debatable. Beethoven's music composition skills wouldn't change, or perhaps even improve, but his motivations may be different. The sad reality is that happier lives tend to take away from art. Maybe he wouldn't have written all his symphonies if he was too busy with a spouse, or children, or friends, or family. Maybe he wouldn't have written his symphonies if he had full hearing, instead using the time to listen to music instead of creating music. It's hard to say, but it's an interesting hypothetical."

"Or maybe we'd have a dozen more Ode to Joys if he had more joy to compose about," Shane mused. "But maybe not, if he would've found a calling elsewhere and didn't need to pour tragedy into his music. I feel like there's a music history thesis in there somewhere."

Alan let out a quiet laugh, glancing back at the ammonite exhibit before turning his attention back to Shane. "Well, I do have to write a paper with a topic of my choice in my music history class. Maybe I'll choose this topic and use you as my personal study guide."

Shane grinned. "Really? Well, I would be happy to help."

"I'll keep that in mind," Alan said with a growing smile, but then paused. "I disagree what you said earlier, though. You said that your job at the Museum of Fine Arts is nothing special. And you are so wrong." He tilted his head with a raised brow, still smiling. "You said it yourself -- there are Van Gogh paintings there. That already makes it special."

Shane laughed. "You know, I get to invite one person per month to visit free of charge, which is a special perk now that I think about it. Just let me know if you ever want to see those paintings for yourself."

Alan's smile turned to a grin, still watching Shane. "I definitely will. It'll be a date."

Shane matched his grin. "It'll be a date," he confirmed.

It was refreshing to see things fall into place. Alan hadn't expected to be invited like this, but it was a pleasant surprise, and one he looked forward to.

The rest of the night felt like that. Although the late night museum closing seemed to attract a louder crowd that slowly trickled in, that didn't seem to stop either of them from reflecting out loud. Alan learned that Shane was incredibly insightful, quick to draw connections, discover patterns, and create depth across all subjects. He was passionate and brilliant, and Alan enjoyed hearing him talk to enthusiastically and deeply about the subjects that interested him. It was endearing and cute.

And of course, Alan gladly followed along his thoughts when invited. He was happy to think through thought experiemnts and exchange ideas. It often led into interesting conversations, and before they knew it, they had been standing in front of specific exhibits for far too long, engrossed in each other rather than the exhibit itself.

Alan had anticipated that they only spend two or three hours in the museum, but as they talked and slowly made their way through the halls, the clock struck midnight and they were beginning to get ushered out the door. They didn't see every exhibit, but they did see most of them.

Although Alan had said that he brought him here so they could learn, Shane was right that this trip was about learning about each other. That was also Alan's intention, and as the night went on and they headed home, he thought about where to go from there.

He had offered to take Shane home first again, so they took the train from Cambridge back to Boston, taking the same route back to his apartment. There was a brief silence as they crossed the street and drew near to his place, but Alan seized the opportunity to speak.

"I had a really good day today. I enjoyed spending time with you. Thanks for coming along," he said, leaving it at that for now.

"I had a really great time, too. Thank you for letting me spend it with you." Shane smiled. "Tonight was a very nice surprise."

Alan smiled back as they drew to a stop, standing in front of the now-closed cafe that Shane lived over. "Speaking of which... do you have any plans tomorrow night?"

Shane smiled a little wider, raising an eyebrow. "I do not."

Alan hummed. "There's something I want to show you, but it's a bit out of the way, and you can only see it at night." He paused. "I assume you don't have a car?"

Shane shook his head, a look of intrigue in his eyes. "I don't have one, no. Is that okay?"

"It's fine. I was just considering the different options." Alan paused, thinking for a moment. "I don't have a car either, but my brother has a small motorcycle I could borrow. Would you be comfortable riding along on that? No problem if not. I'll make something else work."

Shane nodded. "No, don't worry, that absolutely works. As long as your brother doesn't mind."

"He won't," Alan said with a smile, even though he actually didn't know. But knowing Alistair, he'd ask a suspicious question or two before shrugging it off. "Alright. I'll make plans tomorrow and will text you the details." He smiled a little wider. "It'll be a surprise."

Shane's smile turned into a grin. "Another surprise sounds perfect. I'll let the curiosity haunt me for a bit."

Alan mirrored his grin, glancing over his shoulder towards the direction of his apartment. "Good. It's a date." He paused, gaze lingering on Shane. "See you tomorrow?"

Shane met his gaze, his eyes bright with excitement as he nodded. "See you tomorrow, Alan."

Once noon rolled around, Shane pushed aside his notepad and pen from his work desk and took out the salad he'd bought for lunch from his canvas bag. It was a Saturday, which meant that he had work to do at the museum. It was rarely very busy, but it paid surprisingly well for its time, and he usually had a good time with it. Today, the workload was particularly light, as he'd only had to do basic research on a Ukrainian artist who would have a temporary exhibition in the winter. Which was good, because he was busy thinking about a different museum-- and Alan, of course.

He'd really had a good time with it. Shane had kept expecting and worrying that Alan would lose interest in something he'd said, as it usually went whenever he was allowed to talk about something long enough, but it never seemed to happen. In fact, it seemed as though Alan had delighted in everything they'd talked about. Shane had hung on his every word too, eager to learn as much as he could about him. Their time together had shown him a lot about Alan, and so far, Shane liked everything he'd seen.

Just as he tore open the packet of dressing to go with the salad, Shane's phone buzzed in his pocket, and he took it out quickly to read the notification.

Alan wrote:I'm thinking I'll swing by at 11pm. Is that alright, or is that too late? I should have warned you that the night will go late, but I promise it's worth it.

So it was a late night plan. There was nothing to think too hard about, since Shane knew he didn't have anything that night or the morning after, but he let his thoughts wander to what it could be before he decided to stop. It was better as a surprise.

Shane wrote:11pm it is! I'm sure it will be worth it.

Alan reacted to his message with a thumbs-up, leaving him in the mystery. It seemed as though it really would be a surprise.

Shane only realized that there was a smile on his face after he turned off his phone, and he laughed at himself as he picked up his compostable plastic fork. The work day was sure to go by slowly now.



Just before 11pm at his apartment, the sky had gone dark, and the lights were on in the streets and in the windows. Shane checked the time on his watch, seeing that he had two minutes to be downstairs. He didn't need to bring anything, did he? It was a warm night, so the flannel he was already wearing should be enough of a layer, and he couldn't think of anything else he would need. With that, Shane left his apartment and locked up behind him, timing his descent down the stairs so that when he stepped out onto the sidewalk, it was exactly eleven.

Alan was already there, sitting on the motorcycle parked on the curb and wearing a leather jacket. It seemed he had just arrived since he had just pulled off his helmet. He smiled as he made eye contact with Shane, dismounting and coming closer as Shane made his way towards him.

"Hey, Shane. I'd say good evening, but it's a little past that," Alan said with a smile as he then offered an extra helmet to Shane. "Here. Let me know if you need help adjusting it."

"It's good to see you, no matter what time," Shane said with a laugh, taking the helmet from him. "I could use the help, actually. I don't think I've worn one of these. Or been on a motorcycle before, for that matter."

"Sure, not a worry," Alan said as he set his helmet on the seat. He picked up the spare helmet and stood directly in front of Shane, gently pressing the helmet down onto his head, but adjusting a knob on the back so that there would be less tension. Shane found himself standing very still, holding his breath even though it wasn't necessary.

"Alright. Let me know how that feels," Alan said as he loosened the helmet tension then buckled it in the front, flitting his eyes over to him for a moment. "I guess my brother has a small head."

Shane laughed, placing his hands on either side of the helmet to make sure it stayed in place. "It's good, thank you. Can you thank him for the motorcycle on my behalf?"

Alan let out a puff of amused air, pulling down his plastic visor so it covered his face. "Sure thing. Also, wear this." He slipped out of the leather jacket and offered it to him. "It may be overkill, but I'm the driver, and I care about your safety. I only have one, so I'd rather you wear it."

Shane held the jacket by the collar, but didn't fully take it from him just yet. "You sure?" he asked, though he was pretty sure that Alan was.

Instead of responding, Alan only smiled and met his gaze again, then took his hand to guide him through the sleeves of the jacket, helping him put it on. Shane laughed, glancing down at it once he was wearing it. He felt a little silly, even though he didn't think he looked that way-- it was just a style unfamiliar to him.

"I have a place in mind, but it's a 45 minute drive. Just let me know if you'd like to get off at any time, though. Alright?" Alan said.

Shane nodded, meeting his eyes with a smile as he checked that his helmet was secure one last time. "Alright," he confirmed.

Alan hesitated. "Sorry about all this, by the way," he said with a little laugh, shaking his head. "This wasn't really how I imagined us getting there, but--" He shook his head again with a smile, instead getting on the motorcycle and beckoning for Shane to follow. "It doesn't matter. Hop in."

"It's fine, don't worry," Shane said with a laugh, taking the seat behind him as Alan put on his helmet. With a bit of a start, he realized he'd have to put his arms around Alan's waist, and he did so with a moment of hesitation, as if he wasn't sure he was doing the right thing.

"It's fine if you hold on tight. I promise it doesn't bother me as long as you don't fly off," Alan said as he started up the bike. He partly glanced over his shoulder. "Are you ready?"

Shane nodded with another smile, holding him a little tighter. "Ready," he told him.

With a rumble from the engine, Alan drove them off, rounding the corner. The acceleration surprised Shane a little bit, but he found himself getting used to it fast as they swerved through Boston streets and eventually onto the freeway. He was glad for the lack of traffic at this time of night, because it felt almost vulnerable to be driving on a motorbike around speeding cars. He took a note of their direction-- west-- as they left the city. Whenever the wind picked up, the compartment on the back of the bike rattled a little, and he couldn't help but wonder about it.

After what felt like half an hour, Alan slowed down and went off course from the highway, following a wide dirt road only lit by the bike's light. They winded down up some rolling hills, getting farther and farther away from the city lights. It was so dark, it was hard to see much in front of them nevertheless around them. Fortunately, Alan seemed to know where he was going, taking deliberate turns until he slowed even more, and eventually, into a full stop.

The bike's engine was turned off, now engulfing them in complete darkness. The starry night sky above them seemed to swallow the earth. Shane felt Alan reach for his head, taking off his helmet.

"We're here. How are you feeling?" Alan asked.

Shane let go of him so he could stretch out the stiffness in his arms. "I feel alright," he admitted, laughing. "Very curious, I have to say."

"Very valid. Especially since this is the beginning of a horror plotline," Alan said as he got off the bike, turning the flashlight on his phone just as he finished talking, the light illuminating his face as he smirked. "Or a romantic one. It's a mixed bag." With a teasing smile, he then directed the light away from him and towards the bike so Shane could better see. "I'll say the big reveal soon. But first, let's get you out of this helmet."

Shane laughed, adjusting the knob on his helmet until he was able to lift it off. His hair was flying around a little, and he was grateful for the cover of darkness as he smoothed it out by running his fingers through it. "I'm hoping for romantic, but I'm sure you won't dissappoint," he joked as he stepped off the bike.

"I hope not," Alan said with a laugh as he opened up the back compartment, taking out folded blankets. It seemed like something could have been between the blankets since Alan was cradling it carefully. He then placed the two helmets in the empty space left behind in the bin before looking back at Shane. "Alright. Let's go. It's a short trek this way."

Alan led Shane up a short hill, the dirt and rocks turning to grass the further they climbed. Upon reaching the top, Alan claimed that they couldn't see it, but they were overlooking rolling hills from the edge of the Appalachia.

Alan placed two thin blankets down on the grass side-by-side, leaving two other blankets folded on top. Between the blankets revealed to be a small picnic basket, equipped with a small bottle of champagne, two glasses, assorted snacks, water, and batteried string lights in a jar. When he finished, he turned to Shane with a smile.

"Is it obvious yet?" he asked.

Shane couldn't have kept himself from smiling if his life depended on it. He'd imagined Alan would be putting thought into something creative, with this unusual of a time suggestion, but he hadn't been expecting something like this. He hadn't thought he'd be worthy of this planning on a second date.

"Almost," he said with a laugh. "But--"

He saw it then, in the night sky, just over Alan's head. A quick shower of luminous sparks, shooting through the inky darkness, there and then gone. His eyes widened.

"Oh," he breathed in awe.

Alan followed his gaze, grinning before turning back. "Surprise?"

Shane couldn't help but press a hand to his mouth as he laughed with glee, his gaze trying to search the entire sky at once until it went back to Alan. "This-- this is incredible. Yes."

Alan laughed, stepping on the blanket and beckoning for Shane to follow. "Come on. It looks better down here when you can see the whole sky."

With a grin, Shane moved over to the blanket meant for him, lowering himself to the ground and lying down. It would be most comfortable on his back, but he positioned himself slightly on his side, so that he'd be able to see Alan as well since the string lights dimly illuminated the space between them. He couldn't even think of anything to say just yet. He had to hope that his smile was both visible and could say enough.

He hadn't seen stars this bright in-- he didn't even know how long it had been. Shane was used to being able to seeing a handful of stars in the urban landscape, just enough to make out two or three of the brightest constellations on clear nights. Anytime more than that was on rare occasions that he was somewhere isolated enough to see a full sky. Even then, it had never looked this bright, and he'd certainly never seen a meteor shower before. He felt almost breathless at the sight of it.

Alan had mostly focused on peering in wonder at the sky above, but seemed to notice Shane's gaze and briefly met his eyes, smiling back. He angled his head back up at the sky, propped a hand behind his head to use as a pillow.

"Ideally, I'd want to take you here later. Maybe a fifth date. Maybe later. But it would have been past the Perseid meteor shower peak, so I didn't want to risk waiting and not seeing this with you," Alan explained, then paused. "I think there's something special about escaping with someone you care about to see stars shoot across the sky. I'm glad you could come."

Shane nodded, beaming again. "This is amazing, Alan. I never would've thought to go out here, and now that I'm here, I can't imagine missing it." He smiled. "Thanks for inviting me. I really mean it."

Alan glanced at Shane again, catching his eyes and smiling wider when he saw his expression. "Of course. The night's only beginning, so no need to thank me yet." His gaze rested back up towards the sky, just in time to see a meteor shoot across the sky. "Oh, there goes another one. Did you see it?"

Shane laughed. "I did, but they go by quick, don't they? So quick to leave, but so bright while they're here."

"Definitely. You have to be paying attention."

A few silent seconds passed as they both marveled up at the night sky shimmering with stars.

"Have you ever seen a meteor shower before?" Alan asked curiously, disrupting the short silence.

"I haven't." Shane shook his head, chuckling at himself. "I guess I haven't had the chance to escape like this before. It's hard to see the sky this way, with how our world is." He paused. "And yet, there's so many people who have seen it like this in the past, before everything else got too bright. It's wild to think that this is how it's meant to look."

"It is timeless, isn't it? I think everyone across history has looked up at the night sky for answers. Some may use it to gauge direction. Others may use it to tell stories. The modern age uses it to understand if we're truly alone in the universe." Alan paused. "What answers does the night sky tell you?"

Shane pressed his lips together thoughtfully, scanning the stars for a moment. "I think it's a bit like the canvas for many stories we've told," he said at last. "There's dozens of heroes and monsters that we framed in the stars up there, from ancient legends that were so crucial to the people that told them that they decided they deserved a place in the sky forever. For me, it holds that glimpse into what mattered to people and how they thought they could preserve it, because we're seeing the same sky as they did."

Alan hummed. "An artistic yet also a historic answer. I can see how significant that would be for you. I like how you think."

Shane smiled again, glancing back at him. "What answers do you find in it?"

"It depends. Do you want to hear the emotional or the logical answer?" Alan asked instead.

Shane gestured at the night sky, as if to show that it wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. "Do you feel like sharing both? I'd like to hear."

"Well, I suppose we do have all the time in the world right now," Alan said, smile evident in his voice as he continued to gaze up at the sky. "I'll start with the logical answer, then. It sounds pessimistic, but I look up at the sky to remember how small and insignificant we are in the universe. I think it's easy to get wallowed up in your own problems and daily troubles, but when I remember how big infinity is, and how it stretches across time and space... it makes life feel a lot simpler. Maybe the idea of the vast amount of nothing can be off-putting to some, but I find solace in the fact that life is what you make of it. And that is a perfect segue into the emotional answer: any answer I wish to find, I find meaning in the stars, even if I know it doesn't make sense. Does it need to make sense? Does it even matter? I don't find it silly or childish to wish upon a star, or to admire one star in particular, or to make up your own constellations. I actually find that refreshing and beautiful. Like you said, people turned to stars to memorialize stories across generations. And I'd like to do the same, even if I'm the only person that knows about it. We may be small in the universe, but with the stories we tell and live through, the impact we make can feel everlasting."

Shane nodded along, his smile widening by the end. "We are small," he agreed. "I think we do matter to the universe, though, because we're part of it. Maybe not as big of a part of it as a star, let alone a galaxy, but still meaningful. Stars can't make stories of their own, but we can make stories out of them. I think we'll be infinite, too, as long as we have those stories immortalized up there." Shane let his head fall to the side so he could see Alan more closely in the warm glow of the string lights. "Have you ever wished on a star, or made your own constellation?" he asked.

Alan let out a weak laugh. "Guilty." With a curious look, he glanced at Shane, noticed that he was turned more towards him, then shifted to lay on his side, facing Shane directly and propping his head up with his elbow on the blanket. "Have you?"

Shane had to think. He'd never done it seriously, he was fairly sure, except maybe for times when he was young and only had silly, mundane things to wish for. And although he'd had a wish on his mind for the last few months-- a hope he found himself thinking over and over like a desperate prayer-- he'd never committed it to a star. And he'd only ever seen other people's stories when looking at the sky.

"Not a time where I took it seriously," he said instead, shaking the thought away with a laugh. "I should try it, honestly."

Alan's smile widened, turning bright. "Well, tonight would be a perfect time to try. You'll have a lot of opportunities to make a wish."

Shane grinned. "Should we each make our own wish on the next shooting star that goes by?"

Still smiling, Alan kept his gaze on Shane, then nodded once and rolled back to be laying flat again, eyes turned back on the sky. "I'd love that. Let's see if we both catch the next one that comes by."

Shane nodded and smiled again, facing the sky once more. A few minutes of silence passed between them as they watched, and Shane took a deep breath of the night air, searching the stars more closely for a brief flash of light.

And there it was, in the sky between them, a quick shower of bright and glowing lights, streaking through the air before being swallowed once more by the darkness. Shane watched them fade out, making his choice for a wish quickly. He thought about wishing for his dad, and he nearly did, but this night was about Alan, and so he closed his eyes.

I hope this works out between us.

"Did you make a wish?" Alan asked curiously after another brief silence passed.

Shane opened his eyes again, glancing at him. "I did," he said with a soft laugh. "Did you?"

"I did. But you know the rules. Reveal the wish and it doesn't come true." Alan smiled warmly at him. "But I'll let you know the moment mine comes true."

Shane let out a groan of laughter, shaking his head amusedly. "That's right, there is that rule." He smiled back. "I'll let you know when, too."

Alan quietly hummed. "There are varying degrees of wishes, though. I'd like to think that the silent ones are life-changing and impactful. There are also smaller, less impactful wishes. Short-term desires, if you will. I don't think it's bad luck to say those out loud, if you wanted to voice some for each meteor we see," Alan said, looking over to Shane for confirmation.

Shane slowly nodded, smiling more softly. "So, it wouldn't jinx me to say..." He pointed to the newest meteor shower. "It would be nice to show you those paintings sometime soon?"

"Not at all," Alan said with a growing grin. "I did say that I would take you up on that, didn't I?"

"Perfect," Shane said with a laugh. "I'll have to come up with a surprise to go along with it."

"This may come as a surprise, but it actually doesn't take a lot to wow me. You can set up something simple, and I'm sure I'd still enjoy it all the same, because it was put together by you. I'd like to think it's less about the activity and more about the thoughtfulness behind it that counts," Alan said.

Shane hummed softly. "I appreciate that too. Everything you've planned is very thoughtful, and I'd like to put just as much effort into our next plan as you did."

"And that's thoughtful too, but it's not a competition. As long as you're being yourself, I don't really mind what we do. We could be doing nothing, at some nondescript place -- but I'd still be happy, because I'd be with you, and I enjoy your company." He let out a weak laugh. "But I get it. I'm also guilty of always trying to make these memories more special and memorable."

"No, not guilty," Shane said with a laugh. "You're pretty wonderful for it." He smiled again. "But point taken. I don't mind what we do as long as both of us enjoy it and have a good time together."

Alan smiled at his words, letting another brief silence fill the space between them. Crickets chirped in the silence as they gazed up at the stars.

"You know, you're pretty wonderful yourself, Shane," Alan suddenly said. "I mean it. I hope you know that."

Shane laughed, suddenly feeling shy as he ran a hand back through his hair. "Thanks, Alan," he said quietly. "I really meant it too. I think you make me want to be better, which is good."

"Good? I think that's great," Alan said warmly and sincerely, still smiling as he turned on his side towards Shane, pausing for a moment. "In my opinion, that's the very premise of a healthy connection with someone. I'd like to think that the best connections come from those who lift one another up naturally. It happens effortlessly with little exertion, and you better each other as easily as you breath in air."

Shane was still smiling, unable to take his eyes off Alan's face. "I think you're right," he said. "I hope we can do that for each other."

Alan laughed lightly, still meeting his eyes. "I think you already do, Shane. And you are thoughtful, both in how you approach complex subjects and how kind you are to others. I also admire your spontaneity, and actually find it humorously charming. You're brilliant and sincere, and you have this air of fearless yet curious innocence that I'm drawn to. It's hard to put into words at the moment, but one thing is for sure: I want more of it. I want more of you and to learn more about you. Even if it takes all night."

Shane felt a soft blush spreading over his cheeks as his face warmed, and he had to wonder if it would be visible in the glow of the string lights. Before he could say anything, he noticed another shooting meteor pass from the corner of his eye. Alan noticed too, and he tilted his head towards it, a wistful expression painted on his face.

"I did say it wouldn't be bad luck to say short-term wishes out loud. Consider that my short-term wish," Alan finished longingly.

Shane laughed softly at that. "I'd be amiss to say I didn't want the same," he admitted, rolling more fully on his side. "I'm drawn to you too. I admire your creativity and your passion, and they suit your thoughtfulness so well, with how you know how to make every moment special. You seem to find a deeper meaning in everything, just like--"

Suddenly Alan reached over and placed a finger on his lips. "Shhhhhh," he shushed with a playful smile, pulling his hand back. "Just take the compliment."

Shane smiled, more teasingly. "Can't I share?"

"And can I not compliment you expecting nothing back?" Alan teased back.

Shane laughed. "Alright," he relented, nodding. "You'll hear it from me another time."

"What I do want to hear about is you," Alan went on, giving him his full attention. "You're a soon-to-be historian, devoting your life to understanding complex histories. But I think someone ought to devote their life understanding yours."

Shane raised an eyebrow, smiling a little wider. "I promise you, my life hasn't been as interesting or as nuanced as the figures I study. It's not like I'm Alexander the Great."

Alan quietly hummed, mulling this over. "Let me put it this way. Would you say the same about me? That someone ought to devote their life understanding my history?" he asked.

Shane nodded. "I would say that," he said sincerely. "Someone ought to, and I'm taking an interest in your history myself."

Alan smiled. "So with that logic... don't you think I'd feel the same way?"

Shane's smile slowly turned into a grin. "Yeah, you win," he said with a laugh.

Smiling triumphantly, Alan sat up, deciding now was a good time to open the small bottle of champagne he had brought. He reached over to bring the bottle and the two glasses closer to them. "Do you want a glass?" he asked, twisting off the cork.

Shane nodded. "Yes, please, and thank you."

After opening the bottle, Alan poured them both a glass then offered the glass to him, prompting him to sit up before accepting it.

"Cheers," Alan said with a smile, lifting the glass up, just like Shane at the restaurant yesterday. "A proper one this time."

Shane laughed, lifting his as well. "Glad you could arrange it."

With that, they clinked their glasses and each took their first sip. The champagne was sweet, almost floral in taste.

"This is good, thank you," Shane said, swirling the drink in his glass. "Yet another amazing part of tonight."

"That's just a small part of it. The most important part, I'd say, is us and now." Alan carefully set his glass on the ground in front of him then turned his full attention back to Shane, still smiling as he caught his eyes again. "It sounds like we're in agreement. We want to know more about each other. So here's a question for you: who are all the special people in your life? You've mentioned your parents, and they sound lovely. Who else do you hold dear? I'd love to hear about them."

Shane hummed. "I'll ask you the same afterwards, if that's fine." He set his glass down, making sure it wouldn't spill on the uneven surface. "I have a close friend group from my time in Seattle, and we spent a lot of time together back then. We all went our own ways after graduation, with only two of us staying in Seattle, but we stayed in touch afterwards. I've known some of the people in that group since I was in kindergarten, so they mean a lot to me." Shane paused, taking a quick sip from his drink. "They were kind of my safety net of people, I guess," he added with a laugh. He wasn't sure how to explain that some of them weren't anymore.

"You've known them since you were in kindergarten," Alan repeated with curiosity, pausing to take another sip from his glass. "That's a long time. It's great that you all stay in touch, even when being so far apart. Those types of long-lasting friendships are becoming increasingly rare. Hopefully you get to see them and catch up whenever you visit home."

"Hopefully." Shane smiled, hoping it didn't seem thin. He would be seeing Leilan, he had no doubt of that, but Kaja hadn't replied to him in nearly two months now. Even when Leilan had half-made something up to her about Shane having gotten better. "And you? Who are the special people in your life?"

"I know it's a question I asked, but I'd have to think about this one," Alan replied with a little laugh, briefly tilting his head up towards the sky as he mulled this over. "I have some friends from high school I keep in touch with every once in a while, but likely not as extensively as you, especially since our history doesn't stretch out that far. But I have a good amount of cousins, some who are really young, some who are teenagers, and some who are closer to my age -- and I'm closer to those ones. I'd consider them special people in my life, since we grew up together. And of course, there's my twin brother, who I'd consider my best friend. But outside of family, I have a few close friends I made at Ivy that I keep in touch with daily. I have a friend who I'd consider to be at the same best friend level as my brother. We tell each other everything, and I'd trust him with my life. I'm also good friends with my freshman dorm mate, as well as his twin sister, who's also in the symphony, so we became fast friends and consistently play a lot of music together." Alan paused, loosely holding the glass in his palm and lightly swirling it. "I think that about covers it."

It was impossible for Shane to not think about how that was a lot more people, but he nodded and smiled genuinely. "They all sound like great people to have around," he said. "Your brother's your best friend? That must be great. That's a relationship that will never go away. It’s great your next best friend feels like a sibling too."

"Oh, yes," Alan said with a smile, a brightness in his eyes when talking about his brother. "I think so too. I'm very close with Alistair. I think it's a twin thing, but don't get me wrong..." He let out a short laugh and shook his head. "We're fraternal, not identical. And we're not really anything alike. A lot of people end up being surprised that we're related, but I don't think either of us see it that way. It's interesting to see how different our lives can be even though we grew up the same way, but I also find that refreshing. And I'm really proud of him regardless, even though he can be so stubborn sometimes. I think people mostly see the stubborn side of him, which is a shame, because he is so funny, compassionate, and loving." Alan paused, taking another sip of the champagne before carefully setting it back on the blanket. "Anyways, I'm sure you'll meet him someday. We do live together, so he's around the area. And my other friend-- he goes to Ivy as well. He does feel like a sibling to me. I'm very lucky to have him in my life. I think a lot of other people are surprised we're close, actually. We're different in a lot of ways, but every day I'm surprised by how many more similarities we have in common. I sincerely, truly treasure and appreciate the time and care they set aside for me-- more than they'll ever know-- but if I ever tell them that, I'm pretty sure they'd tell me that I'm a big sap."

"I'd love to meet them both," Shane said with a nod. "I have a best friend in that friend group-- the one who I've gotten closest to-- who's practically a brother to me, but it's got to be special to have someone truly be both a best friend and sibling at once."

"It is, but the bond with your friend sounds just as special," Alan said. "What's his name, and what is he like?"

Shane glanced at the sky again before he looked back at Alan with a smile. "His name's Leilan," he said. "We met when we were seven and he was adopted from Hawaii into the place next to mine, and I suppose we’ve been nearly inseparable since. He's great, very kind, gentle, and compassionate. Hard-working, too. He's getting a pre-law degree in Seattle. I feel very proud of him, although I miss him a lot, and I hope our paths can still stick together.” Shane paused, glancing at the sky again in the direction he thought was west. “I feel like I can share almost anything with him, and we've been around to witness a lot of each other's lives. I might be an only child, but I feel deep down that this is what being brothers is like.”

Alan's smile grew with each passing word with a softness in his eyes. "That's very sweet of you to say. I love hearing people talk fondly of their loves, whether it's about people or passions." He paused, as Shane smiled more softly. "Do you talk to Leilan often? I know it must be harder to keep in touch since you both are studying in opposite sides of the country."

Shane paused, drumming his fingers on the blanket soundlessly. "Yeah, I do," he said with a nod. "Slightly less than usual right now, I guess, but that's no one's fault. We did a good job of keeping in touch after I moved away, but we've both had things come up in our lives that have left less time for it. Whenever one of us needs the other, though, the other is there."

Alan nodded. "You're both trying your best, given the circumstances. I don't think it's uncommon for old friendships to melt away when entering new chapters of life, but what you have must be special since he's still present in your life. It's worth treasuring."

"Yeah, it must be." Another volley of meteors shot by in the periphery of Shane's vision, and he paused to watch it, thinking. "What do you do when you head back to Atlanta? Do you see those people who you hold dear?"

Alan followed his gaze up at the sky. "Of course. I think that's the whole reason I go back. I spend the majority of my time with my family, which is really important to me. If I have time, I'd catch up with old friends, but we've been seeing each other less since we're in two different chapters of our lives. Sad reality of life, I suppose. But I'm perfectly happy spending the majority of my time back home with my family."

Shane nodded. "You mentioned having a lot of family-- or at least, a lot of cousins, so I assume there's a lot of other family around them-- so that leaves plenty of people to see. I think it's great that most of them seem to be close to home and relatively easy to visit. And there's nothing wrong with them being the main or only reason you go back, especially if you do like the Northeast. I have family out here, though I only see them slightly more in Boston than I would in Seattle." He chuckled softly after a moment's pause. "Actually, all the extended family I have on this continent is in the Northeast. My grandparents and one uncle are out here, though I didn't see them all that much growing up. Mostly for holidays and such."

"Oh, really? Where in the Northeast are they located?" Alan asked.

Shane counted on his fingers. "Two grandparents on my mom's side in NYC, my dad's parents in Philly, and my uncle's in New Jersey. They all stayed pretty close to where they first immigrated, I guess."

"Hmm, yeah," Alan said, nodding along. "That is all over the Northeast. Is there a reason why your parents settled in Seattle over the other places you mentioned?"

"The tech industry was taking off in Seattle, back when companies like Microsoft and Amazon were still young," Shane explained. "I guess they could have gone to somewhere like San Francisco, but I'm glad they didn't. If there's anywhere that the weather is worse than Seattle, it's San Francisco. I think their 'Junuary' encompasses July and maybe August too."

Alan laughed, shaking his head as he picked up his glass again, swirling it in his palm. "I can see that. Glad that they picked somewhere with slightly better weather, although it's still a shame that there's quite a bit of distance away from family. It's a long ways away from the Northeast and Europe. Sounds like you make it work, though, since you travel a good bit. Hopefully you get to see your folks more often."

"I did go home for spring break and then nearly the entirety of summer," Shane said, choosing his words more carefully now. "My mom wanted to see me back. So I do try to travel to Seattle when I can, yeah."

"She must miss you a lot," Alan said with a smile. "How did you spend your summer?"

"I picked up a summer job for about a month, at a friend's family business," Shane said, smiling back. "It was nice, getting to spend time at home while also having something to do, making a little extra money. After that..." He paused again, under the guise of taking another sip of champagne. "We went to the San Juan islands, north of the Puget Sound," he said. "It feels very quiet up there, even when it's touristy. It was a very welcome getaway."

"That sounds lovely. Was it just you and your parents?" Alan asked.

Shane felt the smile on his face waver, even as he fought to keep a calm face afterwards. "Just me and my mom, actually," he said as casually as he could, while cursing inwardly at himself.

Alan seemed to sense the subtle change in mood since his smile started to fade and he hesitated, setting his glass back down. "Oh, I see." A short silence passed as Alan seemed to internally reflect, but Shane spoke again before he could voice his thoughts out loud.

"Yeah." Shane smiled again, but it was even thinner.

"I don't want to be too presumptuous..." Alan began slowly. "But I'm getting the sense that there's some family tension. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, though."

Shane blinked, before his expression softened. "Oh," he said at first, realizing, before he quickly shook his head. "No, there's no tension, but I can see why it might look that way. It's--" He blinked again, this time to get rid of the slight burning in his eyes. "It's different than that, I guess," he finished, more quietly, as his grip tightened around the champagne glass.

It had been difficult to dodge the topic this long, with Shane trying to stay honest without giving it away. It wasn't that he didn't trust Alan-- he already did trust him-- but he hadn't wanted to ruin a moment between them or to catch Alan off guard with the real answer to a seemingly innocuous question. Most people didn't have a missing parent. Most people didn't have this explaining to do when the grief was still fresh. But the longer Alan assumed he had both parents around, the more sudden the reveal would be.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Alan asked softly and gently when Shane faltered for far too long.

Shane swallowed, lowering his glass. "It's more like I want to tell you about it. I just haven't known how to."

"I don't think there's a 'right' way to talk about things. It's alright to speak your mind, even if it's hard, and even if it's messy. As long as there's someone willing to listen, there's no wrong way to tell a story. And I'm more than willing to listen, even if it takes all night," Alan said, meeting his eyes sincerely.

Shane hesitated for a moment longer. "Are you sure?"

Alan placed a hand on Shane's knee, still meeting his eyes. "Of course, Shane. I'll always listen to you." He paused, then pulled his hand away. "I'll always listen to whatever you want to say, even if you're not sure yourself."

Shane smiled for a moment, to show that he was grateful, but it fell from his face soon after. "Thanks," he said quietly, and then he sighed. "I've been a little bit careful when speaking of my dad to you, maybe by not fully answering whatever you asked about him or just being vague. And I'm sorry for that. It was just too hard to explain, whenever we were talking about something lighthearted, that he's..." Shane took a shaky deep breath, meeting Alan's gaze again. "My dad's gone missing. He disappeared over half a year ago now, and he hasn't been found."

Alan pinched his brows together with sadness and concern, the sobering conversation shifting the atmosphere to a somber mood. He kept his full attention on Shane, sharing the grief in his eyes. "My god, I'm so sorry, Shane. That's terrible," he said softly.

Shane nodded weakly, letting his gaze fall to the ground for a moment before he looked up at Alan again. "It's been... hard," he said quietly. "I worry about my mom being alone in Seattle, and I worry about what it means for him. No one knows what happened, but..." He swallowed, feeling his chest tighten painfully. "That's a long time to be gone. It doesn't mean anything good."

His heart felt heavier for saying it, even though he hadn't given up hope yet. He couldn't give up, even though he knew what it most likely did mean. But it wasn't something he could accept until his dad was found. Whether it was one way or the other.

Alan was listening intently, his brows still pinched together in deep sympathy. In the short silence that followed, he gently set his hand on Shane's knee again, his gaze following his movements. "Do you want a hug?" he asked quietly, almost a whisper as he gently rubbed his thumb against his knee.

Shane breathed in deeply, his shoulders sinking slightly. "Maybe," he admitted softly. "If you're willing."

At that, Alan carefully moved the two almost-empty glasses of champagne towards the edge of the blanket before closing the gap between them, scooting closer until he could lean forward to embrace Shane. He pulled him in, wrapping his arms around his chest and perching his head over his shoulder. Shane closed his eyes for a moment as he hugged him back.

"I'm so sorry, Shane," Alan whispered quietly in his ear, giving him a gentle squeeze. "I can't imagine the grief you and your mom went through. I can't imagine how hard all of this must feel to carry by yourself, so far away from home. I'm so sorry."

Shane took another shaky breath, blinking his eyes open. "Thanks, Alan," he whispered, the words leaving him almost like a sigh. "Thank you. I really do appreciate it."

"Of course." Alan slowly pulled away, but his hand lingered by Shane's shoulder, gently rubbing it as his eyes focused down on it. "I'm not sure there are any words I can say that can make the situation feel less heavy than it truly is. It feels tragic... but you're not alone." His gaze rested back on Shane's face, meeting his eyes sincerely. "I hope you have someone to talk to about this, especially as the situation develops. The looming feeling of uncertainty may not go away any time soon... but again, you're not alone. I'm here if you ever want to talk about this, at any time, and any day. I mean it."

Shane smiled sadly, nodding quickly a few times as he steadied himself again. "That means more than you know, actually," he said softly. "Thank you."

"Of course, Shane. You deserve that." Alan smiled softly at him, pulling his hand back, but remaining close next to him. "And you don't need to feel like you need to hold back how you feel and think because you don't want to ruin the atmosphere. That's the last thing I want. This is you, Shane. I said I wanted you, and I wanted to get to know you, didn't I? That includes the good and the bad. You're not going to intimidate me or scare me off. If anything... I think it's the opposite. I'm touched that you trust me enough to share this with me, and I'm more than happy to be a listening ear to you. Thank you for letting me know. Truly."

Shane laughed softly. "How are you so amazing and understanding?" he marveled quietly, smiling a little stronger as he scanned Alan's face. "You really are wonderful. I'm touched that you listened."

Alan let out a puff of amused air through his nose, suddenly reaching up towards Shane's face, wiping something under his eye. Shane let out a huff of laughter of his own, holding still for him. It only took two strokes before Alan pulled away, offering a smile.

"Eyelash," he said simply as an explanation, then tilted his head up towards the sky again, deep in thought. There was a short pause. "Don't you think that's a low bar? I'm touched that you think of me that way. But really, all I'm doing is listening and getting to know you. You really do deserve that, Shane. I'm not expecting anything back."

"No, my standards happen to be pretty high, actually," Shane said while raising his eyebrows at him, and he broke off laughing softly again before he paused. "Whether or not you're expecting it, I want to give that to you too. You deserve it as well, and I want to do it because I've decided I want you, too. Not because you're doing it for me."

Alan slowly turned his head back towards Shane, a soft smile tugging his lips as he studied him for a moment. "You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd have thought this is our third month of dating," he mused, watching Shane curiously.

"As opposed to our second total date," Shane agreed in the same tone. "Third total, maybe, if you count the not-quite one at the piano bar and waterfront."

"Debateable. It could swing either way," Alan said, keeping his gaze on Shane, but his smile started to wane as another short silence passed between them. "Well... since we're talking about serious topics anyways, and since it seems that we're in agreement about each other... I wanted to ask you some personal questions. It might be a little uncomfortable, and maybe it's not appropriate to ask during a second date, but..." Alan huffed through his nose, staring off towards the dark rolling hills in the horizon. "Well, what can I say. I'm an emotional man, and sometimes when something feels right, I act upon it -- even if it doesn't make a lot of logical sense. This is one of those moments."

Shane nodded, smiling faintly. "I get the feeling," he said. "What is it you would like to ask me? I'll do my best to answer."

Alan smiled back, facing him again. "Are you seeing anyone else?" he asked, then quickly added, "It's alright if you are, by the way."

Shane let out a puff of surprised laughter, shaking his head. "No, I am not," he said, chuckling. "Well, are you?"

Alan mirrored his laugh, also shaking his head. "No," he admitted. "I guess I'm strictly monogamous."

"Me too, I guess." Shane nodded knowingly, smiling. "So, not to worry."

Alan watched him for a moment, still smiling even though it was fading away. "We also don't have to have this conversation now, but at some point, I think it would be valuable to learn about each other's past relationships. You don't need to go into detail if you don't want to. I'm mostly curious to know about their whereabouts, especially if they go to Ivy."

Shane nodded again, more slowly this time, but it was still a nod. "That makes sense to talk about," he said. "I would've expected the subject to come up more naturally, but I'm fine with having that conversation now, if you would like."

Alan let out a weak laugh. "I guess I'd like to rip out the bandaid now. Some things are hard to talk about naturally. This is one of those subjects."

Shane hummed softly, nodding again. "That's totally fair. What else would you like to know specifically, besides whether there was anyone at Ivy?"

"I'll leave that to your discretion. I don't want to pry or ask anything that would be uncomfortable," Alan said gently.

Thinking to himself, Shane looked up at the sky and caught sight of another meteor shower. "I don't think there's much that sticks out for me to share, but I'll do my best anyway," he said. "I've dated three other people, one person in my senior year of high school and then two people while at Ivy. I wouldn’t call any of them serious, since the longest lasted just a couple months, and my feelings didn’t end up deepening for any of them." Shane squinted at the sky, thinking about how to go on. "I think I kept choosing the wrong people for me. It repeated three times, somehow, but I wasn't discouraged, since only one of them ended badly while the others ended on good terms, and I haven’t let that one time get to me too much. I just took those relationships to mean that I hadn't found the right person then, but that I would another time." Shane let his gaze fall back to Alan with a smile. "Is any of that helpful?"

Alan slowly nodded, processing everything. "It is, and I’m sorry to hear that one ended badly. How did you know they weren't the right person? What does that mean to you?" he asked.

Shane frowned thoughtfully, thinking back. "I guess whenever I was with any of them, it didn't feel all that different from being around a friend. We'd have a connection, but it wouldn't feel special. I'd assumed we'd grow into it over time, but some people are only meant to be your friends, I guess. This--" He gestured between the two of them. "--already feels different, though. Like how I'd imagined it should feel when two people are drawn to each other." He paused, smiling a little again. "I don't have a strict idea of what the right person is like, but I more or less think I know what that means to me. I think for someone to be the right person, once you've decided you care about them, it should be an unconditional thing. You can't just care for them on the good days, or just at the times you're getting along with them, or just whenever you feel like it. You'd have to care in those other times too. If it's the right person, it shouldn't be hard to keep loving them once you've started." He shrugged. "That's only my take on the subject, though. I don't think there's wrong or right answers to it."

Alan smiled softly, holding on to every word that left Shane's mouth. "It's a good take, and one I completely agree with." He paused. "The only caveat I'd mention is that, sometimes, love can hurt. And when it does, the conditions become important boundaries to consider again." Alan lightly shook his head, his smile beginning to fade. "But like you said, there is no wrong answer. I think that's a beautiful viewpoint, Shane."

Shane smiled back. "And that's a good point you make, too. I'll remember it." He searched Alan's face for a few moments. "What about you? What have your past relationships been like?"

At that, Alan tore his gaze away to tilt his head up towards the sky, leaning back with his hands supporting his weight. "I've only had two serious relationships. One in high school, one at Ivy. The one from high school didn't work out because, well, I moved here -- but also because she and I were on two very different paths, and we were better off separating. The one from Ivy ended due to a variety of reasons, but in the end, it came down to compatibility. We both wanted different things we couldn't give to each other. But, that only made me believe that she wasn't the right person." Alan paused, glancing back down at Shane. "That about summarizes it. Did you want to know anything else, or have any questions about anything?"

Shane nodded slowly, thinking. "That was helpful, so just one question from me, if that's alright. What did you learn from those relationships?"

"Ah. What a question. It's a good one, by the way. Not every ending is a failure, because we can learn from the experience. Breakups are no different; I've certainly learned a lot," Alan said, lost in thought as he stared up at the sky again, thinking. "For my first relationship, I'd say that I learned that there is a difference between loving someone and being in love. Loving someone is easy, but being in love takes work. You said it yourself: love is unconditional, without any boundaries or expectations. It can be easy to confuse the two, but it's what separates a serious relationship from a casual one. However, on a similar vein, I've learned from my last relationship that being in love isn't enough. The feeling alone cannot sustain a relationship long-term. It's also about compromise, acceptance, interests, ambitons, needs, wants... the list goes on. It's ultimately what comprises compatibility. Both lessons were hard to learn in their own way, but it's humbled me. I don't keep in touch with any of my exes, but I'd like to think we both learned from the experience and walked away as wiser, better people."

Shane smiled softly again. "It sounds like you learned a lot from those relationships," he said, also thinking about how it sounded like Alan had learned a lot more about love than him. "It's good you were able to learn even in a difficult moment. Those are hard lessons to appreciate, but they are really valuable."

"I agree. I think that's a part of life, to be thrown difficult situations so you can come out stronger and wiser. But the past is the past, and we don't need to talk about that any more. I've certainly learned my lessons, but I'm looking forward to newer beginnings. I appreciate you sharing," Alan said with a smile.

Shane grinned, reaching for his glass again and passing Alan's back to him. "I'm looking forward to it as well," he said. "It's been a start full of promises."

"That's right," Alan said as he took the champagne bottle and topped off both their glasses before taking his glass from Shane's hand. "And we're now more than halfway done with school now. What else are you looking forward to this year?"

Shane hummed thoughtfully, wishing it wasn't a hard question to answer. "I do look forward to being home on breaks, but there's things to look forward to here as well," he said. "There's new exhibitions to plan for artists I'd like to see, another year of trying new things around Boston, and hopefully interesting things to write about for history. It's all pretty simple, I guess." He smiled again, half-shrugging with one shoulder as he swirled his glass. "What about for you?"

"Simple, but still rewarding in its own way," Alan said, taking a sip of his drink. "I don't have anything specific planned, really. I am looking forward to performance season, both in symphony and personal endeavors. I'm looking forward to improving both my piano and violin skills, although I can't say they're progressing at the same pace. I'm also looking forward to seeing what new songs we'll play and create, as well as what other audience members we'd end up inspiring. And of course, I look forward to also trying new things around Boston, hopefully with a special someone." At that, Alan took another small sip from his cup.

Shane couldn't help but grin and laugh softly as his gaze dropped to the ground for a brief moment. "I'm hoping for that too," he said sincerely, smiling at Alan again. "Personal musical endeavors, you said? Is that your band, then? I heard a we in there, but I'm sure you weren't referring to the two of us. Don't place me behind a piano bench, ever."

Alan grinned. "You don't have to play piano to get involved in music making, you know. If you wanted to get involved, you could simply listen, be present, and give your opinion. That's just as valuable, and certainly something that I need."

Shane beamed. "I'd be happy to. What kind of music does your band do?"

"If only we were that consistent," Alan said with a little laugh, swirling the drink in his hand. "I'll give some context first. The band's name is Alvarose. It was supposed to be a temporary name that was just a mash of my last name, Alvaro, and Rose, the name of the cellist I performed duets with. We made a good team, and we joked about starting a band since her brother, Rowan, is a drummer. As you know, it ended up happening. And by the end of the year, Lucas -- the one from the piano bar, you've met him -- he joined too. We all play different roles and instruments. I rotate between voice, piano, and violin, Rose rotates between voice, cello, and bass, and Lucas rotates between voice, piano, and guitar. Rowan, well--" Alan let out a laugh. "He mostly just plays drums, but he's great at it. Lucas is a talented composition major at Ivy and composes most of the songs, but he does a good job in making sure we all have a say as well. Sometimes he only writes parts for the instruments, and it'd be a group effort to write lyrics. Sometimes it's the other way around, and sometimes one of us has a draft, and Lucas works his magic to make it better. As you can imagine, Alvarose ends up being a fairly inconsistent band in terms of types of original songs we produce, but we all have fun and usually make a decent amount of money from it. It's a good learning experience as well."

Shane nodded with a smile throughout what Alan said, but his expression turned more thoughtful as he went on. Something about what he was saying sounded really familiar. "Sorry for the random question, but--" he started. "Is your drummer Rowan Clifford, by any chance?"

Alan tilted his head in curiosity. "Yeah, that's him. Have you met him before?"

Shane laughed, shaking his head in slight disbelief. "Okay, yes, I have. Rowan was one of the people I casually dated, freshman year. So then Lucas--" His eyes widened, and he laughed again. "--is that Lucas. That's an unexpected but funny coincidence."

"Oh... I see," Alan said more quietly, his smile faded as it became clear that he seemed bothered by this. He slowly and carefully set the glass down in front of him. "Well, I actually knew Rowan before Rose. Rowan was my freshman dorm mate, and still a pretty close friend of mine. So... hm." He let out a weak laugh. "Sorry, I'm usually not at a loss for words, but this is... definitely a surprise."

Shane winced slightly, backtracking a little. "Sorry, sorry. I didn't realize any of it either, and... well, I can certainly see why it's a bit awkward." He chuckled, a little nervously. "But I can promise there isn't anything between us-- we really weren't serious to being with-- and everything's been fine the handful of times we've crossed paths since. I mostly leave him alone out of respect for him and Lucas, but we're friendly whenever we do run into each other since there wasn't anything messy about us breaking up. So, you don't have to worry about us being weird around each other-- there's no resentment, but there's also no lingering feelings and there weren't any in the first place."

"Shane," Alan said with a stifled laugh, placing his hand on his knee as he smiled. "It's alright. I'm not worried about that, and I trust you enough that you don't need to justify it for me." He pulled his hand away, still smiling. "But also, because Rowan and Lucas are great together, and I can't imagine them with anyone else." He paused for a moment, as Shane nodded in agreement to that. "I'd... have to talk to Rowan about this eventually, though. About you. I'm not asking for his permission, but I'd like to give him a notice, since he is a close friend. Although, I'm sure there won't be any resentment, as you've mentioned." Alan weakly laughed again. "He'd probably be more surprised than anything."

Shane laughed again, nodding. "That's completely fine, I understand. I'd do the same if our roles were swapped." He then raised an eyebrow, taking a sip from his champagne with another smile. "Surprised how, though?"

"Well, maybe you already know this, but Rowan is pretty gullible, and he's very aware of it. I don't think he'd believe me when I tell him I'm not only seeing a man, but that it's someone he's been with before. He'd have thought I was messing with him since we usually tease him the most with how gullible he is," Alan said with a smile and a shake of his head. "But it'd be the truth. He'd probably not believe it until we're both in front of him."

Shane nodded, thinking quickly. Alan had only mentioned girlfriends, and this made it sound like Alan was presumed straight to Rowan. He had the feeling this wasn't the best time to ask, but he couldn't help but wonder why Alan wouldn't have told Rowan this about himself already. It didn't bother him to not know, but it did spark some curiosity in him. Maybe he'd find out naturally some other time.

"From what I know of Rowan, that seems about right," he said with a chuckle. "Maybe I will have to show up to a band session sometime. Mostly because it sounds genuinely fun, but also so you get taken seriously."

Alan grinned. "I'd have to talk to them about you first, but I'm sure they'd be thrilled to have you. After all, we need someone to be the listening ear and provide opinions, especially since Lucas is tired of hearing ours."

Shane laughed. "I'm no music critic, but I'm sure I can help with that."

They kept talking for what must have been hours into the night, as more shooting stars flew by overhead. Alan told him about the string quartet he'd joined and the solo piece he would have in the spring, although he hadn't decided what he would play yet, and Shane told him about the museum's upcoming temporary exhibitions and the artists that they would be welcoming into their galleries. They finished the bottle of champagne, but since they'd had it over several hours, Shane's head didn't feel too fuzzy-- or if he did feel fuzzy, it was for a different reason.

Eventually, they went back to lying down and watching the stars again, this time closer together on their blankets. Every so often, a particular impressive shower of light would shoot by, and one of them would inevitably ask the other if they'd seen it. One of the times that Alan asked, though, Shane's laughter in response turned into a soft but long yawn.

"I know it's getting late. Do you want to head back?" Alan asked gently.

"Do I want to? No. But we probably should," Shane said with a laugh.

"It is tempting to run away, start a new life in the mountains, and be under the stars every night. But that's a thought for another day," Alan said as he sat up, getting up on his feet. He offered Shane a hand, smiling down at him. "Come on. Let's get you to bed."

Shane smiled as he took his hand and got up to his feet. They packed up everything into the picnic basket, folding the picnic blankets neatly on top. Then they walked back down the hill to the motorcycle again, stealing glances at the sky every now and then as Alan put everything away. This time, Shane figured out how to secure his helmet by himself.

"Ready to go?" Alan asked after he hopped on the motorcycle, putting on his own helmet.

Offering him another smile, Shane hopped on the back, putting his arms around his chest like before. "Ready," he confirmed.

"Alright. Hold on tight. We'll be back in less than an hour," Alan said before turning on the motorcycle.

It jolted awake with a rumble, and then they were off.

The roads were as clear as they got this time of night, but Alan seemed to be taking it a little more cautiously anyway. Over the highway, the sky was dim, and Shane could only really look straight ahead, holding on tighter on turns and lane changes. The air was a little cold, but the leather jacket kept him from fully feeling it.

He wasn't terribly tired, but the thought that came to him when his gaze flicked to the back of Alan's helmet had to push through a haze of a thousand other ones. If this went on in the direction it seemed to be heading in-- and it did seem to be charted that way-- Shane had the sneaking feeling that one day, Alan could mean so much to him that he wouldn't know what to do with himself.

The if and one day were blurry in his mind still, but it was early for that thought yet.

Alan drove them back to Shane's street, which was now completely empty of people except for the two of them. The motorcycle came to a stop by the curb, and Alan turned off the engine. He slowly took off his helmet, rolling his sleeves to check the time on his watch before he glanced back at Shane.

"How are you doing? Are you still awake?" he asked with a tired smile.

Shane returned the smile after he took his helmet off, having to smooth out his hair again. "I'm still awake," he said with a soft laugh. "I just had a great night, and I'd have hated to fall asleep for any part of it."

Alan let out an amused laugh through his nose as he dismounted the motorcycle, gently taking the helmet off Shane's hands so that he could put it away at the back. Shane hopped off a moment later.

"I had a great night too, but I wouldn't want you to lose any more sleep tonight." Alan paused, glancing up at Shane after he put the helmet away. "I'd have carried you home if I had to. Although, that may be a bit difficult on a bike."

Shane grinned. "I'll get enough sleep as is. I would rather spend those hours on time with you anyway." He glanced back at the motorbike for a moment. "Am I up next for planning something, or have you already got something in mind?"

Alan hummed, taking some steps back next to Shane, gently leaning against the bike. "What day can you bring in guests at the museum?" he asked.

"It's whenever I want that I'm not working, so any time except Wednesday afternoon and most of Saturday. Perks of the job," Shane said with a laugh. "What day works for you, then?"

"You do have my calendar now, so you can pick a day and time that works best for you. Weekdays are generally not the best for me, but I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I'll make the time for you," Alan said sincerely with a smile, meeting his eyes. "Let me know a date and a time, and I'll be there."

Shane returned the smile. "I'll do my best to be mindful of your schedule, but I'll keep that in mind. I'll get back to you soon with a time, once I come up with a little surprise to go along with the museum."

Alan smiled warmly at him. "Alright. I look forward to it, but if you'd like, we can also plan it out together. I wouldn't mind that either."

"I can take care of it this time," Shane assured him gently, still smiling. "You'll prove to be the better planner, I'm sure, but I'd like to try my hand at a surprise. If it falls flat, well, you can take the reins in future."

"Shane, we can be together doing absolutely nothing, and I'd still be thrilled because I'd be doing nothing with you," Alan emphasized with an airy laugh and a smile. "It's not a competition, but I appreciate the eagerness. All I want is your presence. Everything else is secondary. I'm sure I'll love whatever you end up planning."

Shane smiled again, feeling a little relieved. "I'll try to remember that," he said with a nod. "I'm looking forward to it, whatever it'll end up being."

Alan smiled playfully. "Mysterious and curious. I'm already intrigued."

Shane's smile turned more teasing, even though it was just as much of a mystery to him. He did have an idea for what they could do already, but it could have to wait until he was awake enough to check their schedules and do some research.

A short silence fell between them as Alan slowly glanced between Shane and his apartment, standing up straight again.

"Well, all good nights come to an end eventually. This night isn't any different," he said as he smiled softly at Shane. "Thanks again for coming along and staying out so late. I'm glad we did this."

"I'm glad we did, too. Thank you for inviting me," Shane said sincerely, with a soft laugh. "It was a great idea."

Alan nodded. "Of course." There was another longer pause, and Alan let out a sigh before smiling again. "Alright. I'll let you get some shut eye. In the meantime, feel free to text me about the next time we meet."

Shane did the same forefinger salute that Alan had given him as a goodbye the first time they'd parted ways, still smiling as he took a step back. "Will do. You'll hear from me soon."

Alan grinned and let out an airy laugh. "Wait," he said, already moving to close the gap between them, embracing Shane and hugging him close.

It was unexpected, but Shane had time to hug him back, smiling brighter. Alan gave him a gentle squeeze, his face perched over Shane's shoulder, but as he began to pull away, Alan's face drew near until he hovered by his cheek to plant a gentle, soft kiss. He then fully pulled away, his thumb cupping Shane's cheek, tenderly running over the spot where he kissed him. Shane's breath caught in his throat a little, even as his smile turned more gentle while staying just as bright.

"Good night, Shane," Alan said softly with a smile.

Shane kept looking into his eyes, feeling like he didn't want to move from where he was. He hadn't felt hope swelling in his heart like this in a long time, and right now, he wanted to hold onto that feeling for as long as he could. It couldn't have been more than a few seconds of silence and warmth, but Shane treasured the short eternity that it felt like in his mind before he returned the words.

"Good night, Alan," Shane said softly, not looking away from him.

Alan retained the still, tender gaze for a few moments before he finally pulled his hand away, beginning to grin as he mimicked the same forefinger salute that Shane had copied just a minute ago.

"Until the next surprise, then," Alan said, now being the one stepping back. "Sweet dreams."

As his smile turned wider, Shane took a couple more steps back, watching him the whole time. "Sweet dreams."

They both stood there for a moment longer, still smiling, before Alan moved to get on the motorcycle and Shane punched in the code for his apartment building. He gave Alan one last gentle smile as he pulled the door open and stepped in, watching him until the closing door blocked him from view.

The motion detector that activated the hallway light would need him to take another step for it to turn off, but Shane stood there for a moment longer, lifting his hand to his cheek, right where Alan had kissed him. He smiled again and laughed quietly as he started to walk towards the staircase, the hope in his heart still feeling like warm sunlight blooming inside him.

The if and one day didn't seem so blurry, now that it was easier to believe in them.

Clarity stirred boredly at the complimentary tea that Professor Rangel had poured for her as he went through the papers on his desk. Her personal instructor was getting on in years, and he had misplaced his glasses both the times that he'd taken them off during their meeting today, but he remained very knowledgeable in his field and well-esteemed at Ivy. He seemed to be having some trouble deciding what to do with her, however, from the way he frowned as he looked through the reports she and Oliver had written one more time-- that was, until he finally sighed and looked up.

"Well, it doesn't look too great," the professor admitted, tapping the paper. "It doesn't look at bad as Mr. Trieu made it seem, at least."

Clarity raised her eyebrows slightly. "I did tell him that drama wasn't going to get anywhere with you."

"You were right. Did he really think--" Professor Rangel adjusted his glasses, which were already fogging up again from the steam of the tea and bound to be removed and misplaced once more. "--that you purposefully let it explode?"

"It seemed like he did," Clarity said, half-shrugging.

"That doesn't sound like you," the professor said, even though she knew that wasn't true. He laid both pages out side by side, as though he were comparing the differences. "However, neither does the reality. This is very negligent behavior, and it could have been a real danger, had a few things been different." Professor Rangel lifted the electric kettle on his desk. "More tea?"

"No, thank you." She hadn't touched her mug yet, and she wasn't sure that she would. Clarity was actually a fan of tea, but she hoped to be out of the office before it was anything less than burning hot. "But you're right. I was getting too distracted from what I was supposed to be doing because-- well, because he was trying to distract me by getting under my skin, and it worked."

"And that's an honest mistake. But even honest mistakes can cause real harm in a hazardous environment." There it was-- the glasses were coming off again, being set to the side to dehaze. Clarity almost said something this time, but Professor Rangel was already speaking again. "You aren't in any real trouble, because I trust it won't happen again. But--" The professor sighed, almost apologetically. "I'm going to have to give you some work."

Clarity frowned. "Work?" That could mean any number of things, but from the way he said it, she guessed she wasn't meant to enjoy it.

"Work," Professor Rangel confirmed, already searching through the file drawers on his side of the desk. "It's mostly procedure, for learning from mistakes. While I'm not too concerned, in your case, we don't want Mr. Trieu making threats or pressing any charges." He looked up, raising an eyebrow. "We don't, do we?"

"No," Clarity said flatly. She'd take any kind of work over giving Oliver something to be smug about.

"Good. Well, I happen to have a challenge for you."

Clarity was bracing herself for a stack of dull, if not particularly excruciating, worksheets, but the papers Professor Rangel set in front of her were nothing like that. The papers were yellowed and tearing, looking like they hadn't been printed in this century. She frowned at the words on the top page-- handwritten words? The writing was in a particularly elaborate cursive, and she didn't even try to read the title.

"What is this?" she asked slowly, a slight feeling of dread and curiosity growing in her thoughts. "Nicholas Flamel's personal diary?"

Professor Rangel laughed at that-- one of the few times she'd ever heard him laugh. "A challenge," he repeated. "One I don't give to many students. But it seems like you'd have too easy of a time with the others I could give you."

Slowly, Clarity started to push the top paper aside.

"Maybe wait until you're out of the office," the professor said quickly. "I won't be able to take your questions, and I'm sure you'll have some."

Frowning harder now, Clarity blinked and looked up. "Can I go check this out now then?"

"You don't want your tea?" Professor Rangel sounded genuinely disappointed.

"I'm okay, thank you. You can have it, though," Clarity said quickly as she pushed the papers into a neat stack and stood up with it. She had to read through this, now. The suspense was going to kill her if she couldn't.

"Ah, well then..." The professor reached over the table to grab her mug as she moved towards the door. "Well, I hope you have a good day."

"You too, Professor," Clarity called, trying to hold open the office door with her shoulder as she held the stack of papers with both hands.

"Oh, hold on just a moment." Professor Rangel blinked confusedly, reaching for his face. "Clarity, did you see where I set my glasses?"

"To your right," she hollered, finally making the door swing open wide and pushing through the gap.

Clarity heard a grateful "Thank you!" behind her just before the door swung shut.

Immediately, she adjusted her grip on the stack of papers so that she could hold them with her forearm supporting them while using her other hand to flip through the top ones. The papers were all handwritten, seemingly someone's notes, with bullet lists and margin notations here and there. Luckily, the more she looked at the handwriting, the more the words did become clear-- though she still internally groaned at how old-fashioned it felt-- and the more she could read it of it. Even so, Clarity only got halfway through the first paragraph before she read something that made her pause, and then made her freeze.

"What... What the fuck?"

Evaline stifled a yawn, instead taking a deep breath as she squished her cheek against her palm, elbow perched on the desk in front of her.

She usually spent her Wednesdays as Dr. Sullivan's teacher assistant for the differential equations class she taught, but students hardly ever came by. It was likely because Dr. Sullivan was an amazing professor and teacher, and to this day, Evaline was still honored and touched that she picked her to be her assistant.

After all, she was only one of the best mathematicians in the Northeast, maybe even the whole country. What Evaline would do to even be half as brilliant as she was...

With another sigh, Evaline picked up her pen and continued to grade the students' exams, already committing the answer sheet to memory and marking off any points for any deviation.

This was the last semester. This was the last semester before she could move on to do something else with her life. What that even looked like, Evaline didn't really know... but Dr. Sullivan was a good mentor and gave her a list of options.

She could do research, like she was doing. Maybe work on theoretical mathematics or physics. Or she could do something more applied, like engineering, computer modeling, and even finance or economics. She had told Evaline again and again that as long as she kept her mind sharp and continued to critically think through her problems, she could enter any field.

Problem was, Evaline didn't really know what to do. She majored in math because she was good at math. It didn't mean she wanted to spend the rest of her life doing math.

But that was life, wasn't it? Sometimes settling was inevitable.

It didn't really matter. She was going to end up working in Oliver's parent's company anyways. They seemed proud of the field she chose, saying it had a lot of application to what they needed. Like Oliver, she'd probably end up working with modeling and computers, which wasn't exactly her strength, but at least she was a fast learner.

She continued to work through the papers one by one, but then there was a knock at the door, which interrupted her stream of thoughts. Evaline looked up curiously, briefly making eye contact with Dr. Sullivan, who beckoned a, "Come in."

The door opened, and considering that it was office hours right now, Evaline half-expected a young, starry-eyed, ambitious engineering student to walk in with questions relating to differential equation. Instead, in came Clarity with a stack of papers, the very woman that Oliver had swore was out to get him last week.

Evaline slowly blinked, hardly believing her eyes. It was definitely her. Her loose wavy blonde hair cascaded past her shoulders, delicately framing her face. Her brows were knitted together, and she seemed to be frowning, although Evaline didn't really know her enough to know if that was her natural expression. She did see her enough times that it was odd to see her not in a lab coat. Instead she was wearing a deep blue fitted sweater with overdyed skinny jeans-- a casual look, relative to how professional she normally seemed.

Evaline didn't really know the full history, but Oliver didn't seem to like her. If she had to guess, it was probably because, well... Evaline didn't really know her, but she got the sense that Clarity was kind of intimidating, and she knew Oliver well enough to know that he'd find that threatening.

Clarity only took a moment to absorb her surroundings as she walked in, and she made brief eye contact with Evaline. Suddenly feeling strangely awkward by this random encounter, Evaline quickly looked away and went back to focusing on grading her exams.

"Ah, Clarity. So good to see you again," Dr. Sullivan said across the room, warm smile in her voice. "What brings you to my office today?"

"Hey, Doc," Clarity said in a surprisingly bright tone of voice as her frown eased a little, looking away from Evaline and taking a few steps forward. She held up the stack of old papers more clearly for her to see. "I've been given a challenge to figure out, and even though I suspect it might just be impossible, some of the material in here reminds me of the things I learned with you. Mind if I ask you some questions?"

Interest piqued, Dr. Sullivan tilted her head in curiosity and beckoned for Clarity to draw closer to her desk. "Of course. What questions do you have for me?"

Clarity went over some of the instructions in the paper, which seemed extremely silly and laughable, mentioning sacred vessels with high arcane infinity and magic potential. Dr. Sullivan seemed to think this was some kind of joke since she was smiling and grinning the whole time, but she seemed to entertain Clarity's questions anyways. Past the laughs and jokes, they began a discussion that was largely chemistry-based, figuring out how to balance the energy equation and decide what kind of compounds and reactants may be needed. Dr. Sullivan focused more on theory since her specialty was in theoretical physics, but that seemed to be the angle Clarity was looking for since she was diligently taking notes. Still, they seemed to be puzzled about whether this study was sound in nature since it seemed to go against the laws of physics and thermodynamics.

The end of the hour came by, and Dr. Sullivan sighed as she checked her watch. "Sorry, dear, I have to leave to teach a class. This is definitely a challenge, and you've asked some very interesting questions." She peered over to Evaline with a smile, which made her quickly look back down at her paper. "By the way, this is Evaline, my teacher assistant." Dr. Sullivan paused again, speaking when Evaline looked back up at her. "Evaline, do you have some thoughts on this?"

"I have... a few ideas," Evaline admitted. "I'm not sure how accurate they are, though."

Dr. Sullivan smiled warmly, reaching over for her bag and placing a binder in there. "That's the beauty of science. If you're not sure about something, then you have the freedom to put your theory to the test. Failure is just as important as success; it tells you what doesn't work, which can be just as valuable as knowing what does work." She smiled again at the two of them, but kept her eyes on Clarity. "Office hours is still going on for a few more minutes, so if a student walks in, Evaline will have to prioritize them. But otherwise, you are welcome to stay and brainstorm together. Feel free to email me or stop by again. That's an interest document you got there, and it's always a pleasure to see my favorite students."

Clarity turned her head to Evaline, looking like she wasn't quite sure, but she smiled slightly and nodded to Dr. Sullivan. "Sure, no problem. Thanks for your help, Doc."

As she packed, Dr. Sullivan went on with some more small talk with Clarity, asking her brief questions about what she was up to now. Evaline learned about what Clarity was studying and who she was working under, but the conversation was brief since Dr. Sullivan only had a minute to spare before she went out the door, leaving just the two of them together.

Now that she had her professor's blessing, Evaline clicked her pen again and again, in thought as she stared at the white board of equations that they had put together for the last thirty minutes.

"You mentioned that you're expecting a phase change, right?" Evaline asked, still clicking her pen. "Maybe the energy is being released then."

Before Clarity could give a proper response, Evaline rolled her chair back and got up, making her way over to the board. She twisted off the cap from a blue marker, already beginning to write what she had in mind while it was still fresh in her head.

Focused, Evaline wrote the next line to simplify, although admittedly, this only made it more complex since she was considering energy gained and lost from phase changes, as well as writing out assumptions that would otherwise simplify the math. Without it, they'd have to consider how the energy is moving in all directions, which was always difficult to do by hand. But not impossible.

She took a step back, hand on her chin as she stared at what she wrote, brows furrowed. "Hmmm. Maybe not," she murmured, wondering if this would be easier to model in Mathematica.

Clarity moved over, reading the equations over her shoulder with a thoughtful frown. "It looked like it was off to a good start," she admitted. "I like theoretical work, but this challenge goes against theory. Maybe these instructions are just wrong."

"I don't know. I don't think so. Maybe it's not as impossible or improbable as you think," Evaline murmured again, deep in thought. She set the marker down and leaned against her desk to stare at what she wrote, but then began to pace around the room. "At first glance... yes, it does seem that the Law of Conservation of Energy is broken." She stopped to glance at Clarity, loosely waving her hand in front of her. "Impossible, obviously." She went back to her train of thought, pacing again. "But... there are a lot of different types of energy. There's potential, kinetic... mechanical. Gravitational. Heat, or thermal. Electrical. Electromagnetic. Nuclear. Chemical. And other, less common ones too, like light or sound. I know we're focusing on chemical energy because, well, that's what this ancient study is about, and you're a chemist. But, I don't know... maybe it's written between the lines that there are other forces at play here. Other types of energy not directly considered, yet play an important role in getting the product you need." Evaline stopped pacing, leaning against her desk again as she turned her focus back on the whiteboard. "Maybe... it's about fluid mechanics. You're working with gases and liquids, after all. Maybe we'd have to consider the energy gained and lost from that aspect as well." She paused, flicking her eyes back to Clarity. "But-- I'm no expert. It's just a hunch," she added.

Clarity slowly nodded, picking up the black marker she'd been using. As she wrote "FLUID MECHANICS" on the board and underlined it, jotting down some thoughts in bullet points below, she watched Evaline out of the corner of her eye. "You're in mathematics?" she asked, a little hesitantly.

"Oh... yeah. That's what I'm studying," Evaline said, standing up a little straighter. "But science is basically applied math. It's all connected, one way or another."

Clarity nodded again, more quickly this time. "No, I agree. You can't be doing work like this without math." She paused, frowning a little more deeply as she tapped the back of the marker against the whiteboard. "You think this scientist forgot to specify a specific kind of energy that was at work in the process?"

"If they did, they seem like a lousy scientist," Evaline said flatly.

"Well... they could have been, if they were raving about magic and the arcane. It doesn't seem too scientific to me." Clarity blinked, then shook her head and chuckled slightly, without much humor. "You saw Doc's face, right? It's got to be a joke. Sorry you had to spend your time on this."

"Oh... it's fine," Evaline said as she looked down at her hand, gripping the edge of the desk. "I wasn't doing anything interesting anyways. This is definitely a lot more interesting, if not slightly comical." She lightly shrugged, turning her attention back to Clarity. "Interesting nonetheless."

Clarity's lips quirked into a thin smile, even as her gaze stayed fixed on the whiteboard. "I guess it's not every day you come across the rambling notes of a-- what century could this even be from? Definitely a past one, if it's mentioning magic. In any case, this is a rare find."

"Right. Where did you say you pulled this from, again? The same shelf as Harry Potter?" Evaline asked, curiosity now piqued.

Clarity let out a small huff of laughter, and then paused with a strange look on her face, as if she hadn't intended to laugh and was surprised that she had. "My personal instructor tasked me with it, actually," she said. "It was meant to be a challenge. From the way he said it, I thought he meant an extra assignment, but it seems like he's passed off the work that he's never figured out to me."

Evaline hummed at the back of her throat, slowly crossing her arms. "Really strange assignment to give to someone," she murmured, pausing before turning her full attention back to Clarity. "I'm assuming it's some kind of joke? Or is this supposed to be serious?"

Clarity scowled thoughtfully again. "It's a bit hard to tell with him. I'd say yes, he's serious, because this seems like a lot of trouble just to mess with me. If it were a joke, though, he'd have done it completely straight-faced."

Evaline pulled her lips back, shaking her head as she stared at the equations on the board again. "Well, it could still be a joke. But if it wasn't, then I'm not sure what he's trying to get you to do here, or what the point of all of this is."

"Make it work, somehow?" Clarity suggested. "These are instructions, as contradictory and nonsensical as they are. Like a really old version of a lab report. Maybe it needs repeating. But until I can figure out--" She paused as she read from the papers. "--how to invoke an incantation to initiate the opening of a temporary magical conduit, allowing energy to flow into the vessel, I'm not sure it's happening."

Evaline stared at her incredulously, letting the words sink in. She scoffed and raised a brow, trying not to smirk. "It seriously says that? Are you sure this didn't come from the wizarding world?"

"It does, unless I'm really reading this handwriting wrong," Clarity confirmed. "And unless my professor has a hidden collection of the series in his desk, I'm pretty sure."

Evaline sighed, shaking her head. "You know, I think I figured it out. I know what's missing," she said as she reached over her desk, picking up her black pen and waving it in front of her. "We're supposed to wave a wand and say a magic spell, not do impossible math. I'm sure doing that will reveal the next magical step."

Clarity's gaze fell on the pen, and she watched it for a moment before she spoke again. "Have you got anything more magical than that on hand?"

Evaline quietly hummed, setting the pen back down on her desk. "There's probably a stick outside you can use. I'm sure that has a lot of earthly arcane potential."

Clarity scoffed softly, raising her eyebrows and glancing at the window. "Could be worth a try. I might have to resort to it, if nothing starts to make sense soon enough."

"Oh no. The plan is working. Your professor is turning you into a mad scientist," Evaline said with a monotone voice, shaking her head as she turned around to pack her items, placing the exam papers in her bag.

"You're right. I'm already losing it." Clarity blew out a sigh, stacking the yellowed papers neatly again. "I'll probably think on it for a few days, see if I have to forfeit. I'd hate to, but it might hurt my pride more if I have to take magic seriously than if I gave up."

Evaline had checked her buzzing phone while Clarity was talking, seeing Oliver's name come up as an incoming text message. It was the end of the day, and they usually went back home together, but it seemed that he was giving her another warning that he was going to be late. He didn't seem to mention that he'd be in the lab, though.

Swiping away from the message, Evaline went to her camera to snap a picture of the whiteboard. She then hesitated, realizing maybe she should have asked Clarity first.

"Sorry. I hope you don't mind that I took a picture," she said as she glanced between Clarity and the board. "I don't think I'll do anything about this, so you don't have to worry about me stealing your work or anything like that."

Clarity shrugged. "Oh, it's fine. You've got things on this board too, and honestly, if you did steal the work from me, I could only be grateful. This is not looking like a project I'll have a good time with."

Evaline nodded, zipping up her bag. "Alright then. Good luck with everything." She hesitated, glancing at the door. "I'm... well, I'm planning on leaving right now. But you can stay longer if you'd like. I'm sure Dr. Sullivan doesn't mind."

Clarity reached in the back pocket of her jeans for her own phone, snapping a picture of the whiteboard as well. "I should be on my way as well," she said. "I can't say that I'll never be back, though. It depends on whether I have any breakthroughs or not."

Evaline huffed through her nose. "Who knows. The quest for a stick might pan out."

"Who knows. We'll see how desperate I get." Clarity lifted the stack of ancient papers, carefully tucking it under her arm, as she watched Evaline for a few moments. "Thank you, by the way. For being willing to help."

"Oh... yeah, no problem," Evaline said quietly, glancing back at the board then at Clarity as she mustered a fake smile. "Welcome to office hours."

Clarity's smile was thin, but her nod was firm as she met Evaline's gaze. "Thanks for having me."

Alan found himself sitting by the windowsill, gazing out the window with the sheet music on his lap. It was golden hour, and the sun was setting along the top of the building across the street.

He usually was most inspired at this time, but for the past few days, it felt like he had been running against a wall. Ideas pertaining to the topics that his friends wanted to sing about came up dry, even though ordinarily, Alan could have easily conjured a simple tune about any subject.

But he didn't want to write about the trivial topics. Instead, Alan wanted to write how he felt.

And that was a tune he wanted to keep for himself.

Still admiring the sun's golden rays in the still silence that followed, Alan's mind wandered back to Shane. He thought about the warmth of his smile, the way his earthly green eyes pierced through his heart, and the genuine desire he held to learn about him, be with him, and want him. This felt like the beginning of something new, but unlike last time, Alan was wary of his actions and thoughts, truly wanting to learn from experience and not wanting to make the same mistakes again.

A heart can only fracture so many times before it becomes too painful to love again, after all.

Again and again, Alan asked himself: how did all of this make him feel? Did this feel any different? Did he desire any more or less than he thought he would? Did this feel right?

There were even more questions that needed answering.

What would he tell his friends? His family? What would he tell himself? What could he do to improve? To not repeat his past mistakes? To become a better person? To love fully and earnestly?

Some questions didn't have answers. Alan didn't think many of his questions had answers quite yet, except for one: this did feel right. He was sure of it.

And sometimes, emotions held no logical explanation. Love certainly went against logic, but that was alright. Alan had accepted that long ago, and he was prepared to dive into unfamiliar but exciting territory, all because he was chasing a feeling that felt right.

There were some doubts, of course. None of it related to Shane; it was about himself.

He had wondered if, maybe, he had touched Shane more, he'd be able to feel something different. The day they laid under the stars together was the day that Alan tested that theory, making a slightly more conscious effort to draw closer, bring him near, and show more affection than usual.

It wasn't anything nefarious, and it still came from a genuine part of his heart, so no guilt was attached. But that aspect didn't feel different. It didn't really feel any different from when he was with his past lovers, but perhaps that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

Maybe he wasn't only attracted to men after all. Maybe this meant he liked men and women equally, although that didn't really answer the question that brought him into Shane's arms in the first place.

It didn't matter much, in the end. This wasn't going to change the dynamics of whatever may come up with Shane, anyways.

This did mean that Alan had at least learned something about himself. He was at least attracted to him, which was a discovery he was still trying to fully process.

To be honest, Alan didn't really feel any different. Maybe he had always been this way, and he was just realizing it now when an opportunity fell upon his lap. He didn't even have time to fully digest what this could mean in the long-term for people outside his immediate circle, but in the mean time, Alan was already preparing to reveal the truth to those closest to him.

The thought of shamefully hiding Shane and keeping him a secret didn't sit right with Alan. He'd have to think about how to have this conversation with others, but he knew there was no rush.

His phone buzzed twice in his pocket, indicating that he received a text. Pulled away from the foggy stream of conscious thoughts, Alan finally tore his gaze away from the window to reach into his pocket and see who was reaching him.

Shane.

It had been a day since they last talked, and Alan was wondering when he'd hear from him again. Setting his sheet music on the windowsill next to him, Alan pulled up the text message and gave it his full attention.

Shane wrote:Hey! I've got a surprise in mind for us, but the earliest time it could happen is later next week. In the meantime, can we find some other time to meet before then?

Alan leaned against the window, drumming his fingers along the windowpane. He wondered what could be planned for next week, but Shane seemed keen on following through with it despite the timeline. No matter, they could still meet beforehand.

Remembering what he had told him yesterday, Alan started to compose his reply.

Alan wrote:You know I'll always find the time for you.

Alan wrote:What does your schedule look like in the mornings? Maybe we can get your favorite caffeinated beverage together.

Shane didn't take long to answer.

Shane wrote:I tend to have my classes in the mornings, but I start an hour later than usual tomorrow morning. I try to start off the week with coffee anyway, but it'd be even better to start it off with you too. How does that sound?

Alan let out a puff of amused air through his nose, smiling when he finished reading. He was quick to type up his reply.

Alan wrote:Sounds like a date. What time and place tomorrow?

Shane wrote:Let's say 8 for the time, but you might have to find the place yourself. It's west of the campus, two minutes past the campanile, on a street that suddenly turns from concrete to cobblestone. It's the only cafe on the street. Think you can track it down?

"Huh," Alan murmured out loud, raising a brow at the instructions. It was odd, but also, strangely refreshing considering the alternative would be pulling up the address on Google Maps, which took out all the fun and adventure into what would otherwise be a little treasure hunt.

Alan wrote:If you're the treasure I'm finding, then I'm a treasure hunter. I've found you once, I can do it again.

Alan wrote:It's very historian-like of you to do this, though. Have I ever told you that I find this side of you endearing?

Shane wrote:Maybe, though I don't think you've likened me to treasure before.

Alan wrote:That's a shame. I really ought to tell you more often that I treasure you.

Shane wrote:I would treasure every time I heard it.

Shane wrote:It's also very artist-like of you to be the seeker, I think. Looking for something of meaning in the world around you, on the search for inspiration. I'm touched that I can be the muse.

Alan softly hummed, crouching forward with his hand against his cheek as he stared down at his phone, suddenly struck with the desire to keep the playful bantering going, but he didn't feel like text was the best way to continue.

Alan wrote:Do you mind if I call you?

From the speed of Shane's reply, it didn't seem like he was hesitating.

Shane wrote:Mind? I'd love that.

At that, Alan went to his contact page and selected his number to call him, but then glanced up at the room again, now dimly lit by the setting sun. Alistair was still out, but he may be coming in sometime this hour, so just to be safe, he'd keep it out of speaker mode.

It wasn't like Alan was trying to keep secrets from his brother, but at this stage of the relationship, Alan would rather opt for privacy.

He rung Shane's number, bringing the phone close to his ear. Alan stood up, still staring out the window, but he leaned forward and placed his arm along the top of the windowsill. Shane picked up fast within the first ring.

"You know, I've never been a big fan of having longer conversations through text. This feels more genuine," Alan said as soon as Shane picked up.

"I've never cared much for that either. With texting, you lose a bit of the other person's voice-- figuratively, but literally too." He could hear Shane's smile in his voice.

"Exactly. Hence why I had to say this in a way so you can hear my voice, figuratively and literally: I treasure you," Alan said, smiling as well.

Shane laughed softly. "Do I get to say I treasure you too, or am I supposed to keep taking the compliments?"

"I'd shush you again if I could. One of these days, I'll get you to accept a compliment without feeling the need to give one back."

Shane hummed. "Well, as long as you know the compliment is true from some other way and that I don't even need to say it out loud, that could work one of these days."

"A lot of things go unsaid. Compliments are an example of this, and so is the location of this mysterious cafe we're going to tomorrow," Alan said, realizing he was smiling wide. "And I thought I was full of surprises."

"I said I'd try my hand at it, right?" Shane laughed again. "I can say it's a good place. It should be easier to find the next time, too. If you're dating me, there's sure to be a lot of coffee involved, so there's your warning."

"Hm. Good to know I'll keep losing sleep because of you," Alan mused.

It sounded from Shane's voice as though he were smiling wider too. "I can promise that I will be too."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd have thought that you're talking about the coffee. And I do like coffee, but I think I prefer your flirting instead," Alan said, the words rolling off his tongue naturally. But he did truly mean it.

"Noted," Shane said, with a light laugh. "You'll get both tomorrow, but just the flirting for now. Maybe we'll see which one makes us more sleepless."

"I did say that nothing is a competition between us, but this is a competition I can get behind," Alan said with a grin. "I can't believe I'm looking forward to not sleeping."

The two of them continued to banter back and forth for the next fifteen minutes, and Alan was smiling the whole time, leaning against the window and getting lost in hearing Shane's soothing voice. He wasn't used to others being able to keep up with the playful banter, but Shane seemed to be able to do so effortlessly and easily, which Alan took as a challenge, continually to dialing his efforts with each passing minute. But towards the end, Shane -- brilliant as always -- always had a clever quip in response, and Alan relented, laughing and shaking his head as he stood up straight again.

"I'm glad I got to hear your voice tonight. I need to get back to my studies -- I'm composing a song, actually -- but I can't wait to see you tomorrow," he said.

"A song?" Shane asked curiously. "I hope to hear about how it goes tomorrow, but mostly, I'm looking forward to you. Get ready for that treasure hunt."

Alan grinned, letting out a puff of amused air through his nose again. "I'm ready. For the treasure, I mean." A beat. "I want to wish you a good night and hope you sleep well, but I'm not sure how effective it would be. But I'll say it anyways. Have a good rest of the night, Shane, and I'll see you tomorrow morning."

"You too, Alan." He heard that smile in Shane's voice again. "Sweet dreams, if you get around to having any. I'll see you then."

With a lingering smile, Alan clicked his phone away, placing it back in his pocket. The sun had fully set now, leaving him to gaze over the late dusk sky.

The inspiration he needed was still running empty, but the inspiration he wanted was only growing stronger. With a sigh, he got off the windowsill and walked over to his keyboard bench, placing the empty sheet music on the stand before turning on the piano.

It'd be a shame to let this inspiration go to waste.

For the next hour, Alan played away on the piano, letting his heart guide the melody.

It was Monday. God, Alistair hated Mondays.

And so did everyone else, which was why he hated it so much. The amount of emails he had received opening about a damn Garfield meme about hating on Mondays... too many. And the bland small talk between other office workers was so jarring and fake, always the same conversation every damn week.

But maybe he was being too pessimistic. Or maybe he truly hated Mondays. Or maybe he hadn't yet finished his coffee.

With a sigh, Alistair grabbed the printed copies from the printer and made his way back to his desk, being careful to not make eye contact with anyone else.

This job sucked. God, how could people do this for decades and not die from boredom? If he didn't quit already, he was sure he'd be replaced by a robot someday, since all he was doing was printing documents emailed to him just so he could manually enter the same information into a different file. Like... wasn't he just duplicating the work? Why did they have to send scanned documents to begin with?

With a groan, Alistair rubbed his face and then quickly finished his cup of coffee, not caring that it scalded his tongue. Maybe he'd finish this early, then disappear for a few hours, then come back and finish for the last hour, like he usually did. As long as he sent in the work, it wasn't like anyone would notice him, so he'd be able to log the hours and still get paid.

An hour passed and he was focused on this mindnumbing task of data entry when his phone buzzed next to him. Glancing down at it, Alistair saw that it was a text from Andrea.

mi amor ❤️😘 wrote:hey baby ❤️ what are u up to?

Hm. Andy knew where he was -- she always did, considering she could track his location. Alistair knew her well enough to know that she was leading up to something.

Alistair wrote:I'm at work

It didn't take long for her to respond back.

mi amor ❤️😘 wrote:aw... wish u were here 😞

Alistair decided to leave it at that. Another hour went by, and he made another trip to the printer. Then another hour went by. After that, it was the middle of the day, and he was taking his smoke break outside when he received another text from Andy.

It was a picture. Of her.

Alistair nearly choked from coughing, feeling his face heat up. He frantically looked around to make sure no one else saw, but he knew he was only being paranoid since he was alone.

mi amor ❤️😘 wrote:i'm waiting for you 😘😘

Alistair quietly groaned, deciding that was enough screen time at the moment. He threw his cigarette butt away and rubbed his face, strongly feeling the temptation to peek at the picture again, but deciding against it since he knew she was trying to bait him to leave work early again.

Well... he probably could... no one really noticed when he was gone. But--

No, he would really rather not. Last time this happened, Andy guilted him for days because he wouldn't do it again, saying she didn't love him and whatever other bullshit she always spat out. This was a thirst trap... from his own girlfriend.

There were no more texts for the remainder of the work day, even though Alistair snuck out an hour early. Upon leaving the building, his phone buzzed again, but someone was calling him.

Predictably, it was Andrea. She likely saw that he had left the building.

"Hey--" was all he said after he picked up, but was promptly interrupted.

"Did you see what I sent you?" Andy asked eagerly.

Alistair hesitated. "Oh, yeah. Just saw it. Uh..." He awkwardly passed by a group of students, keeping his head low as he continued in his direction of walking back home. He didn't even know what to say to this. "...Thanks."

He cringed as soon as he said it, but fortunately, Andrea hardly seemed to have noticed his awkward compliment.

"Are you coming over or what?" she huffed, straight to the point.

"Um... well, I should probably go home for a little bit. But I can afterwards," he said with a sigh.

"Awww!" He could hear the pout in her voice. "Don't you love me? Can't you come now? You haven't been spending any time with me. You haven't texted back, or noticed my new hair, or said anything to me!"

"You got a haircut?" Alistair asked skeptically.

She clicked her tongue. "Wooooow. Not surprise you didn't notice, because you never pay attention. That was what I sent you, amor."

Yyyyeah, that was not what she sent him. Although... maybe he just didn't notice her hair...

"Pleeeeaase?" she pleaded. "Mireya is begging to see you too. Come on, don't be boring. We have drinks and smokes. Come over for a little while? We'll have a good time."

Alistair let out a long sigh. "Okay, okay, alright. I'm on my way."

Andy let out a cheer and then went on to give him a spiel in Spanish that she loved him and couldn't wait to see him and yadda yadda yadda the same old stuff she said whenever he did relent to her demands. Although, he didn't really mind coming over today. It did start to feel exhausting when he had a similar conversation to her yesterday, though. And the day before, and the day before that, and the day before that...

Andrea and Mireya shared an apartment together. They weren't near campus like he and Alan were, so Alistair had to run back home anyways to get his bike. He thought about running up to his third story apartment to freshen up and say hey to Alan and maybe leave another stupid goodbye note, but thought better of it, deciding to just leave since he had his keys on him anyways.

It was only a fifteen minute ride away. Upon arriving, Alistair parked in front of their apartment and quickly went up the stairs. He knocked on their door and it only took two seconds for Andy to answer it, hand on her hip.

Alistair looked her up and down.

Wow, alright. She did dye her hair. She had dark red highlights now.

"Now you notice," Andy teased with a grin, pulling him in and giving him a big sloppy kiss on the lips. "Mmm. I've missed you," she said as she pulled away, still smiling.

Without waiting for a reply, Andy quickly grabbed his hand and led him inside, barely giving him time to even close the door.

"Alright, alright, I can walk," Alistair said with a muffled laugh, shaking his hand out of her grip. He stood in the middle of their living room, noticing Mireya making orange cocktails in the kitchen. "Hey, Mireya."

Mireya turned to flash him a bright grin, blue hair sweeping over her shoulder. "Hey, Alistair," she greeted him, shaking up a bottle and popping it open. "Is it gonna be an old-fashioned for you?"

"You always get that drink. Don't you ever want to try anything new?" Andy teased, standing next to Mireya with her elbows on the counter, hands propping her face up.

"Yeah, well. Call me old fashioned," Alistair said to the both of them with a loose wave of his hand, joining them at the counter. "Thanks."

With a wider grin, Mireya reached for the cupboard to grab a glass and flip it in the air before catching it again-- a trick he'd seen her do many times, and one she got away with because well, she hadn't dropped one yet. "Coming right up."

Alistair had always figured she'd drop a glass one of these days, though.

"Mireya and I went to the salon together today," Andy said as she swirled a strand of hair with her forefinger, keeping her gaze on him. "Did you notice our new hair colors?"

Alistair squinted between the two of them. "Yeah, your hair is redder now. I like it. And Mireya, is your hair..." He narrowed his eyes, staring at the top of her head. "...bluer?"

"It was aqua," Mireya said proudly, pouring out bourbon into the glass that would be his. "And now it's turquoise."

"Right, yeah," Alistair said, even though he was sure he was never going to remember that. "Way different than last time."

Mireya beamed, tossing her head playfully as she poured in the bitters next. "I think I'll keep it this way for a bit."

"Uh huh. Definitely a new look," Alistair said sarcastically.

"That's all you have to say?" Andy pouted, referring to her own hair. "You like it? That's it?"

"I love it," Alistair said instead, mustering a smile.

"You didn't notice at first or call me beautiful," she sneered, slightly slurring her words, and it just hit Alistair that maybe she had already been drinking.

"Did you invite me over just so you can tell me this?" Alistair said flatly, trying not to let out a long-suffering sigh.

"No, I invited you because I love you and miss you, of course," Andy said with innocence in her voice.

"Yeah... yeah, sorry. You look great," he relented, leaving Andy with a grin.

"Here you go," Mireya jumped in, stirring up Alistair's now-finished drink with a flourish and giving it a little push across the counter. "Drink time!" She picked up her own drink-- seemingly a mimosa from the orange color, but knowing her, she'd spiked it a little more-- and raised it in a toast with a brilliant smile.

Alistair hesitantly placed his hand around the cup, but he didn't pick it up until Andy did as well.

"Salud!" she cheered, clinking her Modelo with Mireya's glass and then Alistair's.

Alistair only nodded for his cheer, taking a few big gulps of the drink. It was bitter, just like how he liked it, and the bourbon was actually nice this time.

"Hm. That's pretty good, actually," he commented, as he lifted his glass and examined the contents more carefully, considering that last time Mireya poured one for him, it was way too strong.

Not that this wasn't still strong. It still was. But it was... less strong, and noticeably so.

Mireya kept beaming, dipping her head in a half-bow after taking a swig of her drink. "I try my best."

"Mireya has been making drinks all day. She's made me a mojito, a long island, a screw driver, and... I don't even remember," Andy said with a giggle.

"It was a dark and stormy," Mireya added quickly. "I could've stopped with the screwdriver, but, well, where's the fun in that?"

"Is that what you two have been doing all day? Making drinks and drinking them?" Alistair asked with a raised brow.

"And getting our hair done," Mireya corrected. "We know how to have fun."

"Uh huh, clearly. Must be nice not having a real job," Alistair said, hiding his smirk by taking another drink.

Andy scoffed. "We have real jobs. How do you think we paid for all this?"

"I dunno, I should ask the IRS," Alistair said with a light shrug.

"Please don't," Mireya said, finishing her drink and already making herself something new. "It was so hard to fool them last tax season."

Alistair didn't realize until now that he found himself drinking faster now, trying to keep up with Mireya, even though he knew it was stupid to do so. "Yeah, didn't you work at that one bar? It wasn't like you reported any income anyways. Don't you only get paid in cash?" he asked, swirling his cup.

Mireya had swapped out her champagne glass for a hurricane glass and was mixing fruit juice into rum now with a smirk. "Whether or not I pay income taxes is none of the government's business."

"Fuck yeah it isn't!" Andy cheered with a laugh before taking a swig of her beer.

"Right. Definitely not," Alistair said, deciding not to comment that that was kind of the whole purpose of the IRS and governments and whatnot.

Grinning triumphantly, Mireya gestured towards Alistair's nearly empty glass as she stirred hers up with her other hand. "You going to need another of those? Something else?"

Alistair glanced down at his drink, hesitant at first, but then swinging it back to finish it off. The ice hit the tip of his nose, and he scrunched his face when he brought the glass down on the counter.

The old fashioned tasted smooth -- at first. The oaky aftertaste was hitting him now, but it didn't mean he hated it.

"Sure, yeah. Bartender's choice," he said as he slid the glass back towards Mireya.

Mireya scanned him, tapping her lips with a finger as she turned back towards the counter. "Whiskey sour, coming right up."

Andy let out a curious high-pitch hum. "Why a whiskey sour?" she asked.

"No questioning the bartender's choice," Mireya commanded, grinning mischievously as she rummaged through the many bottles out on the counter.

"Is it because he's a sour puss?" Andy teased, and Alistair half-rolled his eyes.

"A sour puss who needs to drink more, maybe," Mireya joked as she found what she needed and popped the bottles open.

"What is up with you two always wanting to get me drunk? Do I look like an alcoholic to you?" Alistair asked flatly.

"No, you haven't joined the club yet," Mireya admitted, gesturing between her and Andy.

Andy giggled, closing the gap between her and Alistair so she could pull him in closer to her and push his hair back. Alistair was stiff for a moment, letting out a weak laugh that he was being pet like a dog.

"I think you're sexy when you're drunk," she cooed in Spanish.

"Yeah, yeah, okay," he said thinly, feeling kind of awkward that she was laying it on so thick with Mireya right there. He smiled but gently shoved her back, and she giggled again. "I guess I'll have to earn my ticket in that club," he said.

Mireya finished mixing his glass, pushing it his way. "There's your admission for the night," she joked. "Andy, want anything else?"

She had asked at a perfect time since Andy just finished off her beer. She grinned, tossing the bottle in the trash can. "Can you make me another paloma?"

"Can I? Can I breathe?" Mireya asked rhetorically with a smirk, taking down a new glass.

"Shut up and make me the drink," Andy said with a roll of her eyes and a smile.

"Wow, so rude," Mireya complained, but she started pouring the tequila in.

"You know you love me," Andy cooed with an innocent grin, flicking her eyes between the two of them. "Hey, you know what we should do? We should play a drinking game."

Mireya's head shot up. "Yes. What drinking game?"

Andy hummed. "What do you wanna do? We can play ring of fire... or stack cup... but we'd have have to bring in more people."

"Why can't we just drink in peace?" Alistair asked instead.

"Is that a drinking game too?" Mireya asked, wrinkling her nose. "Sounds like a boring one from the name."

Alistair stared at her blankly, but Andy spoke before he could get a word in.

"How about truth or dare?" she pitched enthusiastically, a devilish grin tugging at her lips. "And if you don't wanna answer or do the dare, you take a shot."

"Oooooh," Mireya exclaimed. "I'm down."

"No, you're both going to make me do stupid things. I just know it," he groaned.

"Then pick truth, silly!" Andy said.

Why did he have the feeling that she wanted him to pick truth? He eyed her suspiciously.

"I don't know," he said, slowly picking up his drink, but not taking a sip just yet.

"Por favor? Please, amor?" Andy pleaded with puppy dog eyes, putting her arms around him to pull him in.

"...Alright, fine," he said with a sigh, arm also around Andy as she cheered and then planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Yessss," Mireya cheered as she finished up Andy's drink and slid it over to her. "I knew tonight would be fun."

"Okay, okay, okay. We have our drinks." With a grin, Andy stood up straight again, eyeing the two of them. "Who wants to go first?"

Mireya raised a hand and waved it around, beaming. Andy grinned wider, leaning forward on the counter.

"Okay, mira. Truth... or dare?" Andy said with an exaggerated sultry voice.

Mireya swirled her drink thoughtfully. "Truth."

"So, that cutie you brought home last weekend," Andy began, already waggling her brows. "How was it? Ten out of ten? It sounded like a ten."

"Oh, probably a nine," Mireya said easily. "She snored afterwards."

"Yeah, I know, I heard. She sounded like a... what do you call it? The thing that cuts grass?"

"A lawnmower?" Alistair offered.

"Yeah, that," Andy said with a giggle.

"She really did," Mireya said, snorting with laughter. "I had to wake her up at 4 in the morning and told her it was to sneak her out unnoticed, but really I just needed some sleep that night."

"Damn, you are a heartless hoe!" Andy teased with a laugh, giving her a playful shove.

"Alright, alright," Mireya said with laughter as she held up her hands, turning to Alistair. "You're up next. Truth or dare?"

Alistair sighed. "Truth."

Mireya raised an eyebrow, clearly trying not to grin. "What was Andy texting you this morning?"

Alistair stared at her, slowly processing the question as Andy continued to loudly giggle beside them. He felt his face go red, but he couldn't tell if that was because of the alcohol or the question. Probably both.

Letting out a defeated sigh, he leaned forward to place his head on the counter for a moment. "I'll take tequila," he grumbled, deciding he'd rather take a shot than answer the question.

"Aw, well," Mireya said, quickly pouring him a shot and passing it over. "Worth a shot. No pun intended."

"Hilarious," he said as he took the glass, ready to shoot it back.

"Well, you can ask me. I don't mind," Andy said innocently, causing Alistair to nearly choke on his drink and cough.

"God, this tequila is fucking terrible," he groaned, sliding the shot glass away as he caught his breath again.

Mireya wrinkled her nose at him. "Wow, rude. Insulting the bottle that was on the finest clearance shelf."

"Ugh," Alistair groaned, about to get a glass of water, but Andy caught his attention before he could move.

"Amor, it's your turn. Ask me now," she beckoned.

"Fine. Which is it? Truth or dare?" he asked.

Andy slyly grinned. "Dare."

Alistair took a deep breath, staring at her as he tried to think of some reasonable dare. Nothing was coming to mind right away.

"I dare you to give me a glass of water," he said lowly.

"Que? That's it? That's so boring!" Andy scolded, giving him an unapproving face.

"Well, I keep tasting that awful tequila in my mouth, so I need to down it with something," he said.

"Oh? Why didn't you say so?" Andy said with another sly smile, swooping in again and cupping her hands around his face.

She slowly kissed him -- at least, it felt slow. It took a few seconds for Alistair to realize they were making out in front of Mireya. He was tempted to pull her in and keep going, but decided to fall back, letting out a quiet laugh.

"Thanks," he said softly, first referring to Andrea, but then to Mireya since he realized she had poured out a glass of water for him during the time they kissed. He picked it up and drank the whole cup, not realizing he was that thirsty until now.

"You're welcome," Mireya said teasingly. "Next time, get a room. And as for you--" She pointed to Andy. "You didn't get him that water, so now you have to take a shot."

Andy gasped in an exaggerated manner. "No! I've been caught." She grinned, leaning forward on the counter with her arm leaning against Alistair. "Tequila as well. With a lime slice, though."

Alistair furrowed his brows. "What the fuck? You had limes the whole time? Why didn't you give one to me?"

Mireya giggled. "I was too drunk to remember we had them, probably. My bad."

Well, to be fair, Alistair also didn't ask for one. It suddenly dawned on him that he was already way tipsier than he thought. He clicked his tongue, going back to taking another sip of the whiskey sour.

It took another minute for them to fumble with cutting up some limes, with Andy continually scolding Mireya to be careful with the knife. Several lime slices were cut and put away, ready for the next shots.

"That wasn't so bad," Andy said after taking her shot and sucking on her lime.

"Damn, I wonder why," Alistair murmured with a shake of his head before taking another sip.

"Okay, so whose turn is it now?" Andy asked.

Mireya grinned. "Yours to ask, I think."

Andy perked up at that, turning her attention back to Alistair. "Amor. Truth or dare?"

Alistair remembered what she said earlier about how he should ask for truths instead, so naturally, he was going to do the opposite.

"Dare," he said, immediately regretting it.

"Oh, really? Easy. Take off your shirt," Andy said.

Alistair stared at her. "Why?"

She shrugged. "Because you're hot?"

"I'm really not," Alistair said, then realized she wasn't talking about temperature. He paused, squinting and trying to think straight. "Wait..."

Mireya was now laughing at him, or possibly both of them, turned away and leaning over the kitchen sink.

"Oh, shut up," Alistair groaned, deciding to just do it. He peeled his oversized black tee over his head and tossed it behind him. "Greeeeat. Now I'm cold."

"Ooh, mira, look! Remember when we all got tattoos together?" Andy asked, pointing to the fire tattoo that he had on his upper arm. She pointed to the gun amongst her half-finished sleeve, also on her upper left arm. "That's when I got this bad boy."

"How could I forget?" Mireya asked, rolling up the sleeve of her-- of course-- blue shirt to point to the lightning bolt on her bicep. "That was the only painful tattoo I've gotten."

"Oh my god, yeah! You screamed like a bitch," Andy said.

Mireya held up a finger, closing her eyes briefly like the drinks were giving her a headache. "I hissed like a mildly annoyed cat, maybe, at most."

"No, I think you also screamed like a bitch," Alistair said, even though he knew she didn't. But he wanted to see her try to defend herself again anyways.

Mireya huffed. "I did not! I have witnesses. They say..." She paused. "You're my witnesses. Fuck. I have my own word of honor."

"The jury has spoken. The court says: 'You scream like a bitch, your honor,'" Alistair went on, leaving Andy to howl from laughter.

Mireya wrinkled her nose and pouted, although he knew she didn't mean it. "I'm sensing some contempt in this court."

"Oh, amor, amor! Your turn! Ask her truth or dare," Andy beckoned.

"Yeah, sure, okay. Truth or dare?" he asked Mireya, grin lingering.

Mireya gave it some thought, sipping her drink. "Your dare was terrible, so I'm going to have to go with truth."

Alistair scoffed. "I have a brain. I can think of something better. But fine." He drummed his fingers along the counter, thinking.

Mireya snorted. "Jury's out on the brain."

"Woooooow," Alistair drew out. "That was cold."

"If you can't take the cold, get out of the kitchen," she teased.

He sighed, leaning forward and ruffling his hand through his hair, trying to think. God, was it hard to think. Maybe he didn't have a brain after all.

"What's your mother's maiden name?" he asked.

Nothing else came to mind, so he settled on this dumb meme question instead.

"What the fuck kind of question is that?" Andy asked with raised brow. "Aw, amor. You're terrible at this game."

"What? It's a valid question," he said innocently. "And if you can also tell me your first pet name, that'd be great."

Mireya snorted. "My mother's maiden name is Şahin," she said, pronouncing it as shahin, "and I don't have a first pet because there were already three cats in my home by the time I was born. By the way, none of these are my security questions."

"Damn. Well, it's a good thing I don't have a brain. Wouldn't be able to hack you anyways," Alistair said as he took another sip of his whiskey sour, realizing he was already halfway through now.

"Nice try," Mireya said encouragingly.

"Whose turn is it again?" Andy asked, clearly not keeping track.

"Oh, I'm asking you now," Mireya said brightly. "Truth or dare?"

"Dare!" Andy said too enthusiastically.

Mireya examined her, a slow smile spreading over her face as she reached into the cupboard yet again. "I dare you to flip this glass," she said, taking it out and waving it in front of Andy's face.

"Oh, that?" Andy clicked her tongue. "Easy."

"You're going to drop it and there will be glass everywhere," Alistair warned sternly.

Andy rolled her eyes. "Ya basta. You have no faith in me."

"If it does break, I'll even clean it up," Mireya offered. "Not that it will, of course."

"Déjame, déjame. Let me try."

She took the glass cup thay Mireya offered, holding it firmly in her hand. She seemed to be feeling the weight of it, lifting it up and down in the air. Then, finally, she tossed it up, but not straight up. She seemed to expect it to land back on her hand, but it instead landed on the floor a several feet in front of her. With a high-pitched shattering sound, the glass broke apart upon contact.

"Oops," she said innocently.

"Called it," Alistair said.

"Oh, whatever. Like you can do any better," she said with another click of her tongue.

"I trusted you, Andy," Mireya said dismally, stumbling her way to the tall vertical cabinet where the broom was kept and taking it out, starting to sweep up the glass.

"Do you need help?" Alistair asked.

Mireya laughed, pushing the glass shards into a pile. "I got it, keep playing."

Alistair turned his attention back to his drink, finishing off the whiskey sour and feeling the booze flow through his veins. He should maybe lay off for the rest of the night, but hey, fuck it. It wasn't like he had other plans.

"Let's go again," Andy said, hand on his arm and saying the next predictable words in Spanish. "Truth or dare?"

Alistair had an ice cube in his mouth, slowly chewing through it and breaking it down. "Truth," he said, not wanting Andy's next dare be for him to take off his pants.

Andy smiled, tilting her head and watching him carefully. "Do you think Mireya is pretty?"

Alistair stared at her mid-crunch, trying to process this question. Maybe a little too long. Way too long.

What the fuck was he supposed to say? There was no right answer here. If he said no, she'd say he was lying. If he said yes, well -- he didn't want to know. He'd probably never hear the end of it.

"I knew it," she continued in Spanish, already sounding like she was on the verge of tears.

"I didn't even say anything," Alistair said, still having no clue how to answer this.

"I know!" she cried.

"Oh my god, Andrea, we are not doing this right now. You know it doesn't even matter what I say. You're going to be upset either way." Wincing, he glanced at Mireya, feeling the awkwardness radiating out of her. "I am so sorry, she's just being dramatic."

"You're... fine?" Mireya said half-heartedly, trying to smile. "I know it doesn't matter--"

"I am not!" Andy yelled defensively, standing up straighter, causing Alistair to stiffen up as well.

She spoke her next words all in fast Spanish. It was hard to keep up, especially with her dialect, but Alistair understood the gist of it.

"I just asked a simple question! You didn't notice my hair. You didn't compliment me. You didn't call me beautiful. But you noticed her! What, do you think she's pretty? Is she prettier than me? Do you like her? I knew it! This is why I can't trust you!"

Just on and on and on, being needlessly dramatic. Alistair tried not to groan that he felt like he was living in another episode of a telenovela soap opera, but he knew that would have only made it worse.

He let her speak, giving her his full attention and not at all giving another glance to Mireya, knowing that even the slightest glance would set her off. But he did notice from the corner of his eyes that Mireya was still at work sweeping and obviously trying not to look at them, her face strangely blank and her knuckles turning white around the handle of the broom.

And Andy kept going, nonstop, saying the same accusations in different ways. Alistair let out a quiet sigh.

"Andrea," he said tiredly, interrupting her. He took her by the shoulders, giving her direct eye contact. "You're really fucking beautiful. I love you, alright? Not anyone else." He sighed again, then said in Spanish, "I wish you'd know that. I'll tell it to you every time if I have to, but I wish you'd know that."

Alistair wasn't sure if it was the words he said, or maybe didn't realize he said because, damn, everything was spinning -- but that seemed to silence Andy. She was frozen, staring back at him, like she didn't know what to say.

And then she pulled him in and kissed him passionately. And he pulled her in and kissed her just as intensely, his hands around her head and cheek. And then they were stumbling to the living room, and somewhere in the midst of the noise, he thought he heard a door in the hallway open and close.

And it was darker. Were the lights turned off?

It didn't matter, all his attention was on Andy as they then stumbled on the couch, hands and hot breaths on each other.

Maybe his life really was a telenovela after all.

Alistair woke up groaning with his hand on his head, feeling like his skull was being drilled in half.

God. What the hell happened?

Trying to muffle his pained groan, he slowly sat up in the dark room, hand still on his head as he tried to reorient himself to remember where he was and what exactly happened. His memories were hazy at best, and as much as it aggravated his headache to think back on it, he pushed through the pain and ignored his racing thoughts.

Andrea. Mireya. Drinks. Truth or dare. A fight. Kissing. Then...

Alistair glanced at Andy curled up beside him, sound asleep and looking peaceful. He gazed at her for a moment, lightly running his hand through the top of her curly hair. She let out a soft moan and then turned to her side.

Alistair let out a long, deep sigh, turning his gaze around the room. God, what a mess. Their clothes were strewn... everywhere. Their unfinished drinks were still sitting on the counter, untouched. And Mireya was nowhere to be found, thank goodness.

God. Mireya. He couldn't imagine how awkward this must be for her. God, this was embarrassing.

Alistair was usually more private about these things, and it wasn't the first time he and Andy slept together out in the living room like this... but at least, in the past, they were more inconspicuous. And respectful.

He carefully and quietly slid off the sofa, being careful to not disturb Andy. And then he silently tiptoed across the room, beelining for his underwear since he felt so exposed while naked right now. Quietly, he found and put on his underwear, pants, belt, and shirt. It took him a minute to find his socks, which somehow ended up being thrown behind the TV.

Now fully clothed, Alistair watched Andy breathe in and out, still fast asleep. Quietly sighing, he pulled out a blanket that was folded inside the ottoman, draping it across her body so she wasn't as exposed and so she could sleep more soundly. She didn't seem to notice at all, still breathing in and out peacefully, not a care in the world. He thought about leaning in to give her a kiss, but he didn't want to risk waking her.

Tearing his gaze away from her, he pulled out the phone from his pocket and noted the time. 10:42pm. Fuck. How did it get so late?

He should probably go home.

God, he had to piss.

Sliding his phone back in his pocket, Alistair ran his fingers through his hair and sighed before slinking towards the bathroom, passing the living room and kitchen to enter the short hallway. He'd quickly use their toilet then leave, and then--

"Fuck!" he whispered, trying not to be so loud, but dammit, it was so hard not to since his head still felt like it was splitting open, and he had just stepped on a fuck ton of glass.

Alistair tried to repress a groan as he remembered the accident earlier with Andy trying to catch the glass but accidentally dropping it instead. Mireya said she'd clean it up, but it seemed she didn't finish.

But you know what, he didn't blame her for leaving so fast.

Now hobbling to the bathroom and leaving behind a bloody trail, Alistair quickly made it to the bathroom sink, peeling off his sock and throwing it behind him. There were a couple pieces of glass shards stuck on his foot, but dammit, he was barely sober for this.

Everything hurt. Damn, what he would do to just... go outside and smoke right now.

And he still needed to piss.

Ignoring the headache, Alistair forced himself to push through this, one foot on the sink like an intricate yoga pose as he pulled out one glass shard piece at a time with his thumb and forefinger.

And then, a door creaked open.

"Alistair?"

Ah, shit.

Startled, Alistair almost cut his finger along the shard of glass he was about to pull out. He winced, glancing over his shoulder.

"Sorry, I'll be out of here in a minute," he said, figuring it was Mireya.

It was then that he realized the door was wide open.

In a impulsive panicked decision, he stretched to reach over to close the door, but hardly had time to even grab the doorknob when he came face-to-face with Mireya, now at the doorway. He saw her eyebrows slowly, slowly raise, her gaze flitting from his face, to his foot, to the glass in the sink, to the trail of blood that spattered the bathroom floor and past her into the hallway. He saw the realization dawn on her face when her gaze followed it back to the kitchen.

He sighed, giving it up and returning to focus his attention on his foot, still posed in front of the sink. Now this all felt so self-explanatory.

"Like I said, I'll be out of here in a minute," he said again.

"It looks like it'd be faster with help," Mireya said slowly. She then took a step in, moving past him to pull open a drawer underneath the sink counter and rummage around. "We keep bandages in here somewhere," she muttered, half to herself.

"Do you have tweezers?" Alistair asked instead, knowing he was going to never get these smaller slivers of glass out with his fat fingers.

Mireya nodded, biting her lip in concentration as she pulled those out of the same drawer and set them on the counter, continuing her search for the bandages. "Try using those."

He gladly took these, nodding in appreciation and leaned forward, now having a much easier time with navigating around the shards. He focused at his work and a silence fell between them.

Mireya found the bandage roll at last, setting it out and unraveling a strip. "I've had some-- well, experience with other people's wounds," she said, her voice unusally quiet. "Usually they're more violent, but that means this should be easier to take care of. I'm no expert, but I could help."

Alistair gave her another side glance. She didn't have to say it, but he knew that she was referencing the gang she and Andy were in. He often didn't want to get involved, nor did he want to know the details of things -- and they both knew that. Although he didn't want to know, he did wonder, though... how often did she see bloody injuries?

"Uh..." he drew out, trying to think straight, but god was it hard while his head throbbed and he was trying not to stare at his own blood gushing down the sink for too long. "Yeah. Let me just... try to get this out first," he said, still trying to get a shard out despite a shaky hand.

Mireya just nodded silently, watching his progress with a blank face.

And among all this -- among the blood and the sharp pain and his headache and still needing to piss and feeling rushed and stared at -- god, was this awkward. He couldn't do this.

He paused in his work, taking a deep sigh.

"Hey, I'm really sorry about what happened tonight. I don't know what got into her, but she's like this sometimes. It's really nothing against you. Sorry you had to see and hear all that. And, um, for--" He sighed again, almost rubbing his face in frustration, but stopping when he realized there was blood over his hands. "Ruining the night, I guess."

Mireya nodded again, silent for a few moments longer. "It's okay," she said, but it sounded as though she had hardly heard him. She shook her head fiercely from side to side, like she was trying to clear it out. "Sorry about the glass. I was going to finish cleaning it up, but-- I figured you'd want me out of there. I didn't think it'd be a risk in the meantime, before I was able to go back out." She chuckled, softly and darkly. "Guess I forgot we'd all be hungover."

Alistair felt the embarrassment pool in his cheeks, glad that Mireya did not walk in while he and Andy were both sprawled naked on the couch. He'd gladly take a bleeding foot.

"Yeah. It's fine, really. It's not your fault. I should have seen where I was going anyways," he said as he pulled out a smaller shard of glass, a little bit of blood dribbling down from the punctured hole it left behind. "Sorry again."

"That's not much of your fault either." Mireya held up the unrolled strip of bandaging, staring at it a few moments. "While we're on the apology train, sorry she blew up on you. She... Well." She shrugged. "I didn't understand the half of it, but it didn't sound good. I hope it wasn't my fault."

"...What?" he breathed out just as he pulled out the largest shard of glass that stabbed the side of his foot, but his attention was caught as a stream blood quickly pooled out into the sink. "Ah, fuck. Bloody hell," he grumbled thinly as he ran cold water from the sink and further stretched to place his foot under the running water. Alistair couldn't help but let out a muffled laugh as he stared, like his body didn't know what else to do but destress from laughing.

'Cause what the hell. Why did things like this always happen to him? Was he doomed to forever be a bad luck magnet?

Mireya winced in sympathy, waiting for the bloodstream to flow thinner before speaking again. "I mean, I hope it wasn't anything I was doing. I'm not sure what caused it."

Alistair washed the blood from his fingers as well, watching the red dilute in the water before going down the drain. He gave Mireya another side eye before sighing again. He wished he could have this conversation literally any other time when he wasn't bleeding, bending over the sink, headachey, and in pain.

"It's not your fault. Seriously, don't overthink it. At least, I don't," he said, then pulled his foot away from the running water. He gratefully took the strip of bandage she had set aside for him, beginning to wrap his foot even though it was still wet.

Honestly, he didn't really care. He just wanted to be able to, you know, walk.

Mireya clicked her tongue. "Do you want me to do it instead?"

Alistair was focused, trying to concentrate and not be distracted over the blood that had already began to seep through the bandage. "Do what?"

Mireya reached for the roll, unraveling another strip. "The wrapping," she said, almost teasingly. "That looks a bit loose, and you should probably dry your foot off anyway. Here." She reached in another drawer, pulling out a clean washcloth. "Don't worry about staining it."

Alistair stared at the clean washcloth, maybe for a bit too long. He let out a muffled groan, now frantically unwrapping his progress and taking the washcloth to dry off first. "I'm used to bleeding, but not like this," he mumbled.

Mireya blinked. "Well, how else does it go for you?" she asked, and it took too long to register that it was sarcastic.

Alistair almost wanted to deadpan some meaningless quip, but he bit it back, getting the sense that Mireya was just as out of it as he was. "Nothing. Never mind," he said instead, patting down his foot, but that only made the blood come back. "Ugh. Why can't it just..."

Stop?

He grabbed the strip of bandage she tore out, this time deciding to place his food away from the sink and back on the floor, sitting on the ground so he could get this over with faster.

"Think on the bright side," Mireya said. She seemed to be staring at him more intently now. "Maybe it'll get the booze out of your veins faster."

"I hope it does. God, I hope it does," he said lowly, trying to concentrate again in wrapping.

Alistair had began wrapping the top of his foot, then had a panicked moment in which he thought he used the wrong side of the bandage, so he unwrapped his progress, only to realize that it didn't matter since both sides of the bandage were the same. He sighed and started over.

"Okay, I can't keep watching this. You've lost the right to do this yourself." Mireya sat down in front of him, taking the bandage from him and starting it herself.

Alistair sighed in defeat, leaning back against the wall as he watched Mireya go to work. She was much swifter than him, wrapping it tight enough that it held itself in place but loose enough that it wouldn't cut off his circulation. She also seemed to have an idea of how many times to wrap and where to move the bandage next, and the work went much quicker.

"...Thanks," he said softly after a long hesitation, watching her quickly work like she had done this a hundred times before.

"No problem," she said, more quietly as she secured the end of the strip by tucking it underneath the edge of a wrapping. "Glad I could help."

Well then. That was... quick.

For a little bit there, they were both still, unmoving. Alistair let out another deep breath, now able to collect his thoughts since he had at least half a minute to sit without fumbling with blood.

"Just so it's clear... none of this was your fault. You didn't do anything. If it was your fault, your crime would be that you're existing. And I think the jury can agree that that's hardly fair," he said steadily, leaning his head against the wall as he kept his hazy gaze on her.

Mireya huffed with quiet laughter. "Good to know I've been acquitted," she said, crossing her legs in front of her. "Andy will agree in the morning, too." She paused. "You know she always does."

Alistair huffed through his nose. "Yeah. Yeah, she always does. I wouldn't worry about it."

Mireya nodded, giving him a slight reassuring smile, but it weakened after a few moments. "You know," she started, "I've known Andy for a while. And I've seen her do this kind of thing before. It isn't you. I'm not saying this to blame her, because you know I love Andy, but--" She smiled again, a little more gently. "Just don't blame yourself too much for it either."

It took some time for Alistair to fully process her words. This wasn't the first time Mireya had told him something like this before, but it also wasn't something he necessarily needed to hear either.

"Yeah. I know, and I'm not. I appreciate it, though," he said, and he really did mean it, although his head or heart really wasn't in the right state to have this conversation.

Plus, having serious conversations with Mireya felt... weird. He almost preferred her continually teasing and roasting him.

"Good. Just wanted to check you knew before you left." Mireya paused. "Are you leaving?"

Alistair took a deep breath, starting to sit up straight. "Yeah, I probably should." He turned his attention back to Mireya, this time with more focus. "So, are we good then? You alright?"

"Oh, I'm alright. Just hungover," she admitted, rubbing at her eyes. "I have a little longer left in my time window for salat al-'isha, so I'll get on that. Maybe I'll pray that I don't wake up like this in the morning."

Alistair huffed through his nose again, slowly getting to his feet. "Maybe also pray that we don't become alcoholics."

"Too late for me, but I can take a prayer request for you." Mireya stood up too.

Standing on his feet, Alistair gauged how bad the pain level was. Not much, actually. But he was sure he missed some smaller shards because there was still a small stabbing pain bothering him. He'd get to that later, though. Eventually.

"Sure. Please pray for the tequila to not destroy me next time," he dead-panned.

"I might as well pray for money. I'd need that kind of divine interference before I can afford to start buying more than the cheap stuff." Mireya looked down at his foot. "Can you, like, walk on that?"

At that, Alistair waddled in place, placing testing varying points of pressure on his feet.

"Eh. It's fine," he said with a frown. "I'll look like an old man, but whatever. I'll manage."

Mireya snorted, shoving his shoulder without any real force towards the doorway. "An old man? Maybe an old penguin."

Alistair rolled his eyes. "Yeah, okay." He glanced at the door. "Alright. I should go. Thanks again for... yeah. Everything." He turned and took a few steps back, but then stopped and turned back to Mireya. "Take care of Andy, will you?"

"If she'll let me," she huffed, but she nodded her head. "And you, take care of yourself."

He nodded, quietly walking back out the hallway past the kitchen and living room again, careful to step around the shards of glass this time. Andy was still fast asleep curled up on the sofa, and after a brief hesitation, Alistair circled around the glass again to get out a glass of water for her. He set it down on the table in front of her, his gaze lingering on her for a second longer before he bent down to steal her sock.

And then he was off. Putting on his shoes were a bitch, and so will any foot movement when riding his motorcycle, but whatever. Alistair finally left their apartment, softly and quietly closing the door behind him before he shuffled out of there. He was tempted to piss in a bush since he didn't have time to do his business earlier, but then decided against it, deciding to just head straight home.

The dark ride home really sucked, especially since he almost got clipped by a truck. It was hard to tell if it was his fault or theirs, but it was fine. Not like either of them died or anything.

When he finally arrived at his apartment, Alistair quickly parked the bike and ran up the stairs, skipping two steps at a time. He fumbled with his keys and nearly had to push the door open with his whole body before it gave in. He stepped in and let the door slam behind him, quickly bending down to haphazardly unlace his shoes.

"Well, hey. You're home late," Alan said towards his left.

Alistair glanced up, noting that he was sitting on the sofa with the guitar on his lap. An almost-empty glass of wine was sitting on top of the coffee table in front of him, along with blank sheet music and a pencil.

Finally prying his shoes off, Alistair then bolted to the bathroom, unable to hold in his bladder anymore. He heard Alan laugh, but he didn't care since sweet relief was right around the corner.

Alistair came back after another minute, sighing as he headed back towards the kitchen. Getting all the water out of his system made him realize how thirsty he was. He reached for a clean glass in the cabinet, taking it out and placing it under the running faucet.

Alan laughed again, setting down his guitar. "Are you drunk?"

The glass filled to the top with water, and Alistair was eager to chug it in one breath. Prying the glass away from hip lips, he caught his breath and then turned off the faucet. "Not anymore."

"Long night, huh?" Alan said with amusement.

"Every night is a long night." Suddenly it was like every part of his body longed for his attention, because his stomach let out a low growl. "God, I'm starving. What do we have to eat?"

"I think there's leftover seco in the fridge that you can have," Alan offered.

"Fantastic," Alistair murmured, opening the fridge and eyeing the cilantro-based stew that were packaged in glass containers. He gladly took out a container that was half-empty, deciding to put the whole thing in the microwave.

Alan joined him at the counter, leaning forward and watching him until he stopped to wait for the microwave to finish warming up the food.

"Drama with Andrea?" he asked.

Alistair scoffed, crossing his arms and leaning against the stove. "There's always drama with Andrea."

Alan weakly huffed through his nose, elbow propped on the table with his hand squished against his cheek. "I don't know how you deal with it."

"Me neither," me said with a sigh. "But she was drunk. She means well."

A short silence fell between them, and Alistair could feel him silently judging him. Well, he knew that he was judging her, but in turn, that meant he was judging him. Although he knew he would never admit it or say anything bad about her in front of him, Alistair knew that Alan didn't like Andrea. He wasn't dumb. He knew when his twin brother didn't approve of someone. He always had lots to say about people he admired, but when it came to people he didn't approve of, there was always silence.

"What have you been up to?" Alistair asked instead, changing the subject.

"Oh," he said with a smile, standing up straight again. "Nothing too different, really. Rehearsal went late today, and so did my practice session. I came back an hour ago but have been hit with inspiration, so I'm composing a new song."

"Oh yeah?" Alistair raised a brow. "What's it about this time? More drama?"

"Hilarious," Alan said with a playful smirk. "But no." He paused. "Unless you count love songs as dramatic."

Alistair let out a wry laugh, smirking as well. "A love song? Man, you are such a sap."

Alan grinned. "Yeah, I know."

"Who's it for?"

Alan tilted his head in amusement. "Why does it have to be for anyone?"

Alistair scoffed. "Because I know you, and you're arrogantly dramatic in the yuppiest of ways."

"Woooooooow," Alan drew out, still grinning. "Says the guy who only talks in hyperboles and jokes about dying a lot."

The microwave beeped, and Alistair turned around to remove the container, carefully placing it on the counter. "Hm. How are we related, again?"

Alan laughed, shaking his head. "You are such a dweeb."

"Whatever," he said with a smirk, taking out a fork and then going to town with his food. He didn't care that he was gobbling it up so fast. He just wanted to appease his stomach and be done with this.

"Dang, slow down. Don't be an animal. The food isn't going anywhere," Alan said, a laugh in his voice as he stared at him devouring the food.

Alistair ignored him, only eating faster now.

Alan laughed again, shaking his head and peeling away from the counter. "Alright. I'm going to get ready for bed."

He disappeared down the hall, leaving Alistair by himself to finish his food. He didn't even know how much time passed by himself. He dreaded looking at the clock to see how late it was. And he wasn't even that tired yet since he slept for like... four hours. Ugh.

"Hey, what are you doing tomorrow? I was thinking we could make a run to the store tomorrow," Alan loudly said down the hall.

"What store?" Alistair asked, just as loud.

"The grocery store, obviously. Because you keep eating all my food."

He scoffed. "You always make way more food for yourself than me."

"Well, maybe that's because you keep eating it," Alan said.

"Yyyyeah. That's totally it."

Totally not because his appetite was way bigger. Alistair was just hungry now because the only thing he ate today was a free stale doughnut that was left out at the break room for lunch.

...Damn, maybe this was why he got drunk so fast, so hard.

Sighing, Alistair went back to eating his food, deciding to eat at a normal pace, even though he didn't think he could eat anymore now that his stomach no longer demanded it. A few minutes passed before Alan walked back to the kitchen, retrieving the glass of wine left out in the living room and giving it a rinse.

"So, tomorrow evening, then?" he asked.

"Yeah, yeah, that works," Alistair said with a nod.

"Cool. I'm going to bed, so don't turn on the light. See ya in the morning," Alan said with a nod before disappearing to their room and leaving Alistair by himself.

Some more minutes passed, and Alistair stepped away from his nearly finished food, deciding to pack it up and put it away since he couldn't eat all of it. His head ached, demanding a cigarette. And just like all his bodily demands he had succumbed to already, he stepped out into the balcony to have a smoke.

This day sucked, but he happened to have one cigarette left. Maybe he didn't have the worst luck after all.

Man, what a week.

For the last week (or maybe two, he didn't really keep track of the days anymore), Elias got to show Cyrin around. Admittedly, it wasn't very much, at first. Tent City didn't really have sprawling skyscrapers or suburbs, although it really should. Rent would be so cheap.

Well, rent was already free. So maybe it was good that it wasn't so big?

Elias introduced Cyrin to all the neighbors, although they didn't seem particularly interested, especially since Cyrin still seemed too nicely dressed. That changed as the days went on and they didn't have access to a shower. Although, Elias did offer that they jump in public fountains a couple of times.

They had to get money, and Elias didn't think it'd be good to drag him to some of the random jobs he takes up when he's especially strapped for cash, so he decided to take it easy for the week.

Collecting aluminum cans, recyclable materials, and scrap pieces wasn't exactly fun or had a big payout, but they were buying time. After all, they had big dreams to heist Sparrow's gang, but they had to start somewhere first.

Cyrin didn't seem particularly open to talking about his life yet, but Elias didn't mind. He was happy to talk about the random jobs he took up, and how they kept denying him for donating plasma despite the shortage of it.

But they couldn't do this all week. Eventually, they had to commit to a plan. Naturally, Elias took Cyrin to a place where the greatest plans were formed: a bagel shop.

"When's the last time you had a bagel?" Elias asked as they waited in line, counting the cash he had on him. It was just enough for two bagels.

Cyrin pursed his lips together in that thinking expression of his that Elias was starting to get used to. "From a bagel shop or bakery? Probably once in the last month, when I was not budgeting well enough."

Elias nodded. "Oh, cool." He paused. "Wait, are you saying we're not budgeting well enough?"

Cyrin shook his head. "Oh, no, I think you've earned these bagels," he said with a chuckle. "A bagel didn't break my wallet back then, but it was different having to manage spending over small things like that. Still, the small things make a difference."

Elias nodded, more eagerly this time. "Yeah, yeah, for sure. I don't know what it is about bagels. It helps me think. Maybe it can help you think too."

Cyrin laughed, glancing back at the bakery display as they moved up in the line. "Definitely worth a try."

As they approached the cashier, Elias met her gaze with a smile, but only for a moment, since she seemed to suddenly hyper-fixate on Cyrin, eyes wide with shock. Elias glanced at Cyrin, who seemed sort of stiff, but didn't think much of it.

"Can we have two plain bagels?" he asked.

"Oh! Of course," the cashier said with a too big of a smile. "Anything... else?"

"Nope, that's it," Elias said, but then glanced back at Cyrin. "Unless you want anything?"

Cyrin shook his head, smiling politely despite still looking awkward. "That'll be all."

"Okay, great! We'll call your name when we're ready," she said with a bigger smile.

"Oh, how much is it?" Elias asked.

"It's on the house. Oh, and-- take any of the drinks below. Please, help yourself," she said as she gestured to the drink selection.

"Huh... okay," Elias murmured, taking a smoothie bottle before meeting her eyes again with a grin. "Sick. Thanks!"

Cyrin's expression shifted slightly, and his forehead creased, but he kept on smiling and gave the cashier a nod. "Thank you, that's very kind," he said politely, helping himself to an energy drink, and the cashier giggled.

They walked away with their drinks and stood off the side, but Elias was still marveling over what happened. This felt like a weird fever dream.

"Today must be our lucky day if we're getting free bagels. This is a sign that the deep thinking is going to work here," he said to Cyrin, playfully elbowing his side.

Cyrin nodded, a little more distractedly this time. "It is lucky," he said, a bit distantly. "Well, we could use some luck today, right?"

"Oh, you know what we should do? We should go into other places and see if they'll give us free food too," Elias said with a grin.

Cyrin smirked. "As long as we leave enough time for our other plans and walk in with the right amount of cash in hand? Can't hurt to try."

"Right, yeah." Elias nodded, thinking this through. "But you know, if we always get free food, maybe we don't even need other plans. We'll always be well-fed and maybe start a black market for stale bagels that we got for free."

Cyrin raised an eyebrow, but kept the joking smirk. "Stale bagels? I'm sure we can get the finest, if food keeps falling into our laps. Nothing but the best for black market exchanges."

"True. I should have asked for two everything bagels. Why did we cheap out?" he said with a grin.

At that, Cyrin's name was called at the counter, and a couple of the workers seemed to gather towards the counter, all heads towards Cyrin. Elias pursed his lips, thinking.

Huh. He didn't give either of their names to the cashier, did he? How'd they figure out his name?

Cyrin exchanged a quick look with Elias before he put on the same polite smile and went up to the counter, thanking the workers. Several of them started to talk over each other in excited voices, and Cyrin laughed and nodded along, occasionally saying something in reply that only made them more excited, but his hand gripped around the brown paper bag with their bagels in it like he wanted to leave with it quickly. It took nearly a minute of Cyrin taking one step backwards a time while chatting, clearly trying to put distance between him and them, until he was far enough away that he could leave, heading back to Elias and sitting with him at the nearest two-person booth.

"Wow, sorry," he said in a hushed voice to Elias, opening the bag and setting out their bagels. "I wasn't thinking it would go that way."

Elias glanced between Cyrin and the workers, who were still whispering with one another and looking their way. Really, it kind of seemed that everyone in the shop were staring and talking in hushed voices.

"Weird. What was that about?" he asked.

Cyrin made a slight face, taking out the cream cheese spread packaging and plastic knives. "Well, I guess they all know me. Or know who I am, rather."

Elias chuckled and grabbed his package, taking out the bagel and setting the two halves next to each other on the brown bag. "Oh yeah? Dang, you never told me you were so famous." He glanced up at the other customers, noticing that some were still staring. "Okay, but really, do we have something on our faces? Why are we getting stared at?" He paused again. "Maybe we smell bad..."

Cyrin shook his head quickly, starting to scoop cream cheese onto his knife. "We don't. Well, maybe we do, but it's not that. I actually didn't tell you I was--" He suddenly dropped his gaze to their bagels, which were dusted with sesame, poppy seeds, and salt. "They even upgraded our bagels to the everything bagels," he murmured, before he cleared his throat and spoke up again, starting to spread the cream cheese. "Sorry. I didn't tell you I was famous."

Elias was just about to make a giddy comment that they did upgrade their bagels to the everything bagel, but the thought went away after he said he was famous. He blinked, trying to understand.

"Famous," he said slowly. "Like... TV famous?"

Cyrin tapped his knife against the bagel. "I'm not even sure what kind of famous," he admitted. "Family famous? Money famous? I guess I didn't do anything for it. But, yes." His gaze darted around the bagel shop before quickly returning to Elias. "Famous."

"Huh." Elias pursed his lips, drumming his fingers along the table before he picked up the knife to spread cream cheese on his bagel. "So..." He squinted at his bagel, focusing on spreading the cream cheese. "Why are you homeless?"

Cyrin smiled as he went back for more cream cheese, but it was without humor or joy. "I got disowned, basically," he said, moving on to spreading his second bagel half. "My family hasn't liked me very much for a bit. I stopped being able to pay tuition and rent once I got cut off, so that's why I got evicted. And that places me here." He finished spreading his bagel, picking it up with both hands to take a first bite, and raised his eyebrows as he chewed. "Well, it's a good bagel," he remarked afterwards, setting it down with a slightly sardonic laugh.

"Good for thinking," Elias said with a grin after taking a bite as well. He talked before he could fully finish chewing though. "So how famous are you, anyways?"

Cyrin seemed to give it some thought. "By what measure? People who know about me, people who are fans, people who follow me on social media?" He gave the bagel shop another look around. "Seems like there's a few of all of them in here."

Elias shrugged. "I dunno. Are you google-able?"

"Very." Cyrin laughed, a little awkwardly.

"Oh, really?" Elias took out his phone from his pocket. "What's your last name?"

"Bridger. I don't think you'll find any doppelgangers of me." Cyrin took another bite of his bagel.

"Cy... rin... Bridge... r..." Elias spelled out slowly as he typed his name on Google.

siren briger
Did you mean: Cyrin Bridger?

Elias selected the recommendation and raised his brows by the sheer amount of links that popped up. "Whoa, you really are google-able! You have a Wiki page and everything." He scrolled down a little, finding his Twitter. Curious, he clicked on the link.

Cyrin Bridger ✔️
@cyrinbridger he/they
#blacklivesmatter #nativelivesmatter
Fundraiser link for the Turkey-Syria earthquake --> gofundme.com/trsyeq
📍 Denver, CO
10.4M Followers, 102K Following

This was definitely Cyrin, considering the name and the picture was of him. Elias's eyes went wide upon seeing the sheer amount of followers he has.

"Holy shit, you have ten million followers?" he asked, absolutely floored by that number. "Man, why didn't you ask each one for a penny? Then we'd be a millionaire."

Cyrin laughed. "We'd have a hundred thousand dollars, really, but that's not bad at all either. You're right, that would be an easy way to get rich fast."

"Yeah, that'd be a lot of bagels," Elias murmured as he continued to scroll, deciding to creep on his tweets.

Because, man. He'd been tenting with a celebrity? This felt unreal.


"Heh. Nice tweet," Elias commented, continuing to scroll.

Cyrin blinked, leaning forward slightly to catch a glimpse of the screen before leaning back and laughing. "Oh, thank you."

"This is kind of weird. Are you sure you're not messing with me?" Elias asked, teasing Cyrin although it was also a very real question.

Cyrin shook his head. "I'm afraid not. I don't really like that I am famous, honestly. I guess it got us free bagels, but--" He glanced back at the counter, heaving a slight sigh. "That was kind of unfair. Almost any other day of my life, I wouldn't have had the slightest trouble paying for those bagels. Why give them to me for free when there are people who can't pay for them at all? It was still a nice gesture, I'll say that, but it was only to get my attention, and I should not be getting the special treatment of free things when there's so many people who could actually benefit from that." Cyrin's voice had hiked in volume slightly by the end of him speaking, and he sighed again, looking down at his bagel. "Sorry. At least you got food from it, though."

Elias nodded slowly, having already finished eating half the bagel slice while Cyrin went on about free bagels. "So what you're saying is, we could get free food everywhere. Right?"

"No, this time was a random event. We won't keep being that lucky." Cyrin twisted the cap off on his energy drink, taking a couple of gulps. "Sorry."

Elias hummed, glancing down at the Twitter page on his phone. He noticed that he hadn't posted anything new for at least a few weeks now. "When are you going to post your next tweet?" he asked curiously.

"Why? Are you going to comment 'first' on it?" Cyrin asked, smirking again.

"Eugh. No. What am I, twelve years old commenting on a Minecraft YouTube video?" Elias said, scrunching his nose with a smirk.

"Good, I guess I can tell you then." Cyrin laughed, but then shook his head, taking another sip. "Although I don't have much of an answer, come to think of it. I've been mostly neglecting social media since I found out I'd be leaving my life behind. What reason have I got to be keeping up appearances online?"

Elias shook up his smoothie drink, fumbling with the cap and only finally opening it when Cyrin finished talking. "Oh. I was thinking you could post a tweet about how bagels give you brain power, or something like that. But that makes more sense."

Cyrin chuckled. "It wouldn't be the worst way to break the radio silence, I guess. But still. If I have a thought I need to share with the world, I'll share it, though in general, Twitter and all those other platforms feel like things I don't need to keep up with right now."

Elias gulped down his smoothie, drinking half of it in one breath. He nodded in thought when finished, setting the bottle back down on the table. "So is your situation a secret, then?"

Cyrin furrowed his brow, absent-mindedly swirling his drink-- a comical gesture for an energy drink in a plastic bottle. "Semi-secret. I've told all my close friends, more or less, and my family members have varying ideas of where I'm at. I haven't made an announcement about it."

"Ooh. So your friends know. But do they know you're living in Tent City?" Elias asked with a raised brow.

Cyrin made his thinking face again. "I haven't told anyone that specifically, but maybe it's what they're imagining anyway."

Elias hummed. "I dunno, I think you should tell them. It would probably be safer and more comfortable than, you know, living outside. And not showering."

Cyrin appeared to reach for his phone, but then seemed to change his mind. "I'll get to it," he said with a nod, going back to his bagel. "Is that bagel helping you think?"

"Oh, yeah," Elias said with a grin as he picked up his other bagel slice. "Brain is thinking. It says: 'Cyrin is the coolest homeless dude.'"

"Really? Thank you, but I feel like you deserve that title." Cyrin laughed. "Especially since-- well, I'm not exactly a dude."

"So... I'm the coolest homeless dude, and you're the coolest homeless..." Elias slightly tilted his head, taking a wild guess here since he didn't really know what Cyrin was getting at here. "...lady?"

Cyrin laughed again. "Not that either. I guess dude would be closer than lady anyway. If I were to fill in the gap myself, I'd just say person, but it's not that much more accurate. I'm sort of a dude and a person at the same time without being fully either, if that makes sense. Male, and also non-binary." Cyrin paused. "Does that make sense?"

Elias slowly munched through his bagel, curious and trying to understand. "I guess I've never thought about it that way. It kind of makes sense. It's still kind of confusing a little to me though. What's it like to feel like a dude but not feel like one at the same time?"

Cyrin took another bite of his bagel while thinking, chewing and swallowing. "It's hard to describe. I guess it feels like having a foot in both worlds, where I belong in each, but I also don't fit either construct perfectly. I've always felt that way, even before having the right words for it, so I'm not all that great at explaining it to someone else. I sort of took the label of being a man that I was handed and added a yes, and to it."

"So do you feel like a man and not a man at the same time? Or do you feel like one at a time?" Elias asked curiously.

"Both at the same time," Cyrin explained. "I don't change between the two. So usually, I prefer that people alternate between he and they when referring to me, but you don't have to."

"Hey, we don't have to do anything. Like we don't have to be eating bagels and thinking up plans that we haven't even begun to think about. But maybe I want to think and use my brain and also call you by whatever words you're comfortable with," Elias said.

Cyrin smiled, with a touch of pleasant surprise. "Thanks, Elias. I appreciate that."

"Hey, why don't we think of a new word then? Like, maybe a word between they and he..." Elias pursed his lips, squinting off to the side. "Like... hey... 'they' without the 't'... or is it a 'he' with a 'y'? Hm... but 'hey' is also a word I say a lot..."

Cyrin laughed, taking another gulp of his energy drink. "It seems like it'd get confusing."

"A little," Elias said with a chuckle, shaking away the thought. "Okay. So alternating." He paused. "Like alternating every time? Fifty-fifty? What do you prefer?"

"It doesn't have to be every time," Cyrin assured him. "Even amounts is nice, but that's a more or less kind of thing."

"Hmmm. Okay." There were maybe three bites left of his bagel, but Elias smashed the whole thing in his mouth. "Weh, wet ee nof at anjes," he said with cheeks full like a chipmunk.

"What's that?" Cyrin asked.

Elias lifted up a hand and quickly chewed through his food, swallowing it all down. "Let me know if that changes," he repeated with a smile. "Man, that bagel was dry." He then glugged the rest of his smoothie.

Cyrin laughed. "Sure thing," he said, taking another bite of his bagel. "Well, I might have a different bagel thought."

"Oh yeah? Your bagel not dry? Is it wet?" Elias asked, focusing on sliding the empty smoothie bottle between his hands on the table.

"Just normal, I think. But my thought is different." Cyrin tapped their fingers on the edge of the table. "Is there someone rich around in Boston we can..." They glanced around, lowering their voice for safety. "Steal from? I mean, of course there is, but do you know where any live?"

Elias hummed, still focusing on sliding the bottle. "Would it be bad to steal from rich old people?"

"I don't think so," Cyrin said. "I know plenty, and I can promise, they wouldn't even notice. Besides, Robin Hood was a hero, right?"

"True. And there's a Disney movie of him. So maybe there would be a movie of us too," Elias said with a silly grin.

"Maybe." Cyrin grinned back. "Got any ideas for targets, then?"

"Oh, yeah, there's this old couple on the corner of Fifth and Alder. Big ole house. They probably could use a robbery or two," Elias said casually, turning his attention back to Cyrin as he drummed his fingers on the table.

"Seems like we can help them with that, if you think we're up to it," Cyrin said with a nod, smirking.

Elias grinned, narrowing his eyes at them. "I've never robbed a house with a celebrity before," he mused. "Kind of sounds like a bad plot line to a TV show."

"There's a first time for everything, right?" Cyrin asked, finishing off their bagel. "This could be our pilot episode. Even bad shows can be good."

"Dang, Robin Hood has fallen so far. He's now stealing with random homeless people," Elias said with a chuckle, sliding the empty bottle between his hands again. "But you're right. Bad shows can be so bad, they're good."

Cyrin smiled, before his expression turned thoughtful again, and he lowered his voice more carefully. "In all seriousness, what's this place like? Who are the people living there?"

Elias hummed. "Sounds like we're planning a heist. Good thing we ate brain food."

Cyrin scanned the house through the metal bars of the fence surrounding the property. It was a large, white house, with two floors aboveground and a gray roof, and was nice even for the wealthy neighborhood. Staying out of sight behind a tall hedge on the other side of the fence, he peeked his head around to scan the driveway through the locked gate, then search the lawn and garden for security cameras. None, from what he could tell. It felt like a lot to gamble on, but then, not everyone living in a house like this was paranoid.

"Seems like we got lucky," he remarked quietly to Elias, who was standing next to him, as he went on to examine the windows. "The block is quiet, and the lights seem to be off."

"So what's the move, Cy?" Elias asked, then pursed his lips. "Should I call you Cy? I'm not really vibing with that nickname."

Cyrin grinned slightly. "You don't have to. I'm not sure I've ever had much of a nickname anyway."

"Nice. I'll reduce it to one syllable eventually, just you wait." He peeked his head out from over the bushes. "So you think it's safe to go in?"

Cyrin considered, watching the house and yard for any new signs of movement before they wrapped their hand around a fence bar, gripping the metal tightly. "I think so. Have you got a bad feeling or something?"

Elias only grinned in response before he then lept up to grab the bars from the fence, lifting himself up in one quick motion. He generated enough momentum to fling himself over the fence, the pointed tops just barely scraping him. He landed on the ground with a soft thud, crouching as he landed on his feet. Still with the grin, Elias turned around and stood up straight.

"You coming?" he asked.

Cyrin grinned as well, reaching their other hand up to grab another bar, and lifted themself up at the same time that they kicked their foot in the space between two bars. They swiftly scaled the fence and got to the top, turning around in place before leaping, and the distance to fall was just enough that they could do a flip as they landed beside Elias.

Elias whistled lowly, impressed. "Damn, you are such a showoff," he teased. "That was cool, though. Nice flip."

Cyrin smirked, taking a slight bow. "I thought it was a fun touch. You climbed that fence impressively fast too, though. How about we try that front window next?" He pointed to a window on the second floor with drawn curtains and a sill, above and to the left of the house's door.

Elias let out a low hum, slowly tilting his head up as he gauged the distance. "Well, seems that the house is made out of rocks. That basically makes this rock climbing, right?"

"Or at least not much harder," Cyrin mused, glancing over his shoulder before he started across the lawn. The house was lined with leafy shrubs and flower bushes, but for the most part, the yard looked aggravatingly suburban. It didn't help that the house, although appealing and fancy enough, looked rather plain as well. He had to hope there would be valuable things lying around inside to steal, because if the owners were minimalist in taste, there would be slim pickings.

"Hey, look," Elias quietly pointed out with a silly grin as he stopped to point at something through the window. "Seems like the house isn't completely empty. I think the puppy wants us to come in."

Through the window, a medium-sized, very round pug was staring at them with bulging eyes. He seemed to be curious and heavily panting, his mouth open with his tongue flopping out.

Cyrin smiled, and he felt a little like waving to it, but he felt like that wasn't very wise. "Hopefully it doesn't snitch on us."

"Awww, look at it. He's not going to tell a soul, are ya, little guy?" Elias cooed, leaning in close and tapping the window.

If even possible, the pug's eyes bulged even wider.

"Oh, man. I hope he won't be so excited that he loses his eyes," Elias murmured.

Cyrin laughed, but kept it quiet as he glanced over to the door, which had a pet door installed. "We're not squeezing through that, but we should probably try to stay out of the dog's way anyway. We aren't robbing him."

Elias crouched down to be more at the dog's eye level through the window, still focusing on the dog. "How much do you think pugs are worth?"

Cyrin blinked. "Hmmm? Oh-- not a lot. Well, they might be near and dear to my heart, but they probably aren't worth a lot of money."

"Hm. Okay," he said as he stood up straight again with a smile. "We're climbing up to the second story window, you said?" He glanced at the door. "Why don't we, you know, try the door?"

"I was thinking the window would be fun," Cyrin admitted. "But you're probably right. Best to be smart rather than fun right now. Do you know how to break it in?"

"You're so right," Elias said before he then decided to leap up again, jumping up to the edge of the awning before he pulled himself up, fumbling a little, but quickly regained his balance enough to gain traction to climb up the stony exterior finish.

"Ah," Cyrin murmured to himself, not expecting it, but he watched Elias make his way up and across to the windowsill. There wouldn't be enough room for both of them up there, so he knew he'd have to wait. "What are we doing to get in that way?"

Elias quietly grunted a few times as he made his way up to the window, standing at the small ledge and bending down to peek through. It was hard to see from below, but he seemed to be pushing the window while also peeking through. After some moment, Elias glanced down at Cyrin.

"It's, uh... locked," he said instead. "Should I break it?"

Cyrin paused, thinking. "It's visible from the street," he said. "I think we'll end up breaking one, but how about we try with one on the back of the house? You can climb down from there."

"Wait. I think it's-- oh, here we go," Elias said, barely loud enough for Cyrin to hear.

He said some other things lowly, but he wasn't able to hear it. Regardless, Cyrin didn't need to understand to know what he was talking about, because he saw Elias slowly pry the window open. It must have been open after all, or at least, not fully closed.

Elias managed to open the window halfway and then squeezed in. There was some seconds where Cyrin was left by himself with no other indication of where Elias had gone off to, but then Elias reappeared again to fully open the window, sticking his head out with a grin and beckoning for Cyrin to follow.

Cyrin grinned back, pulling himself up on the awning by his arms and then climbing across by digging his fingers in the gaps between the textured stones. None of the ledges were large enough for proper footholds, so he dug his feet against the wall for support and moved in steps. It was not, in fact, very much like rock climbing, but it was much better than climbing a plain wall. He quickly got up to the window, perching on the sill and clambering through the opening. "Nice work," he said, with a quiet laugh.

"Like you said, it's more fun," Elias said quietly as Cyrin got back on their feet, taking in the new room's surroundings. "Also, smaaaaall problem," Elias said with a little laugh and a higher-pitched voice.

Cyrin gave him a quick glance as he turned around to shut the window. "What is it?"

"That," Elias said simply as he pointed at the open door in the room. Across the open doorway was another door that was wide open.

There was a large California king-sized bed in that room. More notably, however, was that there was someone sleeping under the covers.

Cyrin stared, feeling his pulse start to race. "Oh, fuck," he muttered, his lowered voice still sounding all too loud to his ears. "We should... close that bedroom door or something."

"On it."

Perhaps too cautiously, Elias quietly tiptoed across the room and across the hall to then reach for the doorknob and slowly -- so slowly -- close the door. He moved at a snail's pace, likely to prevent any creaking from happening, but he finally managed to softly shut the door and return back in the room.

"As long as we don't make too much noise, we'll be fine, right?" Elias said quietly.

"Probably," Cyrin said quietly back, looking around some more. The two of them had ended up in another bedroom-- it could have been a kid's room from the twin bed, but given that the bed was empty and the decor was rather neutral, they figured it was probably just a spare bedroom. After scanning the nightstand, desk and dresser for anything that could be of interest, they decided it would be best to look elsewhere.

"We're probably on the look for an office, or a study," they murmured, poking their head into the hallway. "You said Brent McCarthy works in finance, right? It seems like he'd have one of those."

"Mmhmm," Elias hummed behind him. "Works as a trader at Fidelity, I'm pretty sure. Dude probably hardly sleeps. So he may have an office, yeah."

Cyrin nodded, taking a first step out into the hallway. If there was an advantage of the house being boring and modern, it was that the floorboards didn't creak under their feet. "What else do you know about him?" they asked, keeping their voice low and waving him along.

"Uh..." Elias followed along, thinking this through before whispering, "He's bald?"

Cyrin laughed under their breath. "He is?"

"He's got a very shiny head," Elias assured.

Cyrin hummed thoughtfully with an amused smile, stopping by the next door and nudging it open a crack. "This one's got a desk," he said, peeking through.

"Nice, let's go in," Elias said, reaching over to slowly crack the door open at a snail's pace again. He flicked his eyes between Cyrin and the door. "Doors are creaky," he simply explained as he slowly pushed it open.

"Good thinking," Cyrin said, waiting as his view of the room got better.

On a wall behind the desk, he saw some kind of golden award sitting on a shelf, and he was about to point it out to Elias. But then the door swung wider, and he froze.

"Holy shit," Elias said, forgetting to keep his voice low and quiet as he then fully pushed the door open.

There were three flags hanging on the same wall as the shelf-- one of them was the American flag, but it was the other two that sent a shiver down Cyrin's spine. The one above it was the Confederate flag-- hanging in plain sight-- and the one below bore the image of a swastika on a red background. Cyrin stared at both of them, stuck between the urge to tear them down from the wall and to run out of the house. It was overwhelming, to feel their blood boiling with rage and their heart racing with panic.

"Wow. Today I learned something new about our man Brent," Elias said quietly, also frozen as he stared at the flags.

Cyrin didn't even realize they were clenching their jaw until they had to relax it to speak. Even so, their voice came out stiffly. "We're in a Nazi's house?"

Elias lowly but awkwardly laughed. "I guess they deserve to get robbed?"

"I don't feel bad at all about it," Cyrin said quietly, forcing himself to take a step inside. Just like that, he knew he would not be getting caught by this man. He couldn't think of a more surefire way to get hate crimed.

There was a pair of scissors on the desk, sitting beside a stack of papers and various office files, and Cyrin found himself slowly moving towards it with intention even though his thoughts weren't caught up to his actions yet. He picked them up, glancing back over his shoulder at Elias silently.

Elias took the liberty of quietly closing the door behind him. He glanced back at Cyrin, realization seeping in his face as he picked up on what they wanted to do next. "That would be more fun," he said with a growing grin.

Cyrin managed to smile back, but his face settled into a determined look soon after. Grabbing the bottom edge of the red swastika flag and opening the scissor blades, he shredded the fabric down the middle as he sharply moved the blades upwards. Repeating the same with the Confederate flag, he took a step back, setting the scissors on the desk again. His panic wasn't any better, but it helped his rage a bit.

"How else are we ruining this guy's life?" he asked, gesturing to the torn flags with a flourish of his hand.

Standing by the desk, Elias grinned at the sight but then held up some papers. "By stealing this. Bank information. This guy is loaded. And I know a guy who knows a guy that could discreetly transfer the money out." He paused, now staring at the papers. "You know, for someone working in finance, you'd think he'd take better care of hiding this stuff."

"Well, we're not complaining," Cyrin said, looking over Elias' shoulder and nodding appreciatively, before flipping through the stack of papers. "What else has he got here?"

"Let's see. We got some fresh credit cards." Elias pointed to the stack of credit cards, although most of them looked expired. "Fresher cash." He opened a drawer with a single small stack of twenties. "And a not-so-fresh safe." He pointed at the corner with an open drawer that sat a black, medium-sized safe with a robust lock that needed a code to open. Elias hummed, rubbing his chin as he stared at the safe. "What do you think he keeps in there? Probably something even more valuable, right?"

"Probably something worth our time," Cyrin said, reaching into the drawer and lifting out the safe with both hands. He turned on his phone flashlight for them to see better with, since the light from the street was a little dim. "I'll take a look at this."

He realized, after a few moments of examining the lock, that there wasn't much to do about it. They didn't have a power tool, and unless Elias knew how to break it-- because Cyrin sure didn't-- that lock was staying on there. He tilted the safe, and something shifted inside. So, it wasn't empty.

Just then, his phone dinged in his hand, and Cyrin's gaze flicked down to the screen. It was from Alan.

Alan wrote:Entertain the hypothetical with me. What would you say if I told you I was gay?

Another text was sent right away with another ding.

Alan wrote:Asking for a friend, of course.

Cyrin grinned as he read them, eyebrows raised. He'd become quite used to random messages from Alan, but he wouldn't have expected one like this, and he was dying of curiosity. He nearly laughed out loud, but quickly remembered not to. "That was loud, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, you might want to turn off your ringer," Elias quietly suggested after he glanced at the closed door, but then hastily took out his phone as well. "Hm, I should turn mine off too."

"Good idea," Cyrin muttered, doing that quickly and closing his phone. Sorry, Alan, I'll get back to you. There was something about a coming out message from his best friend nearly getting him caught in a Nazi's house he was stealing from that was very funny, but they were a bit too terrified to register the full irony of it. "Anyway, we should take this with us."

Suddenly there was a soft creak.

Elias and Cyrin were still, exchanging the same wide-eyed look as both of them understood: the creaking didn't come from either one of them. But before either of them could react further, their suspicions were confirmed when soft light peeked it way out from under the door, indicating that someone had turned on a light from the other side.

Instinct took over and they both moved fast, rushing to escape.

After Elias crumpled the banking papers and cash in his pocket, he rushed to the window to open it. Meanwhile, Cyrin looked around for anything that could hide the safe from view while they'd be carrying it. They saw an empty Amazon cardboard delivery box in the corner, and they didn't think twice, lunging for it, placing the safe inside, and picking it up quickly. As they hurried to the window, Elias was already climbing down the house, making some noise but being hasty so he could scale down quickly.

Watching him climb down, Cyrin knew the box with the safe would need to be held in both hands, and that there was no climbing down with it. They reached through the opening, looking down to Elias who had just landed on the ground, and quickly and silently mouthed the words, I'm dropping it.

It was hard to tell if Elias even understood them, but he seemed to know that he couldn't climb down with the box since he extended his arms out like he was ready to catch it. With a deep breath and a quick glance over his shoulder, Cyrin let go of the safe-- and then he rolled out the window gracefully, deciding there wasn't enough time to climb.

They were grateful for all the times that Clarity had let them do exactly this with her window, because they landed smoothly on the soft lawn and rolled right up to their feet, standing beside Elias, who held the box in his hands.

Elias seemed impressed, but upon Cyrin landing, he ran towards the gate. Cyrin followed suit, and they were mere seconds from leaping the fence and finally getting away, but then Elias came to an abrupt stop at the fence, suddenly tossing the box to Cyrin.

"Go, I forgot something!" he said with no other explanation before bolting off, back towards the door.

Cyrin stared at him for a moment, but there wasn't time to ask. They made a jump close to the fence, setting the box on top of a hedge before quickly climbing the fence next to it, dropping down to the other side, and then reaching up to take the box again. They then stood partly behind the hedge and partly unhidden, so that Elias would know they were still there but they wouldn't be seen by anyone else. At least, they hoped so.

Cyrin watched Elias through the gap in the fence, noticing that he was crouched by the door, specifically the pet door. It then dawned on him that when Elias said he forgot something he actually meant the dog. It seemed that he was trying to coax the pug to come out the pet door, and Cyrin watched as more lights started to turn on. It was clear the wife was heading downstairs, with each room shedding new light.

"Elias, no, holy fuck," they whisper-hissed, but they knew he wouldn't be able to hear them. Cold dread was pooling in their chest.

They heard a shuffle of footsteps behind them, and they froze suddenly before turning around.

A woman in her thirties stood a few feet away on the sidewalk, watching him closely with a blank face. Cyrin swallowed, knowing there was no way to make this look less suspicious. But before he could open his mouth to speak, she beat him to it.

"Are they really Nazis?" the woman asked curiously, tilting her head towards the house he'd just robbed.

Cyrin nodded after a few moments of hesitation. "Yeah," he said. "We tore apart the Confederate and Nazi flags we found."

The woman watched him for a moment longer, nodding slowly. "Well," she said, already starting to walk away. "If you ever decide to rob them again, I'll be happy to help." With that, she kept going, without giving him or the house another look.

Cyrin blinked, trying to process, but there was no time to.

"Cy! Catch!" a familiar voice said lowly and harshly, and Cyrin turned around just in time to see Elias throwing the pug up in the air for him to catch.

The pug whined as it was thrown like a beanbag, and Cyrin barely managed to switch to holding the box in one arm in time to catch the dog. Elias was quick to scale the fence, sloppily and loudly jumping and climbing. And just in time, too-- since the front door opened just as they both began to bolt away.

"Thank God that you're fast," Cyrin grunted, breaking into a sprint.

"Follow me!" Elias huffed with a grin, already turning a corner, leading them down the alleys of safety.

Trying to keep their hold on the pug, which was squirming, and the safe, which was not that light, Cyrin followed Elias blindly. Elias seemed to know where he was going-- at least, he could have fooled Cyrin. He sprinted and zigzagged around alleys, avoiding busy streets and taking deliberate turns until he finally came to a slower stop to a different residential area, this one mostly sprawled with old apartments and multifamily homes.

Elias panted, bending down with his hands on his knees as he wiped the sweat away from his forehead, another silly grin on his face as he stared at the pug that they stole.

"Man, that was close. We almost got caught," he said, smile growing as he caught his breath. "We didn't though."

"We sort of did," Cyrin said breathlessly, setting the safe down to hold the now even more wide-eyed pug with two hands. "Someone saw me on the street, and she obviously knew we'd just robbed the place. Once she got the confirmation that those people were Nazis, though, she didn't seem to care. I think we're safe."

"Huh. Hm. Maybe next time we should be wearing ski masks. You know, so people don't see our faces," Elias suggested.

"But then they'll definitely be sure we were robbing someplace." Cyrin patted the pug's head.

"Oh. True. Well, I guess they figured that out anyways. Nice that they're on our side, I think." Elias bent down to also pet the pug, giving the dog's back a scratch. The pug seemed to be enjoying the attention, happily panting. Elias then sifted through the collar, looking for a tag. "Hm. There's nothing on the collar. What should we name this little guy?"

Cyrin knew that probably didn't mean that the pug didn't have a name, but he hated to think about what a couple like that might have gotten name inspiration from. "I don't know. Do you have any ideas?"

Elias hummed, now scratching the dog's head. "What about Thug? Thug the Pug."

Cyrin burst out laughing. "You know, that might be perfect."

With a grin, Elias picked up Thug and lifted him up to be eye-level with him. "Yeah, Thug didn't choose the pug life. The pug life chose Thug."

Cyrin let out a huff of laughter, picking up the cardboard box again. "You called me Cy back there, by the way. Were you just mincing syllables?"

Elias pursed his lips and then lightly jiggled Thug in front of him. "Well, we were kind of in a rush, weren't we? I saved time by saying less syllables."

"Fair enough," Cyrin said, grinning, though it faded a little as he went back to thinking. "Well, we're going to have to figure something out for Thug. And for us. I say we go back to Tent City and see what this gets us tomorrow."

"Good idea, good idea," Elias said as he let Thug down then stood up again. "Oh! I meant to ask you. Was it all pugs that are near and dear to your heart? Or was it Thug?"

Cyrin paused, pursing their lips as they thought. "I meant a lot of canines in general, really, but-- is that why you stole Thug?"

Elias smiled innocently, swooping down to pick up Thug again and then wave him in front of Cyrin's face. Thug didn't seem to mind being picked up, although his eyes went a little cross-eyed.

"What do you mean? Who could say no to this adorable face?" Elias cooed.

Cyrin laughed, scratching Thug behind the ears. "Not either of us."

Elias smiled, still holding Thug in front of him so he could be pet. "Wow. We became parents so fast. I'm hardly prepared for this."

Cyrin nodded, more absently, and now Thug was sniffing their hand. "We seem to make a good team, though."

Elias beamed. "Yeah, I think so. Oh, right. What did we get?" He placed Thug down, inspecting the box with the safe. "There's probably a ton of cash in there. Maybe. Or maybe it's jewelry. Heist movies always have jewlery in safes."

"Whatever it is, I hope we didn't break it," Cyrin said, adjusting their grip on the box and giving him a smile. "Are we ready?"

"For the next adventure?" Elias said as he stood back up, the grin returning. "Always."



Cyrin had told Elias they'd sit outside for a bit and join him in the tent later, and they were now sitting in the same grassy clearing that Elias had first shown them to. It felt good to have a space and moment to breathe after the excitement of the heist, but there was another thing they were excited for. It had slipped their mind in the moment of their escape, but now the suspense was back in full force, and Cyrin didn't want to wait any longer.

They took out their phone, checking how much battery they had left-- it was starting to get low-- before going directly to their messages from Alan.

Cyrin wrote:I would say, "I'm listening."

It took about a minute for Alan to respond back.

Alan wrote:Good to know. A good way to listen would be to sit in the same room with me, I'm pretty sure.

Cyrin smiled, reading the message a few times and letting it warm his heart. He really did miss Alan already, even though most of what he'd spent his battery on had been texting with him. He felt bad about missing that awards ceremony too-- he'd wanted to, but it had been the same afternoon that he'd had to finally leave his apartment.

Another text came in before Cyrin had a chance to respond.

Alan wrote:Are you free tomorrow?

Alan wrote:If you say no, I think I might have to resort to begging

With a laugh, Cyrin started typing back.

Cyrin wrote:Alright, I'll be there, but there had better be a story. So you can leave the begging to me.

It didn't take long for Alan to text back.

Alan wrote:Well, you know me. I'm a man of my word. And dignity. So thanks.

Alan wrote:I'm free any time between 7-10pm at my place. See you then?

Cyrin wrote:You know I'll be there. In fact, good luck getting me out of there before 11.

Alan wrote:On second thought, I'm thinking you could stay indefinitely. Thoughts?

Cyrin hummed, drumming his fingers on the grass next to him restlessly. It wasn't the first time that Alan had offered his place to him, directly or indirectly. He'd appreciated those offers, just like he had with Clarity's similar ones, but he didn't want to take advantage of Alan's kindness or not give Alistair a say. He'd had the feeling he was disappointing both his friends when he'd thanked them and declined, but at least he wouldn't be making things harder for them.

Cyrin wrote:I'd probably start to miss all these helpful rat chefs I've befriended. That being said, I would love some extra time for a shower.

Alan wrote:Just for you, I won't use up all the hot water

Alan wrote:Oh, and bring all your clothes. If you're staying that long, we might as well do laundry

Cyrin smiled again, almost without realizing that they were.

Cyrin wrote:You're too kind. Actually, truly, seriously too kind. I can eat before I get there, though, so you don't have to worry about that

Alan wrote:Oh, stop. I'm supposed to be the sappy one

Alan wrote:But you know I'm always going to worry about you. So don't worry about that.

Cyrin wrote:Alright, you're the sappy one again. That was fast.

Alan wrote:Well, I don't exactly trust what these rat chefs are cooking you. I think Disney is feeding me lies that they're giving you a 5-star meal.

Cyrin wrote:You sound awfully jealous of these rats, Alan. I can promise it's nothing but the finest French cuisine under this highway ramp.

Cyrin wrote:If food bank sandwiches with French white bread count, that is.

Alan wrote:You caught me. I'm insecure that your new best friend is a rat who's ruining your culinary tastes

Cyrin wrote:For one, I wouldn't go so far as to say new best friend. And second, you know culinary taste is not something they or anyone could ever take away from me

Alan wrote:Oh phew. I can rest easy now knowing that won't change.

Alan wrote:But in all seriousness, let me know if you want or need anything. I know you won't. But I say it anyways since I'm naive.

Cyrin waited a few moments before he typed anything back, staring ahead into traffic before he returned his gaze to the screen.

Cyrin wrote:Well, I want to hear this story, and I want to see you soon. And it would be amazing if you could get four hours of sleep one of these nights, though I know better about that too.

Alan wrote:How about this: I get more than four hours of sleep tonight, but in exchange, you stay longer tomorrow? It all evens out, in the end.

Cyrin grinned, laughing and nodding to themself. Alan was onto something there. They typed back their reply with a lingering smile, already feeling hopeful and excited for the next evening.

Cyrin wrote:It's a deal.

Alan rushed home, not wanting to be late.

Well, he wasn't late. But being on time would be late, considering he had a lot to do beforehand. He and Alistair had been neglecting their normal routine chores for the past two weeks, but it was mostly because Alan had been too busy keeping up with the first round of exams while also balancing music commitments, dating Shane, and worrying about Cyrin.

He really wished Cyrin would swallow their pride and let him or someone else help him, because it did keep Alan up at night that his best friend was literally wandering the alleys with rats, but he also couldn't fully blame him. One, because he was his best friend, but two, because Alan knew if the roles were reversed, he'd likely want to do the same thing.

It had been a few weeks since he'd last seen Cyrin, and it sounded like he baited his friend to finally see him in person again, but Alan genuinely did want to tell him some news. He had been keeping too many private thoughts in his head, and he was itching to finally let it out. Cyrin would be the first person to know, and Alan wanted to make it special.

Or at least, special enough that it warranted a deep clean of his apartment and calling in his favorite Argentine restaurant to get a big delivery order of various empanadas. Cyrin claimed that they didn't want Alan to cook or get anything for them, but Alan knew their favorite food involved any fried or cooked dough around a filling. Empanadas felt like a very low-pressure solution, considering Alan also liked them.

It was nearing 7pm. Alan had briefly talked with Alistair the night before that he'd be having Cyrin over, although he didn't recall if he had mentioned when he was going to be back. It didn't matter too much, since Alistair seemed to not mind Cyrin, but he did want to give him a heads up.

Alan wrote:Hey, what time are you coming back tonight?

It didn't take long for Alistair to answer.

Alistair wrote:Why

Alistair wrote:Do you want me to stay at andrea's later

Alistair wrote:I could probably spend the night but I might go a little insane

Alan huffed through his nose, lightly smiling but shaking his head.

Alan wrote:Nope, doesn't matter to me. Just wondering. Cyrin will be here soon but he'll probably stay late.

Alan wrote:You're welcome for saving your sanity

Alistair wrote:Hilarious

Alistair wrote:Tell cyrin a homeless joke for me

Alan wrote:Well, if you're going to come back tonight, you can tell him yourself

Alistair wrote:Perfect

Alistair wrote:I have so much time to think of one now

Alistair wrote:It's going to be terrible because you set this expectation on me

Alan was smirking and was about to reply back, but then there was a knock at his door. Quick to his feet, Alan rushed to open the door, swinging it open with a grin as he-- expectedly-- came face-to-face with Cyrin.

"Oh, sorry," Alan said casually through the grin. "No soliciting."

"No? I thought it'd be more profitable than begging," Cyrin said, grinning right back. "You're crushing my dreams."

"Hm. That's an interesting sales pitch, actually." Alan stepped to the side, dramatically gesturing for Cyrin to come inside. "Come on in. It's good to see you."

"I'd say I practiced my elevator pitch on my way up, but this was more of a staircase pitch. Maybe those work better," Cyrin joked, stepping through and letting Alan close up behind them.

"You should tell that to every delivery person that delivers food here," Alan said with a little laugh, shooting Cyrin a knowing smile as he walked to the kitchen. "Because the person who delivered all this probably wished there was an elevator."

On the kitchen island sat a brown bag of a couple different empanadas, but Alan had already prepared two of them on two separate plates, one with asada-- that was Alan's favorite-- and one with beef and hard-boiled egg-- that was Cyrin's favorite.

Cyrin followed him in, smiling as they spotted the plate. "I thought something smelled good," they said with a soft laugh and a shake of their head. "Alan, you shouldn't have."

"Who said it was for you?" Alan teased. "Maybe it's all for me, and I'm subjecting you the torture of watching me eat it." He paused. "Lucky for you, I'm not that evil, and I'd ask if you'd like to have some."

Cyrin grinned again. "Well... maybe. I did eat, but it was another French bread sandwich, and I never realized how maddening it can be to only ever eat the same thing over and over again. You may actually have reason to worry about my culinary tastes."

"Oh, god," Alan moaned, pulling out the bar stool under the island and motioning for Cyrin to sit before he sat on the other one. "That sounds like hell. Now you're really making me worried."

"Does it help to know you're my saving grace?" Cyrin offered, sitting down. "Thanks to you, I won't be forgetting that flavors besides white bread, Swiss cheese, and ham exist. Now that would be a sad fate."

Alan smirked, hand over his heart. "I'm touched. Really. I think this may qualify as one of my biggest accomplishments." He then slid the empanda closer to Cyrin and got up from his seat again. "Do you want a drink, by the way? I feel like you could use a drink."

"I'll take whatever you've got, thank you," Cyrin said genuinely as he took the plate. "I should eat this while it's hot, but if it's alright with you, I think I'd be doing you a favor by taking a shower sooner rather than later. I feel like it already smells less like empanadas in here."

Alan chuckled. Cyrin did look and smell more rugged than usual, but that was expected since he didn't have anywhere to stay.

"I'll put it back in foil if you want to shower first. And I can get your laundry started while you're in the shower. I'll find some clothes that will fit you if you want me to wash what you're wearing now," Alan offered.

Cyrin smiled again, more softly. "I feel like if I said no, you'd insist. Luckily, all of that would actually be wonderful, thank you." He paused. "Although, I'm warning you that I will be demanding that story the moment all that is over."

Alan grinned. "Alright. But first, let's get you comfortable."

They both parted ways, with Alan first going into his room to get Cyrin a towel but also find him a change of clothes that would fit him. He opted for Alistair's clothes since he wore bigger and baggier clothes anyways, and it was only temporary. He exchanged the clothes with Cyrin before Alan jetted off again to do his load of laundry. The laundry room was on the first floor, which was always a pain to lug up and down and bring the right amount of change, but for Cyrin, this was hardly a sacrifice.

Upon returning, Alan opened a new Malbec bottle from his wine stash, opting for the more expensive one since he was saving it for a more special occasion anyways. At least, more special than his normal day-to-day. He poured two cups, one for Cyrin and one for himself, but he took his cup and placed it on the side table next to his keyboard. Sitting down on the bench, he decided to use the down time to play away his inner muse.

Alan didn't know how much time had passed, exactly, but he didn't notice Cyrin was back until he interrupted him when there was a natural pause from playing the end of the melody.

"I might have to ask the obligatory question of 'what are you playing' before I pester you about the story," Cyrin said with a grin, standing slightly behind him. He was wearing the clothes Alan gave him and had wet hair, but at least he was clean now. "I see there's no sheet music."

Alan let out an amused hum, turning off the keyboard and turning around on the bench, wine glass in hand. "Unnamed. It's not written down yet, and nothing is committed. It's the beginning of something new, though." He pursed his lips in thought, eyeing his wine glass for a moment. "That'd be a good name for the song, actually."

"The beginning of something new? I could see that being a good title." Cyrin nodded thoughtfully, then spoke more teasingly. "Well, what is new?"

"You know, I should be asking you that. Your homeless life is such a mystery to me. I still hardly believe it," Alan said with a soft laugh.

"I don't quite either," Cyrin admitted, their smile turning more solemn before it widened again. "Your story has to be much better, though. The suspense has been killing me for the last 24 hours."

Alan laughed through his nose, shaking his head as he got up from his seat, leading Cyrin back to the island. "Oh, where do I begin," he said longingly, glancing back at Cyrin. "Empanada?"

"It's a great place to start," Cyrin agreed, taking his plate again and sitting on the stool.

"And wine," Alan offered, sliding their glass over to him with a teasing smile.

"Even better," Cyrin admitted, swirling the glass and taking a whiff before nodding appreciatively. "But you're stalling."

Alan chuckled, shaking his head before he finally sat down next to him. He wanted to do more, like ask more about how Cyrin had been spending his days and if he had any support whatsoever, and even offer more things that would help or make him comfortable. Alan was tempted to get up to get his phone charger so he could charge Cyrin's phone and give them a battery (after all, he didn't want to lose their ability to text), but he fought the urge, instead holding up his wine glass and gazing at it as if it held all the answers.

Alan knew that Cyrin went crazy for stories, and although this was a story, Alan didn't think there was much more new to share. It was always the same old story, except this time, with a new person and preference.

"Do you remember Trumpet Girl?" Alan asked, thinking back a few weeks ago, deciding to start from the very beginning.

Cyrin's iconic thinking face made a reappearance as they took a sip of their wine. "I never heard much about her, but I do remember what you said. I remember that you ended things with her just a few days before I moved out. Not enough chemistry and all that."

Alan nodded, taking a sip of the wine and savoring the taste before gently setting the glass back down and angling himself to better face him. "Yeah. Well. She was kind of forgettable, but I think since it was the beginning of the school year and she was aggressively flirting with me-- and you know, that summer I took a break from dating-- I decided, sure, let's see where this takes me, even though I didn't think she was really my type." He shook his head, shaking away the past memories of her since he didn't really care to remember them. "Doesn't matter. But... I do have her to thank, since she was the one who asked if I was gay. And you know... maybe she was right. It hadn't really occurred to me until then, and I haven't stopped thinking about it since. It makes a lot of sense, really. It feels like everything is falling into place now."

Cyrin nodded, clearly listening intently. "She asked you if you were gay," he echoed. "Why was that? Did you do something that wasn't very straight of you, or was she just the kind of girl to worry that all her dates are secretly gay?"

Alan let out an amused puff of air, propping his elbow on the counter and setting his hand against his cheek to lean on. "I don't doubt that she has a list of insecurities, but also, I wish the answer were more comical. We came back together from an orchestra house party, and you know how it goes. A Netflix movie turns into kissing, and suddenly we're in her bedroom, and our clothes were coming off. And you'd think we'd go on to make love, but..." With his free hand, Alan focused back on his wine glass and swirled it by the rim of the base. "I guess it 'wasn't very straight' of me to not be interested in her, and honestly, she was so right. I wasn't attracted to her at all." He sighed. "Theeeen she let her insecurities show since she started to drunkenly cry in front of me. But again, I have her to thank for giving me the self-reflection that I needed."

"It's good that you said no to her," Cyrin said genuinely, looking thoughtfully at their wine glass before savoring another sip. "And better that it also gave you that moment of clarity. I wish it happened at a better time, without any awkwardness or insecurity, but a moment like that is rarely expected." They paused, looking at Alan curiously. "So, what about it resonated with you?"

Alan nodded in agreement before pausing to think, drinking another sip of his wine. He smiled with a raised brow, his attention back on Cyrin. "You really want me to admit that my minimal attraction applied to not only Trumpet Girl, but all my past dates?"

Cyrin grinned teasingly. "Oh, I think I see where this is going."

"Because I'm definitely not going to say that. That would be disrespectful," Alan said with a growing grin.

Cyrin threw his hands up in mock surrender, still grinning. "Alright, alright. What will you admit to?"

Alan hummed, knowing Cyrin was baiting him. "I admit that that was the end of the story I planned on telling you today. I'm sorry, did you think there was more?"

Cyrin let out a puff of amused laughter. "Well, it's 7:30, so I was either hopeful or assuming it would be a longer story. Or maybe I'm not entirely convinced that's the end."

"Oh, really, now? Maybe I should rethink that song title, then. 'The end of something old' instead of 'the beginning of something new,'" Alan mused. "It might convince you then."

"Alan," Cyrin protested, but he laughed and shook his head as he took another sip of wine. "Is there really no guy in this story?"

Alan stalled, taking a too-long sip of his wine. He did plan on telling Cyrin first, but considering he and Shane were still getting to know one another, he didn't want to be too rash and make announcements or conclusions too fast. It was something Alan wanted to get better at, and now that he was navigating a whole new sexuality, he wanted to be extra cautious.

He couldn't deny that his heart wanted to spill open and reveal everything, though. But then again, it always did.

Cyrin raised an eyebrow playfully after Alan stalled for too long, smiling at him over their glass. "I see," they remarked, gently teasing him.

"Maybe," Alan finally answered with a growing smile. He wanted to wait before admitting to anything, but Cyrin's eagerness was starting to get contagious.

Cyrin's smile turned triumphant. "Sounds like a yes to me."

"Maybe," Alan repeated with a soft laugh.

Cyrin hummed, hiding their smile with their glass again as their eyes sparkled. "Have you got a codename for me yet?"

Alan chuckled, lightly shaking his head and taking another sip. He hardly even gave it any thought, but then again, the codenames he shared with Cyrin started off as a silly concept. Emily didn't want to be named, so he called her Ballerina whenever he mentioned her to Cyrin. That was, until they met each other. Still, to keep with tradition, all his other notable dates the past year had codenames as well. From Sculptor, to Teacher, to Painter, to Trumpet Girl -- it seemed it was only fitting that Shane get a name too.

"Historian," Alan finally admitted, deciding with little time that this name felt right.

"Historian," Cyrin repeated, nodding thoughtfully and still smiling. "I'm intrigued."

"The history hasn't been written yet, though," Alan said, not realizing until now that he was already beaming.

"You seem excited," Cyrin commented softly, his smile widening as he scanned Alan's face. "More than the last times. That's very promising."

Alan nodded eagerly, agreeing. "Do you remember the awards ceremony I told you about? The one from a few weeks ago?"

"I do. I would've loved to see it, too," Cyrin said, but the wistfulness of their words was undermined by the excitement and anticipation on their face.

"I know you couldn't make it, and you had a lot going on that day anyways-- but maybe it was for the best, because..." Alan softly laughed again, focusing on swirling the base of the wine glass again, wondering if the sudden bashfulness was obvious. "Well, that's where I met him."

Cyrin kept grinning, watching him attentively. "I knew there was more to the story," he laughed softly.

"There's a little more, yes," Alan said with a smile.

Ah, what the hell. Why hold back? He wanted to be cautious, but there was no harm in telling Cyrin, even if it did feel early. It would be nice to finally say the thoughts bouncing around his head these past few weeks.

"I didn't really think about it too much at the time," he continued. "I don't know. I think it was a combination of a weeks worth of questioning and being impressed by... I'm not sure, actually. It's hard to describe. It just felt right. I've seen him before, and we did recognize one another. It almost feels like... God, this is going to sound so cheesy, even for me. But it felt like a destiny moment, like the stars aligned, and everything was set up for the next events to happen perfectly. How did we know of each other, and know about each other, but not talk to one another until that day? And the timing-- that didn't feel like a coincidence. It felt like it was all meant to be. I'm not sure if this is making sense, but that's what it felt like. And feelings sometimes hardly make sense, but I find beauty in that anyways."

"That is pretty beautiful," Cyrin said, smiling more warmly now. "And I do think it makes sense to me. Did you talk, then?"

Alan took another sip of the wine. "We did, yes. Unfortunately, I couldn't stay long, although I'm sure if I could, we'd be the last ones to leave. I had to work at the piano bar not an hour later. But I had a feeling in my heart that there was... something. A spark, of sorts. And I didn't want to abandon it-- not when it was freshly lit. So I asked him for his favorite song and invited him to the bar. I was surprised he said yes, and frankly, totally unprepared-- but that always happens with love, doesn't it? It always takes you by surprise. And of course, I wanted to surprise him. I had this vision that he could walk in hearing me play his favorite song. But of course, I didn't know how to play it, and I got ready so fast to rush to the bar, and I aggressively studied the sheet music on the train, but I still only had fifteen minutes to practice and commit it to memory before the bar opened." Alan laughed, sheepishly rubbing his eye from under his glasses. "I had to play it so cool, but really, I felt like I hardly knew what I was doing. But that's also a fairly normal feeling for any performer."

"Learning someone's favorite song in fifteen minutes flat, then putting on a show for them, as a way to flirt and make a moment special. Alan, that is so wonderfully... you." Cyrin laughed softly. "That sounds magical, and I'm sure he loved it. He did, didn't he?"

Alan smiled longingly, pausing to reflect and also to pour more wine in both their glasses. "He did. Sincerely." He laughed. "I think I kind of shocked him, actually. I think I have the power of music on my side, since Historian doesn't know too much about music composition, so I may have accidentally led him to believe that I'm some kind of musical prodigy."

Cyrin huffed with laughter. "He's allowed to think that. You are quite good, and that was an impressive gesture. Not many people flirt that way."

Alan muffled a laughed and waved his hand in front of him, dismissing the thought. "I didn't think much of it at the time, really. It was simple, in my head. I wanted to get to know him, and I had to work with what I had, given the timing constraints. I felt a little bad since I had just met Historian and couldn't exactly talk to him during working hours, so it was the least I could do. Plus, you know what the performers are like there. It was sometimes silly and often out of character for me, but again-- performance. I remember thinking during that first hour that I should have simply asked for his number and hung out another day, but reflecting back on it now... I'm glad I didn't and went with my instinct, because it ended up being a really good first night."

"Then it ended up being a lovely surprise for the both of you," Cyrin commented, smiling again. "That's another promising sign, I think. What else happened?" He seemed thrilled to keep listening and asking questions, even more than usual with this story, which only fueled Alan some more to keep going.

Alan was glad to go through all the details, but he didn't want to miss anything, and he wanted to start chronologically. He took a second to think it through before continuing.

"I had to perform for the next few hours, but I sat down with him during all of my breaks. I didn't want to intimidate him-- especially since he came by himself, and we still didn't know each other that well-- so I asked basic questions, really -- like if he was enjoying his time so far, if he liked the song, and if he'd ever been to a place like this before. I was in over my head, thinking maybe he thought I invited him as a friend, so I kept that in consideration as well. But the whole time, I was getting the sense that he was... interested and open, to say the least." He chuckled, pausing to take another sip of the wine. "Some of it was in body language. It's easy to see when someone is paying attention-- truly paying attention. It's the small things, really, like when I made an Atlanta joke nearly an hour ago for the audience, and Historian remembered that and then asked me what the city was like. Other times, it was more obvious, like him mentioning that he enjoyed his time and would stay at the bar until I left too. And there were times when it felt really obvious, like when he wrote his number on the back of a napkin because he wanted me to text him my schedule-- all so he could listen when I'm playing." While Cyrin chuckled at that, Alan paused, a thought occuring to him. "Wait. One second."

He hopped off the stool and then sauntered to his shelf above the piano, stuffed with music books, CDs, and other pieces of muse that he held on to so he could be inspired. The napkin was carefully wedged between his two hardcover music theory books, and he carefully slid it out before returning to his seat, showing Cyrin the napkin.

"Crazy, isn't it? And I thought I was bold," he said with a laugh, setting the napkin on the counter, checking to make sure there weren't any wet spots beforehand.

"You kept it? You are so sappy," Cyrin exclaimed, leaning over with delight to take a closer look.

"Of course I did, and I know," Alan said with a grin.

"But I do see why you held on to it," Cyrin added. "It's hard to get more obvious than that when making a move-- it seems like you're telling me about a movie."

"Honestly, I thought that too. It all made... sense. Even though I have never tried to flirt with another guy before, but it felt right, and I couldn't shake away this--" Alan faltered, squinting up and rubbing his lips as he tried to think of the right words. "Magnetism. That's what it felt like. I was continually drawn to him, even when I tried to look away. He kept me up for days, Cyrin. I couldn't stop thinking about him. I still can't."

Cyrin had a soft, wide smile on their face that made it seem like they didn't even know they were smiling that much. "You have a crush," they told him, like they were trying not to laugh. "A serious crush. I'm not sure I've heard you talk about someone like this before."

Alan weakly laughed, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed that it was that obvious. But Cyrin wasn't wrong, both about him having a crush and him never talking about someone like this before. Alan didn't have a great gauge on a reference point since his two more-serious relationships in the past soured over time, but he wondered if this was truly unique to Shane. He thought, maybe, when he first dated Emily, back before he even knew Cyrin-- things were good, and he did feel like this way.

But of course, preferences on romance usually changed over time for most people. And Alan couldn't help but wonder if he was once again entering a vicious cycle of investing so much time and energy and love in someone, only for it to inevitably end with heartache.

But this felt different. At least, that was what Alan chose to believe. It was all he could believe. It felt a little naive, but then again, love wasn't very logical either.

"And I'm not even finished yet," he said instead with a smile, eager to continue. "We seemed to hit it off and be on the same page, especially since we left the bar together. I took him to the waterfront, since it was quiet and intimate. I wanted to have my full attention on him and get to know him without other distractions." Alan paused. "Well, small distraction. We stopped by the Peruvian food truck-- the one we both like, which is another reason I took him to the waterfront-- but it was a good excuse to spend time together. Turns out, I didn't think I needed it, because by the end, I can tell Historian was interested. And frankly, so was I. He's observant-- of course, he's a historian-- and this translates to him being interested in every facet of my life. It's actually quite endearing." He laughed, shaking his head. "For instance, he not only wanted to know my philosophy on music, but he kept asking me about what my favorite song is, and he insisted that we listen to it. There was something so refreshingly poetic about listening to a song about love. Together, with him, at night, on the waterfront, sharing earbuds, looking over the ocean. Together."

Cyrin shook his head in disbelief, still smiling. "You sound like you're describing at least one of the three Hallmark movies my sister has played in."

"Yes. But a lot gayer," Alan said with a grin, repressing a laugh.

"You're right. Those movies were romantic, but not all that gay." Cyrin chuckled. "But please tell me you've texted him your schedule, at the very least."

Alan scoffed. "Of course I have. Did you really think it was a possibility that I'd let this one get away?"

Cyrin let out a heavy sigh of relief. "Just checking."

"I admit, though... it did take a few days." Alan sighed, leaning his full weight against the counter. "That night, I stayed in the music hall until 4am. I knew I couldn't sleep, so I used my energy to practice. I didn't even go home that night. I unashamedly slept in the theater since I had to be there at 8am anyways. God, I was such a mess that morning," he said with a strained laugh.

"It seems like you needed time to process," Cyrin said, stifling a laugh. "I love the sound of Historian, but I have to say, he's making your insomnia problem worse."

"Yeah, we joke with each other that we make the other lose sleep, but I'm not sure he understands the extent of it," Alan said with a smile. "Especially during those few days after our night together. I was really struggling trying to pin down how I feel, what this all means with my past relationships, comparing my experiences now to the past, and figuring out what this all means for me. I'm still trying to figure it out, honestly, but I've been losing less sleep over it now." He gazed down at the napkin, still perched on the counter. "I've burned that number into my memory, but I still kept it on me for days. It felt like... I don't know. A weight, or a reminder. A calling, maybe-- if you care for a humorous pun."

Cyrin huffed with laughter. "Not bad," he said, before he went on. "I think you should keep holding onto it, honestly. It's not about the number anymore. And, you know, he'll probably be touched to see that you've held onto it, since he might not be expecting it."

"You're right. I should keep it safe," Alan said, although he had every intention of holding on to it anyways, even if Cyrin hadn't suggested it.

At that, he carefully picked up the napkin and got up to return it on the shelf, this time sliding out the book and placing the napkin inside. Hidden, discreet, and safe. Although, if things worked out between them, maybe he could laminate it. Or frame it.

He was getting ahead of himself here. That was a thought for another time.

Cyrin watched him with a smile, waiting for Alan to make his way back and sit down again before he asked his next question. "Have the two of you met up again yet?"

"Oh, yes. Several times," Alan said a smile. He paused. "How much of it do you want to hear?"

"What do you think?" Cyrin asked with a grin. "As much as possible."

Alan laughed, knowing that he had asked the question expecting that answer. Still, he wanted to be sure, since... well, it was a lot. And he was going to dump a lot of messy, raw thoughts on them.

"Alright. I cleared my next weekend and set up our official first date together. We sent each other many texts, but I kept my plans a surprise. It wasn't anything crazy. Just dinner at a Greek restaurant-- which was his favorite country, by the way-- and a museum visit during a night showing. It was a natural history museum, over at Harvard's campus. I picked that one because he alluded to preferring learning new things whenever possible. And I picked a museum date because, well-- historian. Overall, it went very well. We learned a lot about each other, and I only wanted to know more about him with each passing minute together. And I got the sense that he felt the same, so I ignored logic and asked if he was free at night the next day."

Alan smiled wider at the thought, but paused here, giving a break for Cyrin to get a word in before he continued.

"It sounds like a great first date," Cyrin remarked, still smiling as he nodded in agreement. "He likes Greece, huh? Him and I have got that in common."

"And despite that, we've never eaten Greek food together, and I had to admit that in shame during our date. How dare you, Cyrin?" Alan teased.

Cyrin hung their head in fake shame. "I've let you down."

"Hmm. I'll forgive you just this once," Alan said with a smile, then picked up his wine glass again. "Hey, do you remember when I said that, someday, we'd go up in the mountains to see the galaxy more clearly? And if we go in August, then we could see the stars pass by?"

"I hardly consider the Appalachians to be mountains," Cyrin joked. "But yes, I do remember."

Alan's smile widened. "We'll still do that, someday. But I'd also like to apologize and say that I've already done a similar version of this with Historian-- minus the Appalachians, though."

Cyrin tutted like they were disappointed, but smiled again. "I'll forgive you that too, but only if it was an amazing date."

Alan got on his feet again, holding his wine glass and pacing in a circle in the living room, knowing he couldn't say the next part while staying still. "I took him to the stars, Cyrin," he said with a big smile, briefly facing him before pacing again. "We drove out of the city, passing the rolling hills and venturing into the night together, only guided by starlight and our hearts. I took him to a clearing where we could lay down and let the vast fullness of the universe swallow us whole. Just me, Historian, and the Perseid meteor shower. I'd say the passing stars stole our attention from each another, but I would be lying, because the dim string lights lit up his face, and I could hardly look away. We talked for hours, close in hearts and bodies. It was surreal, almost like a fantasy, or a dream. But it was very real, because if it were a fantasy, it would never come to an end. And all good things come to an end, eventually."

"Yeah, that is an amazing date. You're more than forgiven." Cyrin tilted their head to the side thoughtfully, still grinning and looking truly happy for him. "That sounds magical too."

"It was. Yes." Alan sat across the room, sitting at the ledge of the windowsill, crossing one arm while still holding the wine glass with his free hand. "We text and call each other more often now, and I've seen him every other day so far this week, at a cafe or on campus. It's easy to rush into things, but I think I'd rather take things slow. I have a good feeling about Historian, but I still want to be cautious and be confident about how I feel. He deserves that, anyways."

Cyrin nodded enthusiastically. "He seems really great," he noted in agreement. "I guess it's a blessing in disguise I couldn't make it to that ceremony. I'm glad you ran into him."

"Me too. And I agree, this is one of those rare times that I'm glad you didn't accompany me," Alan said with a little laugh. "But again. Everything is still so new. He is surprising me with a date this Friday, and I don't know too much about it, but I'm sure I'll love it."

Cyrin laughed. "Weren't your other dates surprises as well?"

"It's different when you're the one doing the surprising. I feel like I should be doing something to prepare, but I don't even know what I should be preparing," Alan admitted with a quiet laugh.

Cyrin shook his head with a chuckle. "Just let him take care of it. If it seems like it'll be good, it probably will be."

"I did tell him that he could plan a date where we do absolutely nothing at some nondescript place, and I'd be perfectly happy with that, because I don't really mind what we do or where we go as long as we're together. He appreciated it, but something tells me he won't be doing that," Alan said with a smile.

"If he's anything like you with the planning, he won't be," Cyrin said, laughing again.

"Yeah. You're right about that," Alan said with a chuckle, about to take another sip of the wine, but changing his mind so he could continue. "That about sums it up, though. Thanks for listening, Cyrin. I actually didn't want to share this yet because I didn't want to get your hopes up so early in case this doesn't pan out, but you brought the sap out of me. Again."

"You're very welcome, Alan. It's what I'm good at." Cyrin grinned, raising his glass. "Should we have a toast to your gay awakening?"

"God. I never thought I'd hear those words for me-- and a toast, for all things-- but sure," Alan said with a laugh, bringing up his glass. "To my gay awakening."

"I think there's room in this box for a few more books," Niko said, starting to reopen the cardboard box he'd started to close up. "These shelves aren't at all cleared, but we're definitely starting to run out of boxes."

Professor Costa nodded, and he reached down from the ladder to pass him another stack of books from the bookshelf. "Can you make room for those?"

Niko took them, doing his best to strategically pack the box again. "I think so. Do you want me to take a turn on the ladder?"

The art professor chuckled, already starting to climb down. "My poor joints thank you."

"Oh, come on, Professor," said a voice from across the room. Chloe, another student and fellow Art major, was also there to help with the emptying of the professor's office. She shook her head at the man as she removed the globe from his desk. "You're what, forty-four? Stop talking about your joints like they're the cause for your retirement."

Niko laughed as he left the box behind and took his space on the ladder, climbing up so he could reach the top shelf. "She's right, I don't think you're fooling anyone about why you're leaving."

"Yes, well, the board wants me to be a little less vocal about how I'm so unhappy with them that I'm leaving the school I've taught at my entire career and attended in my youth," Professor Costa deadpanned, taking the books Niko offered him and setting them in an empty box. "Also, I'm forty-five, and I'm only transferring to Harvard. It's not a retirement."

"Harvard doesn't deserve you," Chloe quipped, pulling open a desk drawer and emptying it out.

"I don't deserve Harvard," Professor Costa muttered, shaking his head with a grumbly laugh. "I don't think I've done anything that bad in my life. What I do deserve is the accusations of being a traitor that I'm sure I'll get, though. I'm going to see so many Ivy students and alumni around in Boston who will be upset I crossed the floor."

"Some of them will still be willing to trash talk Harvard with you, I'm sure," Niko said with a faint smile as he got the top shelf clear and passed it all down to the professor. "I can make that promise."

"Me too," Chloe added. "Ivy might go away, but being rivals with Harvard is a forever thing."

The professor grumbled a little again, but he was smiling as he packed another box full of the books Niko was handing him and then stacked the full boxes on top of each other. "This is why you're my favorite students."

"Oh my God, we haven't even started with this side of the room," Chloe exclaimed, moving to the wall with the windows facing the campus lawn. "I love your office, but it has so much stuff in it."

"I hear my new office in Harvard has less room," Professor Costa noted. "But don't worry, I have more students coming by later to take your places in the cleaning. If you've got questions about any of the stuff here, feel free to ask. Most of it has a story."

"Well, what about the chalkboard?" Chloe asked. "What's that about?"

Niko chuckled as he glanced over his shoulder to look at the old chalkboard on wheels that Professor Costa preferred over a whiteboard, but he found himself pausing once he got a look at it. The chalkboard had, for as long as he'd been going to this office-- so the very start of freshman year-- displayed the same information. At all times, it had Professor Costa's details and contact information, when his office hours were, and his favorite artists-- Chagall, Kandinsky, and Klee-- written at the top. The rest of the board was reserved for the latest quote that Niko's professor had found inspiring, which changed about weekly, and for his favorite class artwork of the month to be displayed on. In Niko's two years at Ivy, this setup had been a constant, and he suspected it had been so for much longer before.

However, today was a different sight. The chalkboard had been wiped clean of all but the cloudy white haze of chalk dust and three new words in the middle of the board. Niko squinted, turning on the ladder to read them properly: SPACE HAS FALLEN.

He wasn't sure why, but those three words sent a chill down his spine.

"Oh, that old thing?" Professor Costa asked. "That was a gift from my old art professor at Ivy, upon her own retirement. But I'm not retiring, so it's staying with me. Sorry."

"What about those words?" Niko asked, now very distracted from his purpose of clearing the bookshelf. "Space has fallen?"

Professor Costa turned back to him, a thin, faint smile on his face that looked almost sly. "I suppose you can consider it the quote of the week."

Niko was about to point out that it didn't look like much of a quote, but Chloe shrugged, moving back to the desk. "Well, there's a lot of other stuff in this drawer that I'm curious about."

"Fire away," the art professor said.

Niko went back to his task of clearing the bookshelves, trying to shake the uneasy feeling that the writing had left him with. It wasn't too hard, as Chloe asked questions about the items around the office and Professor Costa was happy to answer them, and he found himself smiling softly. He was going to miss his favorite professor, and he was sad he wouldn't be having him for his junior or senior year. He didn't feel quite right placing himself in the conversation, though, so he was happier listening.

After about twenty minutes of this, Niko had completely cleared this bookshelf and the one next over he could still reach from it. As he got down from the ladder, preparing to move it over to another shelf, he turned around to see Chloe reach into a desk drawer and pull out a golden pendant on a chain. Something about it caught his eye, and he paused, trying to give it a better look.

"What's this?" Chloe asked, wrapping the chain around her fingers and letting the pendant dangle, swinging back and forth gently.

Professor Costa looked up from the box he was packing, blinking in surprise for a moment when he saw it, before he smiled. "Ah," he said. "Why don't you try opening it?"

"Opening it?" Chloe echoed, taking hold of the pendant, and Niko saw it was more of a locket, with a hinge and a clasp.

"Yes, go ahead," the professor encouraged her.

Niko watched as with a slight thoughtful frown, Chloe fiddled with the pendant for a moment before it clicked open. Her frown turned confused as she turned it around, revealing a small hollow compartment in the middle. "It's empty," she said uncertainly.

"Hmmm." Professor Costa seemed to give that some thought for a few moments before he turned to Niko, still smiling. "Chloe, why don't you close it up and let Nikolai try opening it?"

Niko and Chloe exchanged a look of mutual confusion for a few moments before he shrugged and she nodded. "Alright," she said, closing the locket and holding it out for him to take.

Niko took it carefully, holding it up in the light for a moment to see for himself. It was covered in a delicate filigree pattern that seemed to make it shine brighter, but even more interestingly, it felt feather-light, as though it had no mass at all. He frowned as he found the clasp on the side and started to work on opening it-- it took a few tries.

The moment he got the cover open, the inside of the pendant immediately filled with bright, pure light that burned through his vision. Niko yelped in surprise, turning his head to the side and hiding his face in the crook of his elbow, seeing green spots from behind his eyelids. He blindly fumbled to close the pendant one handed, closing his fingers around it until he heard the soft click of it shutting.

After a few moments, he blinked his eyes open and uncovered his face, slowly turning around again. He was holding the pendant at arm's length, as far away from him as possible. Chloe was rubbing her eyes, her face painted with shock as she gaped at the pendant, then at Niko. Professor Costa was obviously trying to clear his vision, shaking his head from side to side, and his shoulders were shaking. It took Niko a moment to realize it was because he was laughing.

"I haven't seen it do that in a while," the professor chuckled, shaking his head out again. "I'd almost forgotten what it was like."

Niko stared at the pendant, then his professor, his vision still tinted green in spots. He hadn't imagined anything could be that bright, maybe besides the sun itself. "What was that?" he asked quietly.

"It doesn't do that for everyone," Professor Costa said, taking the pendant from him. "See?" He flipped it open, and Niko quickly averted his gaze, but nothing happened. The compartment inside was hollow, just as it had been for Chloe. "It stopped working for me some time ago."

"What determines that?" Chloe asked slowly. "Why would it do that for some people and not others?"

"Truth be told, I don't know," Professor Costa admitted with a shrug. "There's a lot of mystery to it, and I never figured out all of it. Maybe someone else should try to." He held the pendant out for Niko to take it again. "Nikolai, I think you should have this."

Niko hesitated, not sure what exactly he was accepting. "Are you sure?"

The professor nodded. "Quite. I've mostly held onto it for safekeeping purposes, and although I admit it's a little sentimental... Well, there's no point in me holding onto it any longer, now that I know it works for someone else. It's my turn to pass on the torch." He held the pendant out a little further. "Here. You can take it."

Niko uncertainly took it from him by the chain, giving it a careful look. After an encouraging nod from his professor, he undid the clasp so he could wear it around his neck. The pendant still felt weightless, and it was as if it wasn't there at all. "Thank you," he said quietly. "What am I supposed to do with it, though?"

"That's up to you," Professor Costa said, his smile wavering for a moment as he met Niko's gaze. "Just... be careful. That's all I can help you with." He turned back to the boxes, putting his hands on his hips as he examined them. "Can the two of you help me stack these? It'll clear up space, and my joints actually aren't the best."

Niko and Chloe exchanged a baffled look, still not sure what was happening, but it seemed as though they couldn't think of anything more to say, as they both silently drifted over to help with the lifting. Niko could feel himself zoning out more and more with each box, his thoughts all blurring into a confused mess.

"Space has fallen," he heard Professor Costa say behind him quietly, seeming to speak to himself. "What a time. If only I could be here to watch it all happen again."

Mireya had always had a bit of a small grudge to nurture against the Boston subway system. Maybe that was because she was a New York City girl at heart, but the differences were clear once you'd seen both. Even the rats were different, honestly. It wasn't like the NYC rats were friendly, but she felt like the Boston ones hissed more. They came by more often, also, since the trains came by less often.

Because her train was running late, of course.

Mireya checked her phone for updates from any of the gang member chats, but there didn't seem to be anything of interest, except for a mysterious robbery on Fifth and Alder that no one seemed to be taking responsibility for. Honestly, if one of them had done it, they should step up, because Mireya felt like giving them a fist bump for it. From what the gang was saying about the couple, they did not seem like very good people at all.

She thought about texting Andy to let her know the latest caper had gone well and she was on her way back, but that was pretty unnecessary. They both pretty much showed up at the apartment whenever they felt like it, no warning needed. She liked the lack of rules for the two of them.

Although Alistair would be over, wouldn't he? Maybe it was worth the time to text.

Mireya spared a quick glance at the ETA for her train-- the screen claimed it was three minutes out, but it had been saying that for the last two-- and opened her messages to Andy. She hardly had time to type a single word when suddenly someone ran into her, causing her to drop her phone and fumble backwards.

"Oh, my bad, sorry!" the man who ran into her said.

Mireya didn't recognize him, but he was tall, blonde, and clumsy since he bumped into her again to reach past her so he could bend down to grab her phone for her. He stood up with a friendly smile as he offered her the phone, and Mireya stared at him for a moment.

"Sorry again," he said.

Her instinct was to be polite, but she just frowned at him as she took it back quickly. Something about this felt weird. "Why were you running?" she asked suspiciously. "There's nothing happening here."

"Oh, my bad, sorry, gotta catch my train!" he said instead, already running past her, towards the stairs.

His excuse didn't really make sense, since he was running out of the train station towards the exit. Plus, the train was still three minutes out.

Mireya noticed just then the lightness in the front pocket of her jeans, and she froze for a moment before she patted it down. No wallet.

She didn't freeze for long, however, because she tore after him in hot pursuit.

"Hey!" she shouted, rushing up the subway stairs, trying to cut the distance between them. "Get back here, or else I'll have to catch you and I've been waiting for this train for long enough!"

At her words, the man glanced back, but he shot her a grin and only seemed to run faster. The subway wasn't crowded, so it was easy to follow him, although Mireya did have to weave between some people. She huffed and kept running.

He hopped the exit turnstile, but it was a little sloppy, and she squinted at him. That had slowed him down by a non-negligible amount, considering this was a chase. Had he not gotten the action down properly? Well, she was a NYC criminal, and she had. She smoothly hopped the turnstile in front of her in much less time, running again as soon as her feet hit the ground.

The man was taking an exit up to the street, and she started the staircase just as he reached the top. She saw people entering stop and turn to watch, clearly aware of what was happening, but no one ever interfered in subway theft. Well, that was fine. She didn't need their help anyway.

That's what she figured, at least. When Mireya got to the top, she didn't see any sign of the man who had stolen her wallet.

She scowled, doing a full 360 turn to scan all possible exit paths, but there was still no sign of him. Growling quietly with some frustration, she started to reach for the pocket knife she kept in her shirt, still carefully looking around.

"I knew it. It's just like the movies. Short people never look up," the man said from above.

Mireya viciously turned towards the source of his voice, looking up to see him crouching on top of the awning of a deli shop. He wore a goofy grin, his elbow on his knee as he rested his palm on his cheek, staring down at her in amusement.

"Don't think for a moment that I won't climb up there, just because I'm short," she hollered at him. "I see about three ways to do it."

"Wait, question before you do that. Did you miss your train?" he asked.

With her luck, the train that was permanently three minutes out would be at the platform right now. "Maybe not if you return that in the next two minutes," she retorted.

"Oh, I get two minutes? Nice. That's plenty of time to bargain," he said as he then took out her wallet out of his pocket and waved it front of him. "You only have fifty dollars, but I kind of feel bad that you ran all way here for me, and that you probably missed your train. So we'll call it even and I'll take... twenty? Out of the fifty. How does that sound?"

Mireya snorted. "No, I'm getting all fifty back, thank you. Nice try."

The man hummed. "How about ten?"

"Nope," she said brightly, folding her arms over her chest.

The man stared thoughtfully at the wallet. "You drive a hard bargain. Okay, how's this: I get five dollars. Take it or leave it."

"What kind of bargain is this? You're a horrible thief." Mireya scoffed. "What were you thinking you'd get away with by charging someone on a train platform where nothing has moved for five minutes? See, I don't do this when I steal from people, and that's why I don't get caught. Hard pass."

He grinned at her, seeming curious and intrigued. "Okay, okay. Fine. Last offer." He waved the wallet in front of him again. "You get your wallet and all fifty dollars, and I get your name. How does that sound?"

Mireya gaped at him slightly, surprised. "What am I giving you my name for?"

"Oh, wait." Elias opened her wallet. "Right. I already have it, uh..." He squinted at the wallet, presumably staring at her fake ID, although he obviously wouldn't know it was fake. "Layla. Nice name. Lots of pun potential. Layla the lay-low, or Layla the lay-law. Hm. Or Layla the outlaw. Lots of rhyme potential."

Mireya huffed. "That's a fake name. What kind of outlaw puts their real name on something?"

The man gasped. "Wait, so that's why you picked Layla? Because it sounds close to outlaw?" He grinned. "That's hilarious."

"No!" she exclaimed, scoffing. "I picked it because-- give me my wallet."

"That's a really weird reason for choosing a fake name," he murmured.

Mireya stared at him. She was trying really, really hard not to laugh, and it was getting more difficult the less frustrated she felt. "What am I giving you my name for?" she repeated, more baffled than angry.

He pressed his palm further in his cheek and held the wallet more lowly, slightly tilting his head at her. "Because you're cute?" he offered.

Well. This was... unexpected? Both in that she hadn't thought she'd be hearing it, and both that she didn't hate hearing it. She'd been told all kinds of things about her appearance on streets in Boston and NYC alike, but this was not an instance of catcalling.

She unfolded her arms from her chest, watching him more closely. "My name's Mireya."

"Mireya. That's a pretty name." He paused. "Hm, I guess Layla is kind of similar... ish. I do like Mireya more, though. Glad that's your real name." He squinted at her. "Unless... you told me another fake name?"

She huffed with faint laughter. "It's my real name. It's not exactly one I'd make up on the spot." She paused. "And yours is?"

"Jimbo," he said as he then tossed the wallet down to her. He then stood up and pushed off the awning with his feet to leap high in the air, doing a backflip on his way down. He landed on his feet with a loud thud then stood up with a playful grin, now standing next to her. "Just kidding. I made that up on the spot. It's actually Elias."

Mireya slowly tucked the wallet back in her pocket after checking that everything was still in place. She was free to go and maybe still catch her train, but... "That was a nice backflip, Elias," she admitted, not as reluctantly as she thought she'd be saying it.

"Why, thank you." Elias then lifted his thin hoodie to reveal a black t-shirt that said 'WILL DO A BACKFLIP FOR A HUG' on it with big white capital letters. "I've been practicing."

Mireya stared at the shirt, pressing her lips together in barely suppressed laughter. "No hard feelings, but I don't think I'm hugging you. It's still a nice backflip, though."

Elias hummed, letting his hoodie fall back down. "You know, I don't blame you. I don't think I'd want to hug my robber, either." He paused. "Unless maybe he did another backflip. Then I'd think about it."

Mireya shook her head, actually letting out a sharp laugh this time. "You're actually a terrible robber. Why aren't you as good at hopping turnstiles as doing backflips? One of those is considerably easier than the other."

"That's a good question, actually." Elias placed his hands in his pockets, looking to be overthinking this question. "I think it's because the turnstiles were in my way."

"Yes, they're supposed to be," she scoffed. "And you're supposed to get over them quickly."

"Maybe it's because you were staring at me. I get nervous under pressure, you know," he said innocently.

"Well, I didn't want to lose sight of my wallet," Mireya huffed, but it was without anger.

"Oh. Congratulations for getting that back, by the way. I'm glad you didn't get robbed," Elias said with an eager nod.

She gave him a long look, thinking for a few moments. Well, she'd almost certainly missed the eternally three-minutes-out train, so...

"Well, if you'd been a better robber, maybe I would've been," she said, musing out loud. "There's no way you're under Sparrow, are you? He wouldn't be letting you pickpocket people this badly."

"Well, it's a good thing my attempt was a fail, 'cause then I wouldn't have gotten your name," Elias said as he waggled his brows.

Mireya laughed for real, shaking her head again, but paused to give him a better look. "Have you ever tried learning?" she asked seriously.

"Oooh. Are you offering to teach? I'm game," Elias said, the goofy grin returning.

"I'm taking pity on you. You can't keep doing that and hoping to get away with it," Mireya said, smirking amusedly as she tilted her head at him. "You'll get caught for sure."

Still smiling, he glanced between Mireya and the entrance to the subway. "So... are you going to catch the next train? Might be a minute. My bad for making you late."

After a moment of hesitation, she shook her head. "I don't really have anything to be late for," she admitted. "I guess I actually do have the time to teach you something."

"Question. Do you know how to do a backflip?" Elias suddenly asked.

"I do not," Mireya admitted. "It would be cool, though."

He hummed. "Alright. Nice. You teach me something, I teach you something. Now that's a hard bargain."

She gave him another careful look, before she confirmed it with a nod. "Alright," she said with a faint smile. "Deal. So, would you rather learn how to hop a turnstile, or how to pickpocket someone without them noticing in the first place?"

"Wait, we need the right vibe. This deli shop isn't cutting it." Elias walked past her, smiling as he brushed her shoulder. He then looked back with a grin. "You coming?"

"Hold up. I think there's something new in my pocket," Mireya said casually with faint amusement, reaching in and pulling out a crinkled one dollar bill. "What's this?"

Elias stopped walking, staring at the dollar with shock. "Whoa. Did you just get... reverse-robbed? No way!"

She laughed, passing him back the dollar. "You might be hopeless at this robbery thing, but I'll do my best. You could be the only person I've seen lose money on pickpocketing."

"Oh, cool. I win a best record for something," he said as he took the dollar back. "Thanks for giving that back, by the way. It was the only successful pickpocket attempt of the day so far. I pickpocketed it from the floor."

Mireya huffed again. "By definition, that is not pickpocketing. That is getting lucky."

"I am pretty lucky. After all, it's just my luck to run into you so you can teach me your ways, right?" Elias said, still grinning.

"Yeah, very lucky of you," she joked, giving him another look up and down before she paused. "I think I know what it is. You keep talking to me when you're stealing from me. Grabs too much attention. You want to be a person in the crowd who happens to be standing a little closer than needed, not someone who stands out by striking up a conversation when everyone around is happiest ignoring each other."

Elias mulled this over, hands in his pockets again. "But what if they're pretty?" he asked innocently.

Mireya grinned after a moment, laughing lightly again. "Well, I don't normally steal from people I find cute," she said. "It makes them harder to flirt with. Usually."

He hummed again. "Teaching me how to flirt too, huh? Good suggestion. I'll keep that one in mind."

She huffed and smiled again. "Oh, I don't think I need to teach you how to flirt," she said teasingly, before she asked, "So, which is it? Turnstile or effective robbery?"

"Effective robbery. I like to skip the boring steps and dive right in," Elias said, still watching her with amusement.

"The boring steps," Mireya echoed, raising an eyebrow. "Which are?"

Elias pointed at the staircase leading down to the subway, specifically down at the steps. "That."

Mireya snorted. "I guess you could jump down, if you want to avoid the steps. Maybe with a backflip. You should probably check for people first."

"Smart! I like how you think, Reys. Already teaching me your wisdom."

She chuckled. "Reys? I don't think I've heard that one before."

"Well, then. I'm two for two for being the first of something for you, huh?" he said with a silly smirk.

"Yeah, you are," she said, with another huff of laughter, before she tilted her head back to the staircase. "Alright, we're going back to the platform to find someone to pickpocket. Don't jump on top of anyone."

"Perfect. We're going to have to do this a couple of times, 'cause I need to pickpocket about $500 worth of dollars, by the way," he said.

Mireya nodded after a moment. "That would take a few times," she said. "You saving up for something?"

"Yeah. A fancy chainsaw," Elias said eagerly.

Mireya couldn't help but sputter with surprised laughter. "You could just-- well, this is why I'm in a gang. If I needed to use a chainsaw, I could just borrow it from someone else instead of buying one for five hundred dollars. What use do you have for it?"

"It's actually a thousand dollars. It's a super fancy chainsaw that could go through bricks of metal. Kind of lame that normal chainsaws can't do that, right? Those ones are only one-fifty."

"Bricks of metal," she repeated. "Why are you cutting through that?"

"Wait, wait, wait. Did you say that you have a chainsaw I could borrow?" Elias asked curiously.

That wasn't really an answer at all, but Mireya thought for a moment. "I said, I'm in a gang, and if there was someone else in it who had a chainsaw, I would potentially be able to borrow it."

"So... you don't have a chainsaw," Elias concluded.

"Not personally," Mireya confirmed. "Sorry. Still, I think it'd be better to find one to borrow, assuming this is a one-time use."

"One-time use, yeah." Elias sighed. "Well, I don't know any one who has one, but that's okay. We'll just keep robbing people until we get enough money."

Mireya thought for a few moments longer. She felt like she couldn't in good faith encourage this kind of financial decision, since he could probably use the money on other stuff. How could you turn a profit from using a chainsaw once, anyway? Maybe she was taking too much pity on him, but this didn't feel right to her.

"Tell you what," she said, shrugging. "I'll see if anyone I know has a chainsaw, and then see if I can pull a few strings or call in a favor."

"No way. Really?" Elias said brightly with a smile. "If I do another backflip, can I get to hug you?"

"Sure to the first part." Mireya gave him a thoughtful look. "Why do you want to hug me so much?"

Elias seemed to mull this over. "Because I like you?"

Then, without wasting a beat, he jumped in the air and backflipped in place, gracefully landing back on the ground. He stood back up triumphantly with another smile.

"There. Done," he said.

She laughed, doing a golf clap for him. Ah, what the hell. This was intriguing enough for her.

"Would you rather hug me," she asked, smirking slightly, "or get my number?"

Elias drew out a hum. "I counter your offer with a new bargain: I hug you, get your number, and tell you that I like your laugh. It's really nice."

Mireya kept smirking, pretending to think for longer than she actually needed to. It was endearing, she supposed, and he was cute enough, even though hugs weren't really her thing. She did like the laugh compliment, however, and she wasn't sure she'd heard that before, so maybe he was going three for three on being the first of something.

"Alright, sure," Mireya said, with another light laugh. "You've convinced me."

With a silly grin, Elias then swooped in and embraced her, arms wrapped around her lower back. Before she could fully react, he picked her up off the ground and spun with her twice before he placed her feet back on the ground. He gave her a gentle squeeze before pulling away with a smile.

"You're really warm. Like the sun, but blue," he said.

Mireya grinned, amused by the unusualness of it all. "I think that's another first time for something," she admitted.

"Oh, really? I'm on a roll, then, aren't I?" His smile turned to a grin. "More proof that Reys is a fitting nickname. You're like the warm sun rays during a rainy day."

She laughed. "What, don't you think you've got the sunnier personality? I shouted at you to give me my wallet back."

"Is this the beginning of a rom com movie? It sounds like the beginning of a rom com movie," Elias said, still grinning.

"Do those generally open with a robbery?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "I don't watch them, so you'll have to help me out here."

"What? No way. You've never watched a rom com?" Elias gasped, but then his eyes brightened up as his grin emerged again. "Well, we're on a streak for a first time for everything, right? We should go watch one."

Mireya gave him a funny look, smirking a little. "How do you suggest that?"

"By coming to my place," he suggested casually.

She knew that was pretty forward, but honestly, it didn't matter much to her. He was fun, wasn't he? And maybe she'd get to learn how to do a backflip a different time-- it wasn't like there was a pop quiz on it tomorrow. "Sure," she said lightly.

Elias's grin widened, but then he looked back towards the subway stairs, gesturing towards it. "We'd have to go that way, though. So looks like we won't be skipping the boring steps after all."

Dante had to ask himself a lot of questions about what he was about to do, but the most consequential one was probably: Is this worth the gas money?

His dad was fine with letting him use the car— or at least, he wouldn’t care or notice that it was gone. It was his dad’s day off, which meant he’d be staying in his room all day until 6pm, at which point he’d emerge to make dinner and watch the NFL game. Dante would probably have to fill the tank, since it was starting to run empty and this old car had the most terrible mileage, but it had been a good week in the harbor, so the decision was a toss-up.

He sighed thoughtfully, running a hand through his hair to push back his curls as his fingers drummed a pattern on the steering wheel. He could maybe just… paint that night instead? That might get it off his mind. The sky had been so stunningly clear, and he hadn’t known it was possible to get views that beautiful just south of Miami. He had just the right midnight blue—

No, that wouldn’t do the trick. If anything, he’d end up thinking about it more. He had to actually go back to the place.

Dante reached for his phone, considering texting the entire Willows group chat, but he opted for the one with just Yazmin and Alejandro. He typed out a message to both of them.

Dante wrote:am i needed at the harbor today?

Unsurprisingly, Yazmin was the first to answer. There were people who texted while driving, and there were people like Yazmin, who texted while robbing ships.

Yazmin wrote:just missed

Yazmin wrote:why?

Dante wasn’t the best with excuses, but he knew he’d be teased if he didn’t come up with one and gave them the real reason.

Dante wrote:i think i left a hoodie back at the spot we saw the perseids from

Dante wrote:it’s gonna take me a while to get it back

Yazmin wrote:i thought you didn’t have a hoodie on that night though?

Yazmin wrote:it was like 85 and humid that night

Dante wrote:well, i didn’t have it on my way back

Dante wrote:probably because it was indeed 85 and humid

Dante wrote:and i’m sure i took it off and forgot it like an idiot

Dante wrote:worse, an idiot who thought to bring it in the first place

Yazmin merely reacted to the final message with a laughing emoji, but Alejandro appeared to have just entered the chat.

Alejandro wrote:bro a gator probably ate it

Alejandro wrote:was it the miami dolphins one?

Dante shrugged to himself, alone in the car. Sure, this make-believe lost hoodie could be the Dolphins one hanging in his closet that he had bought just to fit in. Never mind that he was more of a Saints fan.

Dante wrote:yes it was

Alejandro wrote:the gators totally looked at the logo and thought “hey, that looks tasty”

Yazmin wrote:gators don’t eat dolphins???

Alejandro wrote:gators will eat anything

Alejandro wrote:percy’s left shoe

Alejandro wrote:the bags of chips i took that one time to the everglades

Alejandro wrote:and now dante’s hoodie

Yazmin wrote:don’t listen to him dante i’m sure it’s still there

Alejandro wrote:i’m sure it’s in a gator’s belly

Yazmin wrote:DON’T LISTEN TO HIM

Dante laughed, shaking his head as he typed back again.

Dante wrote:if the two of you wanna make a bet on it i'll get back to you

Alejandro wrote:how about for 20?

Yazmin wrote:i'm so fuckin broke how about 10

Alejandro wrote:deal

Alejandro wrote:godspeed dante please don't find it

Hmmm. Dante probably shouldn't have said that, given that he'd have to declare Yazmin the winner if he was ever going to wear the Dolphins hoodie that was safely at home in front of them again, and it probably wasn't quite fair to set up Alejandro like that. At least Yazmin would be ten dollars less broke.

Dante wrote:i'll see what i find

Dante wrote:i'm about to start driving but what's the best boat name out there today?

Alejandro wrote:it's the one stella found, "feeling nauti"

Yazmin wrote:NO it was NOT the best!! the best was "boatox"

Alejandro wrote:i beg to differ and so does stella

Yazmin wrote:get off your phone there's a cop headed your way

Alejandro wrote:oh shit really?

Yazmin wrote:made you look

Dante chuckled, able to clearly imagine this happening in the harbor-- Yazmin cheekily grinning from a dock, Alejandro giving her the stinkeye from a few ships over.

Dante wrote:alright i'm going now so don't get caught

Dante wrote:adios

Yazmin wrote:ciao!

Alejandro wrote:cmon yazmin he's still not italian

Yazmin wrote:as far as YOU know

Yazmin wrote:dante back me up here

Dante wrote:i can't say either way but if one of you wants to make another bet and get the truth out of my dad that would be great

Dante wrote:but as you know he's a brick wall

Dante wrote:okay i'm actually going now

Dante wrote:ADIOS

Dante put his phone on silent mode and put it away before he could read any of the messages that Alejandro and Yazmin were no doubt exchanging over the other half of his parentage. He was sure they'd have some brand new theories to share once he checked again.

With a smile, Dante turned the key in the ignition, letting the old car rumble to life before he started his drive south.



Dante stepped out of the car and gently closed the door, cautious not to slam it. The one time he'd done that, it had refused to lock properly for months, and he'd been skittish for every drive up and down I-95 that entire time. He really didn't need to pay for a repair right now.

Maybe he should be selling some art for extra cash, anyway? But he didn't complete ideas nearly fast enough for that, and he had a hard time parting with most of his pieces. Dante shook the thought away.

Locking the car, he left the parking lot behind to follow the footpath to the bay he'd visited with the Willows just a few weeks back. It had been the middle of August-- hot and humid indeed-- and the nine of them had brought plenty of picnic blankets and probably too many drinks. They had been loud and lively by the waterside, distracting themselves from the meteors even though it was supposed to be the best shower in a generation, and Dante might have been the only one truly watching the sky. Sure, he'd been as tipsy as the next of them, but he'd been reasonably to quite sure of what he'd seen that night, even though no one else had seemed to notice it.

The Perseids had been at their peak that night, and there was almost no break between each shooting star-- which helped, given that they were gone in the blink of an eye. But right around midnight, one of them hadn't slipped away into the inky black sky. It had kept going, seeming to approach rather than get farther away. Dante had watched in silent awe as the tiny silver streak of light had dipped behind a patch of trees on the right, vanishing out of sight, but seeming to reach the ground.

"Hey!" he'd shouted to his friends, sitting up straight. "Did anyone see that?"

"What, a meteor?" Percy had asked, laughing. "There's been one of those nearly every second."

"One of them fell," Dante had said, pointing to the trees. "I saw it. It landed right over there."

Tesla-- not her real name-- had shaken her head at him, grinning teasingly. "They're in space, Dante. They aren't making it to Earth, they're just flying by."

"I know what I saw," Dante had insisted, although he was becoming less sure of that by the second. "Did really no one else notice it?"

"Nope," Yazmin had said with a snort. "Calm down, Galileo."

"Has anyone been keeping an eye on Dante with the drinks?" Jesse had joked. "Sorry, man."

"No, but I should be," Alejandro had said with a grin. He'd leaned over to whisper to Dante, "I'm not sure what you saw, but I wouldn't worry too much about it."

So Dante had laughed it off, but he'd kept thinking about it. It had been such a sight, one he didn't think he could have made up. He'd told himself he had been imagining it, but in the end, the runaway meteor kept haunting him. He hadn't gotten it off his mind.

And here he was, several weeks later in the same place, hoping he'd get his answer.

Dante started towards the trees.

He'd never been here in the daylight before, and it looked so different to him, like he could be at the wrong bay. With a strange feeling of uncertainty, he kept following the footpath until it turned towards the water, after which he kept walking across the damp grass. The trees weren't very thick-- only just enough to block the other side from view-- and Dante slipped through them, now starting to look around for anything that could fit the description of whatever he'd seen fall.

What was he even hoping to see? He didn't know. He'd know it when he saw it, if he saw it.

The other side of the trees was marshier, with damp soil and muddy ground between the tall frondy plants. Dante wandered through it, taking care to avoid the muddiest sections. He found himself moving closer to the waterside, mostly by instinct. It was no secret that he loved the open water-- having the Atlantic right there was a constant distraction for him at the harbor. There had been too many times, when he'd been stealing from a cargo ship, that he'd thought about just stealing the ship itself and taking it out to explore. If only that didn't come with so many consequences.

With his eyes on the horizon-- blue fading into more blue-- Dante almost missed the item shining at his feet.

He quickly took a step back to avoid trampling it, and then nearly lost his balance on the uneven marshy ground, avoiding a fall by throwing his arms out to the sides. Once he'd regained his footing, he slowly bent down until he was kneeling in the reeds, right in front of the item.

It was a rock. There was no question of that.

But it wasn't one he'd ever seen before.

With a thoughtful frown, Dante pushed the reeds it had fallen into out of the way to see it clearer. It seemed to sparkle, as if it were dusted with a layer of glitter, and it had small craters and bumps over its surface. Minus the sparkle, it looked rather like he expected a small chunk of a meteor to be like. That had to be what it was, right? What he'd come here looking for?

Dante gingerly picked the rock up, closing his fingers around it. It seemed to fit perfectly in his palm. The rock's surface felt shockingly cold against his skin, as if he were holding ice, and he had to wonder why that was. It was a sunny midday in sub-tropical Florida, and it was warm. He would've expected it to be more like scalding concrete, if anything.

But it was really only the second or third thing about this that felt unnaturally strange.

With a shrug, Dante tucked the small meteor in a pocket and turned around. This would be a funny story to tell-- asssuming he could find a friend to tell who wouldn't also make fun of him-- and he was already thinking about how it would look on his shelf. Maybe it would go next to that painting of the sailboat. Yes, that would be the perfect spot.

Dante made his way back through the marsh, trees and grassy field until he was back at his car. Once he got in, he took out his phone to check it. In his absence, Yazmin and Alejandro had exchanged...

156 messages?

"Ay, Dios mío," Dante muttered, staring at the group chat in stunned disbelief.

Dante wrote:i'm not reading all that

Dante wrote:what in the world were you even saying about me???

Alejandro wrote:welcome back dante!!

Alejandro wrote:good news

Alejandro wrote:we think you're lithuanian

Yazmin wrote:WE do not think that HE thinks that you're lithuanian

Yazmin wrote:i still think you're italian

Dante wrote:oh god

Alejandro wrote:sorry dante this is what happens when you have curious friends and a brick wall of a single dad

Dante snorted. Yeah, he'd been dealt that fate.

Dante wrote:i'm about to ignore you again, but i did find the hoodie btw

Yazmin wrote:hell yeah

Yazmin wrote:pay up alejandro

Alejandro wrote:pics or it didn't happen

Dante sighed, letting his head fall back on the headrest. Was he going to have to drive back home, grab his hoodie, and drop it at some grassy park to take a picture of as proof?

Yes.

And fill the gas tank.

With a huff of tired laughter and shake of his head, Dante put his phone away and set the car into drive.

The question remained: was Alan an insomniac?

He probably was, although it was less because he couldn't go to sleep, and more because he didn't have time to sleep. As promised, Alan stayed up late with Cyrin during their visit, and it ended up being fairly fun when Alistair came in late and decided to join them. They had more drinks (at which Alistair took out their only drink available that wasn't wine: a handle of gin), exchanged stories, and shared jokes. Alistair always ended up being the brunt of the jokes, but he was always an easy target and secretly liked it anyways.

It was actually Alistair who went to sleep first that night, and Alan only relented when Cyrin headed for the door-- but that was only because they wanted him to sleep. And Alan did. Eventually. But not after making sure that Cyrin was alright first, although he didn't really believe him that he was truly alright.

Alan was doing the best he could to be a good friend, though. That was all he could do, at the end of the day. And if being a good friend meant sacrificing some hours of sleep so that they could enjoy your presence longer, he was glad to give it.

But boy, was it starting to wear on him. This week had been especially rough considering that he had a wave of finals and had to practice for seat placement auditions next week. The auditions would dictate where they sat in the orchestra for the entire fall performance season, and he was determined to move up a couple of chairs.

He hated doing this, but he was tempted to cancel the band showing this week. But after talking to Cyrin and extending the showing invite to him, that was no longer an option. And considering Cyrin's position right now, having him be anywhere outside the dirty streets of Boston was more important than getting some rest. Plus, it would be nice for Cyrin to spend time with the band crew. It had been a while.

Plus, since Cyrin knew now, and had given Alan advice... he planned to come out to them. He disliked hiding a part of himself to people he cared about. If that meant navigating an awkward conversation admitting that he was actually gay the whole time, so be it.

Alan rolled through the next few days, spending his little free time thinking about how he'd have this conversation. His blood felt thin with excessive stimulants taken from caffeine and whatever ADHD pills that Alistair managed to buy for him, but it helped him think and focus-- and lose more sleep.

It wasn't just because of the stimulants, though. Alan wasn't exaggerating when he told Cyrin that thoughts of Shane frequently kept him up at night.

Two more days. Tomorrow was the band showing and coming out, and the next day was Shane's surprise date. After that, Alan could rest.

Although, he didn't think he could, nor wanted to. It was hard to rest when the heart was so restless.



They were on set to perform at 9pm on Thursday at The Shooting Star, but they usually came in half an hour early to help set up. And as usual, Alan was on track to come in right at the thirty-minute mark. And also as usual was Cyrin, walking in from the other direction, who was always exactly on time. It seemed that they were strangely synced this way.

"Hey, stranger. Just in time," Alan said with a welcoming smile as they approached the door at the same time. He motioned for Cyrin to enter first.

"Could say the same about you," Cyrin joked, entering and holding the door open for him to follow.

"Why, thank you." Alan entered the dimly lit bar, noticing the others setting up in the corner, as usual. He waited for Cyrin to follow him before getting right to it and saying, "I've decided I'm going to tell them today, by the way. Just a heads up."

Alan knew that Cyrin knew what he was talking about, considering that they had many conversations in person and in text about what coming out to his other friends could look like. So Cyrin just nodded encouragingly and said, "You've got this. I'll be there to help if you need it, but it's your moment-- and I'm sure you won't need me."

"Thanks. I appreciate it," Alan said as they got closer to the group, first catching Rowan's attention who seemed to notice them come in. "Oh. I told them you were coming, by the way."

It didn't take long for the others to react to their entrance.

"Cyrin. Hey. Hi," Rowan said quickly as he quickly sat up from the bench, standing up straighter. "Wow, you made it. Great to see you."

"Hey, Cyrin," Rose said from the stage as she set up the amplifier, not even glancing back at them.

Alan stared at her then Rowan with a raised brow, unwrapping his violin case straps from his shoulders before setting it on the stage. "Hey to you both too," he said with a little laugh.

"Hey, Rowan. Hey, Rose," Cyrin said, offering both of them a wave and a smile. "It's nice to be back."

"Hey, it's our guest of honor!" Lucas exclaimed from the soundbooth, waving wildly while he fixed some controls with his other hand. "And Alan, no less welcome. What's up?"

"Hey, Lucas," Cyrin with a laugh, taking a seat on the stage out of the way. "All's well with me."

"Fabulous, fabulous. Love to hear it." Lucas turned his grin on Alan next. "How's your week been?"

"Restful, as usual," Alan said with a little smile as he hopped up the stage to help set up the keyboard, which was still wrapped up in its cover. "What about you, Lucas? Ready for another crazy weekend at the piano bar? Thanks again for taking my shift tomorrow."

Alan glanced up to see Cyrin and Rowan softly talking to one another. Rowan seemed to be standing straight and stiff, talking wildly with his hands. He didn't hear what he had to say, but if he had to guess, Alan was willing to put his money on Rowan offering Cyrin to take his place in playing the drums today.

"It's been a good week," Lucas said cheerfully, taking a glance at Rowan's conversation as well and laughing softly to himself as he carefully turned a knob on the soundboard. "And no worries at all. I'll just play loud enough for the both of us."

"Mic check, Lucas," Rose cut in, tapping her microphone. "Doesn't seem to work."

Lucas hummed and nodded, moving to another part of the soundboard. "How about now?" he asked after a few moments, looking up.

Instead of tapping the mic, Rose instead spoke in it, loudly announcing across the entire bar, "Rowan, are you playing the drums or not?"

Startled, Rowan whipped his head over to them, surprised at first, but then unamused at his sister's call out. He forced a smile and gestured to Cyrin. "No, Cyrin is. But I can play your bass."

Alan raised a brow, surprised as he glanced his way as he set up the wiring with the keyboard. "Since when have you performed playing bass?"

"I've been practicing," Rowan said instead defensively.

So, this was probably his first performance with bass, then. Alan made a mental note to take it easy on him today. He was sure the others would likely suggest songs with a less prominent bass part, anyways.

"He's got this," Cyrin assured them all, giving Rowan a slight nod of encouragement.

"Fine by me. Let's finish setting up," Rose said, now bending down to help Alan with his wires even though he didn't need it. He knew better than to get in her way, though.

Thanks to Rose always wanting to finish setting up as early as possible, she was able to continually badger both Rowan and Lucas to focus, and they finished everything with ten minutes to spare. Rose and Lucas were finalizing all the amp checks with the instruments, so Alan and Rowan sat back down with Cyrin at the table.

Alan planned on steering the conversation when they were all present, but it seemed that Rowan was too busy gushing about Cyrin anyways.

"I read the book you recommended to me last time we talked-- it was Orlando, right? It was a little hard to digest, but I can see why you like it. It's a classic," he said with a too-forced laugh. "What else would you recommend?"

Cyrin seemed to give that some thought, drumming their fingers on the table. "I get that, Virginia Woolf's style gets rather lengthy. It's a lot of stream of consciousness. Maybe you'd like To the Lighthouse then? It's written pretty similarly, but--"

A long, loud crackle of static came from the stage speakers, cutting off their conversation. As everyone reached to cover their ears, Cyrin flinched violently and closed his eyes, his shoulder bumping into Alan's as he did.

"Sorry, everyone," Lucas apologized brightly, messing furiously with the soundboard settings. "I promise I'm not trying to ruin your hearing."

"Ugh, I hate when he does that. But I also love him for it," Rowan grumbled with a smile before turning his attention back to Cyrin. "Sorry, you were saying..?"

Cyrin took a moment to blink his eyes open, completely blank in the face, and he seemed to pick a spot on the table to stare at. "What?" he asked quietly, like he hadn't heard at all.

The first time this had happened, Alan didn't think much of it. Same with the second time. The third time it happened, he wondered if there was a pattern. And now that it was the fourth time, Alan felt like his friend maybe needed a moment to compose himself.

"Rowan, I really had no idea you've been practicing the bass. What made you want to play?" he asked, diverting the attention away from Cyrin.

"Oh. Really?" Rowan said as he flicked his eyes between the two of them, before ultimately giving Alan his full attention with a bashful smile. "Well, you know Rose casually plays, so I take the bass from her time to time, if she'll let me. And Lucas basically knows every instrument ever, so he's been teaching me. I don't know, I don't think bass and drums are that different... Well, they're two different instruments entirely, obviously, but people don't really pay much attention to them, you know? Something about the spotlight makes it harder to play. I don't know how you all do it, but I guess that's why I'm not a musician."

Alan nodded along, noticing Cyrin from the corner of his eyes. His friend hadn't torn their gaze away from the point they were staring at, and they seemed unnaturally stiff.

"It's not for everyone, but you're still a musician, you know. Don't sell yourself too short. I think it's great you're learning new skills. Now everyone in the band are at least bilingual when it comes to instruments." He paused. "I'd say language as well, but Rose is lacking behind."

Rowan laughed at that, and as if she heard her name, Rose had approached the table just in time, sitting across from Alan and setting her iPad on the table. Lucas trailed behind, sitting very closely next to Rowan.

"What new songs are we playing today? What about the new one you made last week, Lucas? The one about... what was it? The cat?" she said as she furiously scrolled through their endless sheet music.

"It was a joke!" Lucas protested, stifling a laugh as he clearly pretended to look upset. "A funny one, at that."

"I told you she wouldn't get it," Rowan said with a smirk as he playfully elbowed him. Lucas grinned, elbowing him back.

Rose shrugged, not even looking up at them. "Hilarious," she said blankly. "Okay. What about the one about..." She squinted closer at the iPad as she read off the title of the piece. "...the 'Ginger'?" she said tiredly. At that, she finally turned to face them, looking annoyed.

"About my boyfriend?" Lucas asked innocently. "Which song of twenty is that? Okay, but I don't actually remember titling any of his songs that. Maybe he changed it."

Rowan scoffed. "Okay, but that's because she kept yelling at us that we have twenty songs called untitled. Even though it was Untitled 1, Untitled 2, Untitled 3... you know, up to twenty." He paused. "But I think now there are twenty songs called ginger, though."

Rose rolled her eyes. "Alright. No new songs. Got it."

While they bantered, Alan tried to gauge how Cyrin's body language looked. It seemed like he was smiling faintly whenever laughter burst out around the table, but it looked like an automatic reaction to what he was hearing rather than a real one. Alan placed a hand on his knee, hoping to get his attention and meet his eyes so he could read his expression and know that he was trying to say: Are you alright?

Cyrin didn't look over, and the look in his eyes didn't unglaze, but he did give him a weak nod-- whether it was one of acknowledgment, gratitude, or silent response was difficult to tell. Alan pulled his hand away and also found himself unengaged in the conversation. It seemed that Cyrin was overstimulated from the noise for a moment there and was still recovering, and Alan wondered if he needed to give him a better out to recover.

As it got closer to the time that they'd need to start getting on stage, Cyrin seemed to relax a little and looked up again-- but it was after having to take several deep breaths, Alan noticed. Then Rose announced that they should get on the stage since they were on in a few minutes.

"Hey, Rowan. I was actually thinking that you stick to playing the drums for the first half, then Cyrin joins us for the second half. I'm itching to play some of our older songs, which is heavier on the drums. What do you think?" Alan asked.

"Really? You want to play our old songs?" Rowan said with a look of disgust, which Alan didn't blame him for, because he agreed that they really were terrible.

"I'm feeling nostalgic today," he said with a faint laugh.

Rowan looked to Cyrin for confirmation. "Well... I guess that's fine, as long as Cyrin doesn't mind. And the rest of the group."

"Sure. We can play our terrible old songs," Rose said, just before getting up and abandoning the group to get on the stage first.

Cyrin smiled, still looking strained, but the smile wasn't so weak. "That's just fine. I'm happy to be a spectator."

Lucas beamed, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. "Great! Let's go, Alvarose. Let us know how we sound, Cyrin."

Cyrin nodded, seeming to relax a little more. "Will do."

The three of them made it to the stage, and Alan sat on the keyboard bench, knowing that their older pieces meant he was mostly going to play piano and occasionally sing. He would try not to cringe at some of his old lyrics he wrote two to three years ago, but at the time, he just needed some kind of excuse for Cyrin to not be on the stage. It felt right for him to not be up here.

As Lucas warmed up on his guitar and Rose set up her bass, Alan took out his phone to send Cyrin a quick text.

Alan wrote:It's fine if you want to step outside, by the way. We break in an hour.

It was just a reminder. Sometimes, they needed one.

Alan then set his phone on do not disturb and set it on the keyboard before turning it on and finding the right settings he wanted. He flipped through the notes of the iPad that Rose left for him on the stand, deciding on the first song. Just to see if it'd make her squirm-- he knew it wouldn't, though-- he decided to pick the first song that Rose ever composed, which was simply called Summer 2018. And to think that she harped on them on coming up with unoriginal names.

Alan was usually the one to introduce the band to the audience, so just before the lights dimmed some more, he glanced around the audience to see if Cyrin was still sitting. He was still at the same spot, and it was hard to tell, but they seemed more normal now. But Alan wouldn't know unless he talked to them in an hour. Noticing him looking, Cyrin gave him a faint smile and a supportive thumbs up.

"Alright, crew. We're starting with Summer 2018 and then working down the list," Alan said, making eye contact with Rowan, Lucas, and Rose. He got mixed reactions, from a nod to a frown, but at least were informed.

He let out a deep breath before smiling to the audience and leaning closer to the microphone set up in front of him.

"Hi, everyone. Thanks for joining us this lovely Thursday evening..."



The hour felt long, but maybe it was because the old set lacked variety and novelty. It always seemed to be the same chord progressions, drum rhythm, and arpeggios. And the lyrics were way too embarrassing-- at least, that was what each of them thought of their own song. Alan, of course, didn't let it show. None of them did, really. But he knew they were all thinking it. Still, it did strike a nostalgic chord to play older songs. After all, they were playing a similar set to their first band show ever. They had really grown as musicians since then.

At the end of the hour, Alan let out a sigh as everyone else set their instruments down, ready to take a break at their table again. Alan was quick to turn his keyboard off and step off the stage, quickly returning to Cyrin's side at the table.

"How did we do? A little less than terrible, I hope," he said with a smile.

"Not bad at all, actually," Cyrin said, chuckling. "The crowd liked you."

Alan offered an appreciative smile, searching his friend for additional answers. "How are you?" he asked instead.

Cyrin glanced at the other band members, who hadn't yet left the stage and were still standing by their instruments, talking among one another. "I'm fine," he said neutrally, but he added in a lower voice, "Thank you. I wasn't ready to go on just yet."

"I know," Alan said with another smile. "What about now? Do you still want to play?"

Cyrin smiled, almost sadly. "I think I can handle it, yeah. I miss my drumset," they said, with another chuckle and a shake of their head.

"Here's the thing about instruments," Alan began a little more playfully, elbow on the table as he gestured loosely in front of him. "It's an insult to play an instrument out of obligation, feeling like you need to practice, or feeling like you need to play because it's been a while. A true musician doesn't want to play an instrument. They want to be with an instrument." He looked back over to Cyrin with a slight tilt of his head. "So. Do you want to be with the drums?"

Cyrin let out a puff of laughter. "Seriously, yes. I do."

"Alright. Thank goodness, because I wasn't sure what other excuse I could say to keep Rowan up there. I think I'd rather quit before playing another old set again," Alan said with a chuckle and a shake of his head.

Cyrin smirked. "I hear people in the audience talking about song requests, so you're in the clear regardless."

"Song requests, hm?" Alan hummed. "I'll keep that in mind. We don't usually take song requests on stage because, well, that's too much to prepare between all of us... but you do need the money to pay for your rent." He gestured in front of him instead. "You know. The rent you'd owe me, if you actually took my offer of being my roommate."

"God, Alan," Cyrin muttered, hiding his face in his hands, but the amused smile was clear in his voice. "And leave all those rats behind? Sounds heartless of me."

Alan laughed and was ready to say another quip back, but then Lucas and Rose joined them around the table. Rowan was at the bar, getting a beer. Alan had a feeling he was coming back with three: one for him and one for Cyrin, since they were the only other two who drank.

"Is it juice time?" Lucas remarked jokingly, sitting up and craning his head to watch Rowan at the bar. "Fabulous."

Right. Rowan would probably come in with a glass for all of them, with Lucas getting whatever fruity beverage the bar had, and Rose getting water.

"Looks like it." Alan paused. "Cyrin mentioned that he overheard people talking about song requests. What do you think about opening it up for requests the second half of the show? Could be fun."

Lucas tilted his head to the side, causing dark hair to fall in his eyes. "Well, we are some poor, poor college kids. I think it'd be fun too. Rose, what do you say? Fun, yay or nay?"

"Would be a fun challenge," Rose mused as she sifted through the songs in the iPad again, landing on her cello sheet music for the upcoming symphony audition. Knowing her, she was using any spare time she had to study that. "Question is, can Rowan keep up? We'd have to sightread. I know the three of us could do it."

"Hey, I'm sure he can," Lucas said, gentler than usual. "He has been practicing, like he said. I think we should try this."

"Well, is he playing drums or bass?" she asked.

"Cyrin will be joining us, but we can also switch instruments as needed. Rowan can play drums if he'd feel more comfortable doing that. Plus, Cyrin plays a little keyboard. You can keep up with us on the keys, right?" Alan said with a playful nudge with his elbow.

Cyrin laughed, shrugging modestly. "I can, yes. I can also sing, but I don't think you want me in the spotlight."

"Cyrin singing is a good idea. We'll get a bigger tip amount," Rose said.

Alan stifled a laugh. "Only if they want to. I think we can make this work."

"For the right song, I'm happy to," Cyrin said, laughing with a shake of his head. "There's a no filming policy in here, anyway, so I think that leaves me with little to worry about."

Rose looked up from her iPad to study him. "Why wouldn't you want to get filmed, anyways? You're already famous."

"I'm not going to get any more or less famous from tonight, yeah," Cyrin agreed, nodding. "It wouldn't be the first viral video of me or anything. But still, nothing ever really goes away on the Internet, right? And I don't think I owe any stranger this moment. I'm here to have a good time with good people, nothing more."

"Well, you can certainly make us famous. Then we actually make decent tips," Rose said bluntly.

Alan stifled a laugh, shaking his head. "Maybe another night. Let's just enjoy ourselves tonight and not worry about fame."

"Right," Lucas agreed. "I'll be happy with whatever tips do or don't come our way, as long as we're all having a good time."

Perfectly timed, Rowan came shuffling over balancing five glasses between both hands, doing his best to focus and concentrate while moving slowly so none of it spilled. He carefully placed them all on the table.

"Juice time!" Lucas said eagerly, reaching for his glass. "You're the best, Rowan." He held it up to the light. "Pineapple juice? Aww, you're going fancy tonight."

"I had to work what what they've got, and what they've got is a lot of piña coladas," Rowan said with a silly smile as he slid the water towards Rose, then the beers to Alan and Cyrin before finally taking a seat. He took a sip of his beer, then pulled his lips back in dissatisfaction. "Hmph. The IPA isn't hoppy enough. That sucks."

"Sorry, babe," Lucas said sympathetically, placing a quick kiss on his cheek. "I'll pretend I know what that meant."

Cyrin took a sip of their own beer, shrugging after they swallowed. "I'm not a beer person, and definitely not a beer expert, but I see what you mean."

Alan nodded after taking a sip as well. "Ditto that. It's good, though. Thanks."

Rowan seemed pleased. "Well, you know I'll keep trying to get you to be a beer person. Maybe someday."

They bantered for the next ten minutes, and Alan participated as usual, but he was also waiting for an in to bring up the subject he actually wanted to talk about. He didn't want to make it feel random, so he preferred a more seamless transition, or at least a comfortable silence, but both options were looking slim as they bounced between different topics. Lucas mostly initiated conversations since he was the most bubbly, but the more Rowan drank, the more talkative he became.

"Got any special plans tomorrow, Alan?" Rowan asked out of the blue after taking another big drink of his beer. "It better be special. Lucas and I had plans that day."

Lucas huffed with laughter. "No, we didn't. We were going to snuggle and watch Netflix."

Rowan smirked, holding up his cup with a shrug. "See? Plans, cancelled."

Amused, Alan also picked up his cup, watching the foam bubble. "I think it's pretty special. I'm going on a date."

Rowan whistled lowly. "Oooh, a date, hm? Who's it with this time? You said you'd turn to musicians next, right?" He smirked over at Lucas. "Can confirm, they're pretty great."

Lucas grinned, almost shyly. "Can also confirm, but we'll be happy for you even if you aren't dating a musician, Alan."

"Not a musician," Alan confirmed with a smile, then paused thoughtfully, briefly tilting his head up before turning his attention back to them. "He does greatly appreciate music, though-- so that's a plus."

Rowan nodded in agreement. "Yeah, yeah," he murmured, but then did a double-take, focusing more on Alan. "Wait, did you say he?"

Next to Alan, Cyrin grinned silently.

"So about that..." Alan began casually, knowing there wasn't really any way to say this more gently to them, so he decided being direct would be best. "I think I'm gay."

That seemed to grab everyone's attention, even Rose, who had been previously unengaged in the conversation, studying her music. The three of them stared at him, mostly in disbelief.

"What, seriously?" Rowan said with a shocked laugh. "No way. Are you fucking with me?"

"Nope," Alan said.

"Holy shit. How'd I not see this coming?" He picked up his glass like he was about to drink it, but then waved it in front of him instead, spilling some beer on the table. "Man, I lived with you, too! And I thought you were the straightest dude ever."

Alan mulled this over, pursing his lips in agreement. "Hm, you know, that's fair. That's valid."

"I, for one, welcome this news greatly," Lucas said, grinning brightly and wildly as he raised his glass of pineapple juice as if to make a toast. "Finally, we can now be the gayest band in Boston. Thank you, Alan."

"Yeah, you can leave me out of that title," Rose said with a shake of her head, returning her attention back to her music. She didn't comment on Alan's revelation, but he knew her silence meant she didn't have anything to say.

"Well, we're getting gayer, at least. Man, I need to get my gaydar checked." Lucas smiled, sipping from his drink. "Alan, can I ask how long you've known?"

"Not long, actually. It's kind of a new development, but I didn't want to keep it a secret from you all, so I wanted you to know," Alan said with a little smile.

"Damn... damn, that's crazy," Rowan said with idle nods before snapping out of his daze. "Well, thanks for telling us. And congrats for figuring it out. Agreed that I also have to get my gaydar checked, though."

"Yes, thank you for sharing," Lucas said, both eagerly and genuinely. "We're all glad for you."

In the corner of Alan's eye, Cyrin offered him a slight smile, as if to say See? I knew you could do it.

"Thank you. I appreciate you guys," Alan said sincerely.

Although Alan didn't think it would be a difficult conversation to have with them, he didn't think it would be this easy. Then again, he knew it would go well since Lucas and Rowan were also gay, and Rose frankly didn't care about any relationship or its details. They would be the easiest to tell, besides Cyrin, of course.

He'd still have to tell Alistair, which he would-- eventually. And of course, he'd want to tell his other smaller groups of friends, because he'd hate to feel like he'd have to filter words whenever they inevitably asked about how or who he spent his week with.

That was a thought for another time, though. Right now, Alan was grateful for his friends, their acceptance, and their eagerness to play music together.

They were called back on the stage, and Rowan chugged the rest of their beers before jumping up, ready to go. Everyone went back on stage, including Cyrin, who really did look like he wanted to play-- and be-- with the drums. Rose offered to sing more since Rowan took her bass, and she grumbled about wishing she brought her cello since she wasn't holding an instrument. Alan felt a little bad for her since he could play keyboard ot violin, but he quickly got over it as he went through the possible songs they could play, feeling refreshed by the newer song choices.

The lights dimmed, and he took a deep breath before smiling at the audience again, speaking in the mic.

"Thanks for waiting, folks-- we're back to play for another hour, hopefully for your enjoyment. We'll be playing our newer songs now, so you may see us shuffling around a bit." Alan then gestured to Rose. "We have Rose Clifford, who will be our lead vocalist today." He waited for the audience applause to die down before continuing on, and Rose, expectedly, was unreactive. "Then we have Lucas Costello, switching between guitar and keyboard." The audience clapped again, and Lucas waved to the crowd. "Over here is Rowan Clifford, on bass." Rowan pulled his lips back and nodded to the crowd as they clapped. "There's me, my name's Alan Alvaro-- and I'll be switching between keyboard and violin." He waited again before turning his attention to Cyrin, his smile widening. "Then we have Cyrin Bridger, who will be playing drums."

That seemed to gather more of the audience's attention, with louder whispers scattered throughout the rooms, which prompted Alan to wave the tip jar in front of him.

"Got a song request? We can probably play it. We're poor college students looking for a challenge. And we'll all play. Once in a lifetime experience, folks. So come on up, feel free to drop some bills in here, and-- ooookay, here we go, that was fast," Alan said with a muffled chuckle as an excited teenage girl came up with a bill.

A fifty dollar bill.

Alan stared at it, surprised that that worked so fast and so well, but he quickly snapped out of it as he graciously took the bill and leaned away from the microphone to closely talk to her.

"That's so generous, thank you. What song do you want us to play?" he asked.

The girl stood up in her tip-toes and whispered in his ear, "Can you play Toxic by Britney Spears?"

Alan almost wanted to laugh. He debated in his head if this was even worth fifty dollars, but he could feel his other bandmates waiting for an answer.

"One moment," he said with a smile, getting up and turning towards the others for a quick huddle, knowing they had maybe half a minute to discuss before the audience would start getting bored. He held up the fifty for all of them to see. "Toxic by Brittney Spears," he said simply.

Rose scoffed. "I'm not singing that."

"I can!" Lucas said eagerly. "I don't mind. I think it would be fun, actually."

"Rowan?" Alan asked for confirmation.

Rowan seemed hesitant. "Maybe... if the bass part is simple?"

Alan nodded before looking at Cyrin. "Cyrin? You in?"

Cyrin flipped a drumstick in one hand, nodding thoughtfully while visibly close to laughter. "I'm in, yeah."

Alan ran his hand through his hair, quickly thinking this through. "Alright. Well, that song has a violin part. I guess I could play that, although it's--" He shook his head. "Doesn't matter." He turned back to Rose. "Rose. Think you can--"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm finding the sheet music," she said, already searching for it in the iPad. "I could maybe play guitar, if Lucas is singing. He can also play keyboard, though. Let me see what I can find."

Lucas winked, moving over to the keyboard. "I got you."

It didn't take long for them to find something they could sight read, well, in a minute, really. Alan only had a minute to memorize a few measures, and it annoyed him that he was only playing a few measures repeatedly for the whole song, but he wasn't going to complain if it meant they'd get money for it. Lucas, who already knew the lyrics to the song and piano piece, was easy to work with. Cyrin was free to improvise with the drums, and Rose found the appropriate chords for her and Rowan to improvise as well. Alan quickly turned back to give the teenager a thumbs up, hurrying to pick his violin up. He nodded at Lucas as confirmation that he was good to give an intro before diving into the song.

"Alright, everyone. I'm going to make Britney proud, hopefully, and hopefully you'll keep the song requests coming," Lucas said, tossing his hair back and stretching out his hands before setting them on the keys. "Here goes nothing."

Lucas gave Alan a look to start. The song started with the violin part, so he would be initiating the song, but this did feel ridiculous. Alan almost wanted to laugh, but decided to just push through it, setting his bow on the string and then playing the iconic melody.



Baby, can't you see I'm calling?
A guy like you should wear a warning
It's dangerous, I'm falling

Outside of the main violin melody, Alan stuck to playing long notes within the right chords. He still watched and listened to Lucas sing with intrigue, though. He was used to him singing and improvising a lot on the piano, but with the whole group, it felt a little strange, but not in a bad way.

Then again, maybe it was because he was singing a song that did feel like it was making Alvarose closer to being the gayest band in Boston.

It seemed that the crowd was getting riled up, cheering Lucas on. Rowan seemed a little nervous, but Rose for once seemed to give him support along the way. They weren't exactly playing the expected guitar notes, but it didn't matter since Lucas had that covered on keyboard. Cyrin, meanwhile, was happily jamming away on the drums.

With a taste of your lips, I'm on a ride
You're toxic, I'm slippin' under
With a taste of a poison paradise
I'm addicted to you
Don't you know that you're toxic?

Alan was getting tired of playing the same melody over and over, but after a few times of playing it, he got the hang of it-- although he did rely on Lucas to give him cues sometimes since he admittedly didn't know this song too well to know when he should be coming in, nor had much time to prepare. Lucas, thankfully, seemed to understand-- and Alan was grateful that they had months of silent communication practice to be able to pick up on this.

Lucas was getting really into the song, and it only seemed to rile the crowd up more, especially when Cyrin came in with a drum solo. Alan continued to play watching for cues, and he sensed that the song was coming to an end with Lucas gave him a nod, as well as quick glances to the rest of the band. The song ended with Alan playing the last few violin notes, and then the audience went wild.

It was silly, and admittedly not something Alan was especially proud of for their band, but Lucas was right. It was fun.



The next hour and a half went by surprisingly quick since they had a fair amount of song requests while also filling in their time with newer songs. By the end, they made a decent amount of tips, and they split it among everyone equally. Typically after tearing down, the group stayed behind to chat and drink some more, but Alan had been bailing more and more often because he found himself running out of steam more often. Today was one of those nights, but he was happy to help with tear down.

He also had another idea in mind, though.

"Hey, Rowan. Do you mind helping me with this?" Alan asked as he gestured Rowan to follow him towards the back of the stage.

Rowan seemed to be surprised and confused that he was asking for the help, but he shrugged and hopped off the stage with him. "Yeah, sure," he murmured as he followed Alan to the back of the room where they were hidden from the others so they couldn't see or hear them.

Alan didn't mention Shane yet to the group because, well, he didn't want to namedrop him too early in case they didn't work out. However, it did eat him up a little that he was keeping this information from Rowan.

One, because Rowan and Shane did date, even though Shane said they were mostly platonic. But two, because Alan did find it a little uncomfortable, and he was sure Rowan did too, but he didn't want this information to affect his potential relationship with Shane or Rowan. It was a fragile situation, and one that had to be dealt with delicately. A conversation was always a good way to navigate uncertainties and be on the same page.

"What's up? What do you need help with?" Rowan asked, confused.

Alan took a deep breath, deciding to lay it all out. "Sorry, I actually pulled you aside because I wanted to talk to you about something." He paused. "Remember freshman year when you told me about your past dates? Before you were dating Lucas?"

"...Yeah?" Rowan said, more confused but curious now.

Alan really didn't know how else to bring this up, so he decided to just rip out the bandaid.

"Shane was one of them, wasn't he? Shane Hawking," he said.

Rowan hesitated, still not understanding where he was going with this. "Yeah?" he said suspiciously. "He was. What's this about?"

"He's the one I'm going on a date with tomorrow," Alan finally admitted, gauging Rowan's expression before continuing. He seemed to be slowly processing. "I know that you have some history together, but I also value our friendship. We're still getting to know one another, and nothing is official, but-- I wanted to let you know."

"Oh..." Rowan shifted his weight from one foot to the next, obviously getting uncomfortable. He let out a weak laugh, scratching the back of his neck. "That's... hm. This is really strange. I mean, I don't find it bad... but I do find it..." He pulled his lips back, squinting his eyes as he said in a higher pitched voice, "...weird?"

"I know, I know," Alan assured. "I... yeah, this is kind of weird."

"Especially because, you know--" he gestured to Alan, "--I'd never thought you'd be into guys. This makes it feel extra weird."

Alan let out a weak, strained laugh, but it felt forced. "I know. It's strange, but I hope none of this is uncomfortable."

"I don't think so... no." Still, Rowan seemed more uncomfortable than he let on, and he knew Alan could read that from him. "It'll just take some getting used to, that's all. I give you my blessing, if that's what you're after. But, yeah... I think it will get some getting used to."

Alan wasn't exactly telling him all this to get his blessing, but he nodded along, appreciating his words. "Thanks, Rowan." He paused, but Rowan swept in to continue before he could get another words in.

"You know nothing really happened between us. Really, we hardly dated. We sat next to each other in class and became study partners, and then he asked me out, which surprised me a little-- because, you know, he's not really..." Rowan faltered, like he was rethinking telling him this, but then kept going anyways. "Anyways, we did go on dates, but we weren't official or anything like that, and there were so few of them. We weren't really compatible, so we decided to see other people. And I met Lucas not long after anyways, so it worked out. We were still friendly towards one another, but it did get kind of awkward afterwards, especially when I started dating Lucas, so we didn't really keep in touch. I haven't really talked to him since then."

Alan waited for him to finish, even though, well, he didn't really ask for any of this information. A part of him wondered if he even wanted to know any of it, but it didn't matter now, since Rowan suddenly dumped their history together on him.

Alan slowly nodded. "Alright. Well... that's good to know," he said, really trying to not make this feel any more weird than it really was, but sometimes that was hard with Rowan.

"So like I said, totally fine with me. Not weird at all," Rowan went on.

Alan hesitated. "Are you... sure?"

"Yeah, yeah. Positive," Rowan said too eagerly.

Alan didn't really believe him, but again, he wasn't asking for his permission. As long as Rowan knew, that was enough. Well, that and--

"You're a close friend to me, Rowan, so I really do value what you have to say. I know if the roles were reversed, I'd have my own reservations, so I don't blame you if you have conflicting thoughts. Your friendship means a lot to me, and I'd hate for anyone to get in the way of it," Alan said.

"Yeah, no, I really appreciate it, Alan. You're checking to make sure we're cool. And being thorough... as usual." Rowan offered a smile, more genuine now. "We're good. Thanks for the heads up. I hope it works out for you guys."

"Thanks, Rowan." Alan mirrored his smile, then paused. "I haven't told the others yet, mostly because I'm waiting until things are more official, assuming everything works out. Can you keep it quiet until this?"

Rowan nodded eagerly. "Yeah, yeah, of course. I won't tell anyone."

"Thanks, Rowan. You're a good friend," Alan said with relief, then sighed as he looked back towards the stage. "Well, that's all I had to share. Let's head back to tear down."



It was a long trek home, especially considering he had missed the last bus out that night, but Alan was glad to have finally made it. At...

Alan checked his watch as he marched up the stairs to his apartment. 1:18am.

Sighing, he fumbled with his keys before opening the door, finally stepping in to the familiar dark room of home. In a daze, Alan kicked off his shoes and left his violin on the couch, far too tired to do anything else but go straight to bed. But he thought better of it, instead opting to take a quick warm shower to wash off the grime from the day.

Alan must have been too absorbed in his own thoughts and showered longer than anticipated, because after he finished and finished his routine of getting ready for bed, it was nearing 2am.

Maybe a shower wasn't a good idea after all. He usually took morning showers to help him wake up, and it seemed that his body took this as a sign that he needed to stay awake. Or maybe it was the stimulants still running through his system. Or maybe it was because he had an overactive imagination.

Whatever it was, Alan kept tossing and turning, unable to sleep. He usually was able to doze right off, especially since he was perpetually running low on sleep, but something about the last few nights really made it difficult than normal.

Could be the stress. Or the stimulants. God, he really owed those pills for getting the focus he needed to push himself further, but they often kept him up for days.

Even then, though... this felt different.

Alan wasn't just unable to sleep. He was restless.

Feeling almost manic, Alan pulled his covered aside in a frenzy and quickly but quietly made his way out of the room, being careful to not wake Alistair up as he passed his bed. An intense bout of inspiration had taken a hold of his heart, and Alan was quick to act, not wanting the muse to go to waste.

It felt almost like he had been possessed as he fumbled to his keyboard and plugged in his wired earbuds into it so that he wouldn't wake his brother up. And without losing focus or even bothering to get a pencil and paper out to document his playing, Alan played away on the keyboard, not stopping until he lost steam.

Tonight, he'd let his soul do the playing. And it was saying to play his heart out and spill his desires. The whole time he played, he kept repeating the same thoughts again and again, like a predictable dull broken record.

It all went back to Shane, didn't it?

He couldn't stop hearing Cyrin telling him again and again that he had a big crush. And at the same time, he couldn't stop picturing Shane with his lingering smile and gazes, seeing it in his eyes that he meant every word when he said he wanted all of him too. Yet, between these two thoughts, sat the loudest noise of all: Alan's own inner doubts and insecurities, which was often locked away, only coming out during frenzied moments of inspiration like tonight, when he was truly alone with music.

Alan knew that loving so deeply and strongly was a blessing, but sometimes, it felt like a curse. He had to keep holding himself from a distance, forcing himself to be overly cautious so he could protect his already wounded heart. He refused to be the hopeless romantic, doomed to forever believe and chase after unrequited loves. Yet he felt himself throwing himself in old habits again, despite telling himself over and over that this was different.

Because this was different. Right? His attraction had always been towards the wrong people, and right now, he was unexplainably and violently drawn to Shane, more than he ever had to anyone before.

But then again, he always said that with each new person, didn't he?

He wished he knew the answers. He wished his heart knew what it wanted. And most of all, he wished he could truly be himself, spilling his thoughts and feelings without fear of rejection.

Take it slow. They had to take it slow. He had to take it slow.

Maybe that was what his past relationships lacked. He was eager to follow the speed his heart wanted, and he was slow to match the speed his love wanted. This year he had told himself that it would be different, but he hadn't anticipated to feel this way about him so strongly and so fast.

Alan felt his hand cramping up, and he had to stop to take a break. But the few seconds he had stopped was just enough for his well of inspiration to dry up, and he didn't find it in him to continue playing anymore.

But he was still feeling restless. Tired, but restless.

God, maybe he was an insomniac after all.

With a sigh, he removed the earbuds and then turned off the keyboard. For a moment, he sat still, wondering if the exhaustion would suddenly hit him. Instead, he found himself quickly getting up from the bench, wandering over to the balcony. He quietly opened the door and stepped outside, leaning his elbows against the railing and peering up at the night sky.

The city light shielded the night sky, filtering many of the stars from shining through. Alan couldn't help but compare the sky from two weeks ago when he took Shane to the countryside, away from anyone and anything, just so they could watch the stars together.

Alan didn't know how long he stared up at the sky, but eventually, a nagging thought wormed his way into his head, and he couldn't quiet this thought until he relented and reached for his phone.

3:09am. It was so late.

But that didn't stop him from wanting to send a text to Shane. Maybe if he hinted more of what was going through his mind, his heart could finally rest.

Focused, Alan composed a new message for Shane.

Alan wrote:I was looking at the night sky and thought of you, and now I am kept awake thinking about you. I didn't take you as a thief, but here you are, stealing all these hours of sleep from me.

I can't wait to see what you have in store tomorrow, but most of all, I can't wait to see you again.

I hope you're sleeping well. You better be, considering you may have taken my dreams for the night. If that's the case, then I hope you're enjoying the dreams I'd have had about you.

Alan has been leaning against the railing, naively hoping that perhaps Shane was up too, and he'd be able to reply. A part of him hoped he could reply now so that he could sweep him off his feet now while they were up thinking about each other, but the more logical part of him hoped he'd read this and reply in the morning. That way, Alan could also reply back to whatever he said with more patience, caution, and wit.

He stared at the screen for the next minute or two, feeling the tiredness and exhaustion taking a toll on him with each passing second. With a sigh, Alan looked at his calendar to mentally prepare for this day tomorrow. He had class at 9am and his lesson shortly after, then rehearsal, then more practice. He was going to get up earlier to practice since he wouldn't have time for the rest of the day, but now, he wasn't sure.

Silently, Alan returned back to the apartment, stepping back through his room and into his bed.

Tomorrow was his next date with Shane, after all.

Maybe tonight he'd finally sleep in.