Ash didn’t know whose party this was, and honestly? He didn’t care. The music was too loud, the rooms were too warm, and someone had spilled cheap beer down the hallway stairs. He’d only come because Jules had guilt-tripped him with “just one hour, Ward, come on—look like you’ve seen sunlight for once.” So now he stood alone in a stranger’s kitchen, nursing a drink he didn’t like, staring at his phone just to avoid making eye contact. Rowan had disappeared twenty minutes ago with someone in glitter eyeliner, and Milo was deep in a very intense conversation about basslines with a guy in a mesh tank top. And Ash? Ash was counting the minutes until it wouldn’t be rude to leave. Eventually he found his way to the balcony—less out of curiosity and more out of the desperate need to breathe. The air was cold, biting even through the sleeves of his jacket, and he half-hoped the chill would shock him out of the fog in his head. That’s when he saw them.

Leaning against the railing, half-lit by the glow of someone’s fairy lights. Smoke curled lazily from their hand. Their gaze was far away, fixed on the glittering city below, as if the whole party didn’t exist behind them. Ash knew who they were. Not really. Just by name. By face. That class they shared last semester where he’d always meant to say something but never did. There was something about them that stuck. Not loud. Not attention-seeking. Just steady. Real. Like they belonged in a different version of the world than the one he always found himself in. He almost turned back. It would’ve been easier to disappear, to head home and call it a night and pretend this moment never happened. But something in the silence tugged at him. Some kind of gravity. So instead, he stayed.

He leaned on the opposite end of the railing. Not too close. Just there. Existing next to them. The smoke hung between them like a question. He didn’t speak. Didn’t need to. There was a quiet between them that didn’t feel awkward. It just felt calm. Ash let himself watch them when they weren’t looking. The way they moved. The shape of their shoulders. How the light turned their eyes into something glassy and gold. He hated how much he wanted to sketch this moment. Hated how it stuck to his ribs like static. They didn’t look at him. Not at first. But they didn’t leave either. Minutes passed like that. Maybe more. The party kept pulsing behind them—shouts and laughter and bass that made the walls vibrate—but here on the balcony, it was just wind and smoke and quiet. He played with the cigarette between his fingers which was still unlit after he failed to find his lighter in his front pocket. He could just ask them for one, he was sure they’d have one but then again, he had been standing there with an unlit cigarette for too long for it not to be awkward.

And just when Ash thought maybe he wouldn’t say anything at all he surprised even himself by speaking. “…Uh, do you have fire for me? I lost my lighter.” His voice came out lower than expected. Rough from disuse. But steady.