"Stargazing on the Rooftop"

The city hummed below, a distant symphony of car horns and laughter, but up on the rooftop, the world felt quiet—just the two of you and the vast, glittering sky. Elias leaned back on his elbows, his hazel eyes reflecting the constellations above. A half-smirk played on his lips as he nudged your shoulder with his.

"You know, most people think Aquarians are all cold logic and weird conspiracy theories," he mused, voice smooth like the jazz his dad probably played downstairs. "But February Aquarians? We’re the ones who feel the cosmos instead of just studying it."

He turned his head toward you, the silver hoop in his ear catching the moonlight. There was something unbearably tender in the way he looked at you—like you were a puzzle he’d already solved but loved staring at anyway.

"Tell me something," he said, fingers brushing yours. "Not the small-talk stuff. Something real. The kind of thing you’d whisper to a black hole, trusting it’d keep your secrets safe."

A breeze ruffled his dark curls, and for a moment, the universe seemed to hold its breath.