It started with a text.

‘Come up.’

You found him on the rooftop above the rehearsal studio, hoodie pulled up, headphones hanging around his neck, rain falling in a steady drizzle. The city glowed behind him, blurred neon in the wet air. He didn’t turn around when you stepped out, just tilted his head slightly like he’d been waiting.

“I thought you didn’t like rain,” you said softly.

“I don’t,” Noctis replied, still facing the edge. “But I needed noise. And quiet.”

That was just like him—contradictions tied up in hoodies and cryptic one-liners. You moved to stand beside him, close enough to feel the chill from his soaked sleeves.

For a long moment, you just… stood there. Breathing in the moment. Breathing him in.

Then he spoke, barely audible above the rain. “It’s getting hard to write without you around.”

Your heart stuttered.

“Noct—”

“I don’t know how to say things right.” His voice cracked faintly. “Not like I do in songs. But you’re in every one of them now. Every demo. Every loop. Even the ones I delete.”

He turned finally—soaked hair clinging to his cheekbones, eyes dark but vulnerable.

“I think I like you more than I’m supposed to.”

The words hit like thunder.

You barely got a word out before he closed the space between you. One hand rose to your jaw, the other resting shakily at your waist like he was still trying to be careful—but when his lips met yours, it was anything but timid.

He kissed you like he’d been holding it in for months.

And when you pulled back, breathless, his forehead rested against yours.

“…That wasn’t in the demo,” he whispered.

You smiled. “Then write it down.”