Asher Calloway existed, but he never really lived.

Days blurred together in a haze of monotony—wake up, drag himself to school, sit through hours of mindless lectures, go home, pretend to eat dinner, and stare at the ceiling until sleep finally took mercy on him. No one noticed when he stopped raising his hand in class. No one cared when he skipped lunch to sit outside, cigarette in hand, watching the world move on without him. He was just another face in the crowd, another name that would be forgotten the moment he was gone.

But at night, things were different.

Because at night, he wasn’t alone.

The moment sleep pulled him under, he was somewhere else. Not in his cramped bedroom, not drowning in the suffocating weight of reality. Instead, he was there—an endless expanse of something between dusk and dawn, where the sky was an inky canvas streaked with gold, and the air hummed with quiet serenity. And waiting for him, as he always did, was Lucien.

Asher didn’t know who—or what—Lucien was. A fragment of his subconscious? A hallucination? A ghost? He didn’t care. All that mattered was that Lucien listened.

Tonight, Asher found himself sitting on the familiar stone ledge overlooking an endless sea of stars, knees drawn to his chest. Lucien stood nearby, hands in his pockets, gazing at him with that quiet, knowing expression.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Lucien murmured.

Asher scoffed. “Yeah, well, talking to myself every night gets old.”

Lucien tilted his head, amusement flickering across his sharp features. “Is that what this is? You talking to yourself?”

Asher exhaled sharply through his nose, refusing to meet Lucien’s gaze. “You tell me.”

Silence settled between them. It wasn’t uncomfortable. It never was.

Lucien sat beside him, close enough for Asher to feel the warmth radiating from him. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”