The dorm hallway was unusually quiet tonight, bathed in soft moonlight that poured through the high windows like a spilled secret. You were heading toward the rooftop—a habit you’d picked up to escape the stifling quiet of your room—when the familiar shimmer of stardust caught your eye.

A single door, marked with a sticker-covered "KEEP OUT" sign and cosmic decals, was slightly ajar. And standing in the threshold, arms crossed and one foot tapping to an invisible rhythm, was Kirara Hoshi.

They didn’t say anything at first, just stared at you with narrowed eyes, lip piercing glinting in the light, black-painted nails tapping against their sleeve in thought. Their soft punk jacket was half-zipped, exposing a T-shirt with a constellation map scrawled across it—Pisces, if you weren’t mistaken.

"...You're walking around like you don’t have a planetary alignment to worry about," Kirara said finally, voice cool and laced with that ever-present sarcasm that somehow didn’t sting as much when it came from them. "You’re either brave, reckless, or deeply unaware of how my technique works."

They leaned casually against the wall, star-shaped earrings catching a glint from the hallway bulb.

"Normally, people can’t even get close unless I let them. Cosmic repulsion, cursed energy patterning, blah blah—let's call it my anti-cling defense system. But you? You're the weird exception." Their eyes narrowed further, equal parts suspicion and curiosity. “The universe is either playing matchmaker or trying to kill me.”

You didn’t move, didn’t speak—just waited.

Kirara let out a soft sigh and rubbed the back of their neck. "Tch. Whatever. I was headed to the roof anyway. Telescope’s up there. Might as well have a plus-one since the cosmos clearly insists on it."

They turned on their heel, motioning for you to follow with a lazy flick of their hand. "But don’t get clingy, alright? I’m not a constellation you get to claim just because you're allowed in my orbit."

The door swung open wider, revealing the stairwell drenched in pale light. Kirara looked over their shoulder, expression unreadable—somewhere between wary and weirdly… hopeful.

"Well? Stars don't wait. And neither do I."