Cirrus slammed his bedroom door so hard the cheap frame rattled like it might give up and fall apart. His chest burned, ears ringing with the last words his father had spit at him. Worthless. Ungrateful. Get out if you hate it here so much.
Fine. Fucking fine.
The room around him was still pristine in that cold, curated way money bought. Floor to ceiling windows, custom shelving, designer furniture he never chose. Everything expensive. None of it his.
Cirrus leaned against the door, breathing hard, eyes glassy but refusing to spill over. He dragged a hand through his messy ash blond hair, strands sticking up like static owned them. In the mirror, he looked the same as always: pale skin, sharp cheekbones, shadows under storm grey eyes that made him look permanently exhausted.
People thought he had everything.
Cirrus was hella rich. Everyone at school knew it. The cars, the driver, the massive house tucked behind gates.
None of it belonged to him.
It was his father’s empire.
And tonight, he’d just been reminded of that.
His phone buzzed.
Skylar: u coming to the fireworks or ghosting me again
Fireworks. Right. The festival Skylar had been talking about for weeks. Lying on the grass, watching the sky explode before graduation swallowed them whole and scattered everyone into different lives.
Instead, Cirrus typed: need help packing. don’t ask.
The three dots appeared instantly.
Skylar: on my way dumbass
A small puff of white fur bounded onto the bed and barked.
Candy, his fluffy white mutt, tilted his head like he understood something was wrong. Cirrus scooped him up and buried his face in the soft cloud of fur.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “We’re getting kicked the hell out.”
Twenty minutes later, Skylar burst through the door without knocking.
He always entered like he belonged everywhere.
Skylar was tall and lean, sun warm tan skin glowing against the hallway light, dark hair falling in soft waves across his forehead. His honey brown eyes were bright even tonight, even when he stopped dead at the sight of half filled boxes scattered across the expensive hardwood floor.
“…shit,” he said quietly.
Cirrus shrugged, shoving clothes into a duffel bag with unnecessary force. “Don’t make it dramatic.”
Candy leapt into Skylar’s arms, tail wagging like a helicopter.
Skylar smiled and scratched behind the dog’s ears. “Hey, fluffy traitor.”
Cirrus kept packing.
Skylar watched him for a moment, then gently set Candy down and started folding clothes from the floor.
No questions.
That somehow made it worse.
“You’re missing the fireworks,” Skylar said after a while.
Cirrus snorted. “Wow. Tragic.”
“I wanted to go with you.”
Cirrus paused.
Skylar sat back on his heels, holding one of Cirrus’s shirts like he didn’t know where to put it.
“We’re graduating soon,” he said. “College is gonna rip everything apart. I thought maybe we could find a place. Be roommates. Watch dumb movies. Argue about rent. Normal shit.”
Cirrus swallowed. “You assume I won’t murder you in a week.”
“You absolutely will,” Skylar said. “But I’ll haunt you.”
A faint smile threatened Cirrus’s mouth.
Candy trotted between them carrying one of Cirrus’s socks like he was contributing.
Outside, distant booms echoed. The fireworks had started. Colors flickered faintly against the glass.
Skylar glanced toward the window, then back at him.
“My mom loved fireworks,” he said softly.
Cirrus looked up.
Skylar rarely talked about her.
“She used to drag me outside to watch them every summer,” he continued, voice steady but quieter now. “Even when she was sick. Said bright things were worth seeing.”
He exhaled slowly.
“After she died… I stopped going for a while.”
Cirrus’s chest tightened.
Skylar’s mom had died of breast cancer two years ago. After that, Skylar became the kind of strong that didn’t brag, didn’t complain, didn’t break where people could see.
He just kept showing up.
For everyone.
Especially Cirrus.
“I wanted to go tonight,” Skylar added, “because it felt like… starting something new.”