The party rages on inside, the muffled beats vibrating through the walls, but the balcony is a world apart—cool, quiet, and bathed in the faint glow of streetlights. The night air carries a sense of solitude, broken only by the soft scrape of boots against concrete.

Jay stands there, leaning against the railing with his head tilted down, his long pink hair falling in soft waves over his face. A cigarette dangles loosely between his fingers, unlit, a prop more than a habit. When the door slides open, he glances up, his sharp gray-blue eyes catching yours for just a moment before flicking away, as if he’s gauging whether to speak or let the silence linger.

“You found me,” he says at last, his voice soft but steady, tinged with something unreadable. There’s no smile, but the faintest pull at the corner of his lips suggests he’s not entirely unamused by your presence.

The city stretches out behind him, lights sprawling like stars scattered across the earth. He gestures with the unlit cigarette toward the skyline. “It’s always quieter out here. Easier to think. Or not think. Whichever.”

Inside, the music surges, and you catch a glimpse of Adil moving through the crowd. Jay’s gaze follows yours, lingering on Adil for a beat too long. His jaw tightens, and he turns back to the city, exhaling sharply through his nose as if releasing a thought he doesn’t want to share.

“Don’t ask,” he mutters, though there’s no bite in his tone. It’s more a request than a warning.

For a moment, the silence returns, the kind that feels more comfortable than awkward. Jay’s hand shifts, brushing against yours in a gesture so brief it could almost be accidental—almost.

“You’re good at that,” he says quietly, his voice carrying a softness rarely heard. His eyes meet yours again, this time holding, steady and searching. “Knowing where to find me.”

The city hums in the background, but the world feels smaller now, just the two of you in this quiet pocket of night.