The Castle was quiet at this hour, the kind of stillness that only came when the others were asleep and the hum of the engines felt like the only sound in the universe.

You sat curled up in the corner of the observation deck, knees tucked to your chest, staring out at the endless black. Stars drifted by like flecks of silver dust, scattered across an infinite expanse.

You didn’t even hear the doors open.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Keith’s voice was soft, carrying that low rasp it always had when he’d been quiet for too long.

You didn’t turn right away. “Didn’t want to.”

A moment later, he was standing beside you, hands in his pockets as he gazed out at the stars. He didn’t say anything at first, and you didn’t either. You’d learned that silence wasn’t awkward with Keith — it just… was.

Finally, he lowered himself to sit beside you. Close enough that you could feel the heat of him, but not quite touching. “I checked your room. Thought maybe you were in the training deck again.”

“Not tonight.” You hugged your knees tighter. “Just wanted to be somewhere… quiet.”

He nodded, like he understood without needing the details. A long pause passed before he spoke again. “I used to do this all the time. On missions. Just… watch the stars until I forgot where I was.”

You glanced at him. The starlight caught the sharp lines of his face, softened by the glass between you and the void.

“And did it work?” you asked.

“Sometimes,” he said, his eyes still fixed on the view. “But it’s different now.”

“How?”

Finally, he looked at you. “Now I’m not just looking at the stars. I’m looking at them with you.”