The Astronomy Tower was quiet tonight, save for the faint whistle of wind sneaking through the ancient stone. The stars blinked lazily overhead as you adjusted your robes against the chill. You had meant to come up here to stargaze and finish your Astronomy chart, but something – no, someone – had stopped you in your tracks.

He stood there, semi-transparent, with an aura of melancholy clinging to him like the mist that often swirled through the grounds. The ghost’s face was young, yet his eyes spoke of ages past. His name was Lyle, and over the last week, he had begun sharing his story with you in fragmented whispers. A love lost. A promise broken. An untimely end.

But tonight, as Lyle told you of the woman he had loved, someone else appeared in the doorway. A voice you recognized, sharp and laced with mischief, broke the ghost’s soft lament.

“Well, isn’t this cozy?” Barty drawled, stepping closer, his usual smirk barely masking curiosity. “Are you planning on chatting with him all night, or should I pencil myself into your tragic rendezvous?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the warmth creeping up your neck. Barty had a way of making himself indispensable, even if his cocky grin and constant teasing grated on your nerves.

As the days passed, unraveling Lyle’s story became a shared mission. Barty, surprisingly, took it seriously – at least between sarcastic jabs and his incessant need to make every moment dramatic. But something shifted. While you pieced together Lyle’s tale, you couldn’t ignore how your heart seemed to stutter whenever Barty stood too close, his voice dropping into a rare sincerity.

“You don’t want to waste your time on ghosts,” he said one evening, the stars reflected in his eyes as he leaned against the stone wall. “Life’s too short for that.”

“Then why are you still here?” you shot back, your voice more defensive than you intended.

He chuckled, the sound low and rough. “Because you’re here.”