Earth nights were colder than you expected.

You pulled your borrowed jacket tighter around your shoulders, perched at the edge of the Garrison’s observation deck. It was one of the few places that looked out toward the open desert, where the sky stretched wide and uninterrupted above you.

You were used to Altean nights—soft violet skies, drifting stardust winds, the gentle hum of life all around. Earth was… quieter. Still. But sometimes, in the stillness, you could pretend the stars remembered you.

Footsteps echoed behind you—boots against metal. You didn’t turn.

“I’m not lost,” you called over your shoulder. “So unless you brought snacks or something poetic to say about the universe, I’m not in need of company.”

There was a pause, then Keith’s voice, slightly amused. “What if I brought both?”

You glanced back.

There he stood—hands in his jacket pockets, hair windblown, looking like he hadn’t exactly planned to be here but somehow couldn’t help himself.

You raised an eyebrow. “Really? Snacks?”

He walked over and sat beside you on the low railing. “Protein bar.”

You snorted. “How romantic.”

He broke it in half and handed you a piece. You took it reluctantly, pretending it wasn’t the most Earth thing you’d eaten all day.

You both chewed in silence for a moment, watching the stars.

“…You come out here a lot,” Keith said finally.