After nearly an hour of noise—laughter, teasing, and Rain's theatrical commentary echoing off the dorm walls—Julian finally walked him back to his own room. The hallway was quieter now, and Julian's steps sounded softer, like he was stepping back into a different world.
When he returned, the room felt... too still. Thomas was nowhere to be seen.
"Oh—he went out?" Julian muttered to the silence.
He checked the kitchen. The bathroom. Even peeked out into the hallway. Nothing.
"Seriously? He couldn't have left when Rain was here, so we could be as loud as we wanted?" he grumbled, throwing himself face-first onto his bed with an unnecessary amount of drama.
"Seriously, Mr. Coldy..."
His eyelids grew heavy. The ceiling turned soft around the edges.
The sun had already begun its descent, casting golden light across their floor. 6 p.m. The sky painted in oranges and melting pinks.
But Thomas hadn't come back.
Julian woke to that same golden hush. His first instinct was to check the room—but it was still just him. The quiet almost pressed against his skin. Then the hunger kicked in, heavy and annoying. Too lazy to cook, too restless to stay. He grabbed a hoodie and slipped out.
The streets were starting to glow—cars humming by, storefront lights flickering to life, birds crossing overhead like little dark commas in the sky. Julian walked with his hands tucked in his pockets, shoulders hunched as if protecting some fragile piece of him from the evening chill.
The convenience store was cold, humming with too much white light. He bought a sandwich and a canned soda, then wandered until his feet led him to a quiet park. The kind of place made for thinking, or for forgetting.
He sat on a wooden bench with a table in front of it, wrappers rustling in the breeze.
"How peaceful," he mumbled to no one.
"Should've brought Rain. He'd have something dumb to say."
He popped open the soda with a crisp hiss.
And then—
A voice behind him, clear, saying a name that made his fingers tighten around the can.
Thomas.
Julian turned slightly, eyes narrowing.
A man in a black long—sleeved shirt was speaking into his phone nearby, pacing slowly.
"Where are you? Are you with her already?"
Julian stared. He couldn't help it—curiosity bloomed faster than his conscience. The man's tone, the familiar name, the strange coincidence.
Could be someone else. Must be.
The man ended the call, sighing. A few minutes later, two figures approached—a woman and a man. Julian had already turned back to his food, guilt crawling somewhere behind his ribs.
"What took you so long?" the man in black asked again.
Something about the way he spoke made Julian turn—just a glance.
And then everything inside him paused.
The man—the one whose face he hadn't seen—turned.
It was Thomas.
White long-sleeved polo, sleeves rolled to the elbow. Glasses tucked neatly into the front pocket. His black hair was slicked back into a neat middle part, like he belonged to another life entirely.
Julian, hoodie half over his face, choked on his drink.
He straightened immediately, coughing into his sleeve like he could hide from fate itself.
Thomas turned his head, hearing something—but didn't recognize him. Just some figure on a bench. Just a stranger.
What the hell? Was that really him?
Julian's mind reeled.
He's… kind of handsome though—wait, no. Stop that.
Meanwhile, on another bench just a few meters away:
"Boring," Thomas muttered as he sat beside his sister.
"Wow?!" Vira gasped. "Coming from the most boring guy I know?" She stared at him like he'd grown a second head.
"This is so boring," Jalen added, slouching with dramatic offense. "You made us wait all this time for this?"
Vira rolled her eyes. "Maybe I just wanted to sit with my brothers and talk about life for once?"
"Oldie stuff," Thomas whispered under his breath.
"Hey, I heard that, dude." Vira slapped his arm.
And yet, they stayed. Talking. Laughing. Bickering in that soft, familiar rhythm that only siblings knew. Time passed, and the city around them turned dark. The moon rose slowly, like it had no reason to rush.
Behind them, Julian was already gone—faded back into the night, invisible once more.
Later that night, Thomas stepped quietly back into the dorm room.
The air was still.
Julian sat in front of the window, using Thomas's chair like it belonged to him. His knees were pulled to his chest, earbuds in his ears, chin resting on one knee.
Outside, the stars blinked softly. Distant.
Shy.
Thomas closed the door gently behind him. He didn't say a word.
But his eyes lingered on Julian.
Outside the window, the world was holding its breath.
Streetlights flickered in pools on the sidewalk, and the stars—barely visible against the city's light—seemed like they were trying anyway. Trying to be noticed.
Like him.
Julian tucked his chin tighter against his knees. His hoodie sleeves fell past his fingers.
His music was playing softly, but he wasn't really listening. Just the low hum of strings, some old instrumental playlist that Rain had sent him once. Something "moody and romantic," Rain had said, probably with a wink. Julian hadn't turned it off since.
And now here they were again, orbiting each other like cold stars.
The image of Thomas—buttoned up, sleeves rolled, hair slicked like he cared—flashed again behind his eyes. That version of him felt like a secret he wasn't supposed to witness.
He exhaled, fogging the window glass faintly, then dragged his sleeve across it. A quiet sigh escaped him.
"You're using my chair."
Thomas touched Julian's shoulder, Julian flinched—only a little—and pulled one earbud out, not turning.
"Yeah. Your desk's got the better view," he replied. Still staring out the window.
Julian shifted in the chair, knees now hugged close to his chest. The glow of city lights kissed the edge of his face.