Sky's POV
Something was wrong.
Rain wasn't saying anything, but I knew that look on his face—the one he wore when his brain was loud but his mouth was silent. The one where he stared into nothing like it had personally offended him.
We were all curled up in the living room, Mars-style: me, Day, Night, and Rain. Night was half-asleep against Day's shoulder, nursing her third mug of coffee. Day was scrolling on his phone, probably laughing at weird memes or planning some elaborate prank on me. The usual.
Rain was in the armchair.
Rigid.Silent.Eyes fixed on the carpet like it had secrets.
I chewed the drawstring of my hoodie and snuck a peek at him again. Same expression. Tense jaw. Arms crossed. He hadn't touched his tea. I made that tea.
Okay. No. Something was definitely wrong.
So I flopped dramatically across the couch, half-hanging off the side just to catch his eye. Nothing. I cleared my throat obnoxiously. Still nothing.
"Oh my god," I finally said, sitting upright. "Did someone die? Did you burn your tongue? Did your guitar cheat on you with a bassist?"
That got Night to snort.
Rain barely twitched.
He glanced at me for maybe half a second, then looked away. "I'm fine."
Lie.
Big, loud, obvious, Rain-sized lie.
I frowned. "Did I do something?"
He looked up. That got his attention.
"No."Too fast. Too sharp.Then quieter: "You didn't."
I watched him for a moment. Really watched. He looked… tired. Like he'd been fighting some invisible war and losing.
"You're being weird," I said softly.
Day raised a brow. "Rain's always weird."
"Not like this," I muttered.
I slid off the couch and sat cross-legged on the floor right in front of him, close enough to tap his socked foot with mine. "I know you, Ashford."
His eyes flickered. "You don't."
"Don't be stupid. Of course I do."
Silence.
I let it hang.
Then I tried a smile. "Want me to sing you a song to make it better?"
His jaw tightened. "No."
Oof.Ouch.
I blinked. "Wow. Harsh."
He looked like he regretted it instantly but didn't take it back.
Okay. Game on.
"Is it about the song?" I asked.
And just like that, his gaze snapped to mine.
Bullseye.
My heart dropped.
"You heard me."
He didn't deny it.
I laughed awkwardly, tucking my hair behind my ears. "It's stupid, I know. I wasn't even gonna show you yet—"
"You wrote that about me?" he asked, voice flat, unreadable.
I froze. "…Yeah."
Pause.
Longer pause.
Why wasn't he saying anything?
I forced a shaky laugh. "I mean, duh. Who else plays guitar while I sing Lou Reed? I named you, Rain. Like. I literally said 'my boyfriend's in a band.'" I smiled. "Manifesting, you know?"
His face did something complicated. I couldn't read it.
"…You shouldn't do that," he muttered.
"What?"
"You shouldn't write about me like that."
That hit harder than it should've. I blinked at him.
"Why not?"
"Because it's not real."
My chest caved in a little.
"I know," I said quietly. "But I wish it was."
I stood up before I could cry. Before I could ask the thousand questions stuck in my throat. Before I could tell him that I write about him because it's the only time he lets me hold his heart, even if he doesn't know it.
"Night," I said, turning toward the kitchen, "make me coffee before I drown in my own feelings, please."
She nodded and followed me.
Rain didn't say anything as I walked away.
But I swear I felt his eyes burning into my back like they were begging me to stay.
---
Rain's POV
The kitchen was dark except for the strip of LED light under the cabinets—cool, white, clinical. I stood there, pretending to be interested in the fridge. I wasn't hungry. I wasn't thirsty. I just needed to not be in the same room where Sky looked like she was trying not to cry.
Because I did that.
I hurt her. Again.
And I couldn't fix it without unraveling everything I'd spent years tying up tight.
The fridge door clicked shut.
Then I heard the soft hum of the kettle.
I didn't turn.
But I didn't have to.I knew it was her.
Night.
"She always sings when she's nervous," she said, voice even, like she wasn't about to gut me open with words.
"I know," I muttered.
"You should," she said. "She sings about you."
My jaw clenched. I leaned my palms into the counter, eyes fixed on the glossy tile. "It's not that simple."
Night didn't laugh, but I could hear the almost in her silence.
"It's exactly that simple," she said, setting two mugs down. Her movements were smooth. Efficient. Cold-blooded. "She loves you. She thinks the sun rises because you play guitar under it. She's too soft to even hate you for making her cry."
I turned finally. She was barefoot, hair messy from sleep, wearing one of Day's oversized band tees and a pair of shorts. The mug she was pouring sugar into was definitely Sky's—pink with glittery stars.
She was making Sky's coffee.While glaring at me like I'd committed war crimes.
"I didn't ask her to write about me," I said.
"No," she replied, stirring, "but you didn't stop her either."
I exhaled hard, running a hand through my hair. "Night…"
She lifted the spoon from the mug. Clink. "You're scared. We get it."
"I'm not scared."
She tilted her head. "You're avoiding."
That landed.
I looked away. "I'm trying to protect her."
"From what? From you?" she asked, tone sharp now. "Because let me tell you something, Rain—she already picked you. A hundred times over. Even after every fight, every shitty mood swing, every passive-aggressive lyric you pretend not to hear."
I flinched.
She stepped closer, mug in hand, her voice lowering into something lethal.
"So if you're gonna break her heart, at least have the decency to admit it to her face. Don't make her bleed alone in song lyrics."
That one punched through.
She shoved the mug at me.
"She's in her room. This is how she takes it—two sugars, no milk. You'd know that if you spent more time paying attention and less time pretending you don't care."
And with that, she walked off, barefoot, silent, back into the shadows of the penthouse.
I stared at the mug.Pink. Glittery. Still warm.Like her.
Like Sky.
And I knew—I couldn't hold the weight of her sunshine much longer without letting it melt through me.