Content warning: This chapter includes themes of death and parental loss, which may be distressing for some readers. Please read at your own discretion.

Taylor

My memory has never been great, so I can’t recall what happened after that horrible night. As if he read my thoughts, Noah says, “The day after Dad’s accident, I ran away. I couldn’t take Olly’s crying anymore. It felt as if… she had just accepted his death. Maybe I should have done the same, but I didn’t cry. I ran.”

I swallow heavily and shuffle over to sit beside Noah. I can’t stand his forlorn voice. I’m glad I took the blanket with me as I put it around both of us. Noah doesn’t protest and leans some of his weight against me. Our shared warmth wards off the frigid air, which has grown colder after the sun set.

“I was a silly kid,” Noah continues, “So I didn’t run far. I came here and hid in the tube slide.”

A memory fragment bolts through my mind. “I saw you,” I say slowly. Noah tilts his face towards me and nods encouragingly. I continue, “I followed you and then… then I found you here and…” I frown. “You screamed at me.”

Noah grimaces. “I did. Yes. I wanted to be alone.”

“So… I left you alone?”

Noah sighs. “No. You climbed up to me, sat with me, and asked me why I was so angry. I told you that my dad had left.” He chuckles. “And you asked me where he went.”

I groan and pull a corner of the blanket over my face. “You can stop talking now. I don’t want to remember after all.”

Noah pulls the blanket corner off my face. “But we are about to reach the best part.”

I shoot him a doubtful look, but he continues. “When I explained to you that my father died, you said that people who die go to heaven and live in the stars.”

I still struggle to place the scene Noah is painting for me, but at least his last sentence rings a bell. “My dad used to tell me that.”

“Yeah, so you said. But it probably wasn’t the best move to persuade me to return home. After you told me, I wouldn’t budge, because I wanted to wait until nighttime to look at the stars. To see my dad.”

“The stars...” I whisper. I lean forward to take another peek at the scribbles as more memory fragments fall into place. 

Noah follows my gaze and says, “You had a pen with you, god knows why, and you began scribbling stars on the tube. And you said-”

“You can look at these stars instead,” I say softly. I fall back against the guardrail while memories surface in my mind. “Then I realized that the sky has more than just stars and drew a planet next to it, just in case your dad was living on a planet and not a star.”

“I’m pretty sure you read a kid’s astronomy book a few days before that,” Noah adds, amused. “You insisted on accuracy.”

We stare at the drawing in silence. When Noah finally continues, his voice is soft. “You also drew a sun, so that the stars would never have a rainy day.”

“In my defence, I only read the first page of that astronomy book.”

The words startle a laugh out of Noah, but it fades quickly. He hesitates before he admits, “After that day, every time that I missed my dad or wanted to be alone, I came here to look at the sunlit night sky you drew.”

We are so close that I can see him blush as he continues, “Sometimes I would tell the stars about my day or how Mom and Olly were doing. I hid here because I felt connected to my dad. A connection you had created with a few silly scribbles.”

I take a heavy breath and look up to the real night sky, afraid that Noah might see the redness of my eyes. I’m beginning to understand why he brought me here.

Noah shifts and turns off the flashlight. Our surroundings are suddenly conquered by the night, and while my sight is full of afterimages of light, all my other senses seem sharper. His warmth, which is accompanied by his scent and low voice, seems to envelop me. He keeps me in place with his presence alone, enticing me to listen to his words in the safety of darkness.

“If I ever gave you the impression that I didn’t care about you, that I was dismissive of you, then I’m sorry. You gave me something so incredibly precious, Tay. A place to hide, to grieve, and to remember. I’ve always been so, so grateful for that. For me back then, you were like that sun that kept away the rainy days.”

I exhale a shaky breath. Noah just laid bare his innermost thoughts. A raw peace offering for some of the things I reproached him for. The earnest confession is so unexpected and piercing that it stabs me right in the heart. Too many thoughts collide inside me, and I don’t have the words to express them all. I sniff and press my lips together, but when I turn my head and see Noah’s sympathetic expression, I know it’s a futile attempt at hiding my turmoil.

He puts a hand on my knee and lightly shakes it. “But I guess hiding became my fallback. I pushed everyone away, including you. I didn’t know what else to do on the days when I was feeling so very overwhelmed and sad. And there were a lot of them, in those first years after his death.”

His grip on my knee intensifies as if he needs to anchor himself. It makes my heart hurt for him. I could never imagine the pain that comes with losing a parent. All words of comfort seem empty and meaningless in the face of such tragedy. I have to swallow a few times before I feel capable of speaking, unsure what I even want to say. There are too many words clustered in my throat, stuck there to the point it hurts, but the words that tumble out first are– “I’m sorry.”

Noah sighs, and his hand finds my hair, sweeping back a few curls that have fallen over my eyes. I shiver and suppress the urge to lean into the touch.

“I didn’t bring you here to get another sorry out of you, Tay. I also didn’t tell you this to excuse what I’ve done. It’s the opposite. I want to apologize. I’ve never been good at communicating, and you are right, I should have talked to you, but instead, I pushed you away. Still, I never meant to hurt you. I hope you can forgive me.”

His hand falls away, and I have the sudden urge to grab it. So I do. Noah stills and tilts his head towards me. His face is faintly illuminated by the dim light of the park lanterns in the distance. I take in his serious and vulnerable expression, and in that moment, I feel like I’m seeing him for the first time. Truly see him.

I squeeze his hand. “I meant, I’m sorry for your loss. I don’t think I ever properly expressed my condolences when I was little, so I’m relieved to know I was able to give you this place, at least. Thank you for telling me about it, Noah. And thank you for the apology. I forgive you.”

A tension I didn’t know was there leaves Noah’s body. I can feel his hand relax in mine. He leans back against the guardrail and stares up into the sky, a corner of his mouth raises in a little smile. I copy him and lean back, searching for stars in silence, while I relish in the warmth that Noah’s hand radiates. 

With every passing second, I seem to discover more stars, appearing out of nowhere and yet shining steadily as if they’ve always been in plain sight.