The Brooklyn Heights Promenade always drew a crowd, but tonight, it felt like the whole damn city had decided to show up. In the distance, tourists clustered near the railing, their voices rising in excited chatter, while couples cuddled on the benches, some making out right under the streetlights.

Ash rolled his eyes. Jesus. Get a room.

He hadn’t planned on coming here—crowds like this weren’t his idea of fun—but Eiji had been insistent. “Ash,” he’d said, his voice so soft, so needy, “just think about the photos I could take.” And, of course, here they were. Because Ash couldn’t say no to that. Not to him.

As they approached the busy railing, Eiji’s gaze locked onto the horizon, his camera already in hand. Ash, meanwhile, kept his eyes busy. He tracked every movement like a hawk: a man lingering too long near a tourist’s backpack; a young woman glancing at him, then looking away too quickly. Nothing suspicious, nothing urgent. But instinct never slept.

Eiji didn’t bother trying to push through the crowd ahead. Instead, he stopped a few steps back, his gaze lifting to the distant skyline shining over the sea of heads. “Oh my gosh,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the chatter.

Ash stopped beside him, watching Eiji’s face light up with that unapologetic smile of his. Oh my gosh, indeed. For a moment, the crowd faded into the background, and all he could see was Eiji, his eyes wide with wonder. Yeah, Ash thought, a small smirk tugging at his lips. This was worth it.

Eiji pressed the camera to his face, aiming at the skyline. “These are going to turn out so great.” The camera clicked as Eiji snapped a photo after photo.

Ash had never really cared about photography. Right now, however, he wanted nothing more than to have the skills and a camera, just to capturethis. To capture Eiji.

To have something to remember him by.

Before Japan took him back.

“Wow.” Eiji’s gasp pulled Ash back to the present.

Had he been staring this whole time? Ash shook his head slightly, and dropped his gaze, hoping Eiji hadn’t caught him.

“They look like stars, don’t they?” Eiji asked, tilting the glowing camera screen toward Ash.

Ash leaned in, his eyes narrowing as he studied the display. The city lights shimmered like a constellation against the inky black, distant and untouchable. “They do,” he said.

But the longer Ash looked, the picture reminded him of something else. Something far more familiar. He leaned closer. Candles, perhaps? Right. Funeral candles, thousands of them, flickering on the cold dark graves.

But he would never rob Eiji of his joy, so he stayed quiet, forcing a faint smile.

As if feeling Ash’s concern, Eiji’s light gaze muddled. “It’s funny,” Eiji said, but there was a sadness to his voice now. “I don’t remember the last time I saw stars.” He tipped his head back, looking at the sky. “You know? Like, actually saw them.”

Ash followed his gaze. “Me neither.”

The sky was empty. Just a blackish void, consumed by neon and streetlights; dark enough to make you feel insignificant but far too bright to let you disappear completely.

Eiji sighed. “I miss them.” He paused for a minute, eyes wandering in the sky. “The stars.”

Ash hesitated. Had he ever gone stargazing for fun? Maybe when he was four, and even then he wasn’t sure whether his memories were real.

There was a place where he sometimes would find himself lost in the sky, however. It was never for fun per se, as he only went there when he had nowhere else to go. But that place was special. So special, in fact, nobody but him knew it. Not even Shorter.

And Eiji would love it there. 

Ash shoved his hands into his pockets. “I know a place,” he said. “You can kinda see the stars there. From the roof, I mean. It’s… quieter.”

Eiji turned to him, his face breaking into a grin. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Ash fought a disobedient smile. “If you don’t want to go, it’s fine. But it’s a cool place.”

“Can we go there now?”

Ash raised an eyebrow. “Like, right now?”

“Please?”

“But it’s pretty far.”

Eiji clasped his hands together and looked at him like a begging puppy. “Please, please, please, please?”

Ash couldn’t hold it in anymore. He let out a soft, satisfied smile. “Well, if you insist.” 

The moon cast faint, ghastly shadows across the mossy forest floor. They hung beneath the branches, uncovering just enough moonlight to illuminate the narrow forest path. Ash had walked it many times, but tonight it felt different; almost surreal, and so so quiet.

Except for Eiji.

Every step he took was loud, crunching on the fallen branches. But he wasn’t trying to be noisy. He was just… Eiji. Breathing life wherever he went.

“Oh gosh,” Eiji huffed, exhaling sharply but not fully out of breath. “How much longer?”

“Told you it’s far,” Ash answered, keeping his voice steady even though his own breath was heavy.

Eiji groaned dramatically. “Then why did we have to park so far?”

“The road’s shit.” Ash’s tone suddenly darkened. “And it’s safer this way. Just in case.”

In Eiji’s world, safety might not have been a luxury. Yet, he always understood. Ash felt his empathetic nod without having to glance at him.

For a while, they walked in near silence, with Ash leading the way. Eventually, the forest began to thin. The soft carpet of moss gave way to hard, cracked pavement, which led them to a narrow road ahead—far more overgrown than Ash remembered.

Their path ended abruptly at a tall razor-wire fence, its sharp coils glinting in the faint moonlight. Beyond it, an abandoned building loomed in the distance, still and lonely, like an old, forgotten friend, waiting for Ash to return. But Ash didn’t smile yet, didn’t rush forward. Instead, he paused, watching, listening, feeling; a habit so deeply ingrained, that even now, in the middle of nowhere, he couldn’t turn it off.

Nothing.

Ash exhaled with ease. “We’re here.”

 Eiji pointed at the fence. “Don’t tell me we’ll have to climb that?” 

“Well—” Ash smirked,“—you could just jump over it.”

Eiji gave him a baffled stare. “How am I supposed to do that? Without a pole?”

“You did it once. You could do it again.”

“That was… different,” Eiji said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Still cool as hell.”

Eiji looked away, but not before Ash caught the slight flush creeping up his ears. Cute. Ridiculously cute.

“There has to be another way in,” Eiji said, looking around. “Right?”

Ash jerked his head toward the side of the fence. “Come on. Over here.”

Hidden behind the thick bushes, a section near the fence’s base had a gaping hole. Ash had cut it himself, just barely, back in the day when his shoulders weren’t twice as broad. He never got around to widening it, but it still beat climbing.

Once inside, they made their way toward the abandoned eight-floor building. Under the moonlight, its bare concrete walls took on a ghastly bluish hue, gleaming like the scales of something, someone, otherworldly.

This was how Ash remembered seeing it for the first time—a blue beast with a dozen hollow eye sockets where windows should have been, gaping at him in unspoken terror. Its broken rain pipes had reached for him like spider legs about to capture him, and, back then, Ash had been certain they would succeed if he wasn’t quick enough.

He still remembered the way his breath had turned razor-sharp in his throat, the way his pulse had pounded like a war drum in his ears. The creature had been terrifying, yes, but the people chasing him had been far worse. So he had chosen to run straight into the belly of the beast, climbing the fence and all.

And how glad he was. It didn’t take him long to notice that there was a strangle kind of calmness to the decaying beast, comforting at times of need. Hopefully, Eiji felt the same.

The heavy front doors let out a painful moan as Ash pulled them open. He took a few seconds adjusting his eyes, and soon, the familiar staircase came back to his vision.

Eiji hesitated just past the threshold. “Uh… Ash?” Eiji reached out slightly, fingertips hovering near where he thought Ash was. “I can’t see a thing.”

Ash glanced at him. Of course he can’t. Eiji was used to cozy city lights, not creeping through places like this. Something warm flashed in Ash’s chest, but before he could second-guess himself, he reached out. “Here,” he said. “Take my hand.”

Eiji didn’t hesitate. His fingers curled around Ash’s. No teasing, no doubt. Just a soft palm, cool against Ash’s warm skin.

“Careful on the third step,” Ash muttered, focusing on the stairs instead of the heat rising in his hand and in his chest too. “It’s broken.”

Eiji squeezed his fingers lightly. “Okay.”

They climbed slowly, Eiji’s grip firm, getting warmer and warmer with each step. When they reached the eighth floor, Ash finally pulled his hand away, not too quickly, not too obviously.

His palm still burned with the shape of Eiji’s fingers.

“This one,” Ash said, opening the rusted door of the Apartment 707. Pearly moonlight flooded the room, spilling into the staircase they had just climbed.

The place was just the way Ash had left it, hollow and reeking of musty damp air. The walls that had never been touched by a wallpaper were struggling to stay intact, and a fine layer of debris coated the bare floor, where fine chunks of the ceiling had surrendered to time.

Ash stepped inside first, arms spread wide, showing off the empty room. “Welcome to my crib.”

Eiji hesitated in the doorway, looking around like he was expecting to find something. “Crib? Where?”

How dare he be so adorable? Ash smiled. “You’re so un-American.”

“You always say these things that make no sense.”

Ash grinned, stepping further inside. “And you always react like an old man trying to set up a Wi-Fi router.”

Eiji followed him. “I do not.” 

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t,” Eiji repeated, imitating an old man’s voice.

Ash burst into a sharp laughter, shoulders falling up and down. “Oh, god, you really do.” He was out of breath, nearly wheezing, with his hands on his stomach. “It’s alright, though, I love you—” a sudden panic surged hot through his veins. The fuck? “I mean—” He coughed. “I love it. I love that you don’t get my stupid references. Not you.” He stood stiff, fixing his hair.

Eiji let out a small huff of amusement and shook his head. “You’re weird.”

“Yeah, well.” Ash took a second to gather his composure, thanking the night for concealing his stupid expression of whatever the fuck that was. “You’re stuck with the weird Ol’ me now. In the middle of nowhere.”

“I know.”

I know.

Eiji said like it was a fact. Like there wasn’t a possibility that one day, Eiji wouldn’t be.

Ash pushed the thought away.

He stepped over a pile of debris, making his way to the farthest wall. Against the corner, the only thing in the entire room stood tall—a lone, battered mattress with an ancient blanket wrapped tightly in a crinkled plastic cover. “Help me with this.”

Eiji carefully traced Ash’s steps, and then stopped by the mattress. “We’re… sleeping here?”

“You wish, old man.” Ash jerked his head toward the window. “We’re taking it to the roof.”

“Why?”

Ash turned to him, a slow smirk curling at the corner of his lips. “You wanted to see the stars, didn’t you?”