It wasn’t healthy to seek out pain. It wasn’t healthy to seek out memories that were best left suppressed--or, at the very least, intended to be dissected one at a time rather than swallowed whole. It wasn’t healthy to wallow in thoughts that spoke to earning more hurt and softening what was already there.

  This was a compromise. This was, reasonably, the best way to rationalize keeping hands where they could be seen. It was the best way to keep feet upon a path that wouldn’t lead to disaster. It was the best way to keep eyes forward instead of staring down into the depths of a city that had indirectly stolen everything. Some nights, it was easier for him to just keep his eyes closed entirely. It wasn’t as though he was at risk of actually walking into anything dangerous.

  Octavia didn’t know. Josiah had no intent to tell her, nor would there be a point.

  There was a benefit that came with the layout of Tacell itself. The meadows were abundant. The ground was largely flat. The handful of hills that did dot the landscape rose high enough that there was always elevated land by which bearings could be found. Getting lost was harder than it looked, despite any first impressions. There hadn’t really been any difficulties with wildlife, small or otherwise, at night yet. The most he’d had to contend with were fireflies, and they were not at all an unwelcome sight. The crickets weren’t exactly unpleasant, either, provided none of them accidentally found their way underfoot--as had happened at least twice.

  He liked the colder autumn nights best, the ones where the chilling breeze bit into his skin. He liked to roll up his sleeves and let the cool air sting his arms again and again. He did the same on evenings where the temperature dipped just a bit too low for comfort. That, too, he was aware was unhealthy. He did it anyway.

  Tonight was an “eyes closed” kind of night, the kind where Josiah was fine not watching where he was going in any capacity. There was something comforting about stepping blindly into the dark, putting one unhesitant foot in front of the other and surrendering to wherever the evening saw fair to steer him. With one less sense active, the rest were more alert, heightened in a way that was equally calming.

  It was late. He was alone. It was dark. That was enough of a suitable combination for him to process his thoughts in one of the only efficient ways he’d learned how. Anything less and he’d be right back where he was several weeks ago. Hypothetically, he figured Octavia would appreciate that he was, if nothing else, trying. She had enough to deal with, for how many walks it took her to clear her own head recently.

  Josiah had no idea what field he was in, or what part of Tacell he was in. He wasn’t even sure how far from their cottage he’d wandered. All he cared about was sifting, ever so cautiously, through each fleeting thought and passing visage of the person who haunted his head every waking moment. In the dark, distracted by so much external stimuli, she was clear. He was free to pick apart his regrets like flower petals.

  She loved you.

  No amount of walking blindly into the night was going to save Josiah from his three newest catalysts of agony. The words weren’t as razor-sharp and shattering as they’d been in that moment, not so capable of skinning him alive and consuming him from the inside-out. They still burned, autumn breeze be damned. By God, did they burn.

  I’m not supposed to be here.

  Contrary to Octavia’s profuse rejection of the sentiment, it had been as much of a stated fact as it was a heartfelt and emotional belief. He hadn’t lied. Were it not for a sheer coincidence, a stroke of luck under the worst of circumstances, Josiah wouldn’t be standing in Tacell. He wouldn’t be privy to any of what his senses comfortably delivered to him as he moved--something he knew Octavia would insist he should be grateful for. Even now, it was still true. He was still right.

  You have people who love you more than you could ever know.

  It was nice to imagine. It was a comforting thought. He was fond of having Octavia at his back, if not by his side. In retrospect, she was probably the closest person left alive who could understand the specific pain he’d gone through. As much as Josiah loathed to think it, there was an honest relief that came with knowing he wasn’t the only one who’d dreaded returning to Velrose--let alone his broken home. He supposed their rationales were different. It was still the same concept.

  He sometimes wondered if the people Octavia insisted “loved him” were those she'd decided felt that way on their behalf. It wasn’t that he thought they didn’t care at all. “Love” was simply a strong word.

  She loved you.

  He hated that it wasn’t colder tonight.

  No amount of shaking Octavia’s voice out of his head, physically, was helping. Josiah stuffed his hands in his pockets and tried again, and again, and again, with little luck. He could still hear the crack in her voice as she'd told him. He’d sometimes wondered what it would’ve sounded like directly, had the news not been secondhand.

  I love you.

  Even after all this time, it wasn’t hard to piece Selena’s voice together. It was difficult to wipe away so many years spent in tandem, so many instances in which he’d cherished her laugh and embraced her smile. Josiah had heard every conceivable combination of words he was convinced she could make, for how often they’d spoken and how many terrible jokes they’d exchanged. It wasn’t hard at all. He could make the Selena in his head say anything.

  I love you.

  I love you.

  It probably should’ve sunk in by now. Josiah still hadn’t fully wrapped his head around it.

  I hate you.

  It was in some sick and twisted way that the thought actually made him smirk. He’d heard the phrase many a time on the tail end of a bad joke or a ridiculous prank. Even if he could play around with the words of the Selena in his head, those were three words he’d never be able to attribute to actual malice.

  I miss you.

  He opted to stifle his thought experiment, effective immediately.

  Josiah quickly opened his eyes, a desperate attempt to reset his thoughts to a blank slate as colors flooded his dilating pupils. The stars were mostly hiding, the night he’d chosen to contemplate within a fairly dark one versus his usual walks. Plagued by clouds as the sky was, even the moon was hazy, an opaque and milky glow captured behind a thick, graying veil. He didn’t mind, somewhat distraught at the lack of sudden overstimulation he could inflict upon his eyesight as a result.

  It wasn’t as though the choice of a dim evening was intentional--this was his late night routine nearly every single night since his despair had led him off the bell tower. Some part of Josiah playfully wondered if Octavia had stolen his idea.

  I miss you.

  It was a mistake to even think it, and he wasn’t a fan of the fact that it wasn’t going away. Josiah inhaled deeply, letting the chilling air sting his lungs on the inside to the best of his ability. He exhaled. Again. Again. He tried to ignore the way it hurt when his heart beat too quickly.

  The singing was a distraction, at least.

  Initially, he thought he’d made that up in his head, too. It was with substantial surprise, upon a second--and third--auditory inspection, that he’d found something notably different than whatever insects sang their pitchless songs at this time of night. This one was lyrical, clear, soft. Still, it was more than loud enough to gently touch the evening, and not quite so far off.

  Josiah had absolutely no idea where he was, nor did he particularly care. If he felt like searching for any cottage in general, he could probably find one. He didn’t especially feel the need. There was the slightest tint of familiarity to the tone of every melodic word that drove him insane not to place. It was enough to, at least briefly, hush the Selena in his head.

  He thought about closing his eyes again, clinging to the general purpose of his walk even while ambling in the direction of whatever gentle voice lured him with their song. The one benefit to staring death in the face twice recently was the complete lack of self-preservation that came with the aftermath--particularly if one instance was intentional. Josiah was still struggling to find the drive to fear for his life, let alone value it enough to harbor at least some concern for any danger he might be placing himself in.

  There was hardly anything to fear in Tacell regardless, even with the number of Maestros steadily dwindling by the day. No amount of impulsive decisions in this place were going to pose him any true threat. If he wanted an impulsive decision to hurt him, he’d just go back to the cottage and let it--again. Josiah took another deep breath, praying for his lungs to burn along the way.

  The grassy expanse he’d ended up in had just a hint of elevation to it--enough that he could comfortably recline against the raised patches of land sloping up into half-hearted hills. It hadn’t actually been that far away from where he’d ended up wandering, his path easily guided by a quiet and calming song that grew ever louder the closer he drew.

  There was shade to be found on a night where shade was wholly unnecessary, the trees utterly useless without a moon to oppress their canopies. It hadn’t stopped his mysterious singer from making themselves more than comfortable, eyes closed and head tilted back as they reclined without concern. Josiah almost felt wrong disturbing the song he’d grown to enjoy, surprising as it was. He made his approach light to compensate, praying that the grass ruffling beneath his feet wouldn’t give him away.

  He ended up with his back comfortably pressed against an adjacent tree himself, eyeing his blissfully-unaware singer with a smirk. Josiah allotted another thirty seconds of pleasing song before deciding that, ultimately, the allure of startling the boy was too amusing to pass up.

  “You’re a pretty good singer.”

  Harper nearly bashed his head against the tree with how quickly he moved, crying out in surprise with such fervor that Josiah genuinely worried he’d scared the boy half to death. He swore loudly, getting a snicker out of Josiah in turn.

  Harper cleared his throat far too heavily. “I, uh, don’t…worry about it. Pretend you didn’t hear that.”

  Josiah raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you could sing.”

  “You weren’t supposed to,” he muttered uncomfortably.

  “You come out here just to do this?”

  He sighed. “Yes, actually. Didn’t…think anyone else would be here. I’m usually right.”

  “You don’t like singing around other people?”

  Harper’s face reddened in just the slightest. Truthfully, it was almost cute. “Just…a little shy about it. It’s a hobby I can’t really indulge in around other people. This was a compromise. At least, it was.”

  “Don’t mind me. Pretend I’m not even here,” Josiah teased.

  Harper rolled his eyes. “I’m not singing if I know you’re here. Or anywhere.”

  Josiah laughed. The feeling was almost foreign, somewhat uncomfortable as it left his throat. He wasn’t entirely certain how he felt about the sensation, unnatural as it was. Still, it happened, and for the first time in quite awhile. “Anyone else know you can sing?”

  “No, and no one’s going to, or I’ll kill you,” Harper hissed.

  Josiah smirked once more. Harper closed his eyes, letting his head flop back against the tree with a slightly-loud thunk that made Josiah worry for his cranial safety.

  “What are you doing out here, anyway?” Harper asked quietly.

  Josiah crossed his arms over his chest. Whether it was defensive or comfortable, even he wasn’t certain. “Walking. Helps me clear my head a bit. Lets me get my thoughts in order.”

  Harper turned his head towards the boy, cracking his eyes open. “You’ve got a lot on your mind?”

  If that wasn’t an understatement, nothing was. Josiah strongly considered saying as much. Ultimately, he bit his tongue. “Yeah.”

  Harper averted his eyes, content to gaze at the expanse of nothing that was their barren night sky. “I don’t blame you. I think there’s been…a lot going on recently, for all of us. Some of us more than others, I’m sure. It’s crazy how fast all of this is going.”

  Josiah didn’t disagree. “We’re not done yet, but we definitely cleared some major hurdles. It’s not exactly a straight shot from here on out. Still, it’ll be easier, I think. We’ll be done before we know it.”

  Harper’s face fell somewhat. “And…I’ve been wondering, what do you think will happen once all of this is over?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you think we’ll all still…spend time with each other? Maybe not quite to this extent, but do you think we can all still see each other pretty regularly?”

  Josiah tilted his head. “Why wouldn’t we?”

  Harper rested his arms on his knees, his head following suit. “I just hope we don’t drift apart. I don’t know if that’s selfish of me. I know all of us have our own lives, but I really liked--I really like being together. I like our little family. There’s a lot that I still want to do with everyone once everything’s done with.”

  Josiah paused. “I highly doubt you’re the only person who feels that way. Even if we haven’t known each other for that long, I don’t think you’d necessarily forget the people you’ve been that close to for months on end. You already know that if you brought this up to any of them, they’d tell you right away that you’re being stupid, right?”

  Harper smiled softly. “Yeah. That’s why I’m talking to you, instead. You’re more straightforward about it. If even you think so, though, then that makes me feel better.”

  Josiah hesitated. Then, he found the same smirk yet again. “If you’re that worried about drifting apart, you should probably just tell her you like her already.”

  Harper nearly choked, once more extremely threatened by a tree that risked damaging his head. “W-What?”

  “You know what.”

  His face was the deepest of reds, an absolutely blinding scarlet that matched wonderfully with the wobble in his voice. It was as endearing as it was humorous. Josiah almost felt bad for the way by which he was forced to stifle a laugh.

  “I-I…t-that’s not…true,” Harper stammered, his words wavering almost uncontrollably.

  Josiah grinned. This was too much fun. “You know, for a guy who’s all about calling people out on lying, you’re an awful liar yourself.”

  Harper averted his eyes, doing a poor job at concealing his endless blush with one hand cast over his mouth. “You’re mean,” he murmured softly.

  “Tell me what you like about her. And you have to look at me while you do it.”

  He looked at Josiah, at least, although not without great embarrassment in his eyes. Now it was cute. The pouting made it even funnier. “Is it really that obvious?”

  Josiah shook his head. “It’s not, actually. I just know you. Tell me what you like about her and I’ll tell you if you’re lying about…you know.”

  Harper sighed. He obliged regardless, battling his blush every step of the way. “She’s…God, why do I even have to explain her to you? You know her. You know everything about her, just the same as me.”

  “Not necessarily.”

  Harper bit his lip. “I mean…she’s different for all of us, I guess. She means something different to everyone. That’s…one thing I like about her.”

  “Go on.”

  “She’s…sweet. She’s really kind and caring towards others. I have a soft spot for people like that. She stands up for those who can’t stand up for themselves, even if she doesn’t know them that well. She’s not afraid to love. She’s unapologetic about it, and when she cares about something, she cares about it with everything in her heart. And her heart is…beautiful.”

  He paused, fidgeting shyly beneath Josiah’s gaze. Josiah pushed with the same knowing grin. “Keep going.”

  Even so, he watched as Harper’s lips curved upwards slightly. “She’s…so pretty. I mean, I feel like that’s a cheap shot, but she really is gorgeous. I thought as much when I first met her, even before I knew her that well. I swear she gets prettier every day. When I’m stressed or upset, she’s the first thing I think about, or the first person I look for, just so I can have the image of her in my head. Is that creepy? I don’t know if that’s creepy.”

  Josiah hardly needed to press further. Where once had been embarrassment in Harper’s eyes, Josiah now found just the slightest hint of a sparkle instead. “And she’s so…God, she’s so much fun to be around. Every time I’m near her, I’m so…comfortable. I feel like I can be myself. She makes me feel like I can tell her anything. She makes me laugh, and I love making her laugh. I love hearing her laugh. I…wish I could make her laugh all the time, just so I could hear it again and again. Even just hearing her say my name is enough to make my heart feel like it’s gonna explode out of my chest.”

  His sparkle had, effectively, done a phenomenal job at competing with the stars that had fled the sky so long ago. “She’s amazing to watch. She’s so strong. I mean, physically, which is insanely impressive on its own, but she’s so resilient. She gets hit over and over and gets right back up again. It’s…okay if it takes her a minute, because she always finds her way back to her feet. I can’t get over how brave she is, the way she does things no one else wants to do. If it’s for someone else’s sake, she’ll hardly hesitate. She’s incredible.”

  It didn’t matter that Harper’s eyes were given to him, brilliant and shimmering as they were. His heart was somewhere far off, somewhere far past whatever Josiah had to offer. “When she looks at me, I can’t breathe. I forget how to be afraid. It gives me butterflies in my stomach. I’m selfish. I…want her to look at me forever. I’ll do whatever I can to get her eyes on me. When she’s watching me, I can do anything. If I’m alone, if I’m scared, if I’m in danger or otherwise, just thinking of her watching me makes my blood feel like it’s on fire in the best way. When her eyes are on me, I…that’s the happiest I’ll ever be. That’s everything I’ll ever need.”

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  When he trailed off, his smile equally as radiant as every last facet of his expression, Josiah’s confident smile was endless. The silence was palpable enough to bring Harper’s fearsome blush back for a second round.

  “And you’re gonna sit there and have the nerve to tell me you don’t like her. You are the absolute worst liar I’ve ever seen,” Josiah jeered.

  Where he’d somewhat expected--and somewhat hoped for--Harper to grow flustered once more, Josiah was instead surprised to see a shy smile settle onto Harper’s lips as he averted his eyes. “I…maybe I am.”

  Josiah chuckled. “Hell, sounds like it might be a bit more than just ‘liking’ her.”

  Harper fidgeted with his fingers timidly. “I…can’t say I disagree.”

  “Tell her. Be honest. She’s the kind of person who’d hear you out, no matter what,” he advised, crossing his arms.

  It was a shock when Harper shook his head ever so softly, his bangs brushing back and forth against his face. “I’m not gonna tell her.”

  “Are you afraid she’ll reject you?”

  “I’m not afraid of that at all.”

  “Are you…afraid to ruin your friendship?”

  Again, Harper shook his head. “That’s not it.”

  “So…why?”

  His voice was fragile, his smile just as delicate as it was warm. His eyes, too, were soft, tinted with something indescribable. He tangled his fingers together. “Because her light isn’t meant for me.”

  Josiah blinked. “What do you mean?”

  Harper offered his indiscernible gaze to the boy. “There’s…someone else who needs it more than I do.”

  Josiah paused. It took a moment, his eyes widening in just the slightest. “And you’re okay with that?”

  He nodded slowly, wordlessly.

  “Does it hurt?”

  Harper shook his head once more, his fleeting smile still comfortably settled upon his lips.

  Josiah’s face fell. “You’re lying about that, too, aren’t you?”

  The fragile smile he wore so cautiously brightened in just the slightest. “Not as much as you’d think.”

  “Unrequited love is dangerous,” Josiah spoke suddenly. The words came out sharper than he’d intended, and he immediately regretted his tone. He struggled to rein in what followed. “And…unspoken feelings can be just as poisonous. They can…follow you. They can haunt you.”

  “I want them to.”

  “What?”

  Harper's face was aglow as he closed his eyes, resting his head delicately against the tree again. “They’re like my own little fire. I keep them in my heart, and they keep me warm. No one can touch them, no one can taint them, and no one can take them away from me. I can keep them close, and I can keep them safe. I can carry them with me forever and ever. Even if I never tell her, just being by her side is enough as long as I have that fire in there. There’s a…comfort that comes with knowing nobody can ever mess with those feelings if they never leave your mouth. Not that I think she would, of course.”

  Josiah fell silent. He let Harper speak.

  “I’m…lying if I say it doesn’t hurt at all. If she told me she loved me just as much, I think I’d die right there on the spot. Knowing that’ll never happen stings a bit, sometimes--just a little. More than that, I want her to be happy. I want her to smile more and more, until she never has to be sad about anything ever again. So, yeah, maybe I’m not the person her light is meant for, but I’m okay with that. I’ll always keep my little fire safe and warm, just for her. It’ll always be here whenever she needs it. I’ll…love her from here. That’s enough to make me happy.”

  Even now, Josiah couldn’t find the words to follow his heartfelt explanation. He hugged himself tighter, what was once a comfortable posture now slipping into something he recognized to be far less so. Harper rolled his eyes playfully.

  “But that doesn’t mean you can tell her, okay? I’d kill you for that, too,” he teased.

  Josiah nodded, still devoid of a verbal response. The speed at which his heart was pounding was unsettling, and his eyes found the sky--anywhere that wasn’t Harper, frankly. He was more than thankful when Harper didn’t press, content to let the silence Josiah craved on behalf of his racing thoughts wash over him. Logically, there was no way Harper could’ve known. Then again, he’d known Harper well enough to pry beyond his more visible feelings. The idea of the Willful boy being able to do the same simultaneously comforted Josiah and left him feeling vulnerable.

  There was an irony that came with the concept of Josiah’s departed flame keeping her own little flame within. Two tragic people, forged in fire so unlike one another’s, had perhaps come to settle upon the same warmth inside. For everything that had burned Selena alive, Josiah prayed from the bottom of his heart that the ember she’d clung to all of those years had done her some good. It was the only thing that would get him to sleep tonight.

  Josiah wasn’t the only one with a nightly routine, desperate in his own way for a semblance of peace inside--wildly different of a peace as it was. The hands that held Stradivaria tightly were far less urgent, despite the knowledge of the alternative that awaited if they shirked the safety of routine and calculated companionship. Octavia didn't need to know Josiah's route. They never overlapped as it was, and their schedules were largely incompatible. To dodge his line of sight would've been a simpler trial, should that have been a concern. Indoor deception, by comparison, left a rope around her neck.

  It was a Stratos night.

  It was going to be far, far trickier than usual, for what words were already bubbling in her throat and what fears were eating away at her heart. She’d slept on it. She’d awoken. She witnessed, and she’d guided, and she’d come no closer to Mixoly’s confession sinking in. Octavia still couldn’t overlay the timid Muse with the terrifying title of She Who Brought the World to Ruin. It was an impossible task that she didn’t dare attempt to entertain adjacent to so much as Stradivaria’s case. There were nights when she was tempted beyond tempted to forsake her deceptive scheme, to throw caution to the wind in the interest of burning curiosity and progress.

  Please save me.

  Mixoly had asked so kindly, after all.

  How such a Muse could bring the world to ruin was beyond her. In regards to the methodology, Octavia couldn’t begin to imagine how she would broach the subject. It wasn’t even a subject she should've been aware of in the first place--of that, she was certain. To know that the Muses had recognized Mixoly’s presence in Tacell all along was as baffling as it was unfortunately expected, and Stratos’ insistence that she stray from Theo’s cottage had clicked cleanly and neatly.

  It wasn’t that her prior actions weren’t deliberately disobedient. Regardless, all that would follow would be high-risk enough to put Octavia actively at odds with most--if not all--Muses she encountered. She so desperately wished to see Ethel again. In truth, she missed him, somewhat.

  It was another evening of planned deceit that led Octavia to the balcony. With the softest steps she could muster, she tip-toed along the creaking stairs to the second floor of the cottage. In relative darkness, it was primarily the gentle glimmer of creamy moonlight that guided her way as it snuck through the hallway's curtains. She was unlucky tonight, instead finding near pitch-blackness where the assistance of moonbeams should’ve been.

  Her eyes captured the tiniest fragment of light further down, a golden flickering glow beneath the gap of the door she knew to lead to Madrigal’s room. It didn’t matter how many times they’d told her not to use a candle as a nightlight. The Maestra did it anyway. In this instance, it was--for once--a helpful navigational tool, and Octavia was successful in feeling her way along the wall to the balcony door. She was so, so grateful that it didn’t squeak.

  She was grateful, too, for the chill of the autumn evening, sifting through her hair with each rolling breeze and ruffling her nightgown playfully. Octavia was less grateful for company. "Surprised" was probably a better way of putting it, given who'd beaten her there. This was new.

  “Viola?”

  It took her a moment to capture the girl’s attention, initially shunned in favor of the Maestra’s fixation far beyond the railing. Her arms were draped lazily over the metal rim, her head nestled against them in turn. She was a victim of the wind herself. Really, it was always striking to watch her own locks sway without the companionship of a little bow. She was nonplussed at the sound of Octavia’s voice, casting her eyes unhurriedly over her shoulder.

  “You’re up late,” Viola said.

  Octavia shrugged through her confusion. “I mean, you’re up late, too.”

  Viola’s gaze flickered down to the violin in her hands, then back up to the Ambassador’s face. “What’s up with Stradivaria?”

  Octavia winced. “I, uh…I play together with him at night, sometimes. It helps me unwind. I usually come out here for a little while.”

  In truth, nothing could help her unwind less. It wasn’t a fact she was keen to share.

  Viola’s eyes widened slowly, and she nodded in satisfaction. “Oh. That’s what I keep hearing at night.”

  “I-I’m sorry, is it loud?” Octavia stammered, self-consciousness settling in.

  It was Viola’s turn to shrug. “It’s not exactly quiet. I don’t mind, though. I like listening to it. It helps me sleep. My room isn’t exactly that far from here, you know.”

  Octavia sighed. She'd forgotten that part. “What are you doing out here? I thought you hated cold nights.”

  “I do. Even still, I can’t sleep. Thought I’d go outside and get some air. Wanted to look at the stars. Got screwed over.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Viola threw her arms wide at the cloudy sky dramatically. “Nothing. Not one star up there. Can’t even see the moon, hardly. I crawled all the way out of bed for this, and I’m still no closer to actually being tired.”

  Octavia couldn’t stifle a chuckle. “Do you want me to make you something? Tea, anything? I don’t know if that would help.”

  Viola shook her head. “I’m not really in the mood for drinking anything. I appreciate it, though. The air is nice, at least. It’s my fault for not wearing thicker clothes yet.”

  “It’ll be winter soon. You should probably fix that.”

  Viola groaned. “I’m gonna be so mad if it starts snowing. This is already pushing it.”

  “You are literally Soulful,” Octavia said with a smirk.

  “Do you think, like, Willful people enjoy being set on fire?” Viola argued playfully. “Don’t start with me.”

  Octavia laughed. She, too, offered her eyes to the same starless sky. Her fingers curled around Stradivaria, a more gentle grip than the firm stress of paranoia with which she’d choked him moments before. “I could…make the stars for you.”

  Viola turned to her in full, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

  Octavia lifted Stradivaria into position, her steady fingers settling over the strings as always. “I can make you some stars. Compensation prize for coming out here, you know?”

  “You’re gonna…make them yourself?”

  “Can’t guarantee they’re gonna be better than the real thing, though,” she muttered.

  It wasn’t hard. She’d made the same vibrant, luminous little balls so many times over that she could do it with her eyes shut. Granted, the circumstances under which her notes typically crafted rounded luminescence, vivid and aglow under her touch, were typically far more frantic and far more deadly. They were usually hotter, brighter, born of the intent to maim or kill.

  The ones that now sprang to life beneath every tender motion of her fingertips were significantly more muted, still privy to the pulsing warmth that was second nature to her. She sent them high, orbs of milky whites and the softest golds rising above their heads like fireflies. Octavia wondered how many she could make at once. It became a personal challenge.

  Every push and pull of Stradivaria’s bow was careful, calculated, a balancing act that made her smile over a one-person competition. More and more, they popped into existence, her own little night sky awakening just several feet above herself and Viola. The warmth of her glow was palpable, a radiant aura that brushed comfortably against her skin below. Her speckled umbrella was a shield against the gentle cold, drifting and sparkling in just the slightest. Octavia didn’t bother trying to count them. She spread them far. Her song was a plus, an atmosphere of contentment and peace where moments before had sat an unplaceable urgency.

  She grinned at her own handiwork, whether or not she was content with it. Octavia hadn't fully mastered projecting her light, nor moving it accordingly once it had left the safety of Stradivaria’s strings--rays of violence notwithstanding. Even so, she briefly contemplated attempting to raise her makeshift stars ever higher. They were, truly, no substitute for the real things, millions upon millions of miles away. No amount of effort would place them where Viola could throw her eyes high and inspect them with wonder. Octavia hardly needed to. Viola seemed to be getting just as much out of them down here as she would anywhere else.

  Octavia watched the way the twinkle of her own stars was threatened by that of Viola’s eyes, the two mingling beneath the confines of her enraptured gaze. Her heart skipped a beat. She wanted more of that.

  She fought to make them brighter. She fought to make them more numerous. She fought with every soft note she had to put on a light show to impress, scattering her radiant stardust across every aspect of Viola’s visual field. Octavia couldn’t weave a galaxy, and yet she tried regardless. At a certain point, she knew she was showing off. She didn’t especially care.

  “This is the part where you clap,” Octavia teased.

  Her fingers never stilled, and her stars never dimmed. Still, when Viola didn’t answer, Octavia initially thought she’d done something wrong. The glow of her little night sky illuminated Viola’s face in full, her skin warmed and lightened by delicate radiance. Under this lighting, the sight was lovely. Octavia wondered if Viola would laugh, were she to put one single star ever so tenderly atop her hair. She quickly withdrew the idea for fear of the heat, even if the result would be astoundingly beautiful.

  “You never cease to amaze me,” Viola breathed.

  Octavia scoffed with a smirk. “Oh, stop it, you’re making me blush.”

  “I mean it.”

  Octavia paused, her song filling in where words could not. In the absence of speech, if she listened close, she could hear the nearly-inaudible crackle of her little stars as they levitated aimlessly.

  “Viola?” she tried.

  “You’re so…full of surprises. You always have been,” Viola murmured.

  Octavia tilted her head, an odd motion with her face pressed to Stradivaria. “Is that a bad thing?”

  The sparkle in Viola’s eyes was relentless, emboldened by something far beyond what Octavia’s light could provide. “It’s wonderful. I…love watching you. I love waiting to see whatever it is you do next.”

  Octavia really did blush. “I-I don’t always make the best decisions, you know. You’ve seen that firsthand.”

  Viola shook her head with the softest smile Octavia had ever seen her wear. “That’s not what I mean. I just…I love being with you in general. Not solely for the things you can do, or for the things you’re expected to do, but because you’re you.”

  Octavia blinked. “What do you…mean?”

  Viola took one step forward. She took another, then another, until she’d come so close to Octavia that her head nearly bumped into Stradivaria. It was a struggle to play with the girl so close, and Octavia was forced to curl her arms inwards in the hopes of maintaining her steady song. Even then, her notes were curt, and her stars were flickering. Her face was warm.

  “It’s hard to play if you’re this close,” Octavia joked. “My stars are gonna be…crappy.”

  “I like your crappy stars, too,” Viola said with much the same smile.

  “A-Are they too warm?” Octavia stammered. “I can make them less bright, o-or I can try to make them less hot. Are they too close to you? Is that why you--”

  Viola’s fingers reaching for her cheek brought her thoughts screeching to a halt. It almost did the same to her luminescent melody, her fingers slowing dramatically. Viola's skin was soft. Her touch was warm. It was different from that of Octavia's stars, a warmth that seeped directly into her blood. She tensed.

  “They’re perfect. It’s okay,” Viola reassured quietly.

  Octavia’s heart skipped a beat. “Do you…like them?”

  Viola nodded, the gentleness of her expression and the radiance in her eyes suddenly shaming the night sky at Octavia’s fingertips. In an instant, the girl had stepped into its center, inches from her face, and pulled every last twinkling star she’d birthed with love into her orbit. She was the softest sun Octavia had ever seen.

  “I love them,” her sun whispered.

  “I-I-I can make more, if y-you want,” Octavia stammered. As to why words were so difficult to come by, she was unsure. Her heart pounded against her chest loudly enough that it almost drowned out Stradivaria’s song. She hoped Viola couldn’t hear it.

  Viola shook her head. “This is more than enough.”

  Octavia struggled to make conversation, painfully aware of how close Viola was to her. She smelled like vanilla. That wasn’t important right now. “I-I think I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve gotten to show you my light without, you know, people…being in danger.”

  “Mhm.”

  Octavia couldn’t get over how soft the girl’s hand was, Viola’s fingertips trailing along her cheek delicately. It felt wonderful. It gave her chills. That wasn’t important right now, either. “I think you’ve, uh, you have the same kind of problem, where I’ve only gotten to see your ice a few times without us being in trouble, right? I-I’d have to think of when. There was the snow thing, w-we just did that, that was fun. I really liked that idea. You have a lot of really good ideas. I-I didn’t think I’d like it at first, but I had a lot more fun than I expected I would. So that’s one time.”

  She was vaguely aware that she was rambling. It wasn’t intentional. Octavia flushed. At some point, the deep sea of Viola’s eyes had become her favorite color. She’d never stopped to notice. That wasn’t important right now, either.

  “The night we met,” Viola offered.

  “Y-Yeah! I forgot about that one. You showed me how to be a Maestra--well, I mean, you showed me what it meant to be a Maestra. I don’t know if it counts, but I just remembered that the first time I actually saw your ice, it was technically in a really bad situation. I still get what you mean, though. Your snowflakes were really pretty. You were really--”

  She bit her tongue. Was Stradivaria always this heavy?

  Viola giggled. “I know we didn’t meet under the greatest circumstances, but I’m still so blessed that we met at all. I’m…so happy to have you in my life. I’m so happy to get to be a part of yours.”

  Octavia's head was fuzzy. She was vaguely aware of the way her song was weakening, the way her stars were fizzling. She wondered if Viola would be mad at her. She wondered if Viola was still paying attention. For her own peace of mind, she hoped Viola really was fine with “crappy stars”.

  “I-I’m so blessed that you’re part of my life, too!” Octavia blurted out. “When all this is over, let’s do lots of fun things together that we haven’t done yet! We won’t have to worry about Maestro stuff anymore. We can travel, we can go back to Coda, I-I can even take you to Silver Ridge and show you around the right way! You didn’t get to see almost anything last time. There’s this one spot where I used to go to--”

  Her song wasn’t stopped of her own accord. It was stilled by two slender hands, far softer and warmer than her own, settling calmly atop her moving fingers. Down they pressed, ever so gently, lowering either half of Stradivaria with the most delicate force imaginable. Octavia’s cheek lamented the absence of the warmth it had relished until seconds ago.

  She supposed there were so many other warmths that compensated for it. There was Viola’s breath, so close to her lips. There was her own blood, aflame in her veins and threatening to burst. There was her heart, dying to do the same. There were her stars, popping and fizzling into thin air one by one as they fell from her sky.

  “I’m happy no matter where we are or where we go. I just want to be with you,” Viola whispered, every syllable nearly brushing against Octavia's skin.

  “I-I…I’d like that a lot,” Octavia said softly. Viola didn’t need the orbit of her stars to be the sun. She was already beautiful enough.

  “Octavia, I…” Viola began, trailing off just as suddenly.

  “You’re really pretty.”

  Viola blinked. Octavia’s face blossomed scarlet. She kicked herself hard, lamenting her ability to swallow words that had already left her mouth. Her best attempts at damage control were a disaster.

  “I mean, you’re always pretty! I’ve always thought you were pretty! I mean--wait, no, what I mean is that you’re pretty no matter what you--oh, geez, that’s not it either. I mean, like, since we’ve met, you’ve been pretty, and it’s not that you were never not pretty, but you got…prettier.”

  Viola’s eyes shone like sapphires. Octavia could barely breathe. “Beautiful, even.”

  “You are the most wonderful person I’ve ever met,” Viola murmured.

  Octavia didn’t resist the way Stradivaria’s weight grew to be too much, letting either half of her partner fall limply to her sides in her shaking grasp. She’d brought to life stars in such abundance that even now they gave their last twinkles, still fading as they surrendered to the true and darkened night overhead. She had just enough light to capture Viola’s face, savoring the shimmer in the sea that pierced her heart. She didn’t want to lose it yet.

  “I really like you,” Octavia whispered. “A lot.”

  “I think I like you even more than that.”

  Octavia shook her head, her face so close to Viola’s that her braids surely tickled the girl’s cheeks. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t pull her gaze away from Octavia’s own, locked in place forever. “I’m…pretty sure I like you more than you like me.”

  “Yeah?” Viola whispered back, the slightest hint of a tease upon her words.

  Octavia couldn't breathe. “Yeah.”

  Viola’s lips nearly brushed against her own as she grinned. “Prove it, then.”

  Octavia was grateful for the quantity of radiance she’d opted to bless their world of two with. Their tiny galaxy at last ran low on luminescence, and the last of her false stars finally flickered and died. It left them silent and still, with only the darkness of autumn in their wake and the faint sounds of the natural evening to fill the void Octavia’s song had once claimed. She’d captured enough of Viola’s own luminous visage in her mind to keep her company with her eyes closed.

  It was enough to carry her through the way her head spun and her thoughts fell apart. It was enough to put a face to what made her blood rush through her ears and her heart swell with bliss she couldn’t contain. The butterflies that flooded her stomach and the chills that shot down her spine were twists on sensations she hadn’t associated with happiness in quite some time. Viola’s lips were impossibly soft.

  When they parted, it wasn’t for long. Octavia surrendered her breath and dove into that beautiful blue sea again and again in the dark of the night. For the pendulum she'd become as of late, for the back and forth of truth and lies she swung endlessly between, never had she felt so still and at peace in her entire life. That was all that was important right now.