Sky's POV
I was curled up like a cinnamon roll on my bed, face shoved into a pillow, not even crying—just simmering. Not angry, not sad. Just… humming. Internally. Because I saw him.
I know he heard the song.
He stood there. Behind the door. Not moving. Breathing just hard enough for me to hear. And then—
Nothing.
Typical Rain Ashford behavior: haunt the hallway like a ghost and vanish before the bridge.
So I stayed put. In my oversized hoodie, legs tangled in my fluffy blankets, staring at my ceiling with my heart sitting in my throat like it belonged to someone else.
Until the knock.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I froze.
Then sat up.
"Sky?"His voice. Low. Careful. Like he wasn't sure if I was going to throw a pillow at him or cry.
I opened the door a crack.
He was holding my glittery pink mug. With coffee. Two sugars, no milk. The one thing that makes my soul forgive people before my brain does.
"I brought you this," he said.
I blinked. "...You remembered."
He didn't answer. Just held it out like it weighed more than a mic stand.
I opened the door wider. Let him in.
And then he just stood there. Silent. His usual resting-scowl face on, but it was softer. Tired. Frayed at the edges.
He didn't sit.
So I did what I do best.
I talked.
"I wasn't trying to be dramatic, y'know? I was just—okay, maybe I was dramatic, but I was feeling things! And that's what I do, right? I feel stuff and I write stuff and it comes out in my songs and you never say anything but I know you heard it—"
"I did."
I blinked.
"I heard it," he said, voice tight. "Every word. And I'm sorry I've been an ass. I didn't mean to make you feel like… like it was all in your head."
I looked at him.
Like, looked.
And Rain Ashford, scary lead singer of MARS, international heartthrob and six-foot-something menace, was standing in my doorway looking like he was about to combust.
"I care about you," he said. "So much it messes me up."
My brain short-circuited.
Wait, WHAT?
"You—care?" I squeaked. Not cool. Not sexy. Not mysterious. Just squeaked like a deflating balloon.
He nodded. "I think I'm in love with you."
...
I launched.
I jumped on him like a sugar-high puppy.
Hot coffee almost spilled. His eyes went wide. I wrapped my arms around his neck and peppered kisses all over his cheeks, jaw, nose, wherever I could reach, laughing through it all like a maniac.
"YOU LOVE ME?!"
"Sky—"
"You LOVE me?!"
"Yes—wait—can I breathe—"
"No, shut up, I KNEW IT!"
He was laughing now, holding me up with one arm and trying to steady the coffee with the other, but I didn't care. I was showering him in kisses and squeals and my heart was doing backflips.
I pulled back just enough to look at him.Face flushed. Lips parted. Eyes on me like I was the only thing keeping him upright.
"I love you too," I whispered, serious now. "Since forever. Since the second you said my name like it was something you didn't deserve to hold."
He looked like I'd punched him in the chest in the best way.
And then he kissed me.
Soft. Gentle. Like he was afraid I'd vanish.
I didn't.
I clung to him like gravity.Because finally, finally, the world made sense.