Riven's POV
There was a chill in the air that afternoon, the kind that made autumn feel like a whispered warning. Riven sat in the passenger seat of his father's silver Mercedes, watching the blur of the city pass by through the tinted windows.
His father hadn't said a word since picking him up from Eli's neighborhood. Just one sharp look when Riven got in the car, then silence.
The tension was suffocating.
"You didn't answer my calls," his father finally said, eyes never leaving the road.
"I was at a friend's place," Riven replied, careful, steady.
"A friend," his father echoed, his voice flat. "Was that friend more important than your responsibilities?"
The question wasn't about concern. It was about control.
Riven didn't answer.
"You're expected to be a Castillo, Riven. Not some—" His father stopped himself. Then added, "—careless dreamer who throws away everything for distractions."
A breath caught in Riven's throat. He wanted to scream, He's not a distraction. He's the only part of me that feels real.
But he didn't.
Because some truths cost too much to say out loud.
---
Eli's POV
Eli sat on the rooftop of his dorm, sketchbook in hand, knees hugged to his chest.
He hadn't heard from Riven all day. Not a message. Not even a reaction to the picture Eli sent earlier of the sky turning soft pink at sunset.
It wasn't like Riven to vanish.
And yet… it was.
Eli turned a page in his sketchbook and found the half-drawn sketch of Riven's sleeping face from the night before. So peaceful. So unaware of the weight he carried.
He stared at it for a long time.
Then started sketching again.
This time, he drew hands. Two hands almost touching—but not quite. Fingers reaching, trembling, hovering in the space where a connection should be.
He shaded the empty space between them.
That space felt louder than anything.
---
That Night
Riven finally messaged.
> Riven: Sorry. Couldn't talk today.
Eli: It's okay. Are you home?
Riven: Yeah.
Eli: Do you… want to call?
Riven: Not tonight. I'm just… tired.
Eli: I get it.
Riven: I'll see you tomorrow?
Eli hesitated.
> Eli: I hope so.
He didn't mean to sound distant, but the truth was beginning to settle in.
They were in different worlds.
One where Eli was learning how to love freely.
And one where Riven was learning how to hide just to survive.
---
Riven's POV
That night, Riven stood on his balcony.
His father had already gone to bed. The house was silent—cold marble floors, untouched bookshelves, and emotionless walls.
Riven looked up at the stars.
He thought of Eli.
Thought of how Eli smiled when he sketched, how he laughed nervously when Riven looked at him too long. How it felt to fall asleep with someone else's breath brushing your shoulder.
He missed it already.
He missed him.
And then, suddenly—like some aching need—Riven whispered out loud:
"I want you."
He said it to the sky. To the night. To no one and to everything.
But the wind didn't answer.
---
Eli's POV
Eli stayed up late, working on a new piece. Charcoal smudged his fingers and the bridge of his nose. He didn't care.
The drawing showed two boys sitting under a streetlamp. One had his head on the other's shoulder. They weren't kissing. Weren't holding hands. They were just there.
Existing together in a world that rarely let them.
Eli titled it: "If Only."
And when he finally fell asleep at his desk, he dreamed of fireflies dancing between streetlights—blinking like tiny stars that didn't care about rules or names or fathers who didn't understand.
Just light.
Just movement.
Just almost-love.