The night was colder than Elena expected. She tugged her cardigan tighter around her shoulders as she stepped out of the cafe after her shift ended. The streets were quiet, shops shuttered, lanterns dimmed, only the sea kept speaking, its tide rolling endlessly against the rocks.
She should have gone straight home. Her sketchbook was tucked beneath her arm, begging for attention, and she was tired. But something in the air felt different tonight. Restless, as if the town itself was holding its breath.
Her feet carried her toward the pier.
It was the same pier where the fishermen set their nets at dawn, where couples carved their initials into the old wood, where she herself had once sat as a teenager and promised the stars she'd leave this town someday. The planks creaked under her steps, familiar and weather-worn, carrying her toward the water's edge.
And there he was.
Adrian stood at the railing, his shoulders outlined in the moonlight. His jacket was unzipped, and the dog tags around his neck caught the faintest glint of silver. He hadn't noticed her yet; his eyes were fixed upward, on the sky that stretched infinitely and dark above him.
For a moment, Elena hesitated. It felt like trespassing, stepping into someone else's private prayer. But then he turned, and their eyes met, and hesitation melted into inevitability.
"You again," Adrian said softly, not in annoyance but with something closer to relief.
Elena gave a small smile. "You make it sound like I'm following you."
"Are you?"
Her laugh surprised him, even herself. "Maybe." She walked closer, the wooden planks groaning under her sandals. "I could ask you the same. You seem to show up everywhere I go."
"I guess we've both got good taste in places," he said, leaning back against the railing. His tone was casual, but his gaze lingered.
They stood side by side, the stars scattered above them like careless paint on a black canvas. For a while, neither spoke. It was the kind of silence that stretched comfortably, stitched together by the rhythm of waves and the occasional cry of a gull settling in for the night.
Elena opened her sketchbook. The pages fluttered in the breeze until she pressed them flat with her palm. She began to draw without thinking, lines and curves shaping into the horizon before her. The pier, the water, and almost without permission, the faint outline of the man beside her.
"Do you always draw everything you see?" Adrian asked quietly.
"Not everything." Her pencil paused. "Just the things I don't want to forget."
He considered that. "So I'm in your sketchbook again?"
Heat rose in her cheeks. "Not exactly. You're... a background material."
He chucked, low and bried, but the sound carried warmth. "Background... I'll take it."
They fell silent again. Elena sketched the curve of his jaw before she could stop herself. She hated that he made her hands less steady. Or maybe she loved it. She couldn't decide.
Finally, Adrian spoke again, his voice softer than before. "You ever think about how many people have looked up at these same stars? How many promises do the stars hear?"
Elena glanced at him. His face was tilted toward the sky, but his eyes weren't just looking. They were remembering.
"What promises have you made?" she asked.
He was quiet for a long time. The waves slapped against the pier, filling the space his silence left.
"Too many," he said at last. His voice was hoarse, threaded with something unspoken. "Some I kept. Some I couldn't."
Elena closed her sketchbook slowly, sensing the weight of his words. She didn't push further, though curiosity tugged at her. Instead, she asked, "Do you regret them?"
Adrian leaned forward on the railing, his hands gripping the wood until his knuckles paled. "Regret doesn't change anything. The past... it just sits there, waiting for you when you close your eyes."
Her heart ached at the heaviness in his tone. She wanted to reach for him, but she barely knew him. And yet, it already felt like she knew enough to understand the shadows in his voice.
"I'm sorry," she said softly.
He turned to her then, his expression gentler than she expected. "Don't be. It's not your burden."
Still, his eyes lingered, as if daring her to look away. She didn't. And in that moment, something passed between them. Not words, not promises, but a fragile beginning of trust.
They sat on the edge of the pier, their legs dangling above the dark water. Elena set her sketchbook aside, letting the cool night air sting her cheeks. Adrian pulled a small flask from his jacket, unscrewing the cap.
"Don't tell your boss," he murmured, offering it.
She smirked. "Maybe I should card you first."
He gave her that small, reluctant smile again. She took the flask, sipping cautiously. The liquid burned, sharp and warm, down her throat. She coughed, and Adrian laughed, an honest laugh, unguarded and real.
"You're terrible at that," he teased.
"I wasn't expecting fire. Is that alcohol? I don't drink alcoholic drinks." She wheezed, wiping her mouth.
"It's whiskey," he said. "It's supposed to be fire."
Elena passed it back to Adrian, their laughter quiet but alive, carried away by the sea breeze. For a little while, the shadows in his eyes lightened.
Elena found herself studying him in those moments when he wasn't looking. The slope of his shoulders, the way his fingers tapped against the flask as though restless, the flicker of emotion in his gaze when it drifted back to the stars.
"Can I ask you something?" she said.
He looked at her. "Go ahead."
"Why here? Why this town? There are a lot of quiet places in this world."
Adrian's jaw tightened. His eyes dropped to the water.
"I needed peace of mind," he said finally. "Somewhere the world doesn't follow me."
The words were simple, but Elena heard the weight behind them. The battles he wasn't naming, the ghosts he wasn't describing.
"You found it?" she asked gently.
He hesitated, then met her gaze. "Maybe. For now."
Their eyes held longer than either intended. The stars stretched infinitely above them, and for a heartbeat, the universe seemed to fold into this small pier, into the fragile thread pulling them closer.
Elena's chest tightened. She should have looked away, but she didn't.
And neither did he.
By the time they rose to leave, the flask was empty, and the stars had multiplied, burning brighter as if to witness their fragile beginning.
Elena hugged her sketchbook to her chest. "Good night, Adrian."
It was the first time she had said his name aloud. It tasted unfamiliar, but right.
He paused, surprised. Then he gave a small nod, his voice quiet but certain. "Good night, Elena."
As she walked back toward the town, her heart beat too loudly in her ears. She told herself it was just the cold.
But the truth was simpler.
Something had shifted.
And the stars... They knew.