An Astronomer's Guide to Falling Angels

Chapter 13

Astor had tried his best to stay awake that night. He lay on his bed, his heart racing as he kept glancing toward the window, hoping to see Arty's familiar silhouette. His mind raced with thoughts of her, of the way she'd smile at him when she arrived, of the little moments they managed to steal away from the world's cruelty. But exhaustion had a way of creeping in when you least expected it, and despite his determination, his eyelids grew heavy, and before he knew it, he had drifted off.

He didn't know how long he'd been asleep, but the softest, gentlest touch pulled him from his slumber. A tender kiss, barely a whisper, pressed to his forehead. Astor's eyes fluttered open, and the moment he saw her, his heart skipped a beat.

Arty was there, leaning over him with a soft smile, her lips just inches from his skin. For a second, he couldn't believe it. But then the relief came rushing in like a wave, and without thinking, he leapt into her arms.

"Arty!" he whispered, clinging to her tightly, burying his face into her neck as if she might disappear if he let go.

She chuckled softly, her arms wrapping around him in return. "Missed me, huh?"

Astor didn't even respond with words, just held onto her as if his life depended on it. It felt like forever before he pulled away, but when he did, the exhaustion that had been weighing on him all day seemed to ease. She was here. That's all that mattered.

As the night wore on, they settled together on his bed, cozy and warm, lying side by side. The room was dimly lit by the moonlight streaming through the window, casting a silver glow over them. For a while, they talked about anything and everything—about the stars, about music, even about Lukas and Oda's antics at school. Anything to distract themselves from the storm brewing in their lives.

Arty lay on her side, propped up on her elbow, watching Astor as he spoke. She hadn't seen him look this relaxed in days, and it filled her with a quiet kind of happiness.

At some point, though, the conversation quieted, and the room grew still. Arty shifted uncomfortably, her mind suddenly weighing heavy with the reality of what she'd come here to discuss. She bit her lip, trying to gather the courage to say what she needed to say.

Astor noticed the change in her demeanor. "What's wrong?" he asked softly, his voice laced with concern.

Arty hesitated, then shook her head. "It's nothing. Just... I feel bad."

Astor frowned slightly. "Feel bad about what?"

She sighed, finally looking him in the eye. "I didn't get you a gift. I brought flowers—bluebells, your favourite. But they fell out of my grasp when I was climbing the fence to your mansion. So..." She trailed off, scratching the back of her neck awkwardly. "I'm sorry. I know it's not a big deal, but still."

Astor's expression softened. He reached out and gently took her hand. "Arty... you're here. That's all I care about. Besides, you've already given me more than enough." He smiled, the kind of smile that could make Arty's heart flutter without warning.

She chuckled softly, but there was still something weighing on her, something she couldn't quite shake. She squeezed his hand a little tighter before taking a deep breath.

"So... the gala," she began hesitantly. "The one your parents are hosting soon."

Astor's eyes darkened slightly, and he sighed, already knowing where this was going. He pulled away a bit, sitting up against the headboard as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Yeah," he muttered. "It's in a few weeks. Big, flashy event, you know the type. All the rich families come, everyone dressed to impress, lots of champagne and fake smiles."