Celestial: Fallen

Chapter 53: Riding Into Memories

Yesterday's dinner was great, even though my day had started with a nightmare. Today, Michael is coming to visit me so we can talk. I mentioned this to Josh last night, and as soon as I brought it up, his questions about Nick came pouring out like an unstoppable waterfall.

I didn't know how to explain it—what to say, or even what I could say. To Josh and Leroy, I had told them that Nick had gone abroad to deal with some issues involving our family—family matters, I said. That was the version I gave them. Before my parents left to return to our hometown, Papa had come to our university to explain Nick's situation. It hurt to admit, but Nick had been dropped from school.

Today, I plan to visit our apartment to clean it up and grab a few things I need. Josh offered to drive me, but I refused. "I'll just take an Uber," I told him.

I don't know how to drive a car, but Nick taught me how to ride his motorbike—a Yamaha YZF-R7. His bike is just as bold and dynamic as he is, sleek and aggressive in its design, mirroring his personality perfectly. I need to check on it while I'm at the apartment, and maybe... I could even use it for a ride.

"Maybe..." I whispered to myself, a small smile creeping onto my lips at the thought.

Sitting on the edge of the sofa, waiting for my Uber, I scrolled through social media, fangirling over BTS. Today's flavor? Jin, of course!

Jin is effortlessly charming with his broad shoulders and that dazzling smile that can light up any room. His confidence is magnetic, and yet he never takes himself too seriously. He's always cracking jokes, making everyone laugh, but behind that goofy exterior, there's a heart that's as deep as it is caring. Every time I see him smile, it feels like the world becomes a little lighter.

As I'm about to dive into another Jin video, my phone pings. My Uber is just around the corner.

"Time to go," I mutter to myself, slipping my phone into my pocket and grabbing my bag.

The ride to the apartment felt longer than it should have, my thoughts drifting back to Nick, to our family, and the tangled mess I was left to sort in his absence. Michael's visit later was another worry gnawing at me. What would he have to say about all of this?

The Yamaha bike—the one Nick had left behind—kept creeping into my mind. Its boldness, its power. It was a piece of Nick, and for some reason, riding it felt like the only thing that could keep me close to him while he was away.

Arriving at the apartment, I made my way inside and quickly set about cleaning up. The task was mundane, but it kept my mind occupied. I spent about two hours packing and tidying up, sorting through things I'd need and those I could leave behind for now. The bike—Nick's Yamaha YZF-R7—was the last thing on my list.

I stepped into the garage and, with a soft sigh, pulled open the door. There it was, parked in its usual spot, waiting for me. A flicker of sadness washed over me. It was like the bike itself missed Nick.

"Hey, buddy," I whispered, stepping closer.

Carefully, I lifted the cover, revealing the slightly dusty bike. The once gleaming surface now looked dull, the bold curves of its design muted by a layer of grime. I ran my fingers over it, a pang of longing hitting my chest.

"You'll come with me," I said softly, my voice almost a vow. "I'll take care of you while Nick's not here."

Gripping the handlebars, I gently rolled the bike out of the garage. Sunlight hit the surface, and for a moment, it seemed to bring it back to life. After locking up the garage, I grabbed one of the cleaning cloths Nick had always used for his bike. The cloth was worn, a little frayed at the edges, but it still smelled faintly of him.