𝓒𝓲𝓷𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓸𝓷 ⁂- 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃

"End of beginning"

Real life

And just like that it was all over, nah I'm just messing with you.

Today was New Year's Eve,the rooftop of the West Hollywood loft felt like something out of a dream. a place where time slowed down, and everything shimmered. Lights floated above like stars caught in string, wrapped between heaters and low-hanging lanterns. Potted ferns lined the edges, half-decorative, half to block the winter chill. Music pulsed from a Bluetooth speaker someone had wedged behind a planter, muffled but loud enough to dance to.

Zia stood at the balcony's edge, fingers curled around a glass of apple cider garnished with a cinnamon stick, Harper's idea. Her velvet dress was deep navy, clinging and elegant, the kind of thing stylists usually helped her pick out. But tonight wasn't about stylists or red carpets or stage lighting.

Tonight was about people who knew her before the fame.

Behind her, the party stirred an ensemble of her real life: Leah with her dramatic story-telling hand gestures, Cami laughing so hard she had to lean on a couch, Bria, Aryan, and Nariah dancing in their socks to avoid slipping on the cold wood planks. Mason stood by the fire pit, roasting a marshmallow with absolutely no urgency, chatting casually with McKenna, who kept sneaking glances at her phone between sarcastic remarks.

Zia let her eyes close briefly. The air smelled like citrus and bonfires, and the breeze off the city made her feel awake in a way even filming never quite did.

"Are you going to do your dramatic balcony speech?" asked a familiar voice behind her. "Because I was promised something Oscar-worthy."

She didn't have to turn to know who it was.

"Only if you promise to cry on cue," she replied, already smiling.

Walker leaned beside her, his party hat barely staying on his head. He'd dressed like he wasn't trying, but somehow looked like he could be in a Calvin Klein ad, blonde hair tousled, black hoodie under a charcoal coat, his favorite boots laced loosely. His breath misted slightly in the cold air.

"I could cry right now," he said, giving her a sideways glance. "This cider's not even good."

Zia laughed softly and offered her glass. "Want a sip of mine? Harper added extra cinnamon. Very mature flavor."

He took a sip, made a face, then pretended to collapse dramatically against the balcony railing. "You're trying to kill me."

"You're still standing," she teased.

His voice softened. "Barely. I'm still recovering from missing you all week."

Zia raised an eyebrow. "You FaceTimed me every night."

"It's not the same," he said simply.

And somehow, that made her heart squeeze a little.

They stood in silence for a moment, overlooking the city lights stretching toward the horizon. Zia could see tiny flashes in the distance illegal fireworks already being tested before midnight. Something inside her chest felt both full and floaty.

"This year felt like a movie," she admitted quietly.

Walker looked at her. "Good movie or scary movie?"

"Both."

"Definitely had the rising-star montage," he said. "You were everywhere."

"Too everywhere sometimes."