Some people confuse possession with trust. They aren't the same thing.

Possession is easy. You can own a house, a company, a wedding ring. You can even convince yourself you own another person if you're selfish enough.

Trust asks for permission every single day.

Love wasn't much different. People mistook it for intensity all the time. The late-night drives because neither of you wanted to say goodbye. Burnt dinners that somehow tasted better because someone had tried. Talking until sunrise because sleeping meant tomorrow would arrive too soon.

He'd had that once.

Once.

It hadn't lasted.

Looking back, maybe neither of them had trusted each other enough to stay ordinary. They had loved each other like people trying to outrun something—too fiercely, too desperately, with too much certainty that if they held on hard enough, nothing could take it away.

Love wasn't choosing someone once. It was waking up every morning and quietly choosing them again.

Avi had never been particularly good at staying anywhere long enough to find out what came after the choosing. Maybe that was the problem. He knew how to arrive. He knew how to leave. He knew how to stand between people and whatever was coming for them, how to make himself useful, how to carry things quietly until nobody noticed the weight anymore.

But belonging was different. Belonging required staying when there was nothing left to fix.

He wasn't sure he'd ever learned how to do that.

The rooftop was almost completely dark.

There was no moon tonight—only stars scattered carelessly across the black sky, sharp enough to make the city below look strangely unreal. The surrounding buildings rose in uneven silhouettes, their windows glowing here and there like distant, sleepless eyes.

Avi sat with his back against the low concrete wall, one knee drawn up, a cigarette burning slowly between two fingers.

It was a new pack. He'd bought it on the way home. He hadn't smoked regularly in years, but lately, he seemed to be finding his way back to it. The first cigarette had tasted awful. The second hadn't improved much. He'd lit the third anyway.

The ember glowed briefly in the darkness before he took a drag and watched the smoke disappear into the cold night air.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there. Long enough for the dampness from the evening to settle into his clothes. Long enough for the cigarette to burn nearly to the filter. Long enough for the noise of the city below to become one continuous, distant hum.

Long enough that the sound of the rooftop door opening barely registered.

Avi turned his head as Nicholas stepped through.

Nicholas stopped when he saw him. For a moment, neither spoke.

Nicholas looked tired. His sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, his hair slightly disheveled as though he'd run his hands through it too many times. His gaze dropped to the cigarette between Avi's fingers, his expression changing almost imperceptibly.

"Getting back to a bad habit, I see."

Avi looked down at the ember. "Apparently."

Nicholas walked toward him. "I didn't hear you come home."

"I thought you were sleeping."

"I was."

Avi looked him over carefully. "You look tired, though."

Nicholas lowered himself onto the cold concrete beside him, leaving a small, deliberate space between their shoulders. "I am."

His gaze dropped to the cigarette again. Avi noticed, sliding the open pack out of his jacket and holding it toward him.

"How many?" Nicholas asked.

"Three."

"That bad?"

"That bad."

Nicholas considered him for a long moment. "Wanna talk about it?"

Avi shook his head. "Not really."

Nicholas huffed softly through his nose. "Fair enough."

He took a single cigarette from the pack, rolling the filter thoughtfully between his fingers.

Avi reached into his pocket and held out the lighter.

Nicholas glanced at the metal casing, then up at Avi. Instead of taking it, he leaned closer.

Avi barely had time to register the shift before Nicholas's hand settled lightly against the small of his back. Avi instinctively shifted backward, startled by the sudden closeness.

Nicholas's hand tightened by the smallest degree. "Stay."

The word was quiet, absolute.

Avi went utterly still.

Nicholas leaned in until the tip of his unlit cigarette touched the glowing end of Avi's. For one suspended second, neither moved. Avi could feel the firm warmth of Nicholas's hand through his shirt, could smell sandalwood, rain, and cedar. Their faces were close enough that Avi could see the tiny shift in his eyes as he watched the flame catch.

The cigarette ignited.

Nicholas drew back slowly, the corner of his mouth lifting into the smallest, most infuriating smirk. He removed his hand from Avi's back and settled against the wall again, leaning his head back as though absolutely nothing unusual had happened.

Avi stared at him. Then at the burning cigarette between his own fingers. Then back at Nicholas.

"...Dayumn."

Nicholas chuckled softly. "What?"

Avi shook his head, unable to keep the reluctant amusement from breaking across his face. "That was impressive."

A faint, genuine smile tugged at Nicholas's mouth.

For a while, neither said anything. Avi took another slow drag, the smoke curling lazily between them before disappearing into the expanse of the night.

The silence wasn't awkward. That surprised him. Usually, silence with Nicholas had edges. It carried unanswered questions, heavy things neither of them knew how to put into words yet. Tonight, it simply existed.

Avi let his head rest back against the concrete wall. Beside him, Nicholas looked out over the quiet skyline.

"How was your friend?" Nicholas asked softly.

Avi's fingers paused around the cigarette. "Good."

"That's all?"

"That's all."

Nicholas turned his head slightly. Avi could feel the weight of the unspoken question without having to look at him. He exhaled a long plume of smoke into the darkness.

"You'd like him."

"Would I?"

Avi's mouth twitched. "Yeah."

Nicholas waited patiently, the tip of his cigarette glowing bright in the dark.

Avi stared out at the city below. "He made me plant a lemon tree."

Nicholas blinked, turning his head further. "Really?"

"Yeah."

Nicholas's expression softened with something close to quiet amusement. "You spent your afternoon gardening, then?"

"Don't make it sound wholesome."

"I'm just trying to picture you gardening."

"You shouldn't."

"I wasn't aware you knew how."

"I didn't."

That earned a quiet, low laugh from Nicholas—warm enough to cut through the chill.

Avi smiled despite himself.

"I followed your lead."

Avi looked at him. "Which one?"

"The driver."

Avi's cigarette paused halfway to his mouth.

Nicholas leaned his forearms against his knees, the notebook resting loosely between his hands.

"I went back through the financial records," Nicholas said. "The debt was real, but it wasn't nearly as simple as the police report made it sound. The payments stopped three months before he died. Then someone started making them again recently."

Avi said nothing, his gaze fixed on the glowing ember.

"I traced the account."

"And?"

"It belonged to a company that doesn't officially exist anymore." Nicholas paused, the silence stretching taut between them. "Millennium Co-operations. It died with my dad."

Avi's eyes widened slightly. "Nicholas..."

"I know." There was no excitement in his voice. No triumph. Only the quiet, heavy frustration of someone who had finally found a door, only to discover another lock behind it. "My dad seems to be very busy in his grave doing all the bank work."

Avi slowly exhaled a thin stream of smoke into the rain-dusted air. "Convenient."

"Very." Nicholas looked back toward the city skyline. "And there's something else."

Avi waited.

"The driver wasn't just scared." Nicholas turned to him. "He was loyal."

A small silence fell over the roof.

"I thought fear was what kept people quiet," Nicholas continued softly. "Money. Threats. Blackmail. The usual things. But sometimes people know they're walking into something dangerous and still go anyway. They protect someone who can't protect themselves. They keep secrets that could destroy them. They lie for people who might not even deserve it."

Avi looked away, his jaw tightening.

"The driver learnt something," Nicholas said. "Enough to be afraid. But he trusted Boaz more than he trusted his own chances of getting out."

Avi's cigarette burned quietly between his fingers.

"I don't understand that."

"No?"

Nicholas shook his head. "I understand loyalty. I understand obligation. I understand fear." He paused, his voice dropping an octave. "Trust is different."

Avi said nothing.

Nicholas turned his head, wondering why. Avi wasn't looking at him; his face was tilted upward, eyes fixed on the expanse of dark sky above them. In the pale, rain-slicked glow of the wall lamp, Avi's side profile was all clean lines and shadow—the sharp angle of his jaw, the dark, damp curls clinging softly to his forehead, and the steady, quiet rise and fall of his chest. He lifted the cigarette, the amber tip casting a faint warmth over his cheekbones before he exhaled a slow, pale ribbon of smoke into the damp night air.

Feeling the weight of Nicholas's gaze, Avi turned his head. Their eyes met, locking in the dim quiet of the roof.

Nicholas looked remarkably settled against the weathered brick. The subtle overhang of the roof caught the soft light just enough to carve out the tired lines around Nicholas's eyes, the dark stubble along his jawline, and the faint, lazy trail of smoke drifting up from the cigarette held loosely between his own fingers.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Nicholas raised one eyebrow slightly, an unasked question hanging between them in the cold evening air.

Avi held his gaze for a moment longer before finally looking away, taking another drag from his cigarette and staring at the red tip.

"Do you know the strange thing about trust?" Avi asked.

Nicholas waited.

"When you hand it over to someone, you quite literally give them the power to do whatever they want with it." Avi flicked the ash over the edge of the parapet wall. "They can keep it safe... or they can use it to hurt you."

A beat.

"And you don't get to control which one they choose," Avi continued quietly. The cigarette trembled almost imperceptibly between his fingers. "That's the whole point, isn't it?"

"That sounds less like trust and more like surrender," Nicholas said.

"Maybe they're closer than people like to admit."

Nicholas lowered his gaze. "Would you trust someone like that?"

Avi gave a faint, tired smile.

"Can I?"

His dark eyes flicked back to Nicholas. Nicholas stared at him. He looked...preplexed.

Avi's hand disappeared into his jacket pocket and pulled out the battered notebook.

Nicholas's eyes dropped to it instantly.

Avi held it closer to his heart for another second before extending his hand.

"This originally belonged to Shane."

Nicholas's gaze snapped back to Avi's face.

Avi swallowed, his throat moving heavily. "I thought if I kept it safe, everything would be alright. I thought I knew what I was supposed to do with it."

His thumb moved slowly along the worn edge of the leather cover. "Turns out I don't. Wasn't even my decision to make in the first place."

Avi extended the notebook fully toward him.

Nicholas looked down at it. "What's in it?"

"Answers."

There was no smile on either of their faces now.

"Answers?"

Avinash nodded.

"I should've given it to you sooner," he whispered. "I was afraid of what you'd do with it."

Nicholas remained completely still.

Avi's gaze dropped to the book. "Now I'm more afraid of what you won't do with it."

Avi's voice softened. "Whatever's in there... don't believe it just because Shane wrote it. Don't believe it because I gave it to you. Read it. Question it. Decide for yourself."

"You're not going to tell me what's inside?" Nicholas asked.

Avi shook his head. "No."

"Why?"

"Because then it becomes my version of the truth."

Nicholas considered that for a quiet beat.

"And you want me to find my own."

"Yeah."

Nicholas finally reached out. His fingers closed around the worn edge of the cover.

Avi let go.

The transfer was almost painfully ordinary. Paper. Leather. A few inches of distance. And yet something inside Avi loosened the moment the physical weight left his hand.

Nicholas looked down at the notebook, then back at him. "You trust me to do that?"

Avi's mouth curved faintly. "I wouldn't have given it to you if I didn't."

Nicholas held his gaze, his tone suddenly shifting, growing serious. "Avi."

Something in his voice made Avi's small smile vanish instantly.

"What's going on?"

Avi tried to force a smile back onto his face, but it failed completely. His eyes burned in the damp night air. He turned his face toward the dark sky.

"Nothing."

Nicholas didn't believe him. Avi knew he didn't. But Nicholas didn't press.

For a long moment, neither spoke. The city stretched beneath them, thousands of distant windows glowing against the wet darkness.

Avi took another drag from his cigarette. Then another.

Nicholas watched him silently before saying, "That's four."

Avi glanced over. "What?"

"Four cigarettes."

Avi looked down at his fingers as though he'd only just noticed the ember. "This is becoming a problem."

"What is?"

"You keeping count."

Nicholas's mouth twitched. "Someone has to."

"You're very controlling."

"I've been told."

"Frequently?"

"Frequently."

Avi snorted softly.

Nicholas leaned his head back against the brick wall, looking up into the rain. "You know... I don't think I've ever seen you smoke this much."

"You haven't known me long enough."

Nicholas was quiet for a moment. "Maybe that's the problem."

Avi glanced at him. Nicholas was still staring up at the dark sky.

"I've missed a lot," Nicholas said, giving a small, heavy shrug. "Things about you. Things I should've known years ago and didn't."

Avi's fingers stilled around the filter.

"So I'm going to catch up," Nicholas said softly, turning his head to meet Avi's eyes. "On the past. Figure out what I missed. Understand what's happening now." He paused. "And then I'll worry about what's next."

Something in Avi's expression fractured. It was tiny, almost invisible, but Nicholas caught it. Avi looked away quickly.

"You make it sound easy."

"I didn't say it would be easy." Nicholas's mouth curved faintly. "I said I'm stubborn."

Avi let out a quiet breath that almost became a laugh—almost. His eyes had gone glassy, catching the dim glow of the overhead light.

"Avi."

"Don't."

"I wasn't going to—"

"Don't."

Nicholas stopped.

Avi lifted the heel of his hand, pressing it hard beneath one eye before sweeping it angrily across his cheek. He stared stubbornly toward the horizon, his jaw locked tight.

"I've got something in my eye."

Nicholas glanced toward the perfectly clear sky. "It's probably the stars."

Avi gave him a flat, unimpressed look. "That was terrible."

"I know."

"You're getting worse."

"I know."

The corner of Avi's mouth twitched. For a fraction of a second, it looked like the moment might pass, like he might manage to pull the walls back up.

Then his throat worked, a sharp, hitched breath escaping before he could catch it. He turned his face away quickly, his chest heaving as he pinched the bridge of his nose, dragging his sleeve across his eyes in a frustrated, useless attempt to stop the heat burning behind his lids. His shoulders trembled with the effort of holding it in, a tiny, involuntary sniffle betraying him.

"Shit."

Nicholas watched him for a moment before finally giving in and shifting closer. He reached out and wrapped a firm arm around Avi's shoulders, his fingers anchoring against the boy's far side as he gave a soft, lingering squeeze.

The city hummed somewhere below, distant and indifferent. A cool breeze moved across the rooftop, carrying the faint, clean smell of rain.

Avi stared fixedly ahead, his breathing still shallow and uneven. "You know what's annoying?"

Nicholas glanced down at him. "Several things come to mind."

Avi let out a small, weak laugh that ended in another quiet, hitched breath. "You're supposed to say no."

"I've never been good at lying."

"Clearly."

A beat passed, heavy and quiet.

"I don't know what to do with people who stay."

Nicholas's expression shifted, the faint lightness leaving his features.

Avi kept his eyes locked on the skyline. "I'm used to people leaving. Or me leaving. It's simpler."

Nicholas exhaled slowly, his gaze drifting out over the sea of glowing buildings. "You'll have to get used to it then. As I said... I'm stubborn."

Avi finally turned his head to look at him.

Nicholas held his gaze, steady and unyielding.

Avi was the one to break it, looking down at his lap. His fingers tightened around the filter until the paper crinkled softly between his knuckles.

"I hate this."

"I know."

"You don't even know what this is."

"I don't have to. Neither have you."

Avi breathed out shakily, his shoulders dropping a fraction of an inch. For a few long seconds, he simply sat there, staring at the concrete between his feet.

Then, slowly, he leaned sideways.

He let his head fall against Nicholas's shoulder. Nicholas adjusted his posture naturally, tilting his shoulder down to meet him and shifting his arm to cradle the small of Avi's back, letting the boy settle his weight fully against him.

Avi closed his eyes,

Slowly the tension left Avi's posture, his breathing finally steadying into a slow, even rhythm against Nicholas's chest. His voice came out barely above a whisper.

"Use it wisely."

Nicholas looked down at the leather-bound notebook resting on his lap. Then back at the dark, damp curls resting against his shoulder.

"I will."