🪐✨🌙I am not Moon🌙✨🪐

s i x t y - t h r e e

4:39 p.m.

Your POV

I step out of the taxi cab onto the concrete street, after paying for the ride. The sun hovers over the house casting a shine onto the building. The sound of the taxi driving off rumbles as I step towards the door. A feeling of butterflies in my stomach flutter around as I walk up the steps. A scenario that something wrong will happen when I walk in replays in my mind.

"It's just an old friend Y/N, nothing is going to happen," I tell myself, opening the door.

It still stays unlocked. I think, remembering the times when people have run into the "heaven" escaping from whatever they needed to escape from. Who would have thought that we'd call each other family. The house is oddly quiet well, almost quiet. The mellow melody of a saxophone echoes into my ears. Does she still play? I wonder, following the melody. I walk through the empty living area, past the leather couch with superhero blankets and toys stacked on top. I step over the childrens plushies, pushing them closer towards the hallway wall. I don't remember there being this many rooms. I notice the added rooms that were definitely not there when I was here. The saxophone melody grows louder as I reach the top of the staircase, right in front of the attic. I stand there, in front of the door to the attic, staring.

"You don't get to suddenly appear out of nowhere with this big glow up. You don't get to show up here gloating about how you're touring with this boy band. You don't get to say "I'm sorry" and expect me to just let you come back. You don't get to do that"

"Why can't you stay?"

Star's sentences play again, the image of her pain filled face jumps in front of me. I really am an asshole. I take a breath and quietly open the door, not wanting to disturb the musician. As if I am a ghost, as carefully and as quietly, I tip-toe up the wooden stairs. I place my hands on the railing of the stairs, letting my chin rest on top of them and listen to her play. There she is, Star, standing in the middle of the room her eyes are closed as she plays. I was always so fascinated by Star when she would play her saxophone. I don't know why she never continued with it as a fulltime job, she's amazing. Even when a sharp and squeaky note pops out from her instrument, Star continues as if it was nothing. I miss hearing you play, so much. An extremely loud boom sound erupts, causing the both of us to jump and Star to stop playing.

"Fucking hell," Star curses.

"Well, hello to you too," I speak, verbally stepping out of the shadows.

"Y/N! You're here? Wh-When did you get here?" Star asks, letting her saxophone to rest on the couch.

"A little while ago," I tell her.

"Did-did you hear-"

"Heard you play, yes," I finish her sentence.

"You sounded great, I mean it," I compliment her.

"Thank you," Star replies.

I step onto the same floor as her, facing her. She still has the sweater. I notice the black paint splattered hoodie that Star is wearing. The same one I gave her when we first started dating, the same hoodie that was too big for her. Now, the hoodie seems to fit her perfectly. And she still looks good in it.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" I ask, bouncing my arms off my legs.

"Oh, I-I wanted to say thank you," Star says.

"For what?" I ask.

I sit down on the large chair that's more of a second couch than a chair. Star takes a seat across from me on the actual couch next to her instrument.