Chapter Text
Lights slice through the dark like satellites breaking orbit. A synth harmony swells—weightless, lonely. The crowd floats in it. Then: a sharp click of drumsticks. Four beats. The synth vanishes. A guitar takes its place, raw and aching.
A voice rises—low, steady, haunted.
“The sky doesn’t care what my poor heart wants…”
The words hang in the air like dust in sunlight.
“And the desert can’t hear me cry…”
He lifts his gaze—off the mic, across the sea of faces. Searching, though he doesn’t know for what.
“The moon doesn’t mind that I’m left all alone…”
And then—
Eyes.
Not just any eyes. His eyes.
A face from a life half-forgotten, half-dreamed.
A ghost made flesh.
Han.
“And he’s gone—gone…”
The note shivers, falters.
His breath catches mid-song.
It was always about him.
But he never thought he’d see him again.
Not here. Not now.