Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In this painted galaxy, there are things we never see

In this world that is so blue, I will sing aloud for you

So these feelings ever small could reach out and say it all

To a you that’s all alone, in a world all of your own

One of Stanley’s first memories was of Xeno.

They were just babies. Stanley remembered lying there, staring at the boy next to him—white tufts of hair curling like a question mark, his wide black eyes taking in the world around them with wonder.

Even back then, Stanley wanted Xeno to notice him.

So, he made a sound. Not a word. He couldn’t form those yet.

It caught Xeno’s attention. Their eyes met.

Stanley would never forget, because that was the first time Xeno smiled because of him.

🎵

“Hello, Stanley Snyder. Nice to meet you. I’m Xeno Houston Wingfield, your neighbor.” Xeno always talked like a grown-up, even when they were little.

Stanley was still chewing on his shoelaces; Xeno was already saying words like “experiment” and “hypothesis”.

He followed along as best he could, lollipop in hand, eager to learn so his first friend wouldn’t leave him behind.

Xeno’s passion was infectious.

When he loved something, Stanley couldn’t help but love it too.

🎵

“Don’t cry, I’m okay!” Stanley called out as the ambulance doors closed.

One of Xeno’s science experiments had gone wrong.

Xeno knew what the right measurements were. He always did. His hand just slipped as he was about to add one small drop to the beaker.

Moments earlier he had said, “This might explode if I get it wrong. You can’t tell the grown-ups.”

Stanley didn’t think. He just moved.

He yanked Xeno out of the way right before the explosion. Some goo splashed onto his right arm, burning straight through his sleeve.

It smelled like rotten eggs.

Xeno had yelled at him to rinse the burn under water while he ran to find help.

He had never seen his best friend look so scared before.

When Stanley came back, his arm all wrapped up, he grinned wide, showing a gap from lost baby teeth.

“I got to ride in an ambulance! It was cool.”

Xeno stared at Stanley’s bandaged arm, frowning like he thought it was his fault.

Stanley leaned in conspiratorially, “We’re still gonna recreate Captain Comet’s Zap-Blaster, right?”

That did it. Xeno’s eyes lit up again, and he practically dragged Stanley to his room to unveil the blueprints.

His parents would ground him if they knew. But who would tell them?

He was glad to be able to do at least this much.

He wasn’t super smart like his best friend, who was already learning with the older kids.

But he could help.

He could carry stuff. Keep watch. Protect him from harm.

That was all he could do.

At least, until he discovered Xeno’s music.

🎵

“Beethoven’s music is like theoretical physics—it breaks the rules, bends space, and yet still holds together. He wrote like he was trying to crack the universe open. It’s science at the edge of chaos. Playing his work always helps me think clearer. It’s truly elegant.”

Stanley loved watching him like this—animated, bright-eyed, hands slicing through the air like a conductor mid-symphony. The seven-year-old boy in suspenders with a blue bowtie looked like a miniature doll in front of the grand piano in his living room.

“This is Hammerklavier. He composed it while deaf, hearing only through vibrations in his bones.”

Elegant fingertips flew across delicate piano keys, moving at a mesmerizing pace. Xeno looked like he was hardly breaking a sweat. Even though piano came second to science, Xeno took to it like it had always lived in his hands. Trophies casually adorned his bedside cabinet, and many whispered of him being a “music prodigy”, of having “perfect pitch”. They said Xeno could be the next Beethoven, even though Stanley knew he’d much rather be the next Einstein.

Stanley closed his eyes, entranced by Xeno’s music.

The music lifted something in his chest, the melody curling around him like starlight. He could see it, galaxies turning, constellations blooming, a whole universe Xeno couldn’t wait to explore. Xeno’s music was the most elegantly organized chaos.

When Xeno finally finished with a dramatic flourish, Stanley clapped.

But as the last note faded, something in Stanley dimmed.

He couldn’t help but feel like Xeno was growing further away from him, someone who couldn’t even read a single note.

He was surprised when Xeno asked him, “Have you considered learning music?”

He blinked, not quite sure how to answer.

He had thought about it, but he’d always felt like it was an insurmountable wall, that he’d never be good enough.

“I think it would be really fun to play with you.”

What Xeno wished for, Stanley always did his best to grant.

That was the day Stanley took up the guitar.

🎵

He treasured every moment of Xeno teaching him, shoulder to shoulder, head bent over sheets covered in musical notes.

Stanley found his eyes drifting sometimes to Xeno’s smile instead of the notes.

Music came to him a lot easier than quadratic equations and Xeno’s complex scientific explanations. He had a sense for the right notes from instinct alone.

He never stopped practicing. Xeno was a prodigy, and he already had a head start. If Stanley wanted to play by his side, he had to put in a hundred times the effort.

He surprised everyone, especially himself, with the speed of his progress.

Xeno loved classical music, while Stanley found he liked more modern songs.

He shared some of his favorites with Xeno and was delighted that Xeno liked them too.

With a lollipop in his cheek, he sought out new songs, harder chord progressions. His fingers bled more than once, but he kept playing. He didn’t even notice the pain until long after.

The music drowned everything else out.

Somewhere along the way, it stopped being about keeping up.

He had fallen in love with the way he could fill the silence with something wonderful, magical.

His parents were surprised when he quit swimming and soccer, which used to be his favorite activities, saying he wanted more time for practice.

🎵

“I arranged this for you,” Xeno said, handing over the sheets. He had written out every note by hand. In some places, the notes clustered so densely it looked like a storm had raged across the page in black ink. “Can you play it?”

“I can,” Stanley said, looking down at the arrangement with wide eyes.

It was harder than anything he had attempted before, but he wasn’t about to let Xeno down. Not when it had been written just for him.

Stanley played it when his parents took them on a group camping trip. They were under a moonlit sky, the woods silent save for the soft crackle of the fire and rustling of branches in the wind.

It felt like the perfect moment for Moonlight Sonata.

His calloused hands plucked at his guitar, worn down from use.

The combination of percussive hits and fevered fingerpicking mesmerized the audience.

Stanley didn’t look up. A bead of sweat traced its way down the side of his face as he entered a state of complete focus. Only Xeno would hand a piece like this to someone who hadn’t even been playing guitar a full year, like it was no more difficult than Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.

Stanley felt relief wash over him as he completed the piece, a little out of breath.

He could finally make out the sound of clapping over the blood rushing to his ears. He was surprised to find it wasn’t just Xeno and his parents clapping, but a few other campers had gathered around as well.

“Your boy has crazy talent,” one of them told his mom, who smiled brightly. He even asked for Stanley’s autograph. “One day, I’m gonna be seeing him on the television, mark my words.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet of you to say.” Mrs. Snyder said.

“He gets that talent from the old man!” Mr. Snyder boasted with a laugh. “I used to play in a band in high school. That’s why you fell for me, right, dear?”

The two adults looked at each other lovingly.

Stanley glanced at Xeno, whose eyes glowed, reflecting firelight.

He loved the way Xeno watched him after he played, like Stanley was as fascinating as his favorite scientific phenomena.

“Elegant,” Xeno complimented. His smile was bright and genuine.

Stanley’s world narrowed and he paid no mind to anyone or anything else.

Pride swelled in his chest.

All the late nights he had spent practicing in the basement, the early mornings he’d spent practicing on the school roof, every second of it was worth it. More than worth it.

🎵

When they finally played together, another one of Xeno’s compositions, it was breathtaking. Like two stars colliding and fusing into something new. Something neither of them could have created alone.

This one was different, not classical, but rather a modern piece with a gentle melody. The notes rippled like water, wrapping around them. There was a sweet push and pull, back and forth.

Stanley strummed the final note on the guitar Xeno had gifted him for his birthday. A sleek acoustic-electric, modified by the genius scientist himself. Its custom features included the ability to shoot confetti, as well as a built-in flame thrower. Stanley kept the latter feature a secret from his parents, obviously.

A smile bloomed on his face every time he saw their initials carved into the corner of the instrument. SX.

A warmth bloomed in his chest. The duet left him feeling a high, even better than when he had a dozen of his favorite sweet treats.

They stared, lost in each other’s eyes for a moment. For a second, Stanley wondered if Xeno had been trying to tell him something with that song. It had been almost… romantic.

But he didn’t dare hope.

The silence seemed to stretch on for an eternity.

“Let’s play another one together,” Stanley said, plugging his guitar into an amp.

Xeno nodded.

This time the song was Stanley’s choice. The Genre was alternative rock. The melody spoke of haunting yearning and fully brought out the strengths of the electric part of Stanley’s guitar.

“That was wild!” Stanley exclaimed after they finished, feeling his heart pounding with excitement. “Hey, maybe we should start a band or something! We could be famous.”

He suddenly pictured Xeno in a rock and roll outfit, and he almost burst out laughing. “You already have the pompadour thing going on! That’s super rock.”

 “I’m going to be a scientist, Stan, but you could definitely do it.”

Xeno always believed in him more than he believed in himself. Pushed him to be more than he thought was possible.

“Everyone will be moved by it. I love your music.”

A small, selfish part of Stanley didn’t mind that Xeno wasn’t serious about music.

It meant most of their songs—certainly the ones they played just the two of them—were his alone to treasure.

🎵

The autumn they both turned ten, Stanley found the courage to do the scariest thing he’d ever done.

Earlier that day, they’d successfully launched Xeno’s most ambitious rocket yet, and they’d been riding that high ever since.

Stanley took Xeno to their favorite stargazing spot. With his guitar in hand and the moonlight as his spotlight, he sang the little love song he’d written.

“I loved it, Stan. Your songwriting has improved,” Xeno said, wrapping his arms around his knees.

Sensing Xeno was a bit chilled by the night air, Stanley shrugged off his red jacket and draped it over Xeno’s narrow shoulders. Xeno smiled at him in appreciation, curling into it like a cat seeking warmth.

“I imagine the girl this was written for will be thoroughly charmed.”

Stanley wondered if he was imagining it or if Xeno’s lips turned downward briefly after he spoke.

He was tongue-tied for a moment.

He almost wanted to chicken out.

But his heart wouldn’t let him back down.

Face burning, and hoping the dark would hide it, Stanley confessed, “The truth is… I wrote this song for you. W-would you… go out with me?”

The night was silent, except for the sound of a few crickets.

Stanley’s heart dropped like a stone into his stomach.

He finally found the courage to glance at Xeno’s face, but the expression under his combed back white hair was hard to read. If he had to describe it, it almost looked like fear.

He braced for rejection, his body shaking like a leaf. It’s okay, he told himself, you already knew this was the most likely outcome. Just pretend it was all a prank and maybe you can still stay friends.

Before he could execute on his backup plan, he was surprised by Xeno’s answer.

“Yes,” Xeno said quietly. “But I have a condition.”

Stanley hardly heard the second half of Xeno’s sentence, so taken aback by that word. Yes. Yes! The thought that his childhood friend, who he’d had a crush on for years, also felt the same way, made him feel like he was floating on cloud nine.

“Anything,” he said, pulling Xeno into a hug, awkward and tight, his guitar hanging between them. He buried his face into the crook of Xeno’s neck, breathing in the soft scent of lavender shampoo.

He reluctantly let Xeno go after a beat too long.

Xeno continued, “When your song hits the top of the charts… and I become a rocket scientist at NASA. Let’s go out then. When we’ve both achieved our dreams.”

He said it like it was simple. Like it was just another item on his to-do list.

That was the thing about Xeno—he’d always been extraordinary. He didn’t see limits. Not for himself. Not for Stanley either.

Stanley had been around him for so long, that his understanding of what was possible had distorted too. So, when Xeno asked him, “Can you do it?”, he gave the same answer he always had.

“I can.”

If he was on edge from that condition, Xeno’s next words shattered him.

“Until then,” Xeno added, his eyes in shadow, “we should avoid meeting face-to-face. It would be a distraction. Counterproductive to our goals.”

Stanley nodded, because he couldn’t trust his voice.

A distraction. That’s what Xeno had called him.

But he’d also given Stanley a chance, a way to earn all that he had ever wanted: a place by Xeno’s side.

🎵

At first, Stanley comforted himself with the fact that they were still neighbors. Even if they didn’t meet up, he could at least see him sometimes.

Then he found out: Xeno had already earned his high school diploma.

His parents were moving with him so he could attend a prestigious university.

Halfway across the country.

A place Stanley couldn’t reach.

Not yet.

They will echo far away to a new and distant place

That this song of precious time, could go on and change our lives

And look, the one you hold dear, is standing by your side and will never let go of your hand

All that, they need within this life, is just to somehow reach you, and let this love withstand

Chapter Text

I couldn’t help but to tell you I’d be alright

When, to be true, it was tearing me apart inside

But it didn’t matter since you’re walking away so swiftly in front me

And your figure is the only thing I see

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Hi

Hi Xeno,

I sent some more audition tapes out the other day. I think the latest lyrics I wrote to your music was pretty cool. I’ll play it for you on our next call.

Hope I can get signed soon and start on my path to topping the charts.

Ugh. Have to go to the dentist again. Cavities are the worst. My parents think they took all my candy, but joke’s on them. Still got my secret stash. That drawer you designed? Lifesaver. 🍭

How’s uni? I’m sure you’re already blowing everyone’s minds with your inventions.

Don’t forget me, okay?

Yours,

Stan

P.S. I went stargazing without you, but it wasn’t the same.

Stanley re-read his email for what felt like the hundredth time.

Did mentioning the cavities make him sound immature? He could almost hear Xeno’s voice, “Stan, I’ve told you the importance of oral hygiene!”

Xeno was with adults now. He probably wouldn’t want to message back and forth with someone who sounded like a kid.

And that line about not forgetting him…

Too much? Too desperate?

He deleted it, and then added it back in.

Stanley’s fingers tangled in his golden strands, tugging hard.

It had all felt so easy, so simple, when Xeno was by his side.

Now, everything was all wrong.

He pushed back from his desk, frustration simmering under his skin. He kicked the leg of his chair. It only earned himself a stubbed toe.

“Ow! Xeno, you big idiot!” He shouted, voice cracking in an empty room.

Xeno wasn’t there to hear him.

He wasn’t going to cry about Xeno moving away.

Not again.

Stanley pressed Send.

Then, he grabbed his trusty red guitar and began to play, because that was the one thing that was still right.

🎵

“I miss you,” Stanley said, at the end of one of their calls, despite himself.

The words slipped out too fast to catch.

Immediately, he hated himself for it. For being too weak. For being immature. For making Xeno feel badly about going to pursue his dreams.

There was a long silence.

Not crackling or busy. Just still.

He wanted to take it back.

He wanted to double down.

He wanted—desperately—for Xeno to say he missed him too.

To say that they could pursue their dreams and still see each other.

“Don’t be sad, Stan.” Xeno’s voice finally came through. Stanley knew that tone meant he was thinking. Then, his voice brightened, like it always did when he came up with some idea. “I’ll send you something. A present. To keep you company.”

Stanley counted the days.

He waited on the porch, watching for the postman.

What would Xeno send him?

Would it be a robot? A telescope?

Surely he wouldn’t risk mailing a weapon… right?

The package that arrived was smaller than he expected.

He opened the box. Nestled inside was a miniature Xeno doll, white-haired, sharp-eyed, and dressed in a tiny lab coat.

Stanley held it in the palm of his hand and pressed a soft kiss to its forehead.

“I love it,” he told Xeno on the phone, the words coming out easier than what he really meant.

I love you.

🎵

Stanley’s breath curled into soft white clouds that dissolved with each verse he sang. He stood outside the subway station, strumming a familiar tune. His open guitar case sat beside him, catching flakes of snow and a few coins dropped by passing strangers. His held his cold hands steady on the strings.

He needed to practice playing in front of people.

That’s what the feedback said.

None of his audition tapes had gone anywhere, but at least some people wrote back.

You’ve got talent for your age. Keep working at it. Try again in a few years.

They spoke like Stanley had all the time in the world.

But Stanley knew better.

Xeno was racing ahead through his undergraduate degrees. Plural. Aerospace Engineering and Chemistry. Multiple research assistantships. Professors tripped over themselves trying to recruit him.

Of course. Stanley wouldn’t have expected anything less of his childhood friend.

He just hated being stuck behind.

A snowflake landed on the tip of his nose, and with it came a memory.

It had been a winter day like this.

He and Xeno, laughing through a snowball fight. Well, Stanley was fighting with a snowball-firing robot Xeno had built while Xeno talked excitedly about its design. It was pretty tough. Stanley had been soaked by the end.

He had looked at Xeno, who was mostly dry.

Not wanting to let Xeno walk away untouched, he’d packed a perfect snowball and nailed him square in the forehead.

“Stan!” Xeno had yelped, eyes wide.

It devolved into a human vs. human snowball fight. Stanley won, easily.

Stanley still recalled running his hand through white strands to help dust snow out of Xeno’s collapsed pompadour.

They’d huddled by the fireplace, each drinking a cup of hot chocolate, as they dried off. They discussed how the robot’s shooting accuracy could be improved.

That was the kind of memory that made Stanley’s fingers falter over the strings.

He missed a note.

Remembering Xeno often left a bittersweet taste in his mouth. He craved a lollipop to wash down the taste, but he’d quit. He had given up after one too many times of being scolded by his parents and Xeno.

Besides, he was twelve now.

Too old for sweets.

He needed to work harder. Be better. Grow up.

Xeno was waiting for him.

🎵

Stanley felt guilty for making new friends.

He never mentioned it his emails and increasingly rare calls with Xeno.

More specifically, Xeno’s resplies had grown less frequent. And when they did call, he sounded so very exhausted.

When Stanley asked about it, he only shared that he was stressed about his research.

So, Stanley started reaching out less.

He didn’t want to be clingy. That was what some boys at school called their girlfriends when they texted too much. Maybe Xeno could use some of the regained time to rest.

He still poured himself into his music.

But somewhere along the way, he met Brody and Charlotte. They liked the same music, played music too, and made his days a bit less lonely.

He let himself enjoy their company, even as guilt gnawed at the edge of every laugh.

Xeno never mentioned making friends at MIT. His world seemed filled only with labs, lectures, and career ambition. Maybe that was all he needed.

Stanley imagined what Xeno would say if he knew.

They’re slowing you down.

They’re not on your level.

If you stopped wasting time, you would have released a CD by now.

Do you even care about our promise?

Xeno had never brought up their promise on the phone. Not once.

Xeno remembered.

He had to.

Why else would he never offer to visit?

Stanley didn’t ask to visit either, because he definitely remembered. Still intended to keep his end.

🎵

“Can you believe what I got my hands on?” Charlotte’s eyes sparkled as she reached into her bag and pulled out the newest Lillian Weinberg CD.

Brody let out a low whistle. “No way. That just dropped this week. How long did you wait in line?”

They listened to it together in the music room after school.

Lillian’s music was warm and crystal-clear, able to make listeners forget all their worries, if only for the duration of the song.

“That was beautiful,” Stanley murmured, once the last note faded.

This was his goal. His signpost.

She was a singer who had topped the charts more than once.

Some days, the distance between them felt unbearably wide.

“Hey, you sound pretty good yourself,” Charlotte said, grinning at him. “Promise me. When you get famous and meet her, you’ll get an autograph for me?”

“It’s a promise.” Stanley said, wishing he could have half as much faith in himself as his friends did.

“Man, that got me fired up!” Brody spun his sticks between his fingers and took his place behind the drums. “Let’s play.”

🎵

It was Charlotte who suggested he try uploading to YouTube.

“More people will hear your music this way!” she said, eyes bright.

Stanley’s first thought was about one specific person.

Xeno.

He had played for Xeno over the phone, and he could tell that Xeno had enjoyed it.

He wanted Xeno to see him.

He was fourteen now. He had grown taller. His face had changed—less boyish, more striking. He didn’t look half bad, if the confessions he kept getting from girls at school were any indication.

He wanted Xeno to see him now.

Not just in his music. In everything.

Charlotte helped him set up the camera. She held the phone steady, offered suggestions, even showed him how to apply makeup when he asked—like he’d seen some rockstars do.

The brush was cool against his skin. Powder clung to his cheeks, shimmered under the lights. Mascara darkened his lashes, framing his eyes with intensity. He wasn’t sure about the lipstick at first, but Charlotte insisted. And when he saw himself in the mirror, he had to admit that it looked good.

In front the lens, he was transformed.

He wasn’t a boy filled with self-doubt and loneliness, chasing after someone who had left him behind.

He was a man with a promise to keep, one who would not fail. He would earn his reward.

They both watched excitedly as the view count climbed.

The comments rolled in.

People around the world were listening, and it made Stanley’s heart swell.

Every “I love this song,” every “he’s so talented,” lit something inside him.

And secretly, as he scrolled through the growing list of usernames and glowing words, Stanley wondered.

If one of them belonged to Xeno.

If he saw him now.

🎵

“Stanley,” Charlotte called his name one day, after they had finished filming the latest video. It was just the two of them. She tucked a few strands of stray blond hair behind her ear.

“Hm?” he murmured, adjusting the mic.

“Do you have someone you like?”

He blinked, frowning slightly. “Why do you want to know? Is this another one of your friends asking?”

Charlotte shook her head. “No. This is me asking.”

He hesitated. Normally, he’d brush the question off. It wasn’t anyone’s business. But this was Charlotte.

“I do,” he said.

The admittance felt strange on his tongue… but good in a way. Like loosening a valve in a pressure tank. Some days it felt like there was too much held back inside him, enough that he might explode.

Charlotte nodded, stiffly. The timber of her voice sounded a bit off from usual. “That’s what I thought. Some of your songs, it’s clear… you couldn’t have wrote them if you weren’t in love.”

She blinked. “I guess I hoped… I couldn’t figure out who. You never really looked at anyone like that.”

It was true. They had met after Xeno had left.

Stanley shrugged, offering nothing more.

“It’s not me, is it?” Charlotte looked like she was upset, her usual confidence was nowhere to be found.

Stanley shook his head quickly. Too quickly.

Suddenly, her expression crumpled and tears were flowing down her cheeks.

Stanley’s chest twisted, as it finally fully dawned on him what this was about.

“Charlotte—it’s not about you. You’re amazing. Talented. Beautiful. There are probably a million guys who—”

“Yeah,” she interrupted, her smile brittle. “And I don’t like any of them.”

She took the tissue box that Stanley offered and drew in a breath, sniffling. “If you ever change your mind… If she makes you feel lonely, or doesn’t treat you right…”

Stanley couldn’t meet her eyes.

“My feelings won’t change,” he said.

He was uncertain if he could meet Xeno’s expectations, but he had never doubted that he wanted to. Even in moments where he wondered if Xeno was slowly forgetting him, his feelings had never wavered.

It hurt him viscerally though, to hurt Charlotte like this.

For a fleeting second, he wondered if, in another world, he could’ve said yes. Maybe if his heart wasn’t already spoken for.

And the thought unsettled him more than it should have.

For the first time, a seed of doubt grew about whether Xeno had accepted his confession out of love.

Did he say yes because he wanted to… or because he couldn’t bear to turn me down?

Charlotte slung her bag over her shoulder. “I-I should go.”

He watched her almost run for the door.

Stanley briefly wanted to reach out. Say something.

He didn’t want to hurt her.

But she wanted something he couldn’t give.

🎵

He called Xeno, not knowing who else to talk to about the situation.

His fingers dialed the number from muscle memory.

The phone rang. Once. Twice.

As usual, no answer.

Just voicemail.

I shouldn’t cry, I shouldn’t cry

But I can’t seem to hold it in

Oh, please don’t leave me

Xeno woke up from a deep sleep, his mouth dry, and heart pounding.

He checked the date and time on his cell phone.

Multiple missed calls from Stanley. From his supervisor.

His thumb hovered over the screen for a second too long, before he put the device down.

With a groan, he pushed himself upright. Every joint ached like he’d run a marathon in his sleep.

The bathroom tiles were cold against his bare feet. The light was too bright.

A gaunt man with dark circles under his eyes stared back at him in the mirror.

A stranger.

Nothing like the boy he used to see, all chubby cheeks and starry eyes.

Chapter Text

Go be calm and one with time

There’s a boy with a promise inside

For today just like a past life

With no future in sight

Stanley dropped two bundles of dollar bills on the table. His gaze flicked between them, searching for a sign.

“We can see that you’re serious about this,” Mrs. Snyder finally said, her serious face cracking with a reluctant smile.

“I am serious,” Stanley said. “I’m going to win! I know I’m going to be missing school for this, but it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

He had been accepted to live auditions for The Next Music Star. The only issue was that it was in Los Angeles, a multi-hour flight away. Minors also required a chaperone. When he had first told his parents, they had been hesitant.

His father was the one who had thrown down the gauntlet.

“I’ll keep my word, since I’ve always taught you to keep yours,” Mr. Synder said. “You earned your way.” Stanley had made enough for airfare and the hotel through busking. He put a hand on Stanley’s shoulder. “Now go show ‘em.”

Stanley broke out into a relieved grin.

He rushed upstairs to start packing and practice some more.

As he closed the door, he couldn’t help but overhear his parents’ conversation.

“I just don’t want him to be disappointed…” Mrs. Snyder said.

“The boy’s got a dream and wants to give it a real shot. Whatever happens, we’ll support him through it. And he’s good… really good.”

Stanley closed his door.

This was his shot. He was not going to fail.

He texted Xeno to share that he was going to California. A part of him was sad that his first time flying out of state wouldn’t be to see Xeno in Boston. A bigger part of him was excited to finally grasp a chance to fulfil his promise.

He looked at the piles of sheet music strewn across his bed. He had prepared and written so many songs over the years, enough to fill an entire album and then some.

Every one of the songs was special.

Every lyrics was his. Every note was Xeno’s.

Even though Xeno had become less responsive over the course of his PhD, every year without fail Stanley still received a gift on his birthday.

A new song.

When Stanley was in a dark mood, he would feel like every song was mocking him, asking why he hadn’t become more successful by now.

Today though, he was in a brilliant mood. Every song his eyes swept across felt like an encouragement. Like love.

Before he got started practicing, he heard a few familiar piano notes play from his phone and his heart soared.

“I wanted to wish you the best of luck, but I’m sure you won’t need it.” Xeno’s voice had changed over the years, become deeper, just like his own.

His only clue to what Xeno looked like nowadays was a photo on the MIT website, listing their PhD students. He’d printed it out and looked at that photo far too many times. The white-haired teen didn’t use social media at all, and Stanley had felt too embarrassed to directly ask for more photos.

“I’d love to hear you practice again.”

“Of course!” Stanley obliged, putting his phone on speaker. He started unzipping his guitar from its case. “I hope you’ve been doing alright. Getting enough food, enough sleep?” Stanley grimaced. He sounded as naggy as his mom, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Something like that,” Xeno gave a non-committal answer. “I don’t want to bore you with my problems…”

“I want to know how you’re doing though. I worry about you.” Stanley plucked a string, and a G sharp note reverberated.

Xeno sighed. “Just frustrated as usual that fools are letting business interests get in the way of science. Had another project turned down… It seems that money really does make the world go around.” At fifteen, Xeno already sounded like he had seen too much of the adult world.

“Hey,” Stanley comforted. “When I become a rockstar, I’ll fund your research.”

Xeno laughed, and Stanley wished he could hear more of that sound.

He wished they could be together every day, like they used to.

“I look forward to that, Stan.”

Stanley closed his eyes, and he played the song to the one it had been written for.

To the one he wrote all his songs for.

🎵

“Shit!” Stanley burst across the baking pavement, guitar case thumping against his spine, weaving past a stagnant line of cars.

It had been one disaster after another—plane canceled, hours lost on the replacement flight, traffic locked tight behind a highway pileup. Every wasted minute was a weight pressing into his chest.

When the map on his phone showed the auditorium within running distance, he’d thrown open the car door.

“Catch up when you can!” he shouted at his mom.

“Wait! Stanley!”

“I’ll be fine!”

His lungs were burning, his legs were aching, but he didn’t stop. He still exercised, but far less than he used to. Never had he felt more distressed about not being in peak physical condition.

He sprinted the last stretch, vision tunneling, the world a blur except for the auditorium doors.

The doors resisted, impossibly heavy in his sweaty grip.

With the hardest shove he could muster, he was inside.

“Stanley Snyder? Last call for Stanley Snyder.”

“I-I’m here!” He cried. He took the stairs towards the stage two at a time.

Spotlights burned away the blur from his eyes, revealing the rows of contestants and the four judges. They were all staring at him.

There was Lex Ryder, singer and actor. Lillian Weinberg, musical star. Jett Monroe, the producer of the whole show. And Asagiri Gen, teen magician, a wildcard in the lineup.

“Tell us a little about yourself,” Lex said.

“My name is Stanley Snyder. Fifteen. Houston, Texas,” he answered, breath still ragged. He was sweaty. He felt almost naked with no makeup on stage.

“What brings you here? What’s the dream?”

“To make one of my songs top the charts.” His voice echoed through the auditorium. One day, he was determined to be even more honest. He would announce to the world that he was doing this for the one he loved.

A ripple of mocking laughter from the audience. Thinking he was all talk.

He kept looking straight.

“I like that ambition,” Gen said. “What’s the song you’ve brought us today?”

“It’s called Fight Song.” He grinned. “About not backing down from a challenge.”

“Let’s hear it,” Lillian said with a smile. It felt unreal to be so close to her. Stanley wondered if he would have a chance to interact with her later. Maybe he could ask for an autograph for Charlotte.

Stanley took out his lucky red guitar, looping the strap around his shoulder. He plugged the amplifier in.

He always felt calm with it by his side.

It was as though Xeno was here with him.

He started to play.

All the chaos of the day burned away. He’d rehearsed until the song was part of his bones. His voice hit the mic like a challenge.

Go ahead. Underestimate me if you dare.

Stanley was not here to play. He was here to fight.

A quarter through the song, a string suddenly snapped.

Stanley could have stopped in his tracks. Many competitors would have, distressed at the series of unlucky incidents. Fate seemed to want him to fail.

He didn’t care.

If push came to shove, he would make his own luck.

He had a promise to keep.

His calloused hands wrapped around the microphone, knuckles pale. He kept singing, not a single beat missed.

He didn’t need to hear the notes to remember Xeno’s music.

It was something as familiar as his own breathing.

His voice echoed across the auditorium, expressing all the feelings he had bottled up inside.

He took a deep breath as he finished, tears shimmering at the edge of his eyes.

He’d been so focused, he had somehow shut it all out.

Stanley found himself startled by a thunderous sound.

It was the room erupting in applause.

🎵

“Promise you’ll call me if you need anything, okay?” His mom squeezed him so tight he could hardly breathe.

“I got it, ma.” Stanley shook his head, craving a hit of sugar. It felt like all of his energy had been sucked out of him and put into that one song. It was worth it. He was moving on.

“I’m not a kid anymore! I’ll be fine.”

The moment she left the hotel room the show had put him up in, he pulled out his phone.

Xeno! I made it! I’m gonna be on TV!

He could barely type fast enough, his fingers trembling with adrenaline. In his head, he could already hear it: the soft piano notes, then that familiar voice.

His heart was filled with so much joy, it felt like it would overflow.

He had so much he wanted to share. Costumes. Song choices.

He’d seen his competitors. They were good, but he had a real shot.

The phone stayed dark.

Five minutes. Ten. Twenty. He checked his signal, his battery.

Midnight came. He fell asleep with the phone on the pillow beside him, not wanting to miss waking to the sound of piano notes.

He didn't.

No call came from Xeno.

Not even a text.

Not that night.

Not the next day.

When they finally spoke again, a whole week had passed. Everyone else Stanley had texted with the news had already gotten back with congratulations.

“Sorry,” Xeno said briskly. “Got buried in research. Lost track of time.” He sounded cold and distant, like his mind was on something else.

“That’s okay,” Stanley lied.

He wondered if Xeno was lying too.

We only know the world through eyes

So wise, without a doubt

They overflow, these feelings I behold

And just like a show

Applaud me when I go

Chapter Text

The falling stars, brighten the sky

Don’t mean much, to the blur of time

Sweet words, falling, numbing my mind

Come read my soul

Yes, oh

Stanley improved at a completely different pace that summer. The competition was intense, and they pushed him to grow as an artist, as a performer.

He played and sang over and over under bright stage lights. In front of a barrage of cameras, filming him from every direction.

He sang a large range of songs, from pop to country, depending on the genre of the week.

“You’re doing great,” Lillian said to him, smiling, during rehearsals, her blond hair tied up in ponytail. She was extremely kind in person. No sign at all of being a diva like many others at her level of fame.

“Thanks.” Stanley still couldn’t believe that he got to receive her guidance. When he had told Charlotte and Brody about it, including how he had successfully asked for autographs for them, they had thought it was absolutely wild. “The advice you gave me helped.”

He didn’t think about all the millions of viewers watching him at all. He only thought of one. Every lyric his sang, every note he played, every glance at the camera.

They were all for Xeno.

It helped calm his nerves. Shut out his doubts. Helped him pretend that week after week, his survival wasn’t only granted by a large swathe of the country voting for him.

He had no control over what those viewers did.

The only thing he could control was putting on a hell of a show on stage.

 “You know, whatever happens after this show, you should get your manager to reach out to mine some time. I’d love to do a collab.” Lillian looked completely serious.

Stanley’s jaw dropped, looking a bit like a fish out of water. “That… that would be amazing!” In all honesty, he didn’t have a manager, but there had been email offers in his inbox already. Studios who had turned him down before were reaching out now that he was on TV and there seemed to be a real following for his music.

“I think you can do it. I know you were serious when you said it. I look forward to seeing you top the charts.”

The vote of confidence from Stanley’s favorite artist made him dizzy with excitement.

Everything felt like a dream he didn’t want to wake up from.

That he was scared to wake up from.

🎵

As Stanley finished the last note, he glanced over to the girl he was singing a duet with.

Lindsay. She was the only other contestant his age.

They had both made it to the Top 10.

She was a shy girl with a melodic voice and long black hair falling over her shoulders. The voice of an angel, they said. The flowing white dress she wore sharply contrasted to his long-sleeved black shirt and choker combination.

“Stanley, you need to look at her more while you’re singing. The audience needs to feel more yearning. They gotta believe there’s something between you two!” Jett directed. He tipped back a fedora over his wavy hair, surprisingly long given how old he was.

Stanley rubbed his neck with a hand. It was all a performance, of course, but he still worried about causing a misunderstanding. “I’ll try my best,” he said.

“Actually, I know what would spice things up. Make the performance memorable.” Jett grinned, gesturing them closer. He put one hand on each of their shoulders. They leaned in, curious what he was going to suggest. “You wanna give the audience goosebumps? A kiss. Right at the end of the song. Boom. They’ll eat it up.”

Stanley glanced over at Lindsay, expecting her to find the suggestion just as ridiculous as he did.

Instead, she smiled, eyes lighting with calculation. “Totally. It would blow up the Internet. Votes would skyrocket. Could take us to the finals, even.”

Stanley’s stomach lurched. Panic clawed up his throat.

“Exactly!” Jett chimed in, squeezing their shoulders as though the decision was already made. “You kids wanna win, don’t you? This is how you do it. You’ll blow everyone’s minds.”

“Wait,” Stanley felt like he was hearing himself from far away. His voice sounded quieter than usual.

Conflicting feelings warred inside him.

He wanted to win.

Desperately.

But not like this.

“I can’t do this.”

Jett’s grin faltered into a scowl. “Why not? What are you so afraid of? You think the audience cares about your hang-ups? They’ll forget you in a week if you don’t give them a moment worth remembering.”

“He’s right,” Lindsay pressed, her voice soft but cutting. “If you freeze up now, it’ll affect both of us. Think about it. There’s no downside.”

I wanted to save my first kiss for my childhood crush, who’s the whole reason I’m trying to win this competition.

Stanley couldn’t quite bring himself to tell the truth. Instead, he danced around it.

“I’m seeing someone,” he managed. “They wouldn’t appreciate me kissing someone else in front of the whole country.”

Lindsay’s expression hardened. “Then dump her. If she’s holding you back, she’s not worth it.”

Stanley looked at her with wide eyes, stunned. The “angel” voice, the shy persona… Lindsay was someone else entirely off stage. She was extremely ambitious, and right now, she was vicious because Stanley was getting in her way.

“She’s a liability,” she went on. “Not just to you. To me. To both our careers. Don’t you get that?”

Stanley shook his head.

“Alright, alright,” Jett said, with an exaggerated sigh. “You’re still too much of a kid... Have it your way. But don’t come crying to me when you get voted off.” He gestured for Stanley to leave. “Lindsay, stick around. We need to talk strategy.”

Stanley walked out of the practice room, burning.

By the time he reached his own quarters, his hands were shaking. He grabbed his guitar like a lifeline, forcing his fingers into steadiness.

He would win on his merit, without any of these cheap tricks.

He had to.

🎵

Their performance went off without a hitch, but it was anything but effortless. The first notes rang out like thread stretched taut between them. Stanley’s voice was deep and rough, rising higher as the emotions in the song built up.

Lindsay’s white dress shimmered under the stage lights, a stark counterpoint to Stanley’s dark, hard-edged silhouette. When she tilted her face toward him, lashes trembling, the audience leaned forward as though they were intruding on something private. His throat tightened, but he pushed through, pouring the tension into every word, every note.

Stanley sang thinking of that night under the stars where the course of his life had changed. He sang with the desperation of someone who had chasing a dream, a love, for far too long, overwhelmed with fear of failing to reach it.

By the time the song ended, silence hovered in the air, fragile and electric, before the applause crashed down like a wave.

Lindsay reached out to him at the end the song, and like an idiot, Stanley leaned in, expecting a friendly hug or a high five.

Without warning, she stood up on tiptoes and kissed him.

For a second, he froze, too stunned to react. The lights were blinding, the crowd only cheering louder, but it all felt wrong.

Her lips were soft, but it didn’t matter.

The kiss felt like a blow.

She had stolen it. What he had only ever wanted to give to Xeno.

Stanley recoiled as soon as his brain caught up.

His hands gripping her shoulders tightly to push her back. She flinched at the strength of his grip.

“What the hell are you doing?” he growled.

The microphone was still on.

Everybody heard it.

Lindsay looked extremely upset, on the verge of tears.

He stepped away, heading backstage, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand without thinking.

He didn’t even wait for the judges’ commentary.

He had looked out at them briefly and saw Jett’s expression.

Unlike the others, he didn’t look the least bit surprised.

🎵

Everything had gotten all twisted and wrong.

The singing competition that Stanley had felt was a sweet dream and suddenly turned into a horrible nightmare.

“I-I don’t understand. Stanley was the one who suggested the kiss. Even though I was uncomfortable with it… I don’t know why he would push me away like that.” Lindsay said to the cameras, while crying crocodile tears.

The internet went wild with conspiracy theories. They said that Stanley had been scared of losing to Lindsay, so he had tried to sabotage her by pretending she had forced a kiss on him.

Stanley wanted to fight back with the truth, but it all felt futile.

He had no evidence.

Jett was the only one who had witnessed the conversation where he had turned the kiss down, but he was definitely not on Stanley’s side. If anything, this controversy got the show more interest, more views.

The two of them had passed the round, because the audience didn’t want to “punished Lindsay for Stanley being a backstabbing asshole”.

“At this rate, you’ll be eliminated next round,” Jett said, his expression screaming I told you so. “Sooner or later, you were going to have to learn. This is how the entertainment industry works. You gotta give the audience what they want. And what they want now is for you to apologize and make up.”

Stanley gritted his teeth.

A fierce anger burned through him at the unfairness.

The ugliness behind the glamour.

He thought of what he had worked so hard for all these years, the chance to finally have his music heard by more people. He had even told Xeno with such confidence that he would fund his research.

What a joke.

Stanley raised his fist to Jett and gave him the middle finger.

🎵

He was eliminated.

The episode aired. The rumors took on a life of their own. But the people who mattered believed him.

His parents knew all that stuff buzzing around in the media was a load of bull. They hadn’t raised a child who would do something like that.

His friends knew Lindsay was lying. Charlotte, especially, said some very choice mean words about her.

Xeno didn’t call him until a month after the episode aired.

Stanley had been horrified that he believed even a fraction of what was circulating over social media. Maybe he was so upset that he would never contact Stanley again.

Instead, Xeno apologized for being busy again and not calling sooner.

“I swear I didn’t ask for it, I didn’t want it. You believe me… don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” Xeno said, his steady voice like a lifeline. Relief loosened the knot in Stanley’s chest. Xeno hadn’t doubted him for a second.

A small, twisted part of him had wanted something else. He wanted Xeno to be angry, to be jealous.

Stanley wanted to say the only one I want to kiss is you, but the words stayed lodged in his throat.

He didn’t deserve anything from Xeno.

He had disappointed him.

His career was dead. No studio was going to pick him up. He didn’t even dare contact Lilian to take her up on her previous offer, given how much of a social pariah he had become.

Xeno had grown distant. It felt like Stanley was the only one pouring any effort into their relationship. Like if he didn’t, they would simply fall out of touch and never speak again.

“Do you still remember? That promise we made?” The words that had swirled around his mind for the last five years clawed their way out of his throat.

Silence. Heavy, merciless. Each second stretched until it felt like his ribcage might split apart. Maybe Xeno would deny it. Maybe he had already forgotten. Maybe it had never mattered, not really—not to him.

But it mattered to Stanley. God, it mattered more than anything.

Finally, Xeno’s voice came out of the speakers.

“I do.”

Stanley breathed out in relief. “I’ll keep trying, I’ll do better,” he swore. I’m not giving up on us.

“I will, too.”

He was surprised at Xeno’s response. Maybe he’d been having an even harder time with his research than Stanley had thought.

They chatted for a little while longer, and then: “Stan, I’m sorry. I’m feeling a little tired today. If there’s nothing else, let’s end this conversation here.”

Stanley listened to the familiar sound of the dial tone after Xeno hung up ring in his ear for far too long.

To this lasting melody

Hand in hand, we sway

Singing with our memories

Let me drown in this dream

It was getting worse. The last episode had stolen a whole month.

Xeno’s mind, usually sharp as glass, now glazed over with fog. Reality felt unreal, like he was stumbling through a dream outside of his control. He hated it.

When he woke, he always found damage waiting for him.

Dozens of critical questions bottlenecking his research built up while he was gone. Stanley’s desperate texts. The lies swirling around online. Xeno hadn’t been able to be there when he’d needed him most.

It felt like failure. Everywhere he turned.

“Do you still remember? That promise we made?”

Xeno looked at the dozens of pill bottles that dotted the bathroom counter in front of him. Like an adult version of the variety of sweets Stanley loved.

He could tell Stanley he didn’t remember. Pretend it had never mattered.

Spare him.

But the memory was carved into him, clearer than any formula or theorem: the rush of terror and joy when he learned Stanley felt the same.

Terror, because he had received a diagnosis the day before.

Hypnolepsis. Final Slumber Disorder. One in ten million. A handful of cases recorded, total.

Xeno Houston Wingfield was one of them.

He hadn’t told Stanley. He’d asked his parents to keep it quiet too. What good would it do to share? Stanley would only break. And there was nothing, absolutely nothing, he could do.

Xeno had thought he could fix it. Surely, this disease wouldn’t stand a chance before the elegance of science.

He had believed. Even when his parents didn’t.

His father buried himself in work, his mother withered soon after. Sometimes he wondered if grief alone had killed her. The occasional checks that arrived were proof his father still thought of him. Barely enough to keep him alive, let alone fund a cure.

A small, shrinking part of him still believed.

He had to, because it was the only thing he had left.

“I do.”

If not for the diagnosis, he would have stayed. Done his PhD remotely so he could stay by Stanley’s side. But he needed access to lab resources to develop a cure for the ticking time bomb inside him.

Nobody would do it but him.

It was such a niche illness that most thought a cure was a lost cause. Not worth investing in.

The ten-year-old him had been starry-eyed and filled with arrogance, yet to understand the truth of the world. Like a fool, he had double majored, confident that he could cure his own illness and go work at NASA. He had excitedly dreamed about the day he and Stanley could be together, even imagined what their wedding would look like.

Nowadays, he thought more often about a different kind of ceremony.

A coffin, not a chapel.

“I’ll keep trying, I’ll do better,” Stanley said.

Stanley was strong. Had always been. He didn’t let setbacks get to him. Just kept pushing towards his goals.

Xeno loved that about him. It was enough to make him want to keep going, too.
“I will, too.”

After the call, he sat at his desk, papers piled high, laptop glowing with messages from experts dissecting his anonymous papers. Progress everywhere, except where he needed it most. He had paused his PhD in Aerospace Engineering to focus only on this disease, hammering at locked doors with bleeding hands.

He was trying. God, he was trying.

And yet—

There was always the backup plan.

Xeno had been distancing himself from Stanley for years. The large gaps in communication were partially, but not entirely due to his illness.

He had decided a long time ago. If he couldn’t find a cure, then he would silently slip out of Stanley’s life without a sound.

So, he kept the words buried. I love you. I want to kiss you and make you forget about that awful experience.

More closeness meant more pain.

All the love he felt, he poured into the music he wrote alone.

Chapter Text

I’ve been waiting for someone to come, all alone in darkness, waiting for more

I’ve been waiting for someone to come, I need the sound of someone, knocking my door

Stanley went back to school, intent on catching up on the classes he had missed while on the show.

He ignored the whispers behind his back. The messages that were slid into his locker, or even his mailbox. Random strangers wishing he was dead.

They don't matter. They don't know anything.

He uploaded yet another video of him singing and playing. Hoping. Waiting for another chance.

He had to turn off the comments section, not because he was concerned about his feelings hurt, but because of the vitriol directed at the few diehard fans he had who tried defending him.

For the dozenth time, he checked his email.

He was willing to accept a less-than-ideal contract, just for any label to sign him.

Never in his wildest dreams would Stanley imagine the form his second chance took.

A red Ferrari with a blazing dragon wrapped around it, parked outside his school. It was gaudy and stood out like a sore thumb in the middle-class neighborhood. It drew stares, pointing, and whispers.

Even more so because a giant sign hung on top of it.

On it were stark black letters.

STANLEY SNYDER

I WANT YOU

Whatever the hell this was, Stanley didn’t want to find out.

“Isn't that your name?” Brody asked, looking like he couldn't decide whether to laugh or be concerned. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Don’t know. Don’t want to know,” he muttered, raising his backpack to block his face, determined to circle around the fiasco.

He was already infamous at the school. As the singing competition drew to an end, the whispers had barely begun to lower in volume. This bizarre prank, or whatever it was, would only make things worse again.

“Stanley! I love your music! Let’s make a song that will top the charts!” A deep voice boomed.

Peeking out from behind his backpack, Stanley could see a teen around his age standing in front of the expensive vehicle. A white megaphone in hand, he was dressed in a sharp black suit. His long, wavy blond hair flowed down past his neck. His entire presence screamed an overabundance of confidence. Next to him was a butler with hair in neat corkscrew curls.

“Isn’t that… Nanami Ryusui?!” He heard some other students exclaim. “The heir to the Nanami conglomerate?”

Stanley stopped walking. He vaguely recalled hearing some stuff about this spoiled rich kid in the news. He'd been going around the world buying ridiculously expensive sailboats or something.

He had zero confidence in Ryusui’s musical capabilities whatsoever, but if he was willing to be a financial sponsor...

Beggars couldn’t be choosers.

However unlikely, Stanley had to give it a shot.

“Hey,” he said, walking up to Ryusui. “You were looking for me?”

Ryusui grinned at him with a thousand-watt smile. His eyes had a wild intensity that Stanley wouldn’t have thought possible for someone born with a silver spoon in their mouth.

“Ryusui Nanami! The greediest man in the world! That's who I am. I'm gonna take over the world of music. I want you, Stanley Snyder. Let me make you a legend.”

He reached out his hand.

His confidence was infectious.

It felt like a ballast, able to keep you afloat through the wildest storm.

There was something Stanley saw inside Ryusui in that moment. Something completely different from the useless playboy he was rumored to be.

It reminded him of a ten-year-old boy with stars in his eyes, who never doubted for a moment that he would change the course of human history at NASA.

Stanley took his hand in a firm handshake.

🎵

Ryusui was like a storm made flesh.

His will was so strong, it could distort reality.

He didn’t play by the rules.

Acting as a spy, he managed to secretly record Jett and Lindsay discussing the truth of what had happened. The truth spilled out, fanned by the flames of the journalists Ryusui paid.

Stanley still wasn’t entirely cleared. But the controversy gave him a chance to be a topic of conversation again.

A chance for him to claw his way out from the mire.

“Public opinion's the ficklest thing. We’ve got to shape it with the right message at just the right time.” Ryusui scrolled through the entertainment news website the Nanami Conglomerate had just bought.

Stanley was grateful, but he still couldn’t quite believe it.

What did Ryusui see in him? Why choose someone with such abysmal odds when he could have had his pick of less controversial talent?

Stanley didn't question. Simply did the only things he could do.

Keep performing.

Keep creating.

Keep proving the haters wrong.

The music industry was an insular one. All twisted connections and unspoken rules. Ryusui didn’t want to play nice, kiss the right rings. He was far too greedy for that. He wanted to build an empire of his own that would crush the existing one into dust.

Stanley Snyder was his opening salvo.

Perhaps because he already had more money than he could spend, but the contract that Stanley signed was unnecessarily generous.

Stanley's parents’ eyes widened as the checks from his songs began rolling in.

“Trust me with your son,” Ryusui told them, eyes shining earnestly. “I promise I will unleash his full potential.”

Stanley stood with his arms crossed by Ryusui’s side, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

Ryusui managed to do something Stanley had thought impossible. He convinced Stanley’s parents to let him pursue music full time, promising that if anything went wrong, he could get his GED later and Ryusui would fully fund any university program Stanley got into.

Finally, he had even more time to dedicate to making his dream a reality.

🎵

“He’s a crazy guy. Absolutely insane,” Stanley mused, his voice lighter than it had been in a long time. “I still can’t believe he talked me into crashing that awards show.” He groaned at the memory, still feeling mortified. 

Of course he spoke about Ryusui to Xeno.

He shared everything with Xeno, even though his friend was often tightly lipped in return.

A small part of him wanted Xeno to be jealous.

If Xeno only asked, he would be quick to say that Ryusui had become a good friend and business partner, but no one could replace the place Xeno had in his heart.

But Xeno didn’t ask.

“It’s great that things are going well.”

“Totally! I’m looking forward to my first tour coming up.” Stanley gulped, forcing his words out before he overthought it. “I know you don’t want to see each other… yet. And we don’t have to! But I sent you a ticket through email, you know, just in case you have some free time.”

His heart pounded at the thought of catching a glimpse of Xeno in the crowd.

The other end of the phone was silent.

“You mentioned that your research was going well recently, right?” Stanley added, unable to stand the silence. He felt the familiar feeling that arose too often when they spoke these days, like his heart was being crushed.

“There's certainly been progress.” Xeno sounded genuinely happy when mentioning his work for once. That would normally make Stanley happy too, except… “My discussions with Senku have been elegant and helpful. He has helped me re-evaluate existing models through a more nuanced, interdisciplinary lens.”

Stanley grit his teeth to hold back some choice words.

Xeno didn’t seem to care about his closeness with Ryusui, but he could not say the same about this Senku.

A brilliant young scientist who had shown up out of nowhere. An international student from Japan. Someone who could match wits against Xeno.

It bothered Stanley more than he could put into words.

Xeno didn’t want to see him because he was a liability for his career.

But Senku? He bet they spent days and nights working through scientific discoveries.

Senku probably got to see Xeno every day, while he was left with only the scraps of his attention.

“He sounds like quite the guy,” Stanley muttered, trying and failing to keep hurt out of his voice.

His amber eyes flashed with determination.

When it came to Xeno’s heart, he wasn’t going to lose.

The end is coming, I kick down the door

And I pull the trigger

To find that my target’s down

The man that I was yesterday

Is the man I’ve been hunting

That I’ll lay to waste

A serene expression crossed Xeno’s face as he leaned back and enjoyed listening to a song from Stanley’s first album.

It was a shame he had been unable to attend a live performance.

He would have loved to see the expression on Stanley’s face were he to show up waving purple glowsticks in one of the neon shirts that had the humorous fan slogan “I STAN STAN”.

Still, Xeno couldn’t imagine the kind of commotion it would cause for him to collapse in the middle of a show. Or worse.

He had given away the tickets Stanley sent him to a fan who couldn't afford it otherwise. In return, the recipient recorded the whole show for him. He had watched the recordings more than once, amazed by his childhood friend’s stage presence. Stanley was a bona fide music star now, able to fill an entire stadium with fans. When Stanley performed, you simply couldn't tear your eyes away.

Next to the albums were a dozen magazines where Stanley had been featured as well as some other collectibles. Stanley had even partnered with a fast-food chain and got his face plastered on their packaging. There was a photo of him in an apron holding a hot dog of all things.

When Xeno felt exhausted from his research, he would often find himself curling up in this corner.

His phone buzzed.

He had received two texts.

One was from Senku about the latest experiment.

Xeno still found it a wonder that the other scientist had managed to track him down underneath layers of VPNs. Senku had figured out that it was him who had been anonymously making breakthroughs, discovering cures for a dozen other illnesses while searching for one for his own. The Japanese student hadn’t shown any interest in exposing Dr. X’s identity, even though there were plenty who would have paid him handsomely for it. Instead, all he wanted to do was share notes and work together to advance science even more.

Xeno’s smile was bitter.

Senku was a brilliant scientist. He had his whole life ahead of him. He would go on to discover far more than Xeno could. He had that precious commodity which Xeno was far too short on.

Time.

He looked at the other text.

It was from Stanley.

Hbd Xeno. Got you a surprise. Turn on the TV or look outside your window.

Xeno's brows rose in confusion and alarm. He opened his balcony door, looking outside with his heart pounding, not sure what to expect.

He had never told Stanley his address.

They had promised not to meet.

Surely…

Fireworks burst open across the night sky above the city—red, gold, brilliant white—until suddenly one exploded in a vibrant violet X, sharp and deliberate, as though scrawled by hand across the stars.

Xeno’s breath caught in his throat. The cold wind whipped around him, but his body was frozen in place. More fireworks bloomed like shooting stars across the night sky.

His phone buzzed again, this time with a link.

Local News: Surprise Midnight Performance by Stanley Snyder at Boston Commons—Fans Stunned by Pyrotechnic Tribute and Unannounced Concert

And beneath it, a simple message:

Just wanted you to know I was thinking of you.

Chapter Text

Every twisted and tangled

and interweaved wound that bleeds

I know that only you had carved them deep

Deeper into me

Stanley’s popularity skyrocketed.

He released three albums, each one more successful than the last, by the time he turned eighteen. You couldn’t walk down the street without hearing one of his songs playing.

It was just a matter of time before one of his songs topped the charts.

“Thank you,” he said to Ryusui, not for the first time.

“No, thank you. And congrats on the Grammy.” Ryusui grinned, looping an arm casually around Staney’s shoulder.

His music company had successfully taken off and had grown to become one of the giants in the industry at record pace. Artists flocked the company because of unorthodoxy. It treated artists far better than the others.

Case in point, for Stanley’s eighteenth birthday, Ryusui had decided to throw a hell of a party at the Rainbow Room in Rockefeller Center. The entire sixty-fifth floor glittered under crystal chandeliers, the city lights sprawling out beneath the glass like a second sea of stars. Everyone was invited—friends, family, and those who had supported his career.

Exquisite dishes were served by Michelin star chefs.

A massive tower of champagne glasses stood at the center.

Lilian Weinberg had been invited to perform. Stanley finally sang a duet with her, and it felt like a dream come true.

After laughing and chatting with all those who came to congratulate him, Stanley popped out onto the balcony for some fresh air. A moment alone.

He checked his phone for what felt like the dozenth time that day.

Nothing still.

Staring up at the starry night sky, he wondered if Xeno was looking at it too.

He wondered if Xeno was okay.

As unresponsive as he could be, he had never forgotten Stanley’s birthday before…

“Hey, birthday boy!” Ryusui’s boisterous voice pulled him out of his reverie. Stanley turned to see him with a glass of champagne in hand. He was in an impeccably tailored designer suit, just like the one he had gotten Stanley for the occasion. Ryusui’s face was flushed red. There was a slight wobble to his step. “Didn’t think I’d find you out here looking so glum.” Ryusui tilted his head.

“I really appreciate you doing this for me,” Stanley said, not wanting Ryusui to misunderstand.

“Then why the frooown?” Ryusui hiccuped.

“Nothing much. Same old…”

It was a sign of how close he and Ryusui had gotten. He was the only one who knew the truth.

Stanley had confessed it after Xeno had gone silent for a long stretch, leaving him in such a bad mood that it had affected his work. It was completely unprofessional, and Stanley had had promised it would never happen again.

Instead of scolding him, Ryusui had helped manage the situation with quiet understanding and care. That’s when Stanley decided to tell him the truth.

He had expected Ryusui to laugh at him. Look at him like he was out of his mind.

After all, Ryusui was a playboy. Stanley couldn’t count the number of men and women he had dated in the time they’d known each other even using both hands and feet. He probably thought Stanley was a fool to be so hung up on someone, let alone someone he hadn’t seen in person in eight years.

Instead, Ryusui had mused, “I like a man who knows what he wants.”

Back on the balcony, Ryusui downed the rest of his glass and let out a satisfied sigh. Stanley caught the glass just before it slipped from his fingers, setting it carefully on the nearby table. He draped an arm around Ryusui’s shoulders, steadying him as he swayed slightly.

Ryusui leaned in to whisper, “You’re pretty. You sing well. I want you.”

The words, spoken so casually by a man who was effortlessly handsome, dazzlingly wealthy, and entirely self-assured was enough to make most lose their inhibitions.

Stanley just shook his head, unfazed. He was completely used to Ryusui’s behavior by now. “I know, I know. Let’s go find Francois.”

He shifted until he had a more solid grasp, intent on dragging his friend and business partner back inside.

Ryusui’s feet, however, had other plans. One leg hooked awkwardly around the other, sending them both careening off balance. Stanley barely had time to react, twisting his body so that he could shield Ryusui’s head from hitting the hard balcony floor. The impact knocked the breath out of him, and suddenly Ryusui’s weight crashed onto his chest.

Ryusui ended up half sprawled atop him, his warm body pinning Stanley in place, the scent of champagne and cologne mingling in the air.

“You’re heavy,” Stanley complained.

The sharp tang of alcohol lingered on Ryusui’s breath, warm against his skin, and then a hand slipped into his. Ryusui’s fingers curled around his with a suggestiveness that made Stanley’s eyes widen.

“Are you lonely?” Ryusui whispered into his ear.

Stanley flinched, yanking his hand free and rolling the other man off him with more force than necessary. His heart thudded in his chest, pulse spiking as his gaze locked on Ryusui. “What the hell?”

“If you were mine, I’d never let you be lonely for the rest of your life.”

Stanley was about to give a scathing retort, but it was cut off by a soft, unexpected sound.

Snoring.

Stanley let out a breath in relief, his heartbeat beginning to settle down.

Surely, Ryusui was just drunk and had confused him with one of his flings.

Behind them, fireworks burst in color across the night sky.

Ryusui’s words wouldn’t stop echoing in Stanley’s mind.

🎵

When Ryusui acted perfectly normal after Stanley’s birthday, Stanley chose to do the same.

But suddenly, everything Ryusui did seemed to take on a new light. Stanley had trouble just dismissing it as “Ryusui being Ryusui” when he kept inviting Stanley out to lavish restaurants, bought Stanley anything so much even hinted that he wanted, and seemed to be far too comfortable with skinship.

It felt like something between had subtly changed and bent, that any day now this nebulous relationship between them would break.

That day came when Ryusui invited him for a ride on the Perseus, just the two of them.

It wasn’t anything unusual. They’d even co-piloted a private plane before.

They worked together in comfortable companionship, hoisting the mainsail and unfurling the front sail. Ryusui was already explaining passionately about all the latest upgrades that had been made recently to the custom-built yacht.

It was a beautiful day, the sun turning the waves into a shifting tapestry of sparkling sapphire and silver, each crest catching the light like scattered diamonds. The breeze swept across the deck, cool and salty against their sun-warmed skin, carrying the faint tang of the ocean and the soft creak of the sails.

They talked about anything and everything, except for what had happened that night.

When Ryusui saw Stanley checking his phone again out of habit, he finally spoke up, “Hey! I’m sorry about pretending not to remember.”

Stanley almost dropped his phone into the ocean. “What?”

“I behaved poorly during your birthday,” Ryusui apologized. His hands were steady at the helm as he engaged autopilot. Stanley watched him approach and backed up until he hit the railing.

There was nowhere for him to run and hide. They were literally on a boat in the middle of the ocean.

“I was serious, you know, about what I said.” He put a hand up, “Before you turn me down because of that promise—I have something I think you should know.”

A cold dread coiled in Stanley’s stomach. Stanley had a horrible premonition that he would hate what Ryusui said next. He wanted to plug his ears, to run, even to leap off the yacht just to avoid hearing it. But his body refused to move. He stood frozen, heart hammering, as Ryusui’s words landed like a physical blow.

“Something’s not right with this Xeno guy. I’d totally lay off if he was good to you, but there are some things that just don’t add up.” Ryusui’s voice was gentle, but his words cut into Stanley like the sharpest knife. “He did enroll in MIT’s Aeronautical Engineering program, but he hasn’t published any papers in his entire time there. The school said he was on indefinite leave. That’s different than what you told me, and I’m guessing what he told you. Yet, he’s been accepting your generous research funding…”

The accusation hung between them like a storm cloud. Ryusui had seen plenty of people try to manipulate others for money, and his eyes were calm but sharp, taking it all in.

Stanley’s chest tightened. He wanted to fight back, to defend Xeno, to lay out evidence that proved he wasn’t that type of person. But the words lodged in his throat, twisted by anger and frustration. He forcefully shoved his emotions back down, compacted them before he fell apart.

He shouldn’t have trusted Ryusui with the truth about Xeno. If he’d known it would be wielded like a weapon, he never would have spoken.

“Turn back. Now.” His voice cut through the tense air, sharp.

Ryusui obediently walked back to the wheel and started taking them back.

Stanley was silent the entire way back.

Just before they docked, Ryusui’s voice broke through the hum of the engine and the slap of waves against the hull. “I know you’re mad at me right now. You can even punch me if you like. But when you finish processing, I’ll still be here.”

Worse of all was that Stanley couldn’t even actually strike him, not when Ryusui was looking at him with eyes filled with nothing but worry.

“If you let me, I’ll love you so much you’ll forget all about him.”

Stanley didn’t respond. He pushed Ryusui aside and climbed onto dry land.

Stanley said nothing. He shoved Ryusui aside and stepped onto the dock.

He ran as if he could outpace the gnawing doubt.

🎵

The Roadster sped along, silent and deadly, weaving through cars on the highway, accelerating. Stanley stepped hard on the gas pedal, the world melting into a blur around him.

It wasn’t about the money. It was never about the money.

He had more money than he thought he would make in a lifetime.

He had paid off his parents’ mortgages. He had donated to charities. He had bought cars and a house and whatever else caught his fancy.

Funding Xeno’s research was no big deal. It had made him happy to be able to help the one he liked in that way. He didn’t need anything in return.

It wasn’t about the money.

It was about the lies.

He knew Xeno was keeping things from him, that much had been obvious for some time now.

Still, when Ryusui forced him to confront it, it hurt.

Stanley had wanted to purposefully stay dumb, continue living in fairytale ignorance.

Pretend that the promise he had been chasing for almost half his life was going to come true; that nothing had changed between the two of them since they were ten, even though so much had.

Xeno wasn’t the same. The openness, the ease with which he once shared everything, had vanished. Now, it seemed there was something keeping him from his dream at NASA. It wasn’t that he wasn’t smart enough, Stanley knew that.

A shiver ran down Stanley’s spine as the thought took hold: what if this change existed precisely because Stanley was finally close to fulfilling his half of the promise? What if Xeno had never believed he would actually follow through, and now that he had…

Maybe the Xeno from his memories was just a fantasy, something too good to be true that he had held onto desperately over the years, despite endless evidence to the contrary.

Stanley wasn’t the same either. The boy he’d been would never have doubted Xeno for a heartbeat. He would have punched Ryusui and turned him down firmly, saying that there would only ever be one person he loved.

But the man he’d become was different. He let Ryusui linger closer than he should, let his easy charm slip past defenses he used to think were unshakable. He pretended not to notice the intent behind Ryusui’s touches, his words—because some nights the loneliness pressed so heavy against his ribs that even counterfeit warmth felt like a reprieve.

Stanley glanced over at his phone. He thought of calling Xeno.

“What’s the fucking point?” He growled, slamming his hand into the steering wheel.

Suddenly, the car was screaming out in alarm.

There was a truck in front of him.

Too close.

There was no time for laments or regrets or much of anything at all.

His life didn’t flash before his eyes.

No sweet memories nor bitter ones.

There was just pain, excruciating pain.

And then darkness.

I know I’ll face my fate and still embrace what I swore to do that day

I can’t bear to live when I know you’ve gone away

I just want to feel your starry light adorn me all the same

What’s left in my heart is a hole your love has made

Chapter Text

You’ll be the saddest part of me

A part of me that will never be

Mine

It’s obvious

Tonight is gonna be the loneliest

“What’s his status?” Ryusui demanded, pacing nervously in front of the operating room. He had flown in the best possible team for the job from around the world.

The surgeon’s face was a careful mask.

Her lips parted.

Ryusui’s heart pounded in his chest, terrified of bad news.

“We’ve done everything we can,” Dr. Luna said, “his vitals are stable.”

Just as Ryusui was about to break into a grin, she shook her head and continued. “For now. But if he doesn’t regain consciousness within the next forty-eight hours, his prognosis will be poor.”

“Isn’t there any medicine? Or, or—money is no object. Please just save him.”

Ryusui had never felt so useless in his entire life.

He’d let his self confidence get to his head. Thought he’d convince Stanley for sure. Even if the man didn’t speak to him for a while as he processed the news, he thought he’d come around. They were killer business partners after all. It would be a shame for them not to be more.

Now, all he was left with was regret.

More than anyone, he should have known how much Xeno meant to Stanley—unhealthily, obsessively so.

He shouldn’t have said anything. Or once he had, he should have chased after Stanley to ensure that he got home safe.

Instead, Stanley’s life was now hanging by a thread.

He stood vigil over Stanley’s bandaged, broken form in the private room he’d secured. Tubes and monitors surrounded the bed, their steady beeping the only proof of life. The oxygen mask barely fogged with each shallow breath. Ryusui’s hand gripped the metal railing so hard his knuckles blanched, as if sheer will alone could hold Stanley here.

If Stanley left like this because of his greed… He didn’t know how he could ever repent.

His eyes widened as he saw a tear stream down from Stanley’s eye. His lips parted lightly. No sound came out, but Ryusui simply knew.

“Xeno,” Ryusui growled, his guilt turning to boiling hot rage. If it wasn’t for that lying bastard who took advantage of Stanley—

He forced himself to loosen his grip on the railing, lest he bent it.

It didn’t matter, now.

He would part the seas, move mountains, even bribe Stanley’s conniving childhood crush if he had to.

So long as Stanley would wake.

Ryusui whipped out his phone and fired off a message to that same address—the one he’d seen Stanley write to over and over like a prayer. A message cast into the void. He wasn’t counting on an answer.

“Go find me Xeno Houston Wingfield and bring him here. Whatever it takes,” he ordered.

There was no need.

He received a message from his security team that the man he was looking for was already outside the hospital, stopped at the checkpoint.

That gave Ryusui pause.

It hadn’t been that long since the accident. While the news had reported it, the exact hospital hadn’t been made public.

Ryusui’s frown deepened. Showing up this fast didn’t quite fit the Xeno he’d pictured in his mind.

Nor did the sight that greeted him: a white-haired teen in an electric wheelchair, dark circles etched beneath his eyes. The baggy white lab coat he wore couldn’t quite hide his skeletal, starved frame. A boy with one foot already in the grave. Not at all the image Ryusui had conjured of someone living it up, taking advantage of his status as Stanley’s childhood crush.

“Ryusui,” Xeno said, his voice quiet but certain. “Stanley told me about you.”

Ryusui had pictured being face to face with Xeno more than once. He’d imagined hurling insults, maybe even dueling for Stanley’s honor like some gallant hero in a romance epic.

Instead, he stepped aside.

“We’ll talk after. Just… go see him. Please.”

While Xeno went inside the room, Ryusui was left with the one who’d travelled here with him.

“Name’s Senku. I’m a research buddy of Xeno’s.”

Ryusui introduced himself in return to the scrawny man who was also wearing a lab coat for some reason.

There was something oddly familiar about the exhausted look in Senku’s eyes, like he had seen it in the mirror recently.

They both peered through the hole in the door, wondering what was being said inside the room.

“It’s tough,” Senku muttered, more to himself than Ryusui.

He didn’t expand, but Ryusui knew what he meant.

It’s tough being in love with someone obsessed with someone else.

🎵

Stanley had a sweet dream. Xeno was there, and music floated around them… The chords of a guitar mingled with the gentle notes of a piano.

All he had ever wanted.

He never wanted to wake up.

Gentle fingers wrapped around his. Something wet dropped onto his arm, barely noticeable through the buzzing numbness that made his body feel like cotton candy.

“Stan…”

That voice, calling that nickname, sent a jolt through his chest.

“Come back. You have so much more to do in this life. If I’d known… I wouldn’t have… You can’t die before me. You just can’t.”

His heart lurched. He struggled to open his eyes, even a sliver. Say he was okay.

It was an eternal constant: he’d do anything to take away Xeno’s pain.

This was real. Memories came rushing back, each one sharper than the last. His body felt fuzzy and heavy, drowning in the drugs coursing through his veins. The car crash… it must have been terrible.

Maybe all he needed was to be on death’s door for Xeno to finally come in-person to see him, after having not done so all these years.

It didn’t matter. He’d come.

There was so much Stanley wanted to say. But more than words, more than anything else, he just wanted to see Xeno again, after so long.

With Herculean effort, he forced his eyes open.

And almost got a heart attack.

It was his childhood friend. The white pompadour was unmistakable. But beside his hospital bed, Xeno sat wearing a Captain Comet mask. It had been Stanley’s favorite cartoon as a child. They’d made his Zap-Blaster for real and got into a ton of trouble with their parents.

He wanted to laugh. He wanted to curse. But no sound left his throat.

He could see Xeno’s dark eyes through the mask, watching him.

“I thought that would wake you up.” Xeno’s voice was soft and filled with relief. Stanley realized Xeno was still holding his hand. “Get some rest. You need it. You still have so much waiting for you.”

Like you? He wanted to ask, but his lips felt like lead.

His vision blurred, his body heavy, and he felt himself fading again, even as he struggled to stay with Xeno just a little while longer.

🎵

Ryusui was at a loss for words. Xeno had told him everything, after sharing that Stanley had woken.

Xeno had only been ten when given a death sentence. He had fought, struggled, lived every day for a promise.

Ryusui realized, with bitter clarity, how wrong he had been.

Xeno wasn’t someone who didn’t care about Stanley.

He cared too much.

It must have torn him apart for Xeno to say those words: “Take care of him for me.”

Ryusui didn’t know what possessed him, but he shouted at Xeno’s fading form, Senku steadily pushing his wheelchair from behind.

“I know you’re more selfish than that! Fight, damn it! Fight for him!”

🎵

“Francois…”

“Yes, Master Ryusui?”

“I was such a fool! Xeno didn’t waste a cent of Stanley’s research funding.”

Ryusui had wanted to help Xeno. He had tracked down the top researchers in the field for Xeno’s extremely rare disease, showered them with resources.

They had all said the same thing: if anyone could make a breakthrough, it was Dr. X.

It didn’t take a genius to connect the dots, especially when he discovered that Senku Ishigami was co-author on many of Dr. X’s papers.

Under a pseudonym, Xeno had achieved the impossible. He’d saved countless other lives through innovative research. There were even whispers of nominating him for the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine—unheard of for a researcher who didn’t publish under their real name.

And he had done it all while suffering from a cruel disease, one that made every time he fell asleep a gamble: would he wake tomorrow, next month, or at all?

Ryusui didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He had shouted at Xeno to fight, when the other had never stopped doing anything but.

His eyes narrowed. He snapped his fingers in determination.

“I’ve decided. I want him. I want them both.”

🎵

Time marched on.

It was not something money could buy.

And I just keep thinking how you made me feel better

And all the crazy little things that we did together

In the end

In the end

It doesn’t matter

If tonight is gonna be the loneliest

Chapter Text

No destiny could bring us together

If that’s the way that things are meant to be

Then maybe it’d be better if we never see

Each other, cause underneath

It all, I’m sick of almost everything

Xeno genuinely still believed that the work he had done would not go to waste.

A cure would be found.

It was just a matter of time.

Time he didn’t have.

His symptoms grew worse. Not only was he bedridden, but his mind became dull like a rusty blade. He no longer had the ability to advance the field further, formulas and theorems slipping like quicksand through the gaps of his mind as he tried to grasp them.

Despite it all, Xeno did not regret his decision.

Doubt had piqued when he’d overlooked Stanley’s injured body. For a moment, he realized he’d always taken it for granted that Stanley would go on to live a long life without him. Fortunately, Stanley had healed without major incident and continued his meteoric rise to a worldwide sensation.

The life he was meant to live. Possible because of Xeno’s lie.

If he had revealed the truth all those years ago, Stanley would have done everything to stay by his side. And for what?

To watch him wither away, unable to do anything?

It was better this way.

Now he had his music. He had countless fans. He had fame and fortune and…

Ryusui.

“Hey, Xeno! You saw right? My song reached No.1!” Stanley’s voice crackled through the phone, brimming with excitement.

Outside the window, rain tapped against the glass in a soft, uneven rhythm—pitter-patter, like a quiet percussion underscoring his joy.

Xeno had always loved the sound of Stanley’s voice. It was low and smooth, wrapping around him like a warm embrace. When he sang with that voice, Xeno felt like it was all meant for him alone.

He wanted to close his eyes and drown in it.

But he couldn’t do that. Not anymore.

“Stanley,” Xeno said. Not Stan. Not the familiar name he’d called as they’d done science experiments together, as they’d created music together, as he’d lied in bed in pain, needing something to hold onto.

He used a voice synthesizer. If Stanley heard his real voice, frail, raspy­—he’d know everything.

Stanley didn’t answer, but Xeno could hear his breathing. Waiting for Xeno patiently, like always.

Maybe he already knew where this was going. Had suspected for a long time.

Outside, the rain quickened, lashing against the glass until it swelled into a storm.

“I don’t want to pretend anymore.” Xeno’s words came out distant, like he was floating above the conversation, watching someone else ruin everything. “I can’t believe you bought into it. I was trying to turn you down lightly but you—you refused to take the hint.”

The silence stretched, sharp as wire.

“You’re lying.” Stanley’s voice had changed. Cold now. Hard. Like the edge of a blade pressed to skin.

“I’m not.” Xeno forced each syllable out, deliberate, merciless. “It’s been eight years, Stanley. Eight. I feel bad for you, wasting all this time on someone who never felt anything back. It’s time for us to end this charade.”

Every word a cut.

Every sentence, a bullet.

He imagined Stanley flinching on the other end of the line, the breath hitching in his throat.

“No! You came. When I had that car accident… you were there!” His voice cracked. Raw, desperate, pleading.

Xeno closed his eyes. That night had nearly broken him. But the synthesizer kept his voice level, almost robotic.

“How many times do I have to tell you? I wasn’t there. That was just the morphine.”

He remembered two kids, young and burning with dreams. The spark inside him, believing he could defeat impossible odds if he but tried.

“When you make a song that tops the billboards, and I become a rocket scientist at NASA. Let’s go out, then. When we’ve both achieved our ambitions. Can you do it?”

Stanley’s eyes had been wide and filled with determination. “I can.”

In the end, it was Xeno who couldn’t do it.

“We haven’t stayed apart all these years because of some childish promise,” he said flatly. “We stayed apart because I didn’t want you. That’s it.”

Xeno trembled like the storm outside, his nails dug into his palms until they broke skin, but the synthesizer smoothed his words to steel.

“I’m done pretending. Can’t even stomach it for the free tickets and money anymore. I’m blocking you after this. Don’t contact me again.”

He didn’t hang up.

Waited.

He needed to hear it.

“No. Please tell me you’re lying.” Stanley’s voice sounded broken, unraveling.

And Xeno remembered—the boy with a red guitar slung over his shoulder, hugging him under field of stars. The boy who had promised him anything, not knowing the price he’d pay.

Now that familiar voice sounded lost, like the compass that had guided his whole life had spun itself useless.

Xeno’s heart twisted hard in his chest.

“I’m not the person you thought I was,” he whispered. “I played a game with your heart, and in the end… we both lost.”

That at least, was the truth.

He’d bet it all, and found that in the end, he wasn’t nearly as invincible or capable as he had believed. If it was going to end like this, he should have cut Stanley off from the very beginning, save him the pain. He should have never brought up that stupid promise. But he’d been too selfish to let go.

Until now.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

Stanley’s anger came fast and sharp, like a wildfire igniting from grief.

“You were just watching this whole time? Laughing at me? At how pathetic I was?”

Xeno had been watching, every step of the way. Proud of every accomplishment. Stanley had always been the strongest, most dazzling person he knew. Xeno hadn’t laughed. He had cried, bitter from the thought of someone else by his side.

“You didn’t mean any of it? Not a single thing?! You fucking bastard.”

The hurled abuse comforted Xeno in a way. It was better than hearing Stanley cry or beg. It meant Stanley believed him.

“Who the hell do you think you are? You think I can’t get along without you? You’re nothing! Just some washed-up child prodigy. You haven’t even published a single rocket paper!” Stanley’s beautiful voice turned into something unfamiliar. It snapped and twisted with a raw, furious heat. “Block me, go ahead! I’ll never talk to you again. Never even think about you!”

Xeno swallowed hard. His throat burned. Tears streamed down his face, but he didn’t dare make a sound.

“And you’re a coward too! You didn’t even have the guts to say this to my goddamn face.” He could hear Stanley’s voice trembling, not just with rage.

It was only fair to let Stanley be the one to hang up on him for once.

The ringtone echoed, louder than the storm outside.

Déjà vu, what do you keep going on about?

You’ve said and done so many selfish things

Haven’t you taken all you can take by now?

But even though all that’s true,

Somehow, I can’t seem to hate you…

Stanley’s song was playing in the opulent hotel lobby. Ryusui crossed it in wide strides.

The song was different form all his others. Stanley had written it in a rage after his last conversation with Xeno. It was clear from the tone of the song—he had wanted Xeno to hear his anger, his disgust, every time he turned on the radio.

Instead, he’d ended up the only suffering for it.

Stanley didn’t know it, but Ryusui did.

Xeno couldn’t hear his songs anymore.

Ryusui made his way to the penthouse suite, a frown marring his handsome features. He kept the suite permanently for when he was in town and had given Stanley free reign to use it as well.

He knocked loudly.

No response.

He swiped the hotel card, worry beginning to claw at his heart.

Relief flooded him when he heard Stanley calling his name groggily from inside as he opened the door.

Ryusui walked around broken and half-spilled bottles and made a note to call hotel staff to clean it up. He opened the balcony door to let out the smell of cigarette smoke that filled the room.

Stanley lay in bed, the glowing embers of his cigarette standing out between his thin fingers. He was in one of the hotel’s luxurious complementary bathrobes, his chest revealed by the loose folds. His makeup was smeared, like he hadn’t bothered removing it before collapsing onto the bed. The small doll that always dangled from his neck was nowhere to be seen.

“You look like a mess,” Ryusui observed, as he plucked the cigarette from Stanley’s hand. He brought it to his own lips, drawing in a hit of nicotine.

“I put the fire out. Your explosion the other day.” Ryusui sighed, “Might not always be able to do that though.”

Stanley parted his lips and then shut it.

He looked torn between saying it doesn’t matter anymore and not wanting to admit why it didn’t.

“So, what’d you call me here for? Not that I’m complaining. Any excuse to escape that stuffy board meeting.” He was still dressed to the nines, had left the meeting as soon as he’d gotten Stanley’s text.

“How about we go for a drive and get you some fresh air?” Ryusui tried to sound chipper, even though he hated seeing Stanley like this.

Instead of responding, Stanley peered at him, his expression dark, amber eyes glowing.

“You want me.”

It wasn’t a question.

Ryusui was suddenly aware of how close they were. He’d never been one to be conscious of personal space. Stanley was usually the one who backed away. Now, Stanley fisted the front of Ryusui’s shirt and pulled until he was leaning over the singer, arms bracketing him. Their face were inches apart.

Ryusui smelled expensive alcohol and tobacco on Stanley’s breath. It didn’t stop him from wanting to lean in for a taste.

“You said you’ll love me so much I’ll forget all about him.” Stanley’s robe slipped slightly off one shoulder, revealing his chest. “I want that. Can you do it?”

Ryusui had wanted Stanley for so long. He had craved this amazing man who’d been absolutely relentless in chasing what he wanted. He fell in love with his ambition. His beauty. His strength.

He was an inviting sight and Ryusui could almost taste it, those lovely collar bones, the pale smoothness of his chest. That angelic, androgynous face, even with makeup smeared, would not look out of place on the Times Square billboard.

It would be so easy for Ryusui to finally obtain what he wanted.

It was even what Xeno wanted too, in the end.

For him to mend the wounds that the scientist had left, piece together the heart left broken.

But Ryusui was more selfish than that.

He didn’t want some half-assed bittersweet ending.

Hope was the slowest form of heartbreak—and yet, he chose to inflict it all the same.

Xeno was a hell of a liar.

Ryusui wasn’t, at least not where Stanley was concerned.

Chapter Text

In the dark I closed my eyes and drew the “you” I used to know

I recall every emotion even here all on my own

But there’s still a looming agony at times I just can’t fight

I’m alone painting a ghost that leaves me crying through the night

The wind caressed golden strands as Stanley walked across familiar fields. He was bundled tight in dark sunglasses, a black mask, and a baseball cap.

Under the setting sun, he saw the streets they used to know like the back of their hands.

He remembered riding a bike with Xeno behind him, carrying so many contraptions it was a miracle they didn’t topple. A crowd of children ran past him, laughing amongst themselves.

Even with everything he had achieved in this life, he couldn’t help but be jealous of them.

He hummed a small tune to himself under his breath as he travelled down memory lane. His fingers twitched on instinct, tracing out Moonlight Sonata.

At the end of Starcrest Avenue, he saw that familiar house next to his family’s.

His parents had kept the house. During past visits, he had been introduced to the family that now lived next door. They were nice folks, who had been surprised to learn that when the Snyders had said their son’s name was Stanley, they had meant the Stanley Snyder.

He knocked on the door, and they said “go right ahead” to his request.

With a shovel in hand, he went to find the giant lemon tree that reached up to the skies.

Some of its branches were shorter than others.

The result of a rocket misfire from two boys who had stars in their eyes.

Stanley dug.

They were supposed to come back for it together, but after Xeno had moved away, it had been left there forgotten.

It wasn’t until recently that Stanley had the memory resurface.

A buried treasure from childhood.

It wasn’t buried nearly as deep as he remembered it being. Everything had appeared bigger as a child.

Kneeling, he brushed the dirt off the lid of the cookie tin.

“Make sure you don’t look,” Xeno had said.

“I won’t.” Stanley said, a lollipop between his lips, “Not until we’re adults, right?”

“When we’re adults,” Xeno agreed, looking like he couldn’t wait. “Oh, how elegant! I’m sure we’ll have done amazing things by the time we come back!”

Inside the tin were two folded pieces of paper.

Stanley resisted the urge to light a cigarette.

Carefully, he picked up one piece of paper and unfolded it. The words were his own, scrawled in barely legible print. A little faded around the edges but still able to be read.

Dear Future Me,

I wonder how you are? Become a rockstar yet?

I’m sure Xeno is probably calling his future self a failure if he hasn’t launched at least a rocket to Mars by now, but I’m not going to be that mean.

It’s okay if you end up being just a normal dude.

Hope you can at least be a normal dude with some guts.

If I don’t get to it first, you gotta tell Xeno.

There were three words crossed out. He had scribbled over them furiously because he had been terrified that Xeno would peek at what he had written.

A small smile tugged at his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

He dropped the paper back in the tin.

Careful not to damage it, he unfolded the other one.

What had Xeno dreamed of?

If there were any wishes Stanley could help fulfil, he would.

Dear Future Me,

You’ve at least launched a rocket to Mars by now, right?

Next up is designing something that will be able to take a human outside of the solar system! I’ve recently been reading up on interstellar propulsion mechanisms and closed-loop life support systems. I think they’re rather elegant!

I’m sure Stanley is famous now, and people listen to his songs around the world. It will be tough sharing him with the fans, but c’est la vie.

-X

P.S. If it hasn’t happened yet, I want to wear a lab coat at our wedding! Not a tux. Stanley can wear a tux if he wants. And there better be good music. And explosions. If the police don’t come, we didn’t go big enough.

Stanley moved the paper further away. He couldn’t let his tears ruin this small piece of Xeno.

With his vision blurred, he could barely make out the picture Xeno had drawn below his words.

He laughed, so hard his shoulders shook.

His genius friend had always sucked at drawing anything other than scientific diagrams.

He traced a fingertip over the faded stick figures that were meant to be them. There were musical notes and explosions made of zig zags in the background.

🎵

Senku was waiting for him at the bottom of the building with the unit that had served as Xeno’s lab, office, and home. Xeno had never bought a house, wanting to conserve funds for research.

Senku was in a lab coat, with his arms crossed.

“Hey,” he greeted, and Stanley followed him up the elevator.

After Ryusui had told Stanley the truth, he had gotten in touch with Senku. He wanted to get to know the Xeno he had missed over the years. The side of him that he had always kept carefully hidden.

And even though he hated to admit it, Senku had seen those parts of Xeno that he never had.

Ryusui had shown him all the papers Xeno had published under his pseudonym.

So many had Senku Ishigami as the co-author.

“Thank you,” Stanley said. He was grateful towards Senku, but at the same time, couldn’t help the sour twinge of jealousy that curled his gut.

“I never thought it was a good idea for him to hide it from you,” Senku said, almost apologetic. “He had a way of getting tunnel vision. Real stubborn.”

“Tell me about it.”

Senku opened the door, and Stanley tried not to think about it too much, that Senku had been trusted with that key.

The apartment hadn’t been used in some time. Dust had settled in the corners, and the air felt stale. Papers were scattered across the floor, likely fallen from haphazardly stacked piles. There was a whiteboard covered in messy equations and notations. Part of it had been wiped away, seeming in a bout of frustration by the author.

A mug sat by the sink, its contents having dried into a permanent stain. A lab coat hung by the door, sleeves folded over themselves. An open notebook lay flat at the center of the desk, pen still resting diagonally across the page, mid-sentence, as if any moment now, someone might step back in to finish their thought.

“Look through or whatever you want, I already memorized everything,” Senku said, casually picking at his ear like what he’d said was no big deal.

Stanley flipped through the pages filled with calculations, written in haste but still precise. He browsed through a well-worn medical journal with sticky tabs lining the edges, flagged with Xeno’s sharp observations. He didn’t understand nearly enough, but he still traced the words.

Reading the writing, he felt closer to Xeno than he had in years, as if the space and time separating them had condensed, if only for a moment.

There were printouts of lab results, some underlined, some circled.

All of it pointed to someone who had still been fighting, still been working, until they couldn’t anymore.

Stanley ran his fingers along the edge of the table and felt the faint grit of dust coat his skin. It didn’t feel right.

The place wasn’t empty. It was waiting.

Xeno’s bedroom looked like something out of a nightmare. It was all cold steel, tubes, and machines. Devices to keep him alive while he slept. Now the bed lay empty, the sheets unmade. Stanley was sure Xeno would have hated sleeping here. He remembered the dark circles under Xeno’s eyes, how he used to mention he wished he never had to sleep again.

“Near the end, he couldn’t stay here anymore. Had to move to the hospital.” Senku spoke, but he sounded like he’d rather have his teeth pulled than remember anymore.

“When you’re ready, there’s one more room I should probably show you.” Senku sounded like swallowing a knife would be preferable.

Stanley followed Senku around the corner, curious.

He’d seen where Xeno did his research. Where he slept.

What else was left?

Senku stopped in front of a wooden door, gesturing for Stanley to push it open.

He did, stepping inside.

Suddenly, it was like he was in a completely a world completely separate from the rest of the apartment.

There was no race against the clock here. No pain and suffering.

Just music. Just him.

On the shelf to the left was every CD Stanley had ever released for years.

Posters advertising his concerts were taped to the wall, as were pages removed from magazines where he had been featured. Movies that his music was featured in. T-shirts from events that Xeno wouldn’t have been able to attend. USB sticks labelled with the date of his concerts. Records of major milestones like the awards he had won.

“Xeno.” The name slipped from Stanley’s lips.

His hand moved to clutch the worn-down doll in front of his chest, the one he couldn’t bear to destroy even at the height of his anger.

He saw its twin sitting on an electric keyboard.

If the time capsule he found had proved Xeno had feelings for him at ten, this oasis in the midst of hell proved beyond a reasonable doubt those feelings had never faded.

Even across thousands of miles, Xeno had been watching him all along.

In a drawer, he found scores written in familiar handwriting. They were unfamiliar. Music Xeno had never sent him. The first page of each score had a number in the corner, counting up.

It started at eighteen.

Stanley understood exactly what it was.

Xeno had written so many songs for him. Songs that he realized in the end, he would never have a chance to give.

Stanley decided to take them with him.

He turned, only then realizing that Senku hadn’t taken a single step into the room.

🎵

“Save your tears. I don’t know how long it will take, but I will bring him back, ten billion percent.”

Senku had watched Xeno’s bright eyes slowly dim, the radiance of a supernova fading into the cold silence of a collapsed star.

He had made up his mind then: even if it took the rest of his life, even if he never stood a chance of being number one in his heart—

Xeno deserved to be happy.

Even all the tears that we were shedding

Even all the pain I try forgetting

I could bear it all if I was with you

It won’t matter where we are

Stanley carried a bouquet of wisterias, lavender, and asters. In his other hand, he carried his guitar case.

The halls were wide, and he had brought a thick jacket even though it was the middle of summer.

It was always cold here.

Xeno had a room all to himself.

He lay in the cryogenic chamber, suspended in time.

It could take years or a lifetime, but Stanley wouldn’t stop waiting by his side.

“Haven’t you slept enough already, Sleeping Beauty? It’s time to wake up.”

He strummed his lucky red guitar, wishing Xeno would wake, but if he didn’t, that at least he could have sweet dreams.

Chapter Text

Chapter 10: The Scientist

Nobody said it was easy

It’s such a shame for us to part

Nobody said it was easy

No one ever said that it would be this hard

I’m going back to the start

Xeno was an atheist.

The universe was created by a Big Bang, not some omniscient being.

When he opened his eyes, he didn’t think for even a second that he was in the afterlife.

Through a small window in front of his face, he made out smooth white panels. His body was trapped with no space to stretch and terribly, terribly cold.

It took a while for the fog in his brain to clear. Once it did, the nonsensical noise around himself gained meaning.

“The revival from cryogenic suspension was successful. His vitals look stable.”

“This technique has broad therapeutic potential across a range of pathologies. Maybe another Nobel is in the cards for you, Dr. Senku!”

Xeno heard a familiar voice. Without thinking, his lips tilted into a smile.

“It’s about time,” Senku said.

With a hiss, the seal on the pod that Xeno lay in lifted.

Pushing himself up, Xeno took a deep breath, trying to shake off the disturbing sense of claustrophobia. His voice was barely audible as it slipped from his parched throat, his teeth clattering. “How long did it take?”

He tried to push himself up, and found that while he could move a little, his shivering body felt too heavy.

“It’s been 346,896,000 seconds since you were frozen.” Senku leaned over the edge of the pod, meeting his eyes. “Don’t strain yourself. Such significant mass loss probably feels terrible, but we’ve developed techniques that’ll help you recover. In fact, you’ll feel better than you ever did with Hypnolepsis.”

Eleven years.

It was a lot faster than his base case.

But still far too long.

🎵

Xeno moved to a rehab facility. Impatiently, he worked at relearning basics such as how to walk and how to eat without assistance.

When they gave him access to a laptop with internet access, he avoided the news and social media.

Senku didn’t tell him, and he didn’t ask.

Weeks into his recovery, his father came to visit. Strangely enough, the man looked younger than Xeno recalled despite the passage of time. It was as though a huge burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

He apologized for not being there for Xeno more all those years ago. He said he should have believed in him more.

Xeno shook his head. There was nothing to be forgiven.

There was a woman he didn’t recognize by his father’s side, and holding her hand, a young girl.

His half sibling.

His father had started a new family.

Xeno wasn’t that surprised. He nodded to them politely.

Nobody would expect someone to stay still for eleven whole years.

🎵

“Elegant! Absolutely elegant!” Xeno complimented, fingers crossed as he read more of the paper, deep in thought.

Shining black eyes met ruby ones.

Senku savored those words. Eleven years of research and toil without Xeno.

In his darkest moments, when doubt crept it, he would remember the spark when their ideas had collided, igniting into brilliant fireworks. He had pushed on, regardless of obstacles, wanting to experience that again in this lifetime.

“It wouldn’t have been possible to get this far without ideas from ‘Neurological Repatterning and Synaptic Restoration via Quantum Sleep Recalibration’.” It was a paper they had written together. “It won me the Nobel Prize, you know.” Senku shook his head, “I didn’t reveal your identity, since you told me not to. Bit of a shame, but you never really cared about that sort of thing.”

“Indeed. Recognition was never the objective,” Xeno said, almost caressing the next pile of papers he was going to read. He had so much knowledge to devour.

“I’m sure you’ll be getting one soon enough anyways. Any good new research ideas on your mind?”

They traded ideas, not bound to the medical space. Could putting someone to sleep cryogenically be used to send astronauts further into space?

Senku let himself enjoy the company of the brilliant mind he had missed.

Xeno would get distracted at times, turning away absentmindedly, growing quiet for a fraction too long. Sometimes Senku would hear him softly humming one of those songs, only to stop abruptly, like he’d caught himself making a fatal mistake.

When that happened, Senku knew it wasn’t him or science on his mind at all.

That’s enough, he thought, even though it wasn’t at all. Would never be.

“Xeno?” His voice came out softer than he intended. He drew in a steadying breath. “There’s someone here to see you.”

🎵

Xeno wasn’t sure who he expected the visitor to be (he knew who he had irrationally hoped it was), but he hadn’t expected Ryusui.

The man seemed like he had barely aged a day.

“Ha! You look way better than the last time I saw you!” He greeted Xeno, as boisterous as ever. “I was starting to think you’d make me wait forever to see that face again.”

“And you,” he said to Senku, “brilliant as ever! We should go out for a drink sometime to celebrate, yeah?” At Ryusui’s wink, Senku just rolled his eyes and left the two of them alone.

“Alright, well come with me, I’ve got somewhere to take you.”

Xeno’s hands clenched into fists.

He didn’t want anything to do with Ryusui. He was the one who had made that request, but it didn’t stop him from feeling bitter.

Xeno followed Ryusui to the elevators despite himself. Francois pressed the button for the top floor, and they ascended.

There was only one link between him and Ryusui.

If he was here, then maybe…

Xeno wasn’t even surprised when Ryusui swung open the door to the balcony. Or when there was a sleek black helicopter waiting, parked on the roof.

He didn’t dare ask where they were going, but he did ask, “where’s the pilot?” with his white brows furrowed when he saw the empty cockpit.

“Right here!” Ryusui exclaimed, pointing at himself and giving a wide grin.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Xeno groaned, but entered the craft all the same.

To Ryusui’s credit, he was clearly qualified to pilot the craft. Xeno just wished he didn’t take the opportunity to show off and have the skids kiss the surface of a lake as they passed it.

His heart lurched. Once he realized Ryusui was capable, his concern for their safety was replaced with something else. He wondered if Stanley had in this very passenger seat right next to Ryusui.

Stanley would love riding an aircraft like this.

They finally landed, and it was impossible for Xeno not to know where they were going.

From the rooftop they were on, he could hear the loud sound of music, the roar of the crowd. They had landed on a building right next to MetLife Stadium in New Jersey.

“Oops, sorry, we’re a few minutes late! I was having too much fun!” Ryusui gestured for Xeno to hurry as they made their way to stadium.

Xeno said nothing.

His heart was racing, and not just from their running.

Security let them in, immediately recognizing Ryusui and guiding them to the VIP booth.

From there, they had a perfect view of the stage.

Xeno had only ever experienced this from footage. This was his first time seeing it in person. The experience was completely different.

Unreal.

Stanley Snyder’s concert.

The boy who Xeno had taught how to read music was now singing in front of over eighty thousand fans.

There were neon signs with his name and heart signs on them. Purple glowsticks. Countless “I STAN STAN” shirts. They had fallen in love with his music, just like Xeno had long ago.

Stanley sounded absolutely divine, and looked it too. The black leather jacket clung to him just right, paired with a fishnet shirt that offered teasing glimpses of the muscle beneath. His belt glittered with studded gemstones. Then Stanley was sticking out his tongue to lick lips painted purple and oh, that was new, there was a flash of silver on his tongue.

Xeno knew the lyrics to every song and found himself whispering under his breath, his hands tightening around the armrests. He was so entranced, he even forgot that Ryusui was next to him or that he should be pretending not to care.

The last time Xeno had heard that voice felt like a lifetime ago.

It had been filled with hurt and anger.

Now though, he sounded joyful, at peace. His voice was magnetic, every wave and glance Stanley at the crowd causing entire section to swoon.

Maybe this was what Ryusui had brought him here for. To show him that Stanley was living life extremely well without him.

That’s good, Xeno thought. That’s what I wanted.

He fixed his attention on the music, on the lights, on anything that wasn’t the tight pull in his chest. The sound seemed to reverberate through his bones, each note a reminder.

The music reverberated through his bones. There were bright, reckless songs, sad ones, and so many threaded with yearning. Songs he remembered writing, thinking of the two of them.

“Hey, Xeno! You’re looking awfully glum,” Ryusui said, tilting his head during the intermission.

Xeno turned to look at him. He hadn’t realized it, but he had just been staring blankly at the empty stage.

“Not enjoying the performance?”

Xeno shook his head. He didn’t want to speak. There was too much he was holding back, and he didn’t want to risk any of it overflowing, spilling out of him out of control.

Ryusui’s grin showed sharp fangs. “You seriously underestimated me, you know. I do want Stanley,” his voice was fond, genuine, “but I want everyone. And that means you too.”

Xeno just stared at him, unable to process his statement.

Ryusui chuckled, handing over the concert pamphlet. “Look at the bottom.”

Xeno’s gaze drifted down, then stopped.

He saw the words at the bottom and paused in surprise. It said the Nanami Music Label and Stanley Snyder had partner to host this concert, and all the proceeds were going to…

A small, startled sound escaped him before he could stop it.

No wonder Senku had far exceeded his base case.

For a moment, Xeno forgot how to breathe.

Did you tell him the truth? When? What did he say?

The words caught somewhere between his heart and his throat.

“Delicious,” Ryusui complimented, taking a sip of the cocktail Francois had made. There was one placed in front of Xeno as well, a small purple umbrella hanging from the edge.

Xeno lost his chance to ask as the concert started up again.

It turns out Stanley’s next song at least partially answered his questions.

Prior to the intermission, he had performed songs that Xeno recognized. Going in chronological order. Now, he was starting on songs that had released after Xeno was frozen.

Xeno didn’t recognize the lyrics. Yet, he would never forget that melody so long as he lived.

He never gave Stanley this one.

A few songs later, it happened again.

Then again.

He could hear it in Stanley’s music. Every chord. Every word.

He wasn’t angry at Xeno.

He didn’t hate him.

Even after everything.

Xeno found himself on his feet, struck with the urge to run on stage. To hug him. Entirely irrational given the massive crowd between them.

Stanley looked every bit the superstar, flames erupting from his guitar as the finale blazed around him. Sparklers shot up, bathing him in a halo of golden light. He leaned into the crowd, thanking them, gratitude shining in his honey eyes.

The fans erupted—screaming, tossing gifts onto the stage, desperate for his attention. The roar of them was deafening, but Stanley didn’t flinch. He thrived in it, rode it like a wave.

“I have something I want to say,” he spoke into the mic, still breathing hard from his passionate performance. Sweat glinted on his skin.

The crowd fell into a hushed suspense.

Xeno wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, but Stanley’s gaze seemed to sweep straight to him.

“I’ve had this goal of making it big, of having my songs top the charts, since I was ten,” Stanley said, voice steady now, resonant. “It was because I made a promise. The one I made the promise to is here. Tonight. The one I love.”

The stadium erupted into chaos. There was screaming, flashes from cameras.

Xeno didn’t register any of it. His world had shrunk to the sound of Stanley’s voice, the intensity of his gaze, which seemed to reach across years, across the impossible distance time had imposed.

Ryusui leaned back, calm, relaxed. He knew. He had brought Xeno here for this.

It was a miracle that Xeno could hear Stanley’s next words at all, over the sound of his racing heart.

“I’m still waiting, you know,” Stanley continued, softer now, yet every syllable clear and deliberate. “I’ve been waiting a long time. For you to fulfill the other half. If you still want to. If you’ll forgive me for the horrible things I said the last time we spoke.”

Xeno shook his head in disbelief.

Eleven years.

If anyone should be begging for forgiveness, it wasn’t Stanley. It was him.

I was just guessing

In numbers and figures

Pulling the puzzles apart

Questions of science

Science and progress

Do not as speak as loud as my heart

Chapter Text

Even if we lose our way, into darkness we should stray

There is still the shining moon, giving light to all we do

So I swear I’ll understand, never let go of your hand

Cause our love is just the start, until death we’ll never part

Xeno’s graduation from his PhD program shook the academic community. He had published a mountain of papers, research that brought humanity closer to interstellar travel. He had also revealed that he was the mysterious Dr. X, who excelled in an entirely different discipline. All questions of whether he was an impostor fell away when he continued to publish papers in the medical field as well. The brilliance of his findings, the elegance in his experimental design, left no more room for doubt.

Top universities from around the world sent him job offers, believing he was fated to stay in academia.

Xeno never even considered it.

In the end, despite having been cryogenically frozen for eleven whole years, he still ended up joining NASA as a researcher at thirty-one.

In an entirely different way, Xeno’s graduation from his PhD program shook the whole world. Stanley had asked for his permission beforehand to attend. Xeno couldn’t find it in himself to say no, not after everything he’d put the man through.

Stanley didn’t wear a disguise.

Students swooned and whipped out their phones out to record as he walked through them. There were security personnel in black suits next to him, making sure nobody got too close.

He was the picture of a dashing gentleman, in a white suit, hugging a bouquet of purple roses.

“Thank you,” Xeno said with a smile, accepting the bouquet.

He didn’t understand what he had done to deserve this.

For Stanley to still be there for him, despite everything he had put him through.

The graduation ceremony went off without a hitch, even though there were almost certainly more people taking pictures of Stanley in the audience than students on stage.

As the ceremony drew the close, Stanley spoke up, tapping Xeno’s elbow lightly. “I’m pretty sure I’m going to be swarmed by fans soon, so I want to do this now.”

Xeno met his eyes, nodding.

He had officially accepted his job offer at NASA that morning.

Stanley was going to ask him out.

“Stan—" He was ready to take the initiative instead. Stanley had done far too much to carry this relationship already.

Then Stanley kneeled on one knee, reached into his suit and pulled out a ring.

The screaming around them and flashes of cameras didn’t register at all. Only Stanley.

“Xeno Houston Wingfield, I have always loved you and always will. Will you marry me?”

For a heartbeat, Xeno didn’t move. His lips parted, eyes wide, as if his brain was still trying to catch up to what his heart already knew. Then his expression softened. His brows drew together, not in confusion, but in a kind of fragile awe, as if he were seeing a scene he never thought he’d be allowed to witness. His eyes shone, tears brimming but not falling, and the faintest, incredulous smile touched his mouth—something small, and trembling, and so full of love it hurt to look at. The sharp lines of his face, usually composed, cracked open with naked emotion.

“Yes, I will. If you’ll have this fool of a scientist as your husband.”

🎵

Their wedding was a small and intimate, but very intricately planned affair. Close friends and family were invited, as well as a few work colleagues.

Lilian Weinberg was there, chatting happily with attendees who were a fan of her music. She excitedly mention the collaboration with Stanley that was coming up.

Ryusui Nanami, who had become one of the richest people on the planet, was there as well. He had built a media empire but never forgotten the one he’d chosen to partner with first.

Senku Ishigami was there too, receiving thanks from many attending, including the main couple. After all, if not for his tireless efforts, Xeno wouldn’t be there.

Quite a few guests asked why there were police cars present on the perimeter of the event. Ryusui explained that there was a bit of a unique show prepared later, one that involved significant pyrotechnics and had been quite a hassle to get licensed for. He assured them it was all perfectly safe. It had been wired up by two scientists who had written a Nobel prize winning paper, after all. The police were only here to supervise.

Those guests didn’t need to know that the paper in question had absolutely nothing to do with what was planned to blossom against the night sky.

Before that little surprise was a performance.

A duet.

People weren’t surprised at Stanley’s guitar skills. They were world renowned. They were surprised by his partner, who was unheard of on the music scene, who was able to match his level.

Xeno leaned forward, fingers caressing the keys with practiced elegance. He had on his lab coat over his dress shirt and purple tie, just like he had always pictured at their wedding.

His eyes met Stanley’s. They were sitting only a few feet away. Callused fingers strummed resonant notes from his trusty red guitar. Xeno had upgraded it for him.

Xeno had said, eyes shining, “After all this time, it deserves a lot more love.” Stanley couldn’t help but tackle him in a huge, and kiss him, at that.

The letters of their initials still shined from the corner. SX.

The melody began low and haunting, with Xeno’s piano laying down a wistful, almost hesitant foundation, like remembering something half-forgotten and dear. Stanley joined in after a beat, his guitar answering with aching clarity, each note stretching and bending with emotion.

The music bridged the gap of years that stretched between them.

As guitar and piano combined to form an intricate harmony, they both understood.

I missed you.

I would wait for you forever.

I’m here and I won’t ever leave again.

So much had changed.

But some things had also stayed the same.

As they finished their vows, they embraced.

Their lips felt warm against each other.

It felt like coming home.

And this cycle will repeat, all these feelings never cease

But their form may fade with fear, as they turn to bitter tears

One day thought we’ll smile again, for our love will never bend

We don’t even need to speak, just come find your place with me

I will hold you ever close, I will you ever close

And look, the one you hold dear, is standing by your side and will never let go of your hand

All that, they need within this life, is just to somehow reach you, and let this love withstand