The first thing Noah noticed when he woke the following morning was the photograph.
His phone was still lying beside his pillow, the screen dark now, but he remembered the picture immediately.
The stars.
The blurred lights beneath them.
The empty stretch of sky that had seemed so much larger when Elias was standing beside him.
He reached for the phone and opened it again.
For a while, he simply looked.
There was something strange about photographs.
They captured a moment perfectly while somehow failing to capture everything that had made the moment matter.
The picture showed the stars, but it couldn’t show the cold air against Noah’s face.
It couldn’t show Elias’s hand wrapped around his.
It couldn’t preserve the sound of his voice when he had promised that there were still so many places they hadn’t seen.
It couldn’t preserve the way Noah had felt.
Still, he kept staring.
Then his phone vibrated.
Morning.
Noah smiled.
Morning.
Did you sleep?
Eventually.
Dream about me?
Noah rolled onto his back.
Unfortunately.
The reply came almost immediately.
You love me.
Noah stared at the message.
Then he typed:
Maybe.
There was a pause.
Maybe?
Don’t get excited.
Too late.
Noah laughed quietly.
He didn’t know how something so simple could make his entire morning feel lighter.
He got dressed, went downstairs, and ate breakfast while his mother talked about plans for the coming week.
Noah listened only halfway.
His attention kept returning to his phone, waiting for another message.
When one came, he smiled again.
His mother noticed.
“You’re doing it again.”
Noah looked up.
“Doing what?”
“Smiling at your phone.”
“I smile normally.”
“You don’t.”
He shook his head.
“You’re impossible.”
She smiled.
“Have a good day.”
Noah stood.
“I will.”
Outside, the morning was cold enough to make him regret not bringing gloves.
He pulled his hands into his sleeves and walked toward the corner.
Elias was waiting.
Of course he was.
He stood beneath the same tree where they usually met, looking down at his phone.
When Noah approached, he looked up and smiled.
“You’re late.”
Noah stopped.
“I am not.”
“You are.”
“By how much?”
“Three minutes.”
“You’ve been timing me?”
“Maybe.”
Noah shook his head.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re late.”
Elias held out a coffee.
Noah took it.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
They started walking.
The morning unfolded around them as it always did, full of small sounds and familiar faces.
Noah talked about the assignment he had forgotten to finish.
Elias claimed that he had finished his, even though Noah knew perfectly well that he had copied half of it from notes.
At school, they separated for their first classes.
Noah looked back once before entering the building.
Elias was already walking away.
He turned at exactly the same moment.
Their eyes met from across the corridor.
Elias smiled.
Noah smiled back.
Then they disappeared in opposite directions.
It was nothing.
It meant everything.
The day continued like that.
A glance across a classroom.
A message during lunch.
A hand briefly touching Noah’s shoulder as they passed each other.
A shared laugh in the hallway.
The kind of moments nobody else would remember.
The kind of moments Noah would later remember with painful precision.
After school, Elias was waiting outside.
“You’re coming with me.”
“Where?”
“You’ll see.”
“You always say that.”
“And you always come.”
Noah sighed.
“Fine.”
They walked for nearly twenty minutes before reaching a quiet street lined with small shops.
Elias stopped outside one.
Noah looked through the window.
A camera shop.
“You want a camera?”
Elias nodded.
“For you.”
Noah stared at him.
“What?”
“You’re always taking pictures.”
“So?”
“So you should have something better than your phone.”
Noah laughed.
“I’m not buying a camera.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“Then why are we here?”
“Because I want to buy you one.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Elias.”
“Noah.”
“You can’t just buy me things.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
“That’s not an argument.”
“It is.”
Elias smiled.
“You’re stubborn.”
“So are you.”
“I know.”
They eventually entered the shop.
Noah tried to convince Elias that his phone was perfectly fine.
Elias ignored him completely.
They spent almost an hour looking at cameras.
Noah finally found one he liked.
Elias noticed.
“That one?”
“No.”
“You looked at it three times.”
“I was looking.”
“You liked it.”
“I did.”
“Then it’s yours.”
“No.”
Elias smiled.
“Too late.”
Noah shook his head.
“You’re impossible.”
“And you’re getting a camera.”
When they left the store, Noah carried a small bag.
He looked down at it.
“I can’t believe you actually did that.”
“You’re welcome.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to.”
Noah looked at him.
“Why?”
Elias shrugged.
“Because I want you to keep taking pictures.”
“Of what?”
“Everything.”
Noah smiled.
“That’s a lot.”
“I know.”
They continued walking.
Later, they sat on the steps outside a quiet building, talking while the afternoon slowly disappeared.
Noah took the camera out.
Elias immediately leaned away.
“What are you doing?”
“Testing it.”
“On me?”
“Obviously.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Noah.”
Click.
The photograph was taken.
Elias stared at him.
“You’re terrible.”
Noah looked at the screen.
Elias had been caught mid-sentence, his expression somewhere between annoyance and amusement.
Noah laughed.
“It’s perfect.”
“Delete it.”
“No.”
“Delete it.”
“No.”
Elias reached for the camera.
Noah pulled it away.
“Absolutely not.”
“You’re going to regret that.”
“Probably.”
They laughed.
Noah took another photograph.
This one was different.
Elias wasn’t looking at the camera.
He was looking at Noah.
The expression on his face was soft, almost impossible to describe.
Noah stopped laughing.
Elias noticed.
“What?”
Noah looked at the photograph again.
“Nothing.”
He saved it.
That night, Noah transferred the photographs to his computer.
He named the folder simply:
Us.
He stared at the name for a moment.
Then he smiled.
There were already dozens of photographs inside.
Coffee.
School.
The park.
The bookstore.
The stars.
Elias.
Always Elias.
Noah sat there for a long time, scrolling through them.
He began to realize that perhaps he hadn’t been taking photographs because he was afraid of forgetting.
Maybe he had been taking them because he wanted proof that happiness could be real.
That there had been a time when he had laughed without thinking about tomorrow.
That there had been a person who knew him completely and still chose to stay.
That there had been an us.
He closed the laptop.
His phone vibrated.
Elias.
Are you awake?
Noah smiled.
Yes.
Look outside.
Noah stood.
He opened the curtains.
The sky was cloudy.
No stars.
Nothing.
Look harder.
Noah laughed.
There are clouds.
They’re hiding.
That’s different.
Not really.
Noah leaned against the window.
What are you doing?
Looking at the sky.
Why?
There was a pause.
Because I was thinking about yesterday.
Noah smiled.
Me too.
Another message arrived.
I meant what I said.
Noah frowned.
About what?
The places we haven’t been.
Noah looked at the dark sky.
We’ll go.
Promise?
Noah typed slowly.
Promise.
He didn’t know why his fingers hesitated before sending it.
Maybe because promises felt heavier now.
Maybe because he was beginning to understand that the future wasn’t something anyone could control.
But he sent it anyway.
Promise.
Elias replied:
Good.
Then:
Sleep.
Noah smiled.
You too.
He placed his phone on the nightstand.
The room became quiet.
Noah looked through the window one last time.
The clouds had covered everything.
There were no stars.
Yet he knew they were there.
Somewhere beyond the darkness.
Waiting.
And for some reason, that thought comforted him.
He went to sleep.
He dreamed of a road.
It stretched endlessly ahead of him, disappearing somewhere beyond the horizon.
Elias was standing beside him.
They were holding hands.
Neither of them knew where the road ended.
Neither of them cared.
They simply started walking.
And somewhere in the distance, the ocean waited.
When Noah woke the next morning, he couldn’t remember the dream completely.
Only one thing remained.
Elias’s voice.
I’ll find you.
Noah smiled.
Then he got out of bed.
Another day was waiting.
Another ordinary day.
Another day with Elias.
And neither of them knew that one day, Noah would spend years wishing he could have one more.