SXD Stargazing

The night air carried with it a strange kind of stillness—quiet enough that Weiss could hear her own heartbeat, steady and insistent, beneath the soft whistle of the breeze. She adjusted slightly against Issei, her coat brushing against his arm as she allowed herself to remain close. Her pride urged her to sit upright, to maintain some semblance of dignity. But warmth and comfort won this time, and she stayed where she was.

‘Why am I doing this?’ She asked herself, though the answer came far too easily. Because despite all of his flaws, all of his nonsense, he felt so comfortable and safe. Someone she could lean against without feeling judged.

Issei’s gaze didn’t waver from the sky. His tone was quieter now, as though speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile calm they’d stumbled into.

“Maybe,” Issei’s body tensed. He turned his head slightly toward her, a small smile touching his lips. “My home is among those stars.” 

Weiss blinked, then let out a small snort, lifting her head to glance at him with amused skepticism. “You think you’re an alien now?” 

He chuckled softly, not at all offended. “Well, what else could I be? I’m not exactly… normal by Remnant standards. No Aura, no semblance, no background. I fell from the sky, Weiss. It’s not exactly a subtle origin story.” 

She went quiet. Because as absurd as it sounded, she had no real argument against it. He had appeared out of nowhere. He wasn’t like anyone else they knew. And no matter how hard she tried to slot him into her world, he always remained… slightly outside of it.

“Sometimes I wonder if people are looking for me. Wondering what happened to me.”

Weiss’s chest tightened. She tilted her head just enough to see the outline of his face in the starlight—his features softer than usual, unguarded. There was no teasing grin, no idiotic remark waiting to escape his lips. Just honesty.

“…Do you want to go back?” She asked before she could stop herself. The question was sharper than intended, laced with something she wasn’t ready to name. Fear? Possessiveness? Both?

Issei blinked, then finally turned his head to meet her eyes. For a long second, he studied her face, the flicker of starlight reflected in her pale blue eyes.

“I don’t know,” He admitted. “Maybe I’d want to… if I knew what I was missing. But here? With you guys? With you…” His smile tilted, sheepish and sincere all at once. “…I don’t feel so lost and have enjoyed living here with everyone.”

Weiss’s breath caught. She immediately looked away, hoping the darkness hid the warmth rising to her cheeks. “You say the most ridiculous things sometimes,” She muttered.

“Yeah,” He said with a small laugh, “but I mean them.”

The silence that followed was heavier than before, but not unpleasant. It was filled with things Weiss wasn’t ready to admit, and things Issei didn’t realize he was confessing.

Then, gently, he shifted. His arm slipped around her shoulders, drawing her a little closer.

Her pride bristled—instinct told her to shove him away, to scoff, to reclaim the upper hand. But instead, she let out a slow breath and leaned in, resting her head fully against his chest. His warmth seeped through the cool night air, chasing away the chill.

Weiss’s arms moved almost of their own accord, wrapping around his side as though anchoring him to the world he doubted he belonged to.

“…Idiot,” She whispered, so softly he almost didn’t hear it.

Issei smiled, resting his cheek against her hair. Neither of them spoke after that.

The rooftop continued to be quiet save for the soft whistle of the wind. Weiss could feel the rhythm of Issei’s breathing, steady but shallow. Her head still rested near Issei’s chest, her gaze on the horizon where Vale’s lights twinkled faintly in the distance.

Then, in a voice far gentler than she was used to from him, Issei broke the stillness.

“Thanks for bringing me up here.”

Weiss turned her head, just slightly, enough to catch his profile in the starlight. There was no teasing grin, no exaggerated bravado—just sincerity. It startled her more than she expected.

“You’re welcome,” she replied, softer than intended. Her mind, however, was still circling back to his earlier words. ‘Another world? Really? Could it be true?’ The absurdity of it clashed with the way his voice had sounded when he said it, that quiet conviction that made her hesitate before dismissing it outright.

Her silence must have lingered too long, because Issei gave a short, almost self-deprecating laugh.

“Hey,” he said, tilting his head to meet her eyes. His brown gaze held no mockery, only a flicker of reassurance. “Don’t worry about it too much. Maybe it’s just a crazy theory. Could just be my imagination messing with me. Stargazing makes people say weird stuff, right?”

Weiss wanted to argue. To call him ridiculous. To remind him that she didn’t have time for nonsense. But the words caught in her throat. Because some part of her—a part she didn’t want to acknowledge—wasn’t entirely convinced it was nonsense.

Neither spoke again.

The rooftop was filled with the quiet weight of two people beneath a sky of endless possibilities, wrapped in each other’s warmth, letting the silence say everything they couldn’t.