Unknown Tempo

The rusty hinges of the rooftop door creaked in a sudden, sharp protest that broke the silence of the night as Lalin Chaiyaporn pushed it open, the sound fading into the darkness like a whisper. The air was crisp and cool against her bare arms as she stepped onto the wide slab of concrete. The subtle, acrid scent of exhaust drifting up from the streets below caused her skin to prickle with the unexpected bite. The sky above hung heavy and starless, a wounded expanse of indigo where the edges were smoothed by the city's unrelenting pulse and smudged with the subdued brightness of urban sprawl. This rooftop had turned into their haven—a transitional space where the world's turmoil subsided into a faint, faraway hum, providing them with a brief respite from the stresses that weighed on her like burdens she was unable to release. Kiet Srisawat followed her, his sneakers making a gentle scuffing sound on the dusty ground, a steady beat beneath the dim, constant hum of traffic slicing through the darkness.

Almost instinctively, they moved toward the railing, its metal surface slippery with evening dew beneath Lalin's hands, the damp cold soaking into her palms as she held on. The city unfolded in front of them in a ragged patchwork of light and shadow, with a disorderly spread of roofs and spires etched against the waning dusk and a serrated skyline that sliced through the horizon. Winking like fireflies against the dark, a transient constellation in the urban haze, she leaned forward, elbows braced on the rail, her eyes following the slow, mesmerizing spin of a Ferris wheel's distant lights. She could still hear the echoes of the talent show—a clamor of boisterous applause intertwined with an odd, empty pain she couldn't quite put her finger on—a dissonance that resonated inside of her. Tonight had marked a turning point, a boundary passed with shuddering steps, but beyond it was still a blur, its edges hazy, moving like fog she couldn't see.

In sharp contrast to the chill of the evening, Kiet took a seat next to her, his shoulder brushing against hers in a soft, reassuring nudge that made her feel warm. "Feels different up here," he said, his voice almost drowned out by the soft howl of the wind, which was a faint undercurrent that ran through the night.

In agreement, Lalin lowered her head, her eyes still fixed on the horizon, following its jagged outline with a restless vigor. Her words were a soft exhalation that curved into the air. "Yeah," she whispered. "Like the rules don't apply, but you still don't know the game."

A faint, breathy sound, part laughter, half acknowledgment, he let out, jarring the silence, a brief note of lightness against the weight bearing down on them. He answered, "That's about right," in a low, resonant voice with a note of wry acceptance.

She pulled back her hair after a burst of wind ripped it loose and caused it to whip against her cheeks. Her fingers briefly touched the sleek curve of her earring, which felt cool against her skin. She dared to say, "I've been thinking about what's next," as if she were walking onto shaky ground and testing its firmness before bearing down. "Dance therapy—using it to help people find what I'm still searching for."

Kiet's head tilted in her direction, his curiosity a noticeable change in the air, a tiny spark that pulled his eyes to hers with a quiet concentration. "That fits you," he said in a measured yet kind voice with a consistent undertone of conviction. "You've got the patience for it."

A glimmer of brightness pierced the uncertainty that shrouded her thoughts as her mouth twitched into a small, hesitant smile. "Maybe," she said, her tone softening as she considered what he had said. "But I'm not sure I can let go of all this yet." With the music and stage lights still pulsing through her bones, she made a hazy gesture toward the city below.

The hard edges of his typical reserve melted away beneath the weight of her confession, and he turned to face her fully, his features softening into something unguarded. He gently remarked, "You don't need to decide now," a lifeline thrown into her uncertainty. "What you desire—it shifts. It isn't a failure.

Lalin felt a constriction in her chest, drawn from thankfulness and a softer, more delicate thread that she was unable to unravel—a thread of trust that ran between them, fragile yet resilient. Kiet's quiet resilience, the way he carried his hardships like a cloak he refused to let break him, and his subtle strength were qualities she had always admired. She said, "And you?" in a voice that was as quiet as the wind stroking her skin. "The Chiang Mai mentorship. Are you pursuing it?

He hesitated, his fingers tapping the railing in an irregular rhythm, a restless twitch that revealed the composed exterior he wore like armor. He said, "I want to," in a measured tone that carried a lot of implied stakes. However, it's not that simple. My family depends on me remaining near them.

He didn't fully identify the weight of his words, the silent burden of his parents' dependence on him, the unspoken tally of their sacrifices, a ledger of responsibilities carved into the lines of his posture. Lalin extended her hand and placed it over his, centering them both and calming the tense pace with a warmth that seeped into her fingertips. She spoke quietly but fiercely, "You've earned the right to choose your own road, Kiet," with a passion that burned in her heart. "They'd want that for you."

A gleam of possibility fought against the clouds of uncertainty that veiled his eyes as his dark and penetrating stare met hers. "Maybe," he muttered in a hoarse, hesitant voice. "It's just… a leap."

"Most things that matter are," she shot back, her voice kind but tinged with a conviction that came from deep within her, a reality forged by her own failures. "Enough is enough for you. Give yourself this opportunity.

His shoulders relaxed slightly as the weight moved, if only slightly, and he released a hard breath as though releasing a burden that had been held for too long. He said, "I'll mull it over," with a promise woven throughout his now-steadier voice. "For real this time."

As the brilliance of the city blurred at the edge of her vision, its lights blending into a vague constellation, Lalin's hand remained on his, the warmth of his skin seeping into hers, stabilizing her. The rooftop appeared to contract around them, enveloping them in a delicate silence that accentuated each breath they exchanged and each slight change in proximity. Something unsaid that had simmered for weeks, a current buzzed beneath the surface, its pulse rising with every sidelong glance, every unintentional brush that lasted a heartbeat too long.

Kiet moved closer, his shoulder now pressed hard against hers, a purposeful intimacy that made her shudder. Over the soft howl of the wind, his voice faded to a quiet mutter. He said, "I never pictured us here," with a hint of surprise in his voice. "On a rooftop, spilling our guts like this."

Heat rose to her cheeks, causing a flush that she was unable to control as her heart tripped. "Neither did I," she confessed, a smile pulling at her lips as her voice caught a little. "But I wouldn't trade it."

He swiveled his head, their faces only a few inches apart, the air between them heavy with an electric buzz that seemed to deepen it and crackle with unspoken tension. The world crumbled to the thin line where their breaths met, blending in the chilly night as time dragged on. Then, slowly and deliberately, Kiet lifted his hand and lightly touched her cheek with his fingertips, causing her pulse to pound beneath her skin with a touch so faint it could have been a dream.

Lalin leaned into it, her breath catching as her eyes drifted shut. Her own palm raised to cover his, tying them together in the shaky moment with a shuddering certainty. Kiet's gaze was unyielding when her lids fluttered open, a silent question glimmering in its depths, a quiet intensity that held her fast. "Whatever comes next," he continued in a low, firm, and determined tone, "I've got your back."

The shadows of her hesitation were illuminated by a tiny, bright smile that formed when her lips parted. "And I've got yours," she answered, reflecting his pledge with a kind yet firm tone.

They stood there, hands joined, the soft drone of the city fading to a whisper under the soft sway of the breeze. They carved out a moment of assurance in that shared silence, a brief, brittle vow that stood firm against the unknown, a note of harmony struck in the silence, but the future still loomed ahead, its shape undetermined, a huge expanse of uncertainty extending before them.