The Past in a Note

The archives of Stellaris were bathed in a surreal violet glow—both eerie and reverent. Few dared explore the forgotten musical vaults tucked away beneath the towering spires of AquaCelestia’s entertainment megacomplex. But Ren stood at its threshold, drawn by a pull that wasn’t logic, but memory.
Guided by instinct more than instruction, he wandered between crystalline cases filled with sheet music, rare instruments from past centuries, and data chips inscribed with tonal codes. Every corner pulsed faintly with ambient sound, like whispers of performances that had long since faded into dust and starlight.
His fingers brushed along a drawer that glowed upon contact.
“Access granted: Vocal Aura—Ren Arakawa,” a gentle AI voice chimed.
The drawer slid open, revealing aged paper—actual paper, not a holo-display. Yellowed with time, it held sheet music scripted in hauntingly familiar notes. Ren’s breath hitched.
It was his lullaby.
Or… something eerily similar.
He picked it up carefully. The melody was interwoven with strange harmonic symbols—almost like encryption. At the bottom of the page, in tiny ink: Miyu Arakawa, 2201.
His mother’s name. And a date… from over three hundred years ago.
The sheet trembled in his grasp. It wasn’t possible. Unless…
A sudden noise—boots. He turned. Kai stood at the threshold, arms crossed, a storm brewing in his eyes.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” Kai said, but his voice was softer than usual.
Ren held up the sheet music. “Do you… recognize this?”
Kai’s eyes flicked to the page, and for a moment, everything about him fractured. The cool veneer shattered. His pupils dilated.
“That song,” Kai whispered. “I’ve heard it… since I was a kid. I thought it was a dream. A phantom melody.”
Ren’s heart pounded. “It was my mother’s lullaby. I thought I made it up. But this—this is hers. From centuries ago.”
Silence stretched between them, dense and vibrating.
Kai stepped closer, their shoulders almost touching. “You’re not just some accidental time traveler, Ren. There’s more to you… and this melody.”
Their breathing synchronized, slow and shallow.
Kai’s voice was low. “That lullaby kept me alive during nights I thought I’d disappear. Hearing you hum it… was like the stars remembered me.”
Ren reached out, hesitating only a moment before placing his fingers over Kai’s chest. The beat there was fierce. Alive.
“I didn’t ask to come here,” Ren said, “but I think I was meant to.”
Kai’s hand came up, tracing the line of Ren’s jaw. “And maybe I was meant to wait.”
The kiss was inevitable. Slow, exploratory, but quickly igniting. Ren melted against Kai as Kai pressed him back against a smooth console, their bodies flush. Fingers tangled in hair. The lullaby hummed low in Ren’s throat as their lips broke apart just enough to breathe.
“You hum even when you’re kissed,” Kai whispered against Ren’s lips.
Ren laughed breathlessly. “I don’t know how not to.”
Their laughter turned into a heated moan as Kai’s hand slipped beneath Ren’s shirt, tracing the skin that had been warmed by seawinds and now by starlight.
The archives watched in silence as the past and future tangled in heat and harmony. The lullaby, encoded and rediscovered, sang between them.
When it ended, they lay tangled in each other’s arms on the soft data mats beneath the archive console. Ren rested his head on Kai’s chest, the rhythmic rise and fall grounding him. Kai’s fingers played absent-mindedly with the sheet music.
“We’re going to find out what this means,” Kai murmured. “Your mother, this melody, why it ended up here… with me.”
Ren nodded. “And I’ll be ready for the answers. As long as you’re with me.”
Kai smirked. “I’m not letting you go, ocean boy.”