UNTIL THE STARS ALIGN
Chapter 20 — Pages Yet to Be Written
The weekend came faster than Luka expected.
Saturday mornings used to be quiet — too quiet. He'd spend hours in his room, the soft hum of his computer in the background, scrolling through forums or replaying the same anime scenes he'd seen a hundred times before. But this morning was different.
His phone buzzed at exactly 9:00 a.m.
Alison: Coffee shop near the station. 10 a.m. Bring your notebook.
No "good morning." No "are you free?" Just a statement — a plan. Luka stared at the message for a moment, half-smiling despite himself, before replying with a simple:
Luka: Got it.
By the time he arrived, the coffee shop was already buzzing with the soft hum of weekend chatter, the air heavy with the scent of roasted beans and pastries fresh out of the oven. He spotted her instantly — not just because of the long violet hair cascading down her back, but because of the way she seemed to light up the corner booth she'd claimed.
She waved when she saw him, a bright grin tugging at her lips. "You're late," she teased, though a glance at the clock showed he was right on time.
"You said ten," Luka said, sliding into the seat across from her.
"Exactly," Alison said with a playful smirk. "Nine fifty-nine is punctual. Ten is technically late."
Luka shook his head, unable to stop the quiet laugh that slipped past his lips. "Noted."
She had her sketchbook open already, pages filled with rough character concepts — his characters. Luka blinked, scanning the page in awe. They were… alive. Every stroke of her pencil added something new, something he hadn't realized was missing.
"You've been busy," he said, flipping through the pages carefully.
"Of course," Alison said, resting her chin in her hand as she watched his reaction. "If we're gonna do this, we're doing it right. And that means planning. Lots of planning."
He raised a brow. "Planning?"
"Yeah," she said, leaning forward, green eyes sparkling with excitement. "We need to map everything out — story arcs, characters, themes. And we need to figure out how often we're meeting. Twice a week? Three times? My place is fine, or here, or maybe the art room after school. Oh, and snacks. Brain food is critical."
Luka blinked, trying to keep up with her rapid-fire enthusiasm. "You've… thought this through."
"Obviously," Alison said with a grin. "You're the writer, I'm the artist. If we're gonna make something good, we need to treat it seriously."
Her confidence was magnetic, pulling him in before he realized it. For the first time in months — maybe longer — Luka felt that old spark again, the one Aria used to tease him about when he'd lose himself in his stories.
They spent hours in that booth. Luka filled page after page of his notebook with ideas while Alison sketched beside him, their quiet conversation punctuated by the sound of pencils scratching and the occasional clink of coffee cups. She asked questions he hadn't thought to ask himself — about motivations, about symbolism, about why certain moments in his story mattered.
"You write like you feel everything," she said softly at one point, flipping through his notes. "Like you've lived it."
Luka hesitated, staring down at the lines of ink before answering. "…Maybe I have."
She didn't push. She just smiled, a quiet, knowing curve of her lips, before returning to her sketch.
By the time they left the café, the sun was dipping low, painting the streets in shades of gold and orange. Alison walked beside him, hands tucked casually into her pockets, the breeze catching strands of her violet hair and carrying them like ribbons in the air.
"You're different, you know," she said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.
Luka blinked. "Different how?"
"When I first saw you, you looked…" She paused, searching for the right word. "Closed off. Like you were trying to disappear. Now… I don't know. You're still quiet, but you're… here. If that makes sense."
Luka didn't know how to respond to that, so he said nothing, but Alison didn't seem to mind.
---
By Monday, their routine had changed completely. Alison had a schedule for everything — meetings in the art room after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays, weekend sessions at the café, and late-night text threads filled with rough sketches and frantic bursts of inspiration.
She was a whirlwind — organized chaos wrapped in violet hair and an easy laugh — and somehow, Luka found himself keeping up.
But what surprised him most was how natural it felt.
---
One Thursday afternoon, as they were packing up their things in the art room, Alison's phone buzzed. She frowned at the notification, then froze.
"What's wrong?" Luka asked, glancing up.
Alison's eyes were wide, her lips curling into a slow, excited grin. "Luka… look at this."
She turned the phone toward him, and his eyes scanned the screen:
National Web Manga Contest — Submit your original work for a chance to be published. Deadline: 6 weeks.
"You're thinking what I'm thinking, right?" she said, practically vibrating with energy.
Luka hesitated, the words catching in his throat. "…That's insane."
"Insanely perfect," Alison countered, already tapping through the contest rules. "This is it. This is what we've been building toward. We can do this, Luka. You write, I draw, and together… we make something incredible."
She looked up at him then, eyes bright with unshakable certainty.
And in that moment, despite the quiet fear curling in his chest, Luka believed her.
TO BE CONTINUED...