The Gutter and the Stars

The voice came from below, sharp and impatient. Alex jumped back, guilt flashing across their face.

Riley straightened, their cheeks burning. They recognized that voice. It was Dr. Evans, Alex’s boss from the university.

“Up here,” Alex called back, their voice strained.

Dr. Evans climbed the ladder, his face appearing over the edge of the roof. He frowned when he saw Riley. “Who’s this?”

“This is Riley,” Alex said quickly. “They’re the gutter installer. They were just helping me with the calibration.”

Dr. Evans’s frown deepened. “I see.” He looked at Riley, his gaze dismissive. “You can go now. We have important matters to discuss.”

Riley bristled, but Alex shot them a pleading look. “It’s fine,” they said quietly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Riley hesitated, then nodded. They climbed down the ladder, leaving Alex and Dr. Evans alone on the roof.

They didn’t mean to eavesdrop. They really didn’t. But as they walked back to their van, they heard Dr. Evans’s voice, low and urgent.

“…need to talk about the relocation. The board is getting impatient. They want a decision by the end of the week.”

Riley froze, their heart stopping in their chest. Relocation? What relocation?

They edged closer, pressing themselves against the side of the observatory.

“I know,” Alex said, their voice tired. “I’ve been putting them off, but…” They sighed. “I suppose it’s time. I’ll start making the arrangements tomorrow.”

Riley’s stomach dropped. Arrangements? What arrangements? Where was Alex going?

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” Dr. Evans said, clapping Alex on the shoulder. “I know it’s not ideal, but it’s only temporary. A year, maybe two. Just until the new facility is built.”

A year? Two? Riley’s vision blurred, their hands clenching into fists. Alex was leaving. Leaving the observatory. Leaving them.

They should have known. They should have realized that this was only temporary, that Alex’s work would always come first. That they would always come second.

They stumbled back to their van, their legs shaking. They climbed inside and sat behind the wheel, staring blankly out the windshield.

They’d been so stupid. So naive. They’d let themselves believe that this thing with Alex was real, that it could last. But it had all been a lie. A distraction. Something to pass the time until Alex moved on to bigger and better things.

They should have known better than to trust someone like Alex. Someone who saw them as nothing more than a diversion, a way to pass the long, lonely hours on the job site.

They started the van, the engine roaring to life. They needed to get out of here. To put as much distance between them and Alex as they could.

They drove home on autopilot, their mind racing. They kept seeing Alex’s face, the way they’d leaned in close, the warmth in their eyes. It had all been a lie. A cruel, heartless lie.

They didn’t sleep that night. They lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment they’d spent with Alex. Every conversation, every shared meal, every tentative touch.

It had felt so real. So genuine. But it had all been an act. A way to keep Riley docile and compliant until the job was done.

They should have known. They should have seen it coming.

They were just a gutter installer. Just a means to an end. Alex had never cared about them. Not really.

They went to work the next day, but they didn’t bring lunch. They avoided the observatory, avoided Alex’s side of the site. They threw themselves into their work, channeling all their anger and hurt into every swing of the hammer, every piece of gutter they installed.

They saw Alex, of course. They saw the confusion on their face when they didn’t show up for lunch, the hurt in their eyes when Riley turned away without a word. But they didn’t care. They couldn’t care. Not anymore.

They were done being Alex’s distraction. Done being their convenient little plaything.

They were done.

The project was almost finished. Just a few more days, and they’d be done. They could walk away and never look back.

But deep down, they knew it wouldn’t be that easy. They knew that Alex had gotten under their skin, into their heart, in a way that no one else ever had.

They knew that leaving Alex behind would hurt like hell.

But they’d do it. They’d survive. They always did.

They were Riley Chen. They were a gutter installer. They were strong, and capable, and they didn’t need anyone.

Especially not Alex Vance.

They were Riley Chen. They were a gutter installer. They were strong, and capable, and they didn’t need anyone.

Especially not Alex Vance.

Riley kept repeating that to themselves as they worked, the words a mantra against the ache in their chest. They focused on the task at hand, on the feel of the hammer in their grip, the satisfying thud of each nail driven home. It was solid work, honest work. Work that mattered.

Unlike Alex’s work, which apparently mattered so little that they could just abandon it on a whim.

Riley scoffed, shaking their head. They should have known. They should have realized that Alex’s dedication to the observatory was just another act, another performance. That they’d move on the moment something shinier came along.

They were so lost in their bitter thoughts that they didn’t hear Alex approach until they were right beside them, their shadow falling across the gutter in Riley’s hands.

Riley tensed, their grip tightening on the hammer. They didn’t look up. “What do you want, Alex?”

“We need to talk,” Alex said, their voice low and urgent.

Riley scoffed. “I think you’ve said enough, don’t you? Or was there something else you wanted to lie about?”

Alex flinched, but they didn’t back down. “I didn’t lie, Riley. I just… I didn’t tell you everything. And I should have.”

Riley finally looked up, their eyes narrowed. “So tell me now. Tell me all about your grand plans to abandon the observatory.”

Alex sighed, running a hand through their hair. “It’s not like that, Riley. It’s not… it’s not what you think.”

“Really?” Riley’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Because it sounded pretty clear to me. You’re leaving. Moving on to bigger and better things.”

“It’s temporary,” Alex insisted. “Just for a year or two, while they build the new facility. I’ll still be working on the same research, the same projects. I’ll just be doing it from a different location.”

Riley snorted. “Right. And what about the observatory? What about all the work you’ve put into it?”

“The observatory will still be here,” Alex said patiently. “It’s not going anywhere. I’ll still come back to check on it, to make sure everything is running smoothly. It’s not being abandoned, Riley. It’s just… expanding.”

Riley shook their head, looking away. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

“Riley, please.” Alex reached out, touching Riley’s arm. “Listen to me. This doesn’t change anything between us. Not unless you want it to.”

Riley jerked away, their eyes blazing. “There is no ‘us,’ Alex. There never was. You made that perfectly clear.”

Alex looked stricken. “That’s not true. That’s not fair. I care about you, Riley. More than I ever thought I could care about anyone.”

Riley’s heart clenched at the raw honesty in Alex’s voice, but they pushed the feeling away. “You’ve got a funny way of showing it,” they muttered.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Alex took a step closer, their pale eyes pleading. “I should have told you about the relocation sooner. I was just… I was scared, Riley. Scared of how you’d react. Scared that you’d think exactly what you’re thinking now.”

Riley crossed their arms, refusing to meet Alex’s gaze. “And what am I thinking now?”

“That I’m abandoning you. That I’m choosing my work over you.” Alex’s voice cracked on the last word. “But that’s not true, Riley. That’s not what this is.”

“Then what is it?” Riley demanded, finally looking at Alex. “What are we doing here, Alex? What is this thing between us?”

Alex took a deep breath, their gaze steady on Riley’s face. “I don’t know, Riley. But I know that I don’t want it to end. I know that I want to keep seeing you, even after the project is over. Even after I move.”

Riley’s breath caught, their heart pounding in their chest. “You… you do?”

Alex nodded, a small, tentative smile tugging at their lips. “I do. I know it won’t be easy, with the distance and the long hours. But I’m willing to try, if you are.”

Riley stared at Alex, their mind racing. They wanted to believe Alex. They wanted to trust them. But they’d been hurt before. They’d been let down.

“You hurt me, Alex,” they said quietly. “You made me feel like I was nothing to you. Like I was just a convenience.”