We'd been sitting there for hours.

As soon as the aging autumnal sun had tucked itself behind the Earth's opaque sheath, and we had finished dinner at my place, we headed for the balcony- the cold, metal balcony that never truly felt like a part of my home until I was out there with him on this very night.

It felt rickety, though, dad always told me it was safe. Despite that, I never went out alone. Sometimes, Rebecca would ask me to go with her and I would, but it was never like this. Now, I wanted to be there. It wasn't just anyone asking me to join them and it wasn't forced upon me.

The fact that he'd asked me if I'd wanted to join him out there to watch the sun set behind the skyscrapers, to catch its golden reflection sprinkled across the mirrored glass of which they were built, to see it glimmer orange streaks across his blonde hair, meant more to me than anything.

We'd forever be engraved in that spot like ghosts for me to visit when I'm all alone after it's ended and after there's no more going back to that moment in real time. Each subsequent instance that I visit it, I'll think of him. I'll think of this day and of October and of autumn. It will forever be autumn out there, even if it's a different month or season or day, and I'll always be with Steve out there, even if I'm next to someone else or if I'm alone, and it will always be sunset dripping into night, even if the sun shines bright and high in the sky as ever.

And, thus, the sitting there for hours, whether it be with our legs dangling from between the bars or our legs crossed upon the floor or simply seated in the tiny, rusted, metal chairs left out there to weather snow and rain and anything else thrown their way, didn't feel as long as it actually was.

Who knows how long we were truly out there.

It felt like minutes or seconds or something more along those lines, though, surely I'm wise enough to tell that a sunset and moonrise do not both occur within as short a time as that.

I looked up and to the right from the street below I'd been staring at and over at him as he stared up at the sky. Interesting, I thought, how we looked differently. How he up and I down seemed to mean nothing, but felt like everything in the silence of bustling cars and chattering people that seemed to create a sort of ambience within this ever-living city.

"How long have we been out here, do you know?" I asked.

He looked down from the sky as he remained seated next to me, his shoulder touching mine, and I swore I saw the stars lingering within his pupils despite their lack of visibility from within this ever-glowing city. He took a moment to answer and zone back in on this planet before speaking. "Uh, I'm not sure," he looked down at his wrist. "I took my watch off before, I guess I forgot to put it back on."

"It's alright, I was just wondering," I replied.

"Yea, I think I was too," he answered, meeting my eyes again and making me feel like we were kindred spirits in that moment. "It feels like it's been hours and seconds all at once, somehow."

"That's what I was thinking," I smiled. "Not that it matters, though, I'm having fun so long as you still are."

"I am," he smiled back, his face barely visible with all the surrounding lights remaining off.

"Good," I told him, not looking away.

He smiled at me a moment longer, both of us waiting for the other to make even the slightest utterance. "What?" he whispered, crinkling his eyes the way he does, tugging at my cheek and making me smile again.

"Nothing," I lied, continuing to look at him.

"You're staring at me, Buck," he chuckled.

"Do you mind?"

He said nothing at my audacity. "Well, I-" he stuttered, seemingly unable to pick out just the right words.

"If you do, I'll stop," I interrupted. "Though, you should know that it's not something I want."

"What do you mean?" he wondered, edging onto what I was saying.

I shrugged. "I don't really know, if I'm being honest," I answered. "But, I can't help but feel something strange stirring around us. Something I can't say or even name."

"Something bad?" he reached up for his face subconsciously out of terror for this something.

"No, Steve," I snickered, grabbing his hands and pulling them away from his face. "It's not a bad feeling. I'm- It's a good feeling, actually, something I feel is bringing me into you."

"W-"

"Steve," I stopped him. He looked at me like he didn't know what to even begin to say. I felt his hands in mine quivering, which most certainly was not shivering from the cool breeze within the alleyway. "I see now that it might be your eyes..."

I removed my one hand from his and reached up to his face, caressing his cheek with my fingertips, showing him that I was serious about it being something good. Eventually, I dragged my fingers over to his lips and touched over them briefly, looking directly at them and never looking away.

He inhaled sharply and I met his eyes.

"What's wrong?" I asked softly.

"Nothing, really," he responded quietly. "I'm just a little jittery out of a childhood naiveté. It's late, I suppose, and, well, I guess I retain that silly fear of... the dark."

"But- you love the stars," I whispered. "And, even you must admit that, we can only see them at night and in the dark, even if they're not fully visible here in this city because of it."

"Maybe that's why," he reasoned. "Because the stars aren't there to show me some light among the dark."

"What about when you sleep?"

"What about it?" he returned.

"Don't you close your eyes?" I pointed out.

"Yea, but... it's not scary then," he confided in me. "Because, then, I hold the ability to open them. In doing so, I don't truly know if it'll be dark or not on the other side. Does that make sense?"

"It does," I assured him with a smirk, showing him that I was actually someone he could trust with anything he so chooses. "So..."

"So..."

"Close your eyes, then," I directed him. His eyes flickered about the darkness to see if he actually should. "You can trust me, you know."

"I do, but-"

"Then close your eyes," I said again. "I'll close mine, too- first, even, if that makes you feel any better."

He smiled for a second. "Okay."

I closed my eyes.

After a second, I opened my eyes to see that he actually did close his like he agreed he'd do. I brought my hand back up to his face and held his jaw in my palm. At first, he flinched a little, but calmed when he recognized it was me, keeping his eyes closed all the while.

I approached his face and stopped right before it, feeling his breath on my skin and smelling him sitting there next to me through his, somehow, rather evidently coconut-honey scented shampoo. He had to have felt me before him in that moment, he simply neglected to mention it.

In the next second, I pulled his face up to mine and kissed him. I brought my lips around his and he reciprocated almost immediately, gripping my hand in his tighter and placing his other hand upon the one I rested at his cheek. I inhaled and kissed him a little more, but realized I shouldn't carry myself away just yet.

I pulled back and opened my eyes to fully look at him.

He opened his eyes, too. The fear seemed gone, but it was replaced by something else to which I couldn't seem to give a name.

I waited for him to see if he'd say anything, but he didn't- yet, neither did I.

So, we remained just the same as we had been in the many hours previous.

In silence somewhere in Brooklyn in the mid-1930s.