I looked up at the stars, grateful that the moon chose to shine bright inside the loop. I tapped my pencil against the vellum and held it up to the sky.

"So, what do you think?" I asked Rom.

Rom looked up from his guitar and regarded my work. "Could use some work with the highlights," he said. Then he brought his head closer and squinted at it. "Is that me?"

I stuck my tongue out. "Why? You don't like it?"

Even in the dim moonlight, I saw Rom's ears turn red. "No, I like it," he said, his voice dying.

"I'm sorry, what?" I teased, curving my head by my ear and leaning closer to him.

"I like it," Rom choked out, coughing into his palm. "I'm just flattered that you're making an artwork of my face."

I shrugged. "Everyone and everything is a work of art if you ask me," I said.

I adjusted my head from his lap to peer up at him. "How is that song coming along?"

Rom looked unsteadily at a torn piece of paper on his other lap. "It's...good?" he said. "I just can't keep track of everything since they vanish every day."

"Write it in a special notebook, like I do with my diary," I advised. "I did tell you how everything I write there doesn't get reset, right?"

Rom nodded. "Yeah, but I have a notebook at home and it gets reset as well," he said.

I pushed myself up to level my eyes to him. "Have you tried putting your heart into it?" I asked. Because, that's what I did to mine. I remember picking up that small notebook and wishing with all my heart that everything I write there didn't get vaporized the next morning. I wrote everything there—my dreams, my memories, my thoughts, and even my secrets. In short, that diary contains all of me.

"Sounds tough," Rom said.

I shrugged. "You'll live," I said.

Rome tapped his chin, thinking. "Putting your heart in it, huh?" he muttered before turning to me. "How do I do that?"

I pursed my lips. "Be honest?"

Rom snorted. "That's not gonna cut it," he said.

"It will," I insisted. "Why not try it? Write an honest song right now. Want to use my diary for it?"

Rom shook his head, reddening. "That would be...improper."

"You know your boundaries, nice," I said. "But yeah, try it. Let's see what you got."

"And you?" Rom asked. "What are you going to be doing?"

"I'm going to finish drawing you, unlike before," I said, not even caring how cheesy that sounds. "This time, I'm coloring your eyes in."

Rom raised an eyebrow. "What about my eyes?" he said before catching wind of what I just said. "Wait, this isn't the first time you've drawn me?"

Oops. I slipped.

I blurted out a nervous laugh. "Oh, I tried doing you once in Art class," I admitted. "It...didn't work out."

Rom strummed a chord in his guitar. "Why do you think that is?"

"Because I didn't know you then," I said, fishing a pack of pastels from my bag, which I may or may have not pilfered from the Supermarket earlier.

"And now you do?" Rom prodded.

I smiled at him. "And now I do."

"I'm kinda curious about how I looked like in your drawing then," Rom said.

I hefted the vellum again. "You see those lines?" I asked, tracing my pencil on the hazy strokes I scratched on it. "Imagine they're gone. Just the basic outline of your face. Oh, and your eyes. They're empty circles and light lines. It's creepy."

"That's..." Rom said, his voice fading. "What is it with you and eyes? Why do you find them hard when you don't know the subject?"

I stared at him. That question...wow. "Hold on, I'm gonna have to think about my answer to that," I said. "You caught me off-guard."

"Getting better at asking questions, am I?" Rom joked.

"Yeah, you are," I agreed. I flicked a few strokes of pastel into the skin part, trying to match the drawing to how I remember Rom's skin tone.

After a while, when I had already established a proper blending process for the skin, I faced Rom. "I think eyes are hard because they tell the viewer everything about the painting," I said, making note of this point of view. Perhaps, this deserves a special spot in my diary. "Just a single misplaced stroke in that tiny orb can change the story of the entire work. Even just a painting of an eye can tell you a thousand different stories."

"So yeah, they are hard," I said, shrugging as a conclusion. "I think I nailed that. Ha."

Rom nodded along. "That's...a beautiful answer, actually."

"Thanks."

We each dropped into our respective tasks after that, Rom to his guitar, and me to my vellum.

"Let's make this a contest," I said, running my finger on the pastel I layered on the portrait's cheek. "Whoever finishes first before the reset wins."

"It's on," Rom replied.

My hands were in a frenzy after that. This was probably the fastest I worked with something, even against my performance during art class. I kept getting the wrong shade in the portrait's skin tone and I'm playing by memory at how Rom's hair looked naturally. I couldn't capture the right tone of the whole portrait either and the eyes remained white and empty.

I raised my eyes to Rom after a while. I watched him strum chord after chord, pluck the strings in a series of individual notes, and slap the strings with his hand in some form of beat. A little while later, he clicked his tongue, mussed his hair, and crossed out a line from his piece of paper.

When's the reset coming? We've been here a while. The sun had set long ago. The neighborhood went inside their homes ages ago.

"Hey Jule," Rom said after a while.

I blended the pastel using my ring finger as the pointing and middle ones were stained with a different color. "Hm?"

"Do you remember what you told me about the stars?" Rom asked, his voice sounded far away.

"Which one?" I said, absently, tilting my vellum here and there. My gut tells me that something wasn't quite right.

"The one that ran along the lines of the stars watching us," Rom answered, strumming a single chord on his guitar. The note played in my ears like an alarm.

"Yeah, I remember saying that," I said. "What about it?"

"Do you think they're watching now?" Rom asked.

I paused in blending and looked up. "I think they are," I said, taking note of the brightest star that I always watched. "Why the sudden question?"

Rom chuckled. " 'Cause I finished mine," he said, brandishing his torn paper. It gave me a perfect view of his scrawly penmanship. "And I win, by the way."

"What? That's fast!" I said, amazed. Not even I could finish an artwork in under an hour. Look at him go! "Come on, let's hear it."

"Are you sure?" Rom asked. "I'm certain it sounds like crap."

"Hey, nothing you ever do is crap, you hear me?" I said. Because really, I heard Rom's songs before and they're really good. Really thoughtful, clever, and overall artistic. I often find myself humming his tunes in the shower ever since I heard them. Of course, I wasn't going to tell him that.

"Go on," I prodded.

Rom nodded and I caught his ears reddening again. "Don't blame me if your ears bleed."

"Shut up and just play," I snapped.

Rom chuckled. "Okay."

The moment he strummed the first chord, I felt the world surrounding us fade. I forgot about the reset. I forgot about the portrait. I forgot that there were other people in this reality with us. I forgot every other memory I've had leading to this moment.

For this short while, Rom sang, his voice clear and bright along the gleam of the stars and the moonlight. The notes flooded my senses and I found myself swaying with it. This song got some spunk in it, Rom's genius in its melody shining through.

And the words. God. The verses were the most poetic stuff I've heard in a long while. Rom sang about the things he learned recently, be it acceptance, forgiveness, and yes, memory. He sang to his mind, urging it to remember the days gone and to be grateful for the people around him. The lyrics bled into me, encouraging me to take the words as my own.

Rom finished with a final strum and phrase that says, And wherever I go, I'll always find home in you.

He looked at me with bright eyes. My mouth flapped open and closed, unsure of how to respond. I blew a breath, shaking my head in disbelief.

"That's..." I blurted. "That's amazing! Wow! I'm not even kidding when I say that that song deserves to be on the charts! Whoa."

Rom maneuvered his guitar so that it's upright and clutched it. "Do you think so?"

"Oh, I know so!" I exclaimed. I hope my voice didn't carry over to the cathedral, though. I hate to disturb Pastor Frank this late at night. "God, you're so good!"

"Thanks," Rom said, running his hand at the back of his neck. "Not just for saying that but for bringing it out of me."

I raised an eyebrow. "I didn't do anything. It's all you," I said. "All I got is this deformed portrait of you. Oh look, you have one white eye. That's an improvement on my part."

I turned the vellum towards him and his eyes widened. "That's..." he blurted. His mouth flapped open and closed. "That's awesome! I mean, once you finish it, it's going to be even better! I don't even remember looking like that. Oh, my God."

Heat rushed to my cheeks. "You think so?" I said. "Well, I'm glad you like it."

"I'm glad you liked mine as well," Rom said.

I looked up at the sky. "So, the reset is bound to happen soon," I said. "Any parting words for the night?"

Rom cleared his throat, setting his guitar aside. "I've been meaning to ask you this before," he said. "But why me?"

I lowered my gaze to him. He didn't know he asked me this question before because I didn't tell him. The fact that he was asking me the second time proved that he didn't even remember that encounter. Such a shame.

But it's also good. I gave him a crap answer back then. I suppose I should man up and provide him a better answer since he has given me mine countless times.

Rom pursed his lips, with eagerness to hear whatever comes out of my mouth. "I mean," he said. "There are tons of other people out there. You have your neighbors, Porter, and Nicola. Hell, you even have my friends or anyone else from our school. Why'd you choose me?"

I smiled at him. "Do you remember how we met?"

Rom knitted his eyebrows. "You told me I bumped into you, right?"

"Correct," I said, recalling perfectly the moment where I felt like my heart would burst out of my chest, the hope it carried proved too much. It's like dying and realizing that you went to Heaven, if we're going to rely on Pastor Frank's analogy.

"It was one of the happiest days of my life," I recounted. "I have found someone who changed the day without me. You gave me a purpose, if I dare say so."

Rom didn't speak. Instead he drew closer and sat shoulder to shoulder with me, just like how we did it in the Lighthouse. I found myself looking up at the stars again. They blinked at me, urging me to say what was in my heart.

I didn't flinch when Rom's hands crept to mine, the grass and dirt were their only companions. I let the warmth of Rom's hand swallow the cold in mine. And it's so damn good. I found myself leaning into Rom's shoulder and he let me. I rested my head on the crook of his neck.

"I chose you," I said. "Because you are the one who can show me what tomorrow looks like."

Rom didn't say anything. He just pressed his lips to my scalp, sending sparks shooting down my spine. I closed my eyes, listening to the sounds of lights flickering off.

It won't be long now. The reset was due anytime.

"Jule?" Rom said.

"Hm?"

"Do you know whom I wrote that song to?" he asked.

"Who knows?" I said, keeping my eyes closed even as a smile crept to my lips.

"I wrote it for you," he said. "Anywhere I go, you always find me. And I will always remember because of you. You brought me home."

More lights flicked off. The stars burned brighter above us. I pressed myself closer to Rom. I don't want this day to be over.

I didn't reply. I couldn't.

Rom pressed his forehead against mine, cupping my cheek with his hand. "Jule, you are my home."

His breath was the last thing on my skin just as the last light died.

I woke up, staring at the bland, white ceiling. I don't hate it anymore. I don't think I ever would.