For a moment, people got cosy in Kieran's apartment; the space that was originally there now felt smaller than it had a minute ago. It felt as if the walls had quietly moved closer while Roy had turned his back towards them.
Now there were too many people.
Kieran was the first person to recover from this.
"Uh… yeah," He said, clearing his throat. "Come on in."
Graham stepped aside so Mira could enter in first. She walked in with the kind of childlike curiosity even though she was around the age of 15, looking at the walls and ceiling as if they were foreign to her. Her eyes darted around the apartment, looking at the furniture, then at Roy.
Graham stepped in behind her, following her into Kieran's apartment also like a child. He was also taking in what he was seeing for the first time as well. However, he was more composed compared to Mira.
Roy watched them walk in and shut the door behind them.
"So," Aarti said from the kitchen, already setting the pot down on the counter with a slight heavy thud, "someone grab plates. This pot got me tired just from holding it. It weighs a tonne."
Mira, who was initially sitting on the sofa, perked up instantly. "I could help!"
"Ok. But don't come near the pot; it'll burn you," Aarti replied without missing a beat. "Plates are in the cabinet on the left."
"You always treat me like I'm some kid!" Mira replied in return.
Aarti smiled as she looked at Mira. "You will always be a child in my eyes."
Mira didn't reply but she was still slightly annoyed by the fact that she always treats her like a child when she is in her teenage years.
Roy thought for a second. How did she know the plates were in that cabinet? Did she come here before?
Roy hesitated for a second, then moved. He opened the cabinet, pulled the plates out, and stacked them neatly. This was a familiar motion when Kieran and he would hang out and order pizza for themselves.
He then hands the plates to Mira, to which she smiles and says, "Thank you."
Graham leaned against the counter nearby, watching him with mild interest.
"Do you come by Kieran's often then, Roy?" Graham asked casually.
Roy paused and thought for a moment. "Nah, not really."
Kieran snorted from behind them. "He basically lives here with me."
Roy shot him a look. Kieran ignored it and gave a smile to Graham. Kieran's original feeling of anger? Annoyance or hatred? What would you call what he originally felt for Graham?
The gut feeling he had. He had come to accept it and now he doesn't mind Graham. In fact, he can argue that they are on good terms with each other since his older sister is going out with him after all.
After a while, Aarti lifted the pot lid and the apartment finally filled with the scent of rich, warm, spiced rice mixed with herbs that was slowly cooked with patience. The kind of smell that belonged to homes people can return to.
Roy couldn't stop himself before inhaling the smell.
So that's why he thought for a second; he felt stupid for not realising the trap earlier. But it makes up for it with good food, he guesses.
"Biriyani," Aarti's sister said proudly. "I hope no one's picky."
"I'm not," Mira said immediately as she stared at the pot that was being brought over the table by Graham.
Graham smiled. "I'll eat anything that isn't burnt."
Kieran glanced pointedly at Roy. "Hear that? You're safe."
Roy huffed quietly.
They all gathered around the table. It was crowded and uneven, with chairs pushed in from wherever space was allowed. Roy ended up being wedged in between Kieran and Mira; she was swinging her legs slightly under the table even at the big age of somewhere around 15.
Aarti began mixing the biryani, and steam started to escape, and with that, the aroma of the freshly made food engulfed the room. She started to take all the plates and put food on the plates one by one.
It started with Graham, as he was the closest, then Kieran, as he was the second closest. When it came to Roy, she put a bit too much, and when I tried to stop her from putting too much, she started saying, "You two are growing boys, so you need to eat as much as you can."
Roy couldn't fight her.
Everyone got their plate and started eating.
"So," Mira said, tilting her head to look at Roy. "You're my brother's best friend?"
Roy stiffened. "…um, yeah."
Kieran choked on his drink. "That sounded like you had to think about it."
Mira smiled, satisfied. "You're quieter than I thought."
Roy glanced at Kieran. "You told her things?"
"Not good things," Kieran said quickly.
Across the table, Graham watched the exchange with an expression Roy couldn't quite place. Amused. Thoughtful. Measuring.
Dinner continued like that, the awkward edges slowly sanding down with each passing minute. Mira talks. A lot. About school. About things she wanted to do. Then Graham and his duties as a commander and his daily work.
Roy learnt quite a lot about commanders' personalities in the celestial watch.
Kieran's sister laughed easily, filling gaps in conversation without forcing them. She asked Roy questions that were not that invasive, just enough to include him. How he met Kieran. What he studied in college. What he liked to eat. Whether he preferred quiet places or loud ones.
Roy answered honestly.
At some point, he realised he'd stopped thinking about how to leave.
When the plates were empty and the conversation softened into something gentler, Graham finally spoke again.
"I'm glad you came," he said to Roy. "Kieran talks about you more than he realises."
Roy blinked. "He does?"
Kieran groaned. "Please don't."
Graham only smiled.
Roy leaned back slightly in his chair, the weight in his chest unfamiliar. It wasn't heavy, nor was it sharp.
Just warm.
And that, somehow, scared him more than anything else.
For a few seconds, the only sounds were cutlery and the low hum of the city leaking in through the open window. It was slightly dark. Winter dark. Yet the warmth lingered, not just from the second round of food, but from the ease that had settled into the room like it belonged there.
However, it was Graham who broke it.
He lay back in his chair with his forearms on the table, fingers loosely interlaced and eyes unfocused. Not on anyone in particular, but on something much further away and distant, like the stars.
"You know," he said mildly, "it's funny how fragile moments like this are."
Roy glanced up.
Kieran's sister paused mid-bite. Mira tilted her head.
Graham continued his voice calm. "Everything that's created is destined to be destroyed. No matter how solid it feels while you're standing inside it."
Roy felt something tighten in his chest.
Kieran frowned. "That's… a bit heavy for dinner, mate."
Graham smiled apologetically. "Occupational hazard."
He looked at Roy then. Directly.
"Think about it," Graham said. "Stars burn out. Civilisations collapse. Even universes aren't exempt."
Roy didn't look away.
Aarti shifted slightly, uncomfortable, but she said nothing. Mira was quiet now, listening.
"This universe of ours," Graham went on, "will come to an end. This supposedly eternal fight, something versus nothing, it doesn't actually last forever."
He tapped the table once, softly.
"In the end, the nothing wins."
Silence.
Roy swallowed.
He'd heard variations of this before. Philosoph Scholars. Doomsayers. But something about the way Graham said it made it feel less like theory and more like a statement of fact.
"…So what?" Roy asked quietly. "What's the point, then?"
Graham studied him. Really studied him.
"That's the wrong question," he said. "The point isn't permanence. It's resistance."
Kieran felt a release within him, like he wanted to hear more.
"Even if everything ends," Graham continued, "the act of creating something and protecting it matters precisely because it doesn't last."
Roy's fingers curled slightly against the edge of his plate.
Warmth.
"So you're saying…" Roy murmured, "…we're just delaying the inevitable?"
Graham nodded. "Yes."
Then he smiled.
"And that delay is everything."
Roy leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
For the first time that night, the warmth in his chest shifted, not fading but changing.
For a while, no one spoke.
The words hung in the air, heavier than the steam that still curled faintly from the emptied plates. Even the city noise outside seemed to dull, as if it too were listening.
Mira was the first to break the silence.
"That's… kind of sad," she said, brows knitting together. "If everything just ends."
Graham turned to her, expression softening. "It would be," he agreed, "if ending was the only thing that mattered."
Aarti set her fork down slowly. "You make it sound like we're fighting a losing battle."
"We are," Graham replied without hesitation.
Kieran let out a short, incredulous laugh. "You really know how to lighten the mood, don't you?"
Graham glanced at him. "And yet you're still listening."
That shut Kieran up.
Roy stared at the table, at the faint scratches in the wood, at the crumbs left behind where people had eaten together. Proof that something had happened here. That this moment existed.
"So if nothing lasts," Roy said, voice low, "why bother building anything at all?"
Graham leaned back in his chair.
"Because building is an act of defiance," he said. "Against entropy. Against nothingness. Against the idea that meaning only exists if it's eternal."
"You don't sound afraid," Roy said.
"I'm not," Graham replied. "Fear assumes helplessness. This…" He gestured vaguely at the table, the room, and the people. "...this is choice."
Kieran looked between them, unease creeping back into his expression. "You talk like you've already accepted the end."
Graham met his gaze evenly. "I've accepted that it will come." Then, more quietly, "That doesn't mean I welcome it."
Aarti exhaled, folding her arms. "So what do you do, knowing that?"
Graham's eyes flicked back to Roy.
"You protect what you can," he said. "You create meaning where there is none. And when the nothing finally arrives…"
He paused.
"...you make sure it has to work for it."
Roy felt his pulse quicken.
Something inside him resonated too sharply with that idea. Too closely.
Mira looked between them, sensing the shift even if she didn't fully understand it. "That sounds lonely."
Graham smiled faintly. "It can be."
Kieran swallowed. "And people get hurt."
"Yes," Graham said simply.
Roy clenched his hands.
He knew this path. Had walked it more times than he could count.
"…But you still choose it," Roy said.
Graham inclined his head. "Every time."
The room fell quiet again.
Roy looked around the table, at Kieran, tense but present; at Aarti, arms crossed yet grounded; at Mira, thoughtful and too young for conversations like this; at Graham, calm in the face of oblivion.