Without further ado I present to you Part Two of Chapter 3 : The Climb.

So we stepped out, the soft hum of the city reduced to a faint lullaby. The streets that once felt crowded and hurried now moved slower, almost in rhythm with our steps. The streetlights stretched our shadows long, twisting and merging on the pavement as if they too were curious where this night might lead.

Neither of us said much at first — just the gentle scuff of shoes against the sidewalk, the occasional passing car, and the faint echo of laughter spilling from a late-night diner somewhere down the block, out of sight.

The stars are out tonight, a rare sight midst the many streetlights, the occasional blinding headlights of passing cars on full beam. The air felt lighter, cooler now. For once, the world didn’t feel like something to rush through — it felt like something to walk beside. There’s only been very few moments like this in my adult life. I cherish the much-needed adjusted pace every time; a rest stop — a breather of sorts on this arduous marathon we call life.

Maybe that’s all this night was ever meant to be. Not some grand romantic gesture or defining moment, but a quiet reminder that sometimes, even strangers can walk the same path long enough till they eventually feel seen. Beneath the rehearsed performances and the many masks frequented by you and me. Not through rose-tinted lenses or lived-experience-turned-naiveté.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen the stars out at night, your hunch was right — they really were out!!!” she exclaimed, snapping me out of my tendency to ruminate.

His POV

“I honestly just guessed and hoped it did. I don’t have a crystal ball or anything, I promise.” He brushes it off with a nervous laugh.

Slowing almost to a halt, I continue, “I don’t know if it was just a me thing but, as a kid late at night, I would find myself looking up at the stars wondering if there’s one just as old as me. Born when I was born — maybe not the exact hour, or minute, but maybe the day. Maybe not written with my name but maybe its purpose is witness to every second of my story. Maybe then this crazy world would make sense.

“But I guess it’s one of the comforting tales kids tell themselves, that make life feel like a fairy tale.”

“What if I told you I had a fascination with starry night skies too — maybe not as lofty and imaginative as yours, but I’d try to connect the stars together like a dot-to-dot and name them. The clusters were easier though. Not that I even remember the many names I gave them or everywhere they are in the night sky.”

“Ummm by the way, where the hell are we going?” she asks, a slight concern imbued in her voice. “You’re not gonna throw me into the back of a silver van in one of these side streets, are you?”

“Ummmmm,” I respond with a nervous you-got-me kinda laugh.

“No, I’m taking you to the garage I work at. I literally left everything there — I honestly hope it’s not locked.”

“Oh okay, just checking,” she responds with a watchful side-eye.

“By the way, it’s your turn to pick the song.”

I get out my phone, quickly scrolling through my favourites as if the last seconds of the song were the countdown on one of those ten-plus-season game shows.

I Want You Around by Snoh Aalegra is what I land on — slowly becoming the soundtrack to this starry-night walk, us both stealing glances at the nature of the rising intimacy of each passing line.

Slowly but surely, the garage was in my sights. The moment we locked eyes, the tension thickened. Magnetic is an understatement — like I was a speck of dust being drawn in by the vacuum that was her eyes, warming yet grounding; something so absent in my life.

“We’re here,” I state, breaking this spell that enveloped us. Tucked away on this dimly lit side street, almost silent but for the sound of our footsteps and nervous, uniform breaths that were almost — but not quite — in sync. I’m not sure why exactly my heart began to race; maybe it was my nerves, or maybe the feeling that I was now centre stage. Curtains drawn, and the blinding spotlight that was her gaze.

This marked the start of my improvised award-winning performance — which is what I tell myself.

“Let me check if my boss is still here,” I say, turning to her slightly nervous, meeting her gaze, the tension still so thick, so unnerving.

She nods in agreement, attentively watching my every move — the searing yet comforting spotlight caressing my spine. I proceed to check the windows looking for any signs that my boss is still present. He’s usually gone by this time. The lights to his office are off now, so are the majority of the cars in the dimly lit garage. The subtle whirring sound of electricity running through the power tools and lights on standby — like a low hum — emanates from the space.

I turn on my phone’s flash and proceed to look for the buzzer and press it to no response.

“Is he in?” she asks, slightly bringing me out of my focus.

“It doesn’t look like he is. I would call him but it’s late.”

“Is there some other way we could get in?” she asks, looking around, pulling me back into pondering.

“Umm I’m not sure, but I’ll look.”

Scanning every nook and cranny till we see a window above, slightly ajar — both of us measuring with our eyes how far the climb, let alone the drop.

Her POV

I don’t really think he could climb up that high safely. I know damn well I couldn’t. But I don’t know if me telling him not to would spur him on to attempting it anyway. If he does try — even if he succeeds or not — I’ll admire him for being brave, but let’s wait and see, I guess. But if he does fall, I’d have no idea what to do with myself.

I’m as nervous, if not more, and I’m not even the one that’s gonna attempt to climb. But my stomach’s slowly approaching its boiling point, and if it was one of those old-school kettles, it would for sure whistle. Not to mention my fear of heights and poor coordination to go with it — I couldn’t catch a ball to save my life. So I was always picked last with good reason.

I don’t really wanna say this but, “You don’t have to climb through that window — we could surely find another way.”

“No, I think I got it,” he responds, searching for any ledge or beams to place his feet on, to clutch onto — and honestly to brace himself — like one of those climbing walls with an awkward placement of hand/foot grips. The higher, the more difficult it gets. Shortly after what felt like hours of anticipation, I think he’s mapped out his route upwards.

His shoulders tensed before he hid it with a joke — “You ready?” he turns and asks me with a sheepish grin on his face, a habit of his I’m starting to recognise. Breaking the tension — better yet, the suspense — like a knife through butter with his sarcasm, humour, or snide remarks he would use to interject.

His POV

“Here goes nothing,” I mutter under my breath, having already mapped out my route up. A mix of ledges, industrial pipes and scaffolding — not the greatest depth in the spacing between each brick on this wall, but it could be so much worse. Lastly, there’s this strange mix of hope, fear and courage I found in my mouth, making every gulp that much more weighted, with the slightly sweaty palms to match.

“You ready?” I turn and ask her, breaking this tension in the air, noticing her anxiousness in the silences between her stares. Snapping out of a daze, she nods like saying “a-okay,” arms crossed, pacing ever so slightly.

So here I go — a foot at a time, stress-testing every placement as I continue my ascent. Ledges and gaps in the brickwork are where I find my feet resting. The industrial pipes for occasional balance that winced in creaks and slight shakiness at the unnatural load. Looking back down at the ground is how I found myself exposed — one misstep and it’s the end of the story. Not one etched in romanticism but a foolish pursuit of glory. But that’s what I tell myself — and I’m glad it never came.

Sooner or later, I’m finally within reach. I inch myself closer and closer, the now-raised hairs from my neck to the base of my spine the sole evidence that in this moment — I’m alive.

So here it is — the final hurdle. A small hop between two ledges, nothing out of the norm except the height I’m now at, maybe fifteen or eighteen feet in the air give or take. But I try to keep my mind off it by adjusting my feet, prepping the runway. There’s only enough space for about one or two steps. I start to countdown in my head.

— One

— Two

— Three.

I hesitate, feet cemented to the ledge.

I go to try again, but I opt to surprise myself this time.

I jump at two.

Arms stretched, maybe in hopes to clutch at all that was in the air. I was truly present but wasn’t there — it’s like I watched my body make the jump in slow motion. The look of surprise etched on my face, smile lines on display — not out of euphoria but relief that I was received with assurity and grace. Well, that’s because the ledge didn’t break.

Without further pushing my luck, I climbed through the window and carefully worked my way down. My heart is pounding now, throwing itself against my ribcage in protest of what I just put it through. A message: never do that again or at least warn me.

I slowly shimmy my way down the ledge, dirtying my clothes in the process. Now in position to hop onto the vehicle lift, which luckily enough for me was still up — a small three-foot drop, accompanied by an expected thud, but it wasn’t loud, as if it braced itself for my arrival.

I land, knocking over the toolbox beside me in the process, spanners and other steel tools echoing as they hit the concrete floor, abruptly cutting through the low ambient lighting, the faint hum of electricity and cars that aren’t quite turned off. The lights are low but just enough to briefly make things out. Eyes closed, stroking my hands against the walls, reading the silenced whispers written on them, till a light switch was found.

Her POV

He actually did it. He made it through the window. My stomach still twists thinking about it. I couldn’t tell if he was scared — his face stayed so focused, so unreadable. Maybe he was nervous and just hiding it. I honestly couldn’t tell.

The crash when he landed made me jump — spanners clanging, tools scattering across the floor. My heart raced. I hoped he was okay. I don’t even know how I’d react if he wasn’t.

I took a careful step closer to the garage door, trying not to make a sound. My hands fidgeted at my sides. I could still feel the tension in my chest, my muscles tight from watching him climb. He’s calm now — well, I think. Or maybe he’s just gathering himself before he opens the door. Either way, I’m not sure how to relax yet.

Suddenly the lights came on. I hear footsteps approaching, the heavy metallic door swings open. There he stood, a tad bit sweaty and covered in dust. A wave of relief washes over me at the sight of him. A smile finds a way onto my face, one I couldn’t hide this time. I could just sense my blush.

“Hey, do you wanna come in?” he asks, tilting his head inside.

My alarm bells are blaring, but a part of me is daring for a change.

“Ummm, sure,” I respond as he leads the way.

The song I make reference for those who wished to listen. Chapter 3.3 On the way,

Much love

-Rich

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