Summer Night

Type: Vignette - Characters: Stag & Gabriel - Words: 514

The windows are open. It’s a last attempt to get the studio under the roof cooler. But with the rain pouring down, the shutters have to be closed.

If there's any fresh air outside, it's barely getting in.

Lying on the mattress on the floor, Stag has given up on sleep. The heat inside is just unbearable. Can’t relax. So he waits. Could be watching a night show on the trid, revising, or better yet, taking a cold shower but…

The elf beside him sleeps.

Lucky girl.

She crashed at his place when the sun went down. Helped him finish the remaining leftovers he had. Didn't ask of course.

She never does.

‘What's yours is mine’ kind of girl.

He glances at her and his gaze lingers on the chrome on her back, then the hollow between her neck and shoulder. Licks his lips without even realising.

He could wake her up with a kiss there. They both naked already. Could be more interesting than waiting for sunrise.

But it’s too damn hot and he’s sweating enough already.

With a sigh, he peels his eyes off her and goes back at staring the wooden beams of the ceiling.

Until he notices a strange sound.


Something far away, probably carried by the wind. It takes him a moment before he recognises the characteristic rhythm of electronic music. Heavy bass that would make him stomp the ground.

Must be midnight.

The hour when nightclubs open their doors. And when troubles begin.

He frowns. He'd rather be out there than sweating in the dark. So he closes his eyes. Focuses on the music. Trying to guess if it’s from his side of the river.

And holds back a laugh when he recalls his last time at a club.

He immediately stills when the elf next to him shifts and mumbles something.

An insult, probably.

Out of the corner of his eye, he looks at his friend's back again. Unlike him, the heat doesn't bother her. Falling asleep wasn't a problem. Never is. But she is a light sleeper.

Outside, the rain eases a little.

The music seems louder.


— Hey, Gaby, he whispers. You asleep?

He hears her take a deep breath through her nose. Then sigh loudly.

— Yes, Stag. I was.


— Sorry.


Should have stayed quiet.

She yawns and stretches. Then turns onto her back, rubbing her eyes. Stag closes his. Expects a nasty comment. Flinches when her hand falls back on the mattress next to his head. But nothing. He takes a peek and sees her staring at the ceiling.

Listening to the music.

Then she turns her head to him. So close he can see the brand of her optics.

— You up for some dancing?


Twenty minutes later, they are running in the rain, laughing and screaming. The water is ice cold, but not unpleasant after the last scorching days.

With a bit of luck, they'll catch the last night bus that will take them to the quays.

To the club and its bass that can be heard from afar.