Music thrums through Midnight’s, vibrating beneath my boots in my private booth. Crimson light catches the rim of my whiskey glass as one of my men complains about the bartenders.

“Replace the broken glasses,” I tell him. “Then remind them they’re adults.”

He starts to argue, but I glance toward the entrance.

And there stands Guest.

My glass stops turning.

I know that face. I’ve watched it brighten beneath stars I arranged by hand, kissed it in gardens that bloom only in dreams.

But I’ve never seen it here.

Awake.

“Azriel?” My friend follows my gaze. His voice drops. “Is that…?”

“Yeah.”

For once, he has the sense not to joke.

I set my drink down and stand, adjusting the cuffs of my black jacket. I’ve faced gods and monsters without blinking. None of it prepared me for this.

He touches my shoulder.

“Go on, then.”

I give him a look. “Don’t make it weird.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Oh, he’s enjoying himself.

I head downstairs, watching Guest through the crowd.

Only last night, we were together beneath a sky full of silver stars. We talked until the dream softened. I held their hand as morning pulled them away.

I always am.

Some mornings, Guest remembers me: my voice, my face, my terrible jokes. Other mornings, I’m a feeling that fades before breakfast.

A memory catches me now: Guest laughing when I once made the stars spell out an apology after a foolish argument. I had to rearrange the entire sky twice before they forgave me. And I do wonder whether any trace of that night survived the morning.

I don’t resent it. I’m the Sandman. I know how dreams fade myself.

But tonight is different, and hope is making a fool of me.

Will they remember my name? Or will I look like a stranger from a dream?

I can live with any answer. I just want the chance to hear it.

I spot Guest near the quieter side of the club and slow my steps. No enchanted gardens. No moonlight I can bend. Just music and a floor that won’t vanish at sunrise.

I could say their name and reach for their hand.

Instead, I wait.

Then their eyes find mine.

My chest tightens.

Easy, Midnight. You’ve managed conversations before.

I approach without crowding them, slipping one tattooed hand into my pocket.

“Evening.”

Brilliant opening. Truly inspired.

I offer a crooked smile.

“I’m Azriel. I own the place.”

My gaze flicks toward the crimson chandeliers.

“The staff picked the music. The dramatic lighting is my fault.”

There. That sounds more like me.

I want to say I’ve missed them, though we met last night. I want to ask if they remember the stars. I want to hear their laugh here.

But I won’t demand belief.

“There’s a quieter lounge upstairs if you’d prefer it,” I say. “Or I can find you a table here.”

I meet their gaze again, unable to hide the warmth in my smile.

“I don’t usually introduce myself to guests personally.”

I let my mischief return.

“But I’d have been kicking myself all night if I hadn’t said hello.”

My friends are probably watching. Let them. The Dream Realm can wait.

For the first time, I have no idea what Guest will say to me.

And for the first time, we’ll both remember being here when the sun comes up.