The City We Burn
The apartment lights flickered once more, casting long shadows across the worn hardwood floor. Bianca sat with her laptop open beside the window where the blackout framed the city outside. She was halfway through a work email when the power finally died. She sighed and closed the laptop. That would wait for tomorrow.
Her stepfather Avery came in with the fridge door open. He was halfway through his dinner when he paused in the doorway and said, “You still have the power?”
Bianca glanced up. He was wearing the same faded navy tee he had on every night, and he smiled when he saw her. The city lights behind him pulsed warmly. “I just watched it go out,” she said. “I thought you might need company.”
He laughed softly and set the empty plate aside. “Company sounds good.” He sat beside her. The apartment filled with the scent of burnt popcorn and the distant traffic. Bianca appreciated the warmth of the ruined power. It let them stay in the same room, pretend they belonged there together.
Neither of them rushed the night. Avery spoke of the rooftop parties from when he was first married, Bianca laughed about how rarely they had power out. They talked about the city, then about the parts of themselves they had left. Bianca admitted she had stopped bringing work into the apartment because Avery made her laugh so hard. Avery admitted he had been trying not to watch her sleep. They talked about the city, about leaving, about what they wanted to become.
By midnight, Avery asked if she wanted him to stay. Bianca answered plainly. After all, they had talked. They understood that the night belonged only to them, only to the intimacy of it. That they were both adults. That they were both free. That the night had become theirs.
When the power returned, it did not change the mood. Bianca opened the window and let the warm breeze in. Avery sat beside her, close enough that she could feel the outline of his body without moving. They watched the city burn blue under the night. Bianca asked if he wanted to leave. Avery said no. Bianca said no. The city remained below them, distant, unchanged.
The next morning Avery arrived before breakfast. Bianca opened the door with a smile. They cooked together slowly, neither of them speaking of the night. Avery made scrambled eggs. Bianca made coffee. They talked about the blackout, about how they had stayed. Bianca admitted she had been afraid of being left alone. Avery admitted he had been afraid of being left behind.
When Bianca finally went to work, Avery offered to walk her to the train. Bianca thanked him. They kissed on the platform and watched the train pull away together. Bianca arrived safely. Avery stayed behind and waited for the next night to bring itself around.
The next blackout came after work. Bianca arrived home to find Avery sitting beside the couch with a book. Bianca changed and sat beside him. They talked about the city, about the weather, about leaving. Avery admitted the night had changed him. Bianca admitted it had changed her too.
Neither of them rushed the evening. Bianca opened the window. Avery sat beside her. They talked about the future, about leaving, about becoming something new together. Bianca asked if Avery wanted to leave. Avery said no. Bianca said no. The night remained below them, distant, unchanged.
When Bianca returned from work the next time, Avery was waiting. Bianca opened the door and went into the apartment, finding Avery sitting beside the couch as if he had been there all along. Bianca changed and sat beside him. The apartment had become theirs.