Damien, have you completed the Light Curve Analysis practical, a voice said from behind the boy sitting alone in the cafeteria.
Yeah, finished it 3 days ago.
As expected of the best student in our class, you really are amazing.
I haven't even started mine yet, the voice continued, a note of forced laughter hidden under the compliment. Damien didn't turn around immediately. He let the last drop of his cheap cafeteria coffee roll down his throat before glancing over his shoulder.
Behind him stood Liora, her tray balanced on one hip, eyes flicking from his empty cup to the thick stack of scribbled notes beside his battered backpack. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun, stray strands catching the weak overhead light. She pulled out the chair across from him without waiting for an invitation and dropped into it with a sigh that seemed to rattle the napkin dispenser.
You know, she said, poking at the limp pasta drowning in tomato sauce, it wouldn't kill you to leave some of the stargazing glory for the rest of us mere mortals.
Damien cracked a small smile, though the exhaustion behind his eyes didn't fade. Dark circles had become a permanent part of his face these days, a consequence of too many late nights hunched over the lab's outdated computers or lying awake staring at the ceiling, tracing imaginary constellations on cracked plaster.
I am also mortal, he said, shifting his notes aside to make space for her tray. You're just lazy.
Liora snorted, twirling her plastic fork aimlessly. Or you are just too good that it makes other people feel inferior, she said with a plain smile. Staying in the same class as a monster like him, she was already used to being overshadowed. So, how was the practical? She asked
Damien leaned back in his chair. The legs squeaked on the cafeteria floor, drawing a glance from a nearby table of first-years gossiping over instant noodles. He didn't care, he rarely noticed people unless they were blocking his view of the sky.
It was fine, he said at last. They assigned Delta Cephei, bright, easy to find, no weird variables to throw off the readings. I logged the images over three nights, stacked them, ran aperture photometry, and plotted the curve. Perfect match with the published period, nothing special."
Liora blinked at him. You sound disappointed. You do know the point is to match the real data, right? Not to rewrite the textbooks."
He shrugged, eyes drifting to the half-fogged window beside their table. Beyond the smudged glass, the late afternoon sun had started its slow slide toward the horizon, bleeding pale gold over the old brick physics building.
It's just mechanical, he said. Observe, record, and analyse. Same process, same outcome. No room for anything new.
You're such a nerd, Liora said, but her voice was gentle. She knew this part of him well, the restless edge that made him top of every class but also kept him awake at 3 A.M, chasing shadows on online research forums long after other students collapsed into bed.
She reached across the table, flicking his empty mug with a nail painted galaxy-black.
Finally, he said, almost too low for her to catch, I did see something weird, though.
Her fork froze mid-spin. Weird how? Like, you messed up the data?
He shot her a look. I don't mess up data.
Right, right. Best student in the class. Practically a telescope in human form. I know. She leaned forward, her tray forgotten. So what did you see?
As he was about to respond, his voice hitched, and then he disappeared from view.