Chapter 3 — The Rooftop Refuge

Adrian

Adrian Blackwood eased open the narrow, creaky metal door that led to the rooftop, the dim lights of the theater’s labyrinthine backstage finally giving way to the vast expanse of the city night. The door groaned in protest, echoing faintly as he stepped onto the gravel-covered surface. The hum of distant traffic, a rushing undercurrent of life, mingled with the faint melody of a street performer’s saxophone drifting upward. The sharp, cool bite of the evening air prickled his skin—an invigorating contrast to the stifling heat and tension that clung to the Astoria Theatre below.

He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair, still damp from the sweat of rehearsal. Above him, the skyline stretched like a restless audience—neon lights and shimmering windows blinking expectantly, as though waiting for him to perform. Adrian wasn’t sure if the view was calming or mocking him, the endless city lights twinkling like stars just out of reach.

Leaning against the rusted railing, he let its cold, groaning surface carry his weight. From his jacket pocket, he pulled the small, leather-bound journal. Its frayed edges and creased binding carried years of use, each page a touchstone of Theo’s lessons and musings. Adrian hesitated, his thumb brushing lightly over the worn cover. He flipped it open to a familiar entry, one he had returned to countless times.

*“Acting is transformation. To lose oneself in the role is to find oneself anew. But beware, Adrian: lose yourself too entirely, and you may forget how to come back.”*

The words hit him like a sharp echo from the past, a truth he couldn’t quite escape. He shut the book abruptly, pressing it to his forehead as though he could absorb some of Theo’s wisdom through sheer osmosis. The weight of the journal felt heavier tonight, as if it carried not just Theo’s words but the burden of Adrian’s own failures.

“What am I even doing here, Theo?” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the distant hum of the city. His chest tightened as memories flooded back—nights spent rehearsing under Theo’s watchful eye, the man’s unshakable belief in his potential. And yet, when Theo’s health had been failing, Adrian had been miles away, chasing his career, blind to what mattered most. The guilt was a familiar ache, one he carried with him no matter how far he ran.

Returning to the stage had seemed like a way to make amends, to honor Theo’s vision. But today’s rehearsal had left him reeling. Margot’s curt nod of approval had felt like a hollow triumph, especially in the shadow of Izzy Carter’s disapproval. He hadn’t meant to clash with her—hadn’t even been trying to make a statement—but the sharp line of her jaw and the fire in her glare had told him everything he needed to know. He’d overstepped, and she hadn’t forgiven him for it.

Izzy Carter.

The name alone made his stomach twist. She was nothing like Margot’s grandiose flair or the cast’s erratic egos. Izzy was precision, control—a steady force holding the production together. Even her irritation had a kind of poise to it, as though she could see every mistake before it happened, as though she could command the chaos around her and bend it to her will. And yet… Adrian couldn’t shake the feeling that beneath her sharp green eyes and no-nonsense demeanor, there was something more. Something he couldn’t quite place.

A gust of wind tugged at his jacket, and Adrian shook his head, forcing himself to look away from the endless city below. “Focus, Adrian,” he muttered, flipping through the journal’s pages without really reading. The rustling of paper filled the quiet, but his thoughts lingered on Izzy—the way her presence unsettled him, the way her disapproval stung far more than Margot’s praise soothed.

A faint creak of the rooftop door pulled him from his reverie. He stiffened, his hand freezing mid-flip as footsteps crunched across the gravel. The sound was light but purposeful, unhurried but deliberate.

“Of course you’d be brooding up here,” said a voice, tinged with humor and exhaustion.

Adrian turned to find Ellie Bennett stepping into the soft glow of the city lights, her auburn curls catching the faint neon hue. She had a pencil tucked behind one ear, and a colorful scarf was wrapped messily around her neck, as though she’d barely paused to pull it on before coming up. A swatch of emerald-green fabric peeked from the pocket of her cardigan, a subtle reminder of the chaos she left behind in her workshop.

“Ellie,” he said, forcing a small smile. “Didn’t peg you for a rooftop kind of person.”

She shrugged, stopping beside him and leaning casually against the railing. “I’m not. Too windy. Terrible for the hair.” Her lips quirked in a smirk before her expression softened. “But Izzy mentioned you’d vanished after rehearsal. Figured I’d check to make sure you weren’t throwing yourself off the edge in a fit of artistic despair.”

Adrian chuckled, though the sound was quiet, hollow. “No despair. Just needed some air.”

“Uh-huh.” Ellie’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully, scanning him like she was piecing together a costume design from mismatched scraps. She tilted her head toward his pocket. “That’s Theo’s journal, isn’t it?”

Adrian’s hand instinctively brushed against the book. “Yeah,” he admitted after a beat.

“Izzy told me about it,” Ellie said, surprising him. When his brow furrowed, she added, “She didn’t share much—just mentioned you carry it around like it’s some kind of anchor. Said you looked like you’d been arguing with it.” Her smile was wry, but there was no mistaking the warmth in her tone.

Adrian swallowed, the weight of the journal pressing heavier against his side. “It’s… complicated.”

“Everything is,” Ellie said simply. She crossed her arms, her gaze steady. “But complicated doesn’t mean impossible. Izzy, Margot, the cast—they’re all relying on you to bring this to life. If Theo believed in you, why can’t you believe in yourself?”

Her words hit harder than they should have, and Adrian looked away, his eyes fixed on the skyline. “It’s not that simple,” he said quietly. “I don’t know if I can live up to what he saw in me. What if I just... ruin it?”

Ellie sighed, her voice softening further. “Look, Adrian, I know it’s not easy. But you’re here, aren’t you? You’re trying. That counts for something. And hey, if Izzy hasn’t strangled you yet, you’re probably doing better than you think.” She nudged his arm lightly, a teasing grin breaking through her serious expression.

Adrian couldn’t help but laugh, the tension in his chest loosening just a little. “Thanks, Ellie.”

“Anytime,” she said, stepping back toward the door. She paused with her hand on the handle, glancing back at him. “But don’t stay up here too long, okay? The real work’s down there, chaos and all.”

Adrian nodded, watching as the door clicked shut behind her. He turned back to the city, the lights shimmering like scattered stars. For the first time that night, the ache in his chest didn’t feel quite so heavy. Maybe Ellie was right. Maybe trying was enough for now.

He closed the journal slowly, deliberately, and tucked it into his pocket. His hand lingered on the railing, the cold metal grounding him, a small reminder of the world he was still a part of.

Below, chaos waited for him. But for now, he allowed himself this moment of quiet, a breath between acts.