Always Not Enough

13 Years Ago…

The wind rushed past my face as I pedaled down the street, my bike wobbling slightly over the cracks in the pavement. This was my favorite time of day—the golden hour, when the whole town seemed to glow. The sun was just starting to dip behind the trees, casting long shadows across the rows of historic houses.

The town felt too small sometimes, like the streets were closing in on me, but riding my bike made it feel bigger. It felt like I could escape, at least for a little while.

Snohomish wasn't much different from the other places we'd lived—quiet streets, neat houses, friendly enough people who still whispered when they thought you weren't looking. I'd only been here for three weeks, and already, I knew how this would go. I'd be the new girl until I wasn't anymore. Then we'd move again, and it would start all over.

I turned onto a familiar street, cutting through the neighborhood on my way home. I was almost home when I saw him.

He was sitting on the roof of a house two streets over, his legs dangling over the edge, a guitar balanced on his lap.

For a second, I thought I was imagining him. Who just sits on their roof like that?

Then he looked up.

Our eyes met across the distance, and even though I was still moving, the bike slowing beneath me, I felt like I'd been caught in a spotlight.

"You okay down there?" he called, his voice carrying easily in the quiet evening.

I blinked, forcing myself to stop staring. "Uh, yeah. Are you okay? You're on a roof."

He laughed, the sound low and easy, and something about his voice caught my attention. It was soft and lilting, with an accent I couldn't quite place.

"It's not as bad as it looks," he said.

"Right," I said, skidding to a stop on the curb. "Because sitting on roofs is totally normal."

"Normal's overrated," he said, leaning back slightly. His guitar shifted on his lap, and I saw his fingers moving absently over the strings. "You live around here?"

"Next street over," I said cautiously.

He tilted his head, studying me like he was trying to place me. "You're the new girl, aren't you?"

I tensed automatically. Of course he knew. Everyone knew.

"And you're the guy who sits on roofs," I shot back, trying to hide my discomfort behind sarcasm.

To my surprise, he grinned. "Touché."

There was a pause, just long enough for me to feel awkward, and then he nodded toward my bike. "Where are you headed?"

"Home."

"Want to come up?"

I blinked, caught completely off guard. "What?"

"Up here," he said, gesturing toward the roof. "You should see the view. It's even better when the sun sets."

I hesitated, my hands tightening on the handlebars. "You're kidding, right?"

"Nope." He set his guitar aside, swinging his legs around so he could face me properly. "Come on. I'll help you up."

"You don't even know me," I said, narrowing my eyes.

"Well, we can fix that," he said easily. "I'm Malyen. And you are?"

"Jupiter," I said reluctantly.

"Jupiter," he repeated, his grin widening. "Like the planet?"

"Yeah, like the planet."

"I like it," he said, leaning his elbows on his knees. "It suits you."

I rolled my eyes. "You're ridiculous."

"You're the one talking to a guy on a roof," he shot back, grinning. "So what does that make you?"

I couldn't help it—I laughed. "Fine. Show me this amazing view of yours, weirdo with artistic skills."

"Hey, I take offense to that," he said, his grin never faltering. "I prefer 'artistic genius,' thank you very much."

We both laughed, the sound echoing in the quiet street, and for the first time all week, I didn't feel like the new girl. I just felt… normal.

Getting into the house was surprisingly easy.

The door creaked as we slipped inside, but Malyen didn't even flinch. He moved with this kind of casual confidence, like sneaking strangers into his house was just another Tuesday for him.

"This way," he whispered, leading me up the staircase and into his room.

It was messy—clothes on the floor, guitar picks scattered across his desk—but he didn't seem embarrassed. Instead, he walked straight to the open window and gestured toward the small balcony beyond it.

"Seriously?" I said, crossing my arms. "You climb that?"

"It's not as hard as it looks," he said, already stepping onto the ledge. He turned back, offering me his hand. "Come on. I'll help you."

I hesitated, glancing between his hand and the balcony like I was trying to decide whether he was crazy or stupid. Probably both.

"Trust me," he said, his voice softer now.

His blue eyes met mine, steady and sure, and even though I barely knew him, I believed him.

"Fine," I muttered, reaching for his hand.

The climb was nerve-wracking, but Malyen was patient, guiding me step by step until I was sitting beside him on the roof, my heart still racing from the effort.

The view was worth it.

The sun was just starting to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in streaks of pink and gold. The town stretched out below us, quiet and glowing in the evening light.

"You weren't kidding," I said, sitting down cautiously.

"Told you," he said, grinning as he settled beside me.

We sat in silence for a moment, the breeze tugging at my curls. I didn't know what to say, but somehow, that didn't feel weird.

"So," Malyen said finally, leaning back on his hands. "Why Jupiter?"

I glanced at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Your name," he said, tilting his head. "Why'd your parents pick it?"

"Oh." I looked back at the sky, running my fingers over the edge of my jeans. "My mom's obsessed with space. Stars, planets, galaxies—all of it. She says she wanted me to have a name that felt as big as the universe."

Malyen raised an eyebrow, his grin softening. "She sounds cool."

"She is," I said, smiling faintly. "She used to take me out into the backyard at night to look at the stars. She'd point out constellations and tell me stories about them—like how Orion's belt is part of this big hunter who thought he was so important the gods had to knock him down a peg."

Malyen chuckled. "Sounds about right for a guy like Orion."

"Right?" I said, laughing a little. "She also thought Jupiter was the most interesting planet. She said it was massive, but all of its moons and storms kept it balanced. She wanted me to grow up being strong like that—able to hold it all together no matter what. Especially after my dad passed away before I was born."

"I'm so sorry—how'd he pass?" He asked looking over to me.

I laid my head on my knees, looking back at his blue eyes, "He was a firefighter, he died saving a woman from a collapsing building. She got out but he couldn't."

For a moment, neither of us said anything.

"That's…" Malyen trailed off, his grin fading. "That's terrible. Your name is beautiful though. "

I shrugged, trying to brush it off. "Yeah, well, it's just a name."

"Not really," he said softly. "Sounds like it means a lot more than that."

I didn't answer, letting the breeze carry the conversation away. For a while, we just sat there, watching the sun dip lower and lower into the horizon, the sky shifting into deeper shades of orange and pink.

"So, why the roof?" I asked eventually, breaking the silence.

Malyen tilted his head back, looking up at the sky. "It helps me think," he said simply.

"Think about what?"

"Everything," he said, his fingers brushing over the guitar strings absently, again. "Music, mostly."

"You write songs up here?"

"Sometimes." He glanced at me, his grin turning softer. "You know how people say you should find your happy place? This is mine."

"Your happy place is a roof," I said, raising an eyebrow. "You're weird."

"Maybe," he said with a laugh. "But it works."

He shifted slightly, leaning his elbows on his knees. "We moved here last year, so it's not like I have a lot of other places to go. I don't know many people here, not really. Just a few friends, Ellie, and my parents."

"Ellie?"

"My little sister," he said, smiling faintly. "She's six. Tiny but loud. She keeps asking me to teach her guitar, but I think she just wants to bang on the strings."

"She sounds cute."

"She's alright," he said with a chuckle. "She misses London, though. We all do."

I glanced at him, curious. "Do you want to go back?"

"Someday," he said, his gaze distant now. "There's something about it—the music, the people, the way everything feels alive. Seattle's alright, but it's not the same."

He looked at me then, his blue eyes steady. "You ever feel like you're just… waiting? Like you're stuck in one place, but you're supposed to be somewhere else?"

I hesitated, his words hitting closer than I wanted to admit. "Yeah," I said quietly. "I know what that feels like."

"Hey," Malyen said suddenly, his voice softer now. "You think you'd wanna do this again?"

I blinked, looking over at him. "What, sit on a roof and watch the sunset with some random guy?"

"Yeah," he said, grinning. "Exactly that."

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help smiling. "Maybe."

His grin widened. "I'll take it."

And as the first stars appeared in the sky, I realized something.

For the first time since we'd moved, I didn't feel alone.