Enter Player Name: Riley

The sun was barely visible behind the city skyline. Yet, it still cloaked the landscape with a warm blanket. The way it swirled with light until its edges began to turn dark, was memorizing. It was a beautiful sunset. Warm against my skin. But, still, I felt cold inside.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" I finally turned around to look at Noah. He stood a few feet away, his weight rested on the low lying table. Behind him was the door to the roof.

I had to stop my mind from wandering to the time we had previously spent here. Yet the images of that night flooded my mind. After learning that I liked space, Noah had transformed the table into a bed with the help of a futon. Rose petals had covered the cement floor. That night, under a light cover, we fell asleep in each other's arms as we watched the stars.

"I wanted to talk to you before I left," Noah said.

The events of earlier today rushed to my mind. I was walking back Mikey from school when we ran into Noah packing and moving all his stuff down the stairs. It felt like replaying the day we met in reverse. Worst of all was how Mikey took it. It hurt to hear him asked why everyone he liked always left.

"Where are you moving to?" I told myself I didn't care. That it didn't matter if he was moving on with his life.

"I found a place close by work," he answered, his eyes still looked down at the floor.

"Good. You will be able to focus on your startup."

"Yeah," he seemed to be hoping for another answer. Perhaps, he had expected some type of sign that I didn't want him to go. But I made sure to put those thoughts aside long before I walked up to this roof. "But that's not important. I wanted to give you something before I left." He pulled a black business card out of his pocket.

Out of curiosity, I took it in my hands. When I saw the name written on it, I held it back out. "I don't want it."

He made no move to take it back. "I understand why you would be apprehensive about speaking to him. But, he knows the judge that has your case assigned. He can help."

I stared at the piece of paper in my hand. It ruffled. Its perfect shiny black surface cracking as I hold onto it tight. But as much as I wanted to, I couldn't bring myself to rip it apart. I bit my lip, trying to choke back the tears that wanted to spill out.

Noah's hand briefly brushed my skin. A test to see if I would push him away. But, the emotions that swirled inside me prevented me from moving. I felt so much, and at the same time, I felt nothing.

His hand continued up my arms. It gave me warmth. Eventually, they reached my head, and he cradled it in his hand. Gently, he tilted my head until our eyes locked for the first time. Had his eyes always been this green?

"Riley, I am so sorry that you are hurting. I wish I could make it stop. But, even if you never forgive my father or stop seeing me as the son of the man that broke your family apart, please accept his help. Although this won't change the past, it could change your future. You deserve so much more than what life has dealt you. Just think about it, okay." He took a deep breath. "Before I leave, there is one thing I need to tell you. I have no right to, but if tonight is the last time I see you... I need you to know that I... I... love you."

"Noah..." I shook my head slightly in his hands. His words buried themselves deep into my heart.

"It's okay, I have accepted I will never be able to hear those words back. I just needed to tell you... so that I could let you go." Noah's forehead rested against mine. "If I can be selfish one last time Riley, can I get one kiss?"

He bit his lower lip, like they were hungry, starved of nutrients.

"I don't think it's a good idea," I said. Not because I did not miss his lips, but because I was afraid I would not be able to stop.

"Please," he pleaded.

His eyes opened. They looked upon mine with so much longing. I reached to get closer. Before I knew it, his lips brushed against mine. It set off something within me, and finally, the tears that I held back began to spill.

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I was ripped away from my half-asleep state. Forced to awaken by the distinguishable ringtone. My brain angrily grunted like it was a strenuous activity to open my eyes. I flung my hand across the bed and grabbed the cell phone. The name flashing across the screen finally made me rise from my bed.

"Hola mami," I said, bringing the phone to my ears.

"Hola Mija, how are you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess."

"Are you sure, Mija?"

"Yeah..." I said, this time more unsure. After I had arrived home from Noah's parents' house, I locked myself in my room and called my mom. Everything that had happened spilled like an overfilled glass. A single drop far beyond it could hold, had pushed me over the precipice. Now, after that conversation with Noah, I just felt tired. Dried out.

"Can you put me on video call? I want to see you," my mother asked.

"Sure." I pulled the phone from my ears, leaned it against a pillow in front of me, and enabled video call.

My mother's image appeared on the phone - a motherly smile was present on her face. I could almost imagine her sitting in front of me. Her hand would have reached forward and pinched my cheek playfully. Then she would have taken me into an embrace, gently combed my hair, and brushed all my worries. "When you first called, I knew you needed some time to process things. I think it's time we discussed you going to talk to that lawyer?"

"How can you still want me to go? You realize he is the same one that sent you away?"

"Yes."

"Does that not matter to you? How can you not care?" I had to watch my tone. Remind myself she was not the target of my anger.

"I care so much, Mija. To this day, that remains the worst moment of my life."

Her words caused my nails to dig deep into the bedsheet. I questioned. How did she look so calm? When I felt like a dormant volcano ready to erupt. I have seen it. How much she has suffered every day for a year. Every tear she has shed opened a scar in my heart. Seeing that judge again, ripped them all open.

"Do you want to know why your father and I went to the U.S in the first place?" My mother looked down at her hands for a second. All the burns she had accumulated over years of working in a kitchen had hardened her skin.

"To have a better life," I answered.

"To be able to provide a better life for our future children. We knew we couldn't do that here. That is still our goal, and I'll be damned if I were to pass that on to you when there is a way for us to return."

"I don't want to see that fucking bastard-"

"It's not about what YOU WANT!" My mother screamed, causing my voice to die out. For a second, she closed her eyes. Her hands rubbed her tense temple, releasing some of the building pressure. "Mija, it's not about what you want. It's about what needs to be done. I almost die twice just for the chance at a better life for you. Once by drowning. Another from dehydration. So if I can make it through that, you can bottle away your pride, and make it through this."

I bit my lip tightly. I wanted to bite back. But I knew she was right.

"Mija?" She called, her voice far more gentle this time.

I made the semblance of a sound.

"I know what I am asking is hard for you. But, I have spent a year being angry, and it has done me no good. At this point, all I care about is seeing you."

"I want to see you too."

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My heart pounded against my chest as I thought upon my mother's words. 'Forget your pride, Riley,' I told myself. After taking a deep breath, I pushed the large wooden doors.

Standing there, waiting by his desk, was Noah's dad. "I am glad you came, Riley."

I froze for a second. Despite all the mental preparation. All the words that I had prepared disappeared from my mind.

"Would you like to take a seat?" He pointed at the chair in front of his desk.

Without saying a word, I sat down. He followed suit and moved to sit behind his grand mahogany desk. There was something about a desk that could tell you so much about a person. I did not expect him to look like this. Books upon book laid out over his desk. Papers covered every inch. Scratches here and there could be seen, perhaps when he had written beyond the pages. Now those words remain like a stain on the shiny surface of the desk.

"Did you bring the paperwork I asked for?" He asked, looking at me from across the desk.

I dug through my back and handed him the paperwork. Again. I did not speak. It seemed that my lack of speech was beginning to aggravate him. The folder I had given him was discarded on the desk. Instead, he took his glasses off and looked back at me.

"I thought it would be best to ignore the elephant in the room and focus on work. But, that will be difficult if you are not even able to speak to me."

"I'm afraid."

"Afraid of me?" His head tilted and his eyes widened in surprise.

"No. Afraid of what might slip out of my mouth."

He chuckled, but there was a regretful bitterness in his tone. "I can imagine you have a whole list of things you would like to say to me."

"More like an entire trilogy. Prequels and sequels included."

"I think I will need an entire library then, for all these years of work."

"Why did you become a judge?" I was surprised at my own question. But I was having trouble placing this person in a frame. Had I met him on the streets, I would think, what a pleasant older man.

"I worked as a lawyer for a couple of years prior. Most of them I spent advocating for fair due process. I thought that would make me a good immigration lawyer."

"That's hardly what I saw that day." There was perhaps too much sass in my response. But I found his explanation lacking.

"Very far from it. A new administration came into place before your family's case. In the blink of a second, everything changed. I knew I was joining a broken system...I didn't know it could become even more broken. Quotas were put in place. Cases were scheduled to overlap. Rights were taken away. Eventually, it hit me, I was nothing more than oil on the gears of an assembly line."

"Why still do it then?"

"For some hope, that in a couple of cases, I may be able to make a difference. I haven't worked this hard in a long time"— he gestured to all the paper piles on his desk — "but I want to start trying again."

I held his gaze. Searching for any signs of lies. I sensed none. I wondered if his words were true. But then again, I remembered my mother's words. At this point, it didn't matter. I had to focus. Focus on reuniting with them again.

"Let's get to work then."