Chapter Text
“I do not understand what is so special about this,” Ulaz grouses, picking at blades of grass and holding them close for examination, carefully splitting them up the middle. Shiro smiles, ever indulgent.
“You’ll see.”
Not bothering to dignify that with a response, Ulaz flops onto his back, stares up at that blue, blue sky poking through the branches of the tree, soft-looking clouds chasing after each other. Brown and green and pink and blue all swirl together, complementary and bright.
Earth is so colorful , and Ulaz is struck again by the vibrant diversity of life here. A small creature - a robin , Shiro had called it - hops in the branches above, delightfully red breast standing out in the shade of the foliage. It flutters down, gives Ulaz a baleful look before digging in the ground, sharply tugtugtug ing on something until it flies off with its prize.
Truthfully, Ulaz would much rather inspect Earth’s flora and fauna than wait for the sky to change colors. He has seen the sun set on hundreds of planets, seen dual stars set and triple moons rise, seen glittering auroras band the sky in a thousand different hues. What Shiro believes to be so special about his planet’s sunset mystifies Ulaz, but he is there, next to Shiro, because it matters to him.
Ulaz rolls onto his stomach and pillows his head on an arm as he digs a claw into the soft dirt. One of Shiro’s hands makes its way into Ulaz’s hair. They sit there, the only ones in this so-called park, the soft heat of Earth’s gentle sun heating their legs.
Until Shiro’s hand stills and he nudges Ulaz’s shoulder. “Hey, look at that,” he whispers, awe clear in his voice. Ulaz turns, sits up, is unable to withhold his gasp of delight.
The once white clouds are streaked with fuschia and gold, scarlet bleeding to red bleeding to indigo. The smog so prevalent here catches the light, turning the horizon hazy and pink, mixing with periwinkle sky. It is a chariot of fire, blending, burning, changing, day giving way to night in one last glorious blaze of color.
If this is what Shiro has been missing, what he saw every day when he was young, what he has not seen in years? Ulaz cannot blame him for the long wait; his boredom burns away in the presence of this spectacle.
Shiro’s passion and fiery temperament make sense, here. He is the last stand of the day against the night, refusing to back down without a fight. Birthed and raised in the light of this seemingly unassuming sun, small and oh-so average, it is no wonder that he claimed that brilliant fire as his own.
Ulaz looks to Shiro, sees the tears falling and wetting his cheeks, soft smile on his face. Then takes in the pale pinks, gently lining the clouds. Perhaps he learned his softness from these sunsets, too.
Ulaz bumps his shoulder against Shiro’s. Shiro bumps him right back, eyes still fixed on the sky.
No. Shiro’s softness and burning commitment are his, and his alone.
And Ulaz is so very, very glad to share his first sunset on Earth with him. Hopefully, it is the first of many.