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Space. The final frontier.
Dan thinks it’s bullshit. Space is not the final frontier, just another place to explore. There are things beyond it, things that can’t be understood, not yet anyway. Sure, he knows there’s more to the quote, but he’s never got this bit. It makes it sound like space has an end.
So he’s out on his roof, every night with his telescope. Stars, planets, moons. Places he wants to see with his own eyes, not just some crappy telescope from Argos. It’s better than nothing, it’s better seeing galaxies this way than looking it up on Google.
He’s working on a project for his science club. Well, he doesn’t need to yet because it’s the middle of his summer holiday, but he wants to use this excuse to look at more stars.
It’s 2 in the morning on a Saturday in late July. The sky has been cloudless lately, so Dan is up all night and sleeps all day, only to do this every day for the six weeks of his break. His parents are asleep, pretty much clueless about his activities. Everyone on his street is asleep. Everyone, apart from two boys. One of them is Dan, the other is the new kid who moved in last week. They live across the street and the light is on in one of the rooms. Dan sees a silhouette occasionally moving behind the curtain, but that’s it.
Dan looks up. He sees Delphinus just above the trees. That’s probably his favourite constellation; it’s so small many people don’t even know it exists, let alone where to look for it. He feels like that’s his own constellation.
He looks at the new kid’s house again. The light is off now. Dan shakes his head. He knows he should be making friends or have relationships like the rest of his classmates, but he’s just not interested. He doesn’t want to do the whole dating. He just doesn’t care about that. He’d rather be on his roof at 2 am watching stars.
It’s almost time for the Perseids. He’s already seen a couple of meteors, but the peak is a couple of weeks away.
“Hey!” a quiet voice says. For a second, Dan is scared, because his mum is awake and will send him to bed. But once the voice settles in him, it’s not his mum’s or dad’s. Dan looks around, but sees no one. He thinks he’s going crazy. “Down here, space boy.”
So Dan looks down. The new kid is in his front garden, looking up at Dan. It’s Waxing Gibbous Moon, so he can hardly see his figure. “Uh… hey?”
“I saw you from my room, mind if I join you?”
Dan thinks the kid is going crazy. No one ever wants to join him or hear him talk about space. But he’s curious about him, despite not wanting to make friends.
“The ladder is by the garage. Climb up to the roof there, then from there you can come up here.”
“Cheers.”
A minute later, Dan is no longer alone. The other boy is wearing a dark blue zip up hoodie, with the hood up, but black bits of hair are visible from under it. He’s only wearing shorts and he looks cold.
“So, uh…” Dan starts, but that’s all he can say, because he doesn’t know how to talk to people.
“Oh, yeah, right. I’m Phil.” He smiles at him, his voice warm and soft. “What’s your name?”
“Dan,” he says, but he’s already looking up. He barely manages to catch the last bit of a shooting star.
“So what are you doing up here?”
Phil is chatty, almost annoyingly so. “I like watching stars and stuff.”
“Yeah, me too. I don’t know much about them, but still. They’re pretty.”
Pretty is an understatement, Dan says almost. They’re everything. They are the most important pieces of our lives, yet we always forget about that. Without those, without anything in space, we would be nothing.
Dan wants to say this, but instead, he just replies, “Yeah, I guess so.”
They sit quietly for a while. He sees another meteor. He’s not the emotional type, so he doesn’t make a wish.
“I’ve watched you. You’re always up here doing this.”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
Does he say the truth or offer some witty half answer? Phil is only a year or two older than Dan, and Dan’s only 15, so he’s not sure Phil would completely understand him. “I just like stars,” he says with a shrug.
“No, that’s not it.”
Well, there goes his second option. He doesn’t know Phil or how he feels about having company, so he doesn’t know if he should tell him. But Phil looks at him, suddenly looking very old, not physically, but emotionally and mentally. So for some reason, Dan tells the truth. “I don’t know how to be… human, I guess. I don’t know how to talk to people or how not to be awkward. Everyone I know is talking about boyfriends and girlfriends, and I don’t want that. I don’t want to be social unless I have to. But stars… I understand stars and they understand me. All the galaxies and nebulae and white dwarfs are out there, waiting to be explored.”
Phil nods, but doesn’t say anything. Dan is fiddling with the cover of the telescope. He did it again, alienated someone with his obsession with space.
“That’s cool. I mean, I understand you. I lived across town and lost my best friend and I’ve been trying to convince myself it’s because we moved, but in reality, he’s got a girlfriend now, so I don’t exist in his world.”
“That sucks.” Not that Dan can relate. He didn’t have any friends to begin with, so he doesn’t really understand Phil’s pain.
They’re quiet again, but it’s comfortable. There are some clouds far away, barely on the horizon, but if they’re heading towards them, Dan knows he will have to go inside.
“So tell me about them. Your stars.”
At first, Dan doesn’t know where to begin. Well, technically he does, but he’s not sure he wants to share Delphinus just yet. So he starts by telling Phil everything he knows about the Milky Way.
Phil listens. He doesn’t just nod along and says ‘yeah’ like everyone does, he actually listens. He asks questions about its stars and planets. When Dan tells him that there’s a potential supermassive black hole in its centre, Phil tells him he likes Muse. From there, their conversation takes off, talking about films and books and anime, talking until the Sun rises. They say their goodbyes with the promise of meeting on the roof again that night.
And they do. They sit on the roof, from sunset to sunrise, Dan telling and teaching Phil about space, showing him constellations. It’s the same the next day, and the day after that and the day after that.
The peak of Perseids falls on 11 August. The day was hot and dry, the night isn’t any better. They’re in the middle of a heatwave, no rain for days. But at least that provides a great view. Sure, it’s not ideal, street lights disturb the darkness of the night. But the Perseids are bright enough to see, even in suburban conditions.
“There you go.” Phil hands him a can of coke. It’s little after midnight and once again they’re sitting on Dan’s roof. They’ve been doing this for the past few weeks, every night. Slowly, Phil began to learn the names of constellations, how to find stars and planets. And slowly, they became friends. On cloudy or rainy evenings, they would sit in Dan’s room, and talk about all the other stuff and they would watch a film or play games together. Dan began to think of them as friends. He liked that, he didn’t really have friends until he met Phil. “I still don’t understand why you don’t make a wish,” he says as he takes a sip.
“Because it’s pointless. They’re gone within a second so wishing when seeing one is like… wanting your wish to go away.”
“You’re weird.” But Dan knows that and he also knows that Phil doesn’t mean it, not like the other kids. When his classmates tell him he’s weird, they mean his obsession with space. When Phil says it, he means ‘it’s okay, because I’m weird, too.’
They watch the stars quietly for a while. Dan counts five shooting stars. He watches them light up as they hit the atmosphere, pulling trails behind them before fading away. He doesn’t need to tell Phil, he knows. Plus, Dan knows him well enough to hear a sharp intake of breath then exhaling a couple seconds later as he thinks of a wish.
Dan’s mum is over the moon that he finally has someone to talk to other than his family. She’s also telling him that Phil would make quite a nice boyfriend for him.
She knows Dan prefers boys to girls, so it’s understandable that she makes comments like that. But Dan also prefers no one to anyone when it comes to dating. Maybe it’s him going through puberty, maybe it’s just his personality, but he knows he doesn’t want any of that. All the bragging on his Facebook feed, his classmates telling the world that they had sex with someone or are in a relationship. He wants none of that.
But, he has to admit, it’s different with Phil. He’s still not interested in dating, but he thinks of Phil as more than just friends. Best friends, but not quite. He doesn’t have a word for it though, so it’s hard to paraphrase it.
“Are you okay?” Phil asks eventually.
“Yeah, sorry.”
“Dan…” He gives him a look. Phil has these knowing looks. He’s a nice person, kind and just wonderful, really. Sometimes, Dan thinks he’s too good for him and for this world. “I heard your mum earlier.”
“At dinner?” Phil eating dinner with them is becoming more and more common. Dan’s family don’t have much, but whatever they have, they gladly share it with Dan’s friend, because, well, he finally has one.
“Yeah, when I was talking to your brother and you and your mum were in the kitchen. I didn’t mean to listen, but I heard her.”
“Oh,” that’s all Dan says. He knows what Phil’s referring to. That’s when she told Dan how they should go on a proper date. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Phil smiles at him, not a full grin, just a small, almost shy smile. “I mean, if you wanted to…” Dan turns towards the Western sky, away from Phil. His cheeks are red, he feels the intense heat almost burning his skin. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”
“It isn’t you, Phil,” Dan mumbles, hoping he doesn’t have to repeat himself. “It’s me.”
“It’s a-me, Mario,” he says, further proving what a gem he is. Phil tries his best to lighten the mood, but Dan knows this needs to happen. He might not always understand humans or emotions, but it’s clear to see Phil does indeed want something to happen.
Dan shows a tight-lipped smile. He likes how dorky Phil is. “I don’t want to have sex, like ever,” he blurts it out before he can change his mind. “Or go on dates. Or do any of that, because something is wrong with me.” He sighs, before looking away. He seriously considers going back inside and not continuing this conversation.
“So you’re like me.”
“What?”
“There’s nothing wrong with you, Dan.” The way Phil pronounces his name makes him turn back to him. His expression is soft and understanding and it just makes Dan even more confused.
“Everyone tells me I should want physical intimacy, but I’m just fine without it. I’ll grow out of it or I don’t know.” He sighs. “Can we drop it?”
“No, we cannot. There’s a word for it, you know.”
“Is it weirdo, special snowflake or a synonym of that?”
“Asexual.”
Dan furrows his brows. He’s seen the term on Tumblr, but didn’t understand it. He’s never been interested in all that sexuality stuff, so he left it alone. “What’s that?”
“It’s an orientation where you don’t experience sexual attraction, but I use it more liberally than that. For me, it’s pretty much never wanting to do it because it’s weird.”
Dan doesn’t reply. He thinks about it, quietly, thoughts rushing through his head as he watches the night sky light up with shooting stars. It’s Waning Crescent Moon, the New Moon is only a couple of days away. It provides a fairly good night for the meteor peak.
The reason Dan likes watching the stars because it’s straightforward. If he wants answers, there’s science for it, science he can Google. He might not understand all of it, but still, it’s easy to find stuff. Space makes sense.
But, feelings do not. Or whatever Phil’s talking about. He just wants to be Dan, a formless, identity-less blob, obsessing over stars or the new season of Game of Thrones.
“Can we forget about this for now? Please?”
“Sure.” Phil sighs and he pulls his knees to his chest. “But Dan, I hope you know, I’m here if you want to talk about it. I actually uh… like you. Like like you.” He clears his throat. In the faint light, Dan sees that now Phil’s blushing and it makes him blush, too.
“Uh… Same,” he mumbles quickly before pointing at a fairly bright shooting star. “Make your wish.”
A couple of seconds later, after he thinks about his (probably) fifteenth wish, Phil smiles at Dan.
“Are you ever curious what I wish for?” Dan nods a bit. Now that Phil mentions it. Maybe Dan doesn’t care about it, but he does care about Phil and it seems to be important to him. “I used to wish for a friend, like a real friend. I know it sounds cheesy, I used to wish for you, Dan.”
Dan looks at him, mouth open in awe. Phil just said what Dan’s been unconsciously thinking. He quickly realises that he’s staring at him, so he looks away, adamant to change the topic. He quickly finds Delphinus, the only constellation Phil doesn’t know about.
“Can you find Altair?”
“The star?” Phil is quiet for a second. “Yeah, got it.”
“If you look to the East, you’ll see a couple of faint stars.”
“Dan, the whole sky is nothing but faint stars. We’re not in the middle of the desert.”
“I know, but try.”
He takes a couple of minutes, squinting his eyes. He even grabs Dan’s telescope and tries to find his way, but he gets lost due to the magnification. “Yeah, I think…” he says finally.
“What do you see?”
“I either see a sword or kite, maybe a box.”
Dan laughs at him. Sure, it’s hard to see, but a box? “It’s a dolphin. You can’t really see, to be honest, but it looks like a dolphin. It’s called Delphinus.”
“That’s cool. So the sky is covered in animals.”
Dan takes back his telescope and spends a minute locating Delphinus. “The brightest star of it is Beta Delphini. It’s nowhere near as bright as Altair or Vega. It’s so small. People know how Ursa Major or the Plough looks like, but Delphinus is small, almost invisible unless you know where to look for it.” He feels Phil’s eyes on him, not on the Delphinus. Eventually, feeling embarrassed a little, Dan puts down the telescope. “So uh… Tell me more about asexuality.”
And Phil does. They talk and talk, until the early hours of the morning, pausing occasionally to watch shooting stars light up then die, until the night gives way to dawn. The more Phil tells him about it, the more it makes sense. Dan has never needed a label, but suddenly, finding one that fits, feels okay. Feels normal.
Space used to be Dan’s comfort. It still is, because space is the love of his life. If he’s feeling sad, day or night, he can just look up and know that there are pretty much endless number of galaxies, stars and planets, some containing life even, because it’s just statistically impossible that out of the 10 24 planets, Earth is the only one with life. He’s never been lonely, because of this fact.
But, Phil is that place of comfort, too. It’s doesn’t need to be anything, he tells him, they don’t have to be forced by society’s couple-normativity. Phil’s smart like that. He uses big words, not because he wants to show off, but because he knows Dan will understand them.
So, just as Dan fell in love with the stars at an early age, he fell in love not with Phil, because he doesn’t know or care about what love is and probably never will, but with the feeling that being with Phil provides.
And that’s a good place, he thinks. Stars, Phil and his roof. He doesn’t want to kiss Phil or be boyfriends with him. He just wants to laugh at him when he falls off of things in video games or talk about music with him. It’s a semi-relationship that doesn’t have to be labelled, because not everything does. But it’s comfortable, and for the time being, they’ll just watch stars, some of them so far away their brains can’t even comprehend. It’s a good place.