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Shuichi sat on the front porch of Kaito’s house, looking out at the blanket of snow which enveloped the neighbourhood and painted the roofs and treetops a frosted white. He hadn’t been here since Kaito’s death, but he was having a hard time falling asleep, and while he was strolling past the nearby houses in a dazed, mindless state, his feet had somehow led him here.
He still remembered all the times they had sat in this exact spot throughout the years. Often, Shuichi would rest his head on Kaito’s shoulder and they would exchange soft whispers, warm smiles and even a few kisses here and there. Sometimes, they would just sit on the steps, silently gazing up at the night sky as the stars sparkled and glimmered overhead. It still made Shuichi’s heart ache to think of those peaceful nights, and he missed having Kaito’s arms around him. When he was wrapped in Kaito’s gentle embrace, he felt safe from the dangers of the world. Now that Kaito was gone, Shuichi felt vulnerable, and it was as if his heart had been scraped raw. Every emotion was accompanied by a dull ache in his chest, and every memory stung like a thousand silver needles.
He hadn’t been able to get over the pain.
The sky was clear tonight, and Shuichi could see the constellations laid out plainly in the darkness. As he looked across the canvas of stars, it was as if Kaito’s voice was speaking in his ear as he recognized each formation:
“See those six stars lining up in an arc?” Kaito had said. “That’s a hunting bow, and if you connect these stars here,” he’d pointed to the left of the bow, “you’ll see the huntsman, Orion.”
“That one’s Gemini,” he’d said as he gestured towards a group of stars. “They’re twins—one’s Castor, and the other’s Pollux. Sidekicks,” he’d remarked, grinning at Shuichi. “Kinda like you and me.”
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The memory took Shuichi back to that final day at the hospital. The mild yellow ceiling lights in the hospital room had framed Kaito’s silhouette in a soft glow reminiscent of an angel’s as Shuichi sat by his side. Neither of them had spoken more than a few words the whole time Shuichi was there, taking into account Kaito’s waning energy, but it was an unspoken truth between the two that that night would likely be his last, and they had remained silently in each other’s company as the sun sank beneath the horizon and the sky went dark.
Shuichi remembered holding Kaito’s hand, their fingers tightly interlaced, as they watched the constellations slowly blink into view. Seeing Kaito’s laborious breathing beneath the oxygen mask, Shuichi had decided to perform their former nightly ritual to soothe both their spirits, this time with him leaning close to Kaito as he pointed through the bay window at the different figures which danced across the obsidian celestial fabric. He knew all the stories of the constellations by heart, and had told the legends vividly while picturing the characters within: from the Greek hero Erichthonius of Athens, the charioteer who fearlessly battled the usurper Amphictyon, to Taurus, the Bull of Heaven who was sent to kill the king Gilgamesh, to Aries, the golden ram who rescued Phrixus and Helle from the wrath of their stepmother Ino. With each word that he had spoken softly into Kaito’s ear, the latter’s eyebrows slowly unfurrowed, the muscles on his face relaxing as he listened to the sound of Shuichi’s voice.
About halfway through the legend of the hound Laelaps, Kaito’s breaths had begun to grow weak. He’d given a small tap on Shuichi’s shoulder to alert him, and the latter had watched helplessly as he laboriously took off his oxygen mask and, choking back tears, spoke his last words.
“I love you, Shuichi. See you in the cosmos, okay?”
Such simple words shattered Shuichi’s heart into countless shards, and he had nodded frantically, unable to stop tears flowing down his face and onto the hospital bed sheets. With a painstaking smile, Kaito had pulled Shuichi in for a kiss, the salty taste of tears on both their lips highlighting the gravity of the moment as Shuichi held the frail figure in his arms close to his own, swearing to himself he’d never let go.
When Kaito finally pulled away gently after what had seemed like forever, he put his hand in Shuichi’s now-stronger one once more as he exhaled for the last time, his body going limp. In that moment, it was as if Shuichi could see the soul of the once-energetic and vivacious teenager leave his body as the stars leaned down to kiss him lightly, lifting his spirit from its earthly confinements and gifting it the snow-white wings of an angel as they floated away into the heavens.
Shuichi had continued to hold Kaito’s hand past daybreak, even as the once-firm palm and strong fingers he held in his shaking grip grew stiff and cold, even when he’d had no more tears left to cry.
❈＊✳⋆❂⋆✳＊❈
As the memory faded into silence, Shuichi was brought back to the present, and he found himself looking down at his hand―the hand which had held that of his starry-eyed lover as he had faded from existence. The spaces between his fingers were right where Kaito’s fit perfectly, and he could almost feel him there, still, their fingers interlocking as they shared the night, and he was painfully made aware of the emptiness in his palm which was all too real as he moved his muscles gingerly, only to have his fingertips meet hollow air.
Shuichi resorted to counting the stars as he leaned against a pillar, his gaze tracing a path across the velvet sky as he connected the silver dots in endless lines of nostalgia. He counted Procyon, remembering the time he and Kaito had tried to fish the moon’s reflection from a nearby river as children. He counted Betelgeuse, recalling the time he’d had to push Kaito around in a wheelchair for a month because he’d broken his leg in a skateboarding accident. He counted Capella, thinking of the time Kaito had first gotten his driver’s license and had driven the both of them to a field in the middle of nowhere to spend a night stargazing.
Finally, Shuichi’s eyes made their way to Polaris, the North Star resting on the tip of the Little Bear’s tail. As he pondered how Kaito had always guided his path with the radiant light that emanated from his determined spirit, he noticed that the star gave off a light purple glow, reminding him of Kaito’s bright lilac eyes.
With a start, he remembered something that Kaito had once told him, of the human eye being unable to detect purple light from stars due to its inherent tendency to pick up blue wavelengths. He looked up again at the Pole Star, which still shone with a lavender hue. Was this… a miracle, some sort of message from the heavens? He chuckled, remembering Kaito’s catchphrase: “The impossible is possible, all you gotta do is make it so!” Kaito had really managed to live up to his words, even after his own life had ended.
Suddenly, the star twinkled as if it were winking, and Shuichi imagined Kaito smiling down at him from above with that familiar sparkle in his warm lilac eyes. Of course Kaito was watching over him now, he thought as he remembered the purple-haired teenager’s face fondly, and suddenly he didn’t feel so alone anymore.
Tears gathered in the corners of Shuichi’s eyes, and he let them trickle down his cheeks as he smiled back up at Polaris—no, Kaito—his North Star. Even now, Kaito was always with him, unwavering, and Shuichi swore to himself that he wouldn’t ever forget this moment as long as he lived.
As the night slowly turned to light blue, the stars faded away as the day returned once more. Shuichi watched as the cotton-shaped clouds overhead swirled into formation, creating a beautiful vanilla twilight that hung over the snow as sunbeams gently peeked through the mist. He took a deep breath, and in the morning air he tasted hints of fresh life that smelled like dewdrops and hope that smelled like a loving embrace.
Shuichi smiled, thinking of Kaito. Although he missed having Kaito’s arms around him, he knew that he'd always be here with him, and with that thought in mind, Shuichi dozed off safe and soundly as the clouds cradled him softly to sleep.