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On Keith’s third or fourth date with his third or fourth boyfriend, they went stargazing.
Keith picked him up on his motorcycle (that he was still technically fixing up at the time, but he could make it the short distance they were going without it breaking down) and drove them to an open field.
It was newly fall, and the air was just the right amount of cold. Keith was excited; he’d felt more confident when proposing the date than most things in relationships, and he’d always kind of wanted to share this with someone.
He couldn’t read his boyfriend when he picked him up, nor on the ride over, nor when he propped his bike up on the kickstand and led him out into the field. He wasn’t trying to gauge a specific reaction, but knowing what people were thinking helped him adapt and respond; talk to them in a way he knew would make the situation better.
They laid back and stretched out on the grass. The sky was gorgeous and clear. Perfect for this.
Keith kept looking back and forth between the stars above him and the boy beside him; some worrying force tugging at his brain to keep checking. He wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe it was how oddly passive his boyfriend was being. Not that he needed to be particularly animated, but…this was a date.
His boyfriend wasn’t focusing on the stars. He was looking at Keith. Which could’ve been really sweet.
Could’ve.
Because his boyfriend wasn’t looking at him in the “There’s a gorgeous view above us, but I’d rather look at you” way.
It was more in the “Are you done yet?” way.
And no, Keith wasn’t done yet. There wasn’t supposed to be a specific end. There was no allotted time for stargazing. Truly, he could have stay for days and he still wouldn’t be ‘done.’
He’d rather lay there in the grass and the just-cold-enough air, looking up at a big bunch of almost nothing and not worry about how long it had been. He didn’t know any constellations. He wasn’t sat there contemplating life. He just wanted to look at them and exist. Just ‘be’ for a while. Like a silhouette of himself, in a good way.
Keith needed that sometimes, when he felt too heavy at a cellular level. When he felt overwhelmed and useless at the same time. When he couldn’t stop the years-old worries from swarming around him and suffocating him; when his head was too bright and too loud for him to handle. When ‘just take a deep breath’ didn’t do him any good.
Something about that view put his racing thoughts to rest. Something about that atmosphere let his brain dull his other senses and focus on something simple and unchanging. Let him look up at some celestial body he’d never understand and feel the cool, crisp air on his face. Look up at black and glowing white, let it swallow up his thoughts and blanket itself over his mind.
They laid there for about fifteen minutes.
Fifteen minutes until his boyfriend was done with it.
Fifteen minutes of peace and blissful nothingness until there was a ‘something.’ Until he could, unfortunately, think again.
Fifteen minutes until his boyfriend asked if they could go grab something to eat. Keith said ‘sure.’
So they left.
————————————
About five or so years later, he’d been around the universe and back again. He’d gotten quite familiar with those stars, had them and not much else outside his window for a good few years. Been above, below, between, and surrounded by countless galaxies and planets.
Been among those stars.
And still, he went back. Same motorcycle, same field, same ingrained movement of propping up the bike. Same cloudless, star-filled sky.
Different boyfriend.
And this time, he doesn’t feel that tug. He doesn’t keep track of where Lance is looking, because he doesn’t need to.
Lance looks up at the stars the same way Keith does. Wants the same ease from them. Feels the same calm from them. Lets them shut out everything else and swallow him up the same way Keith does.
Keith looks up at the stars. Doesn’t know if they’ve been there for seconds or centuries, and doesn’t care. Lets his hand trail up to where Lance’s head rests on his shoulder to card through his hair.
There’s something stirring in his chest. It feels like when he takes a deep breath and holds it there, when he can feels his heartbeat through his whole chest, can feel every inch of his ribcage, can map every square unit of breath in his lungs.
He looks down at Lance, and the feeling swells.
He doesn’t want to leave here. Ever.
Keith looks up at the stars.