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Polnareff had always thought desert nights would be hot. To his surprise, they tended to be bone-chilling.
It was on one of these nights that the group had parked themselves at a small oasis and settled in. Mr. Joestar, always the master of the campfire, had built a sizable pyre in an attempt to keep everyone warm. It had worked for the first few hours. But it was into the wee hours of the morning now, and Polnareff’s sleeping bag was the furthest from the glowing embers.
He awoke with a shiver and hugged himself within the sleeping bag to try and preserve some heat.
It was then that he noticed the picture book of stars laid out before him.
In the nights prior the sky had been cloudy, but tonight the atmosphere sat snugly in its pane like a freshly cleaned window.
Well, maybe more like a mirror.
Thousands and thousands of pinpricks dotted the fabric of the universe, the finest cloth man had yet to make garments from. Galaxies embroidered the surface with shimmering shades of royal purples. Shooting stars left trails of sequins in their wake.
If Polnareff wasn’t already laying down, he would’ve been knocked off his feet. It had been quite a while since he’d seen the night sky in all of its glory.
So long, in fact, that the memory had the infectious laugh of a teenage girl paperclipped to it.
Maybe the mournful calls of the cicadas were a premonition, but how could they have known?
It was muggy, and deep enough into the summer for Sherry to have bug bites covering every inch of her shins. They were sitting at the table in the garden; their shoes and socks were in the house; the grass was still slightly damp from last night’s rain.
Sherry’s neck was craned to stare up at the endless void of stars above. “Hey, do you know any of these constellations?”
“Uhh…” Polnareff scratched at a mosquito bite on his arm. “Well, that one is La Grande Casserole…”
“Well, duh. Everyone knows that.”
“Hey, do I look like an astronomer? I don’t even know my zodiac sign!”
“You’re a Sagittarius.” Sherry was looking at him now, a twinge of annoyance coming through in her voice.
“A what?”
“Like the centaur! With the bow!”
“I- You know what, that actually sounds pretty cool. I’m okay with being a Saggyhairytus.”
“Sagittarius.”
“Whatever!”
She was looking at the sky once more. “I wish I knew more about the stars…”
Something in the house that he’d passed many times suddenly jumped to the forefront of Polnareff’s mind. “Wait here. I might have something.” He rushed inside without another word.
Two minutes later, he came out with a thick book, the jacket coated in a thin film of dust. “One of Mom’s old books.” He shined a flashlight he’d grabbed on the cover: Les étoiles et les constellations de France.
“Wow, I didn’t even know we had this.” Sherry looked genuinely impressed. A little ball of sunshine planted itself in Polnareff’s chest. “Well, let’s get comfortable.” She slid off of the chair and into the grass, patting an open spot next to her which Polnareff happily filled.
They sat there for a while, glancing between the book’s colorful, childlike illustrations and their real-life counterparts. It was one of those nights that he never wanted to end. At some point, they closed the book and lay back to study the cosmos without interruption.
Polnareff basked in the comfortable silence they’d created. It wasn’t true silence, what with the cicadas and owls and all other types of critters who roamed in the dark, but his heart was deafeningly quiet in each moment he wasn’t hearing her laugh. Still, it was a warm and gentle silence, and so he accepted it with open arms.
Soon enough, Sherry opened her mouth. “You know, I think each person should get a star.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
A little chuckle interrupted the void in his heart. “Shut up! You know what I mean!”
“No, I really don’t. Can you explain?”
“Okay, sure, if you’re really that dense.” Polnareff scoffed. “Which you are!” Another laugh, a full one, rang through his chest like music. “Whatever. What I mean is, there’s billions of stars, right? And billions of people? So I think each person should get a star of their own, so their friends and family can look up to the sky for forever and see them living up there.”
“That…” Polnareff digested the thought. “You know what? I actually think I like that idea. What star do you want to be?”
Sherry made a disapproving sound. “You’re missing the point. You’re supposed to pick a star for me, so you remember me by that star.”
“That seems like a stupid rule, but okay.” He huffed and scanned the sky. “You are… the star on the very end of the handle of La Grande Casserole.”
“What?! You just picked that because you only know La Grande Casserole!”
“That’s not true! We just read about 50 more constellations, remember? There was Pégase, and Cassiopée, and La Baleine…” He turned to face Sherry, who was pouting. “I picked it because the book said that La Grande Casserole is always visible, and I want to be able to look up and remember you always.”
A wide smile split her face in two. “...Thank you, Jean-Pierre.” There was another, shorter silence before she spoke again. “You’re the second star on the handle, so that we’re always next to each other.”
Polnareff nodded, an even wider smile playing on his face. If only they could stay like this forever. But then, maybe that was the point of having the stars do it for them.
A new shiver worked its way through his body, and he wasn’t quite sure if it was from the temperature or not. Mr. Joestar had begun snoring, and the fire had burned even lower while Polnareff wasn’t paying attention.
He’d been staring at La Grande Casserole for as long as he could remember. Those two stars on the end seemed farther apart than ever.
His heart had been silent for years now; why had he once appreciated this feeling? His body felt so heavy without the levity of her laugh.
He realized that he was beginning to forget what her laugh sounded like.
All at once, he broke into a cold sweat, seeming to forget the chilling air. He racked his brain, top to bottom, searching desperately for that laugh, that sonata that forced his feet to dance and his soul to sing.
He was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of nylon slipping against itself.
A hushed whisper drifted over the camp. “Polnareff…” It was Kakyoin’s voice. “Are you up?”
He considered not answering. He considered letting Kakyoin go back to bed, in order to search his thoughts for that elusive laugh for a few moments longer. But he knew, deep down, that the search was futile.
“Yeah, I’m up.”
A zipper undid itself in the dark; the whispers got closer after that. “Mr. Joestar snores really loudly…”
The old man was still conked out across the campsite, each snort a monster truck in its own right. “Yeah.”
Kakyoin came to sit right next to him. “Are you okay?”
Polnareff was still looking at La Grande Casserole. “...Yeah.”
“Liar.”
“What?!” His whispers were gaining volume. “What do you mean, ‘liar?!’”
“You always have that long pause before speaking if you’re upset.”
“But-” But why did Kakyoin notice that?! “...You’re like a psychic…”
Kakyoin laughed a bit under his breath; it sounded strangely familiar. “You’re a lot easier to read than you think.”
“That’s something a psychic would say!”
He shook his head with a smile, which quickly faded. “Seriously, what’s wrong?”
“...Noth-'' Polnareff caught himself mid-dramatic-pause and took a deep breath. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”
Kakyoin nodded. “I understand.” He tucked his knees into his chest and stared out into the desert. Polnareff’s gaze was still focused on those distant twin stars.
After a few more minutes, Kakyoin spoke once more, the winter wind carrying his whispers. “I knew the desert would be cold at night, but I didn’t think it would be this bad…”
Polnareff stole a glance away from the stars to look at the one beside him. Kakyoin was shivering, with his arms wrapped tightly around his knees.
One resigned sigh later, Polnareff started to unzip his sleeping bag.
He ushered Kakyoin inside. “Body heat will help, right? Get in.”
“I- Wh-” It was Kakyoin’s turn to be caught off-guard. Polnareff could barely see him, but he could swear that the tips of Kakyoin’s ears were the same color as his hair.
The wind only had to blow a bit harder for the decision to be made. He climbed into the sleeping bag, and Polnareff zipped it behind them.
Now they were both staring up at the stars, barely a hair’s breadth away. It wasn’t as picturesque or spontaneous or perfect as the last time Polnareff had studied this sky, but it felt right.
It felt like home.
His heart was beating for the first time since Sherry had gone off to join La Grande Casserole; it was different, though. It was a heartbeat of sweaty palms and stolen glances and not one of boundless laughter and early morning cartoons.
Still, it wasn’t unwelcome.
Polnareff shakily breathed out as he tried to come up with the best way to phrase the thought in his head. He didn’t want it to come out wrong, but the words seemed jumbled in his brain. Every moment that passed just made him more and more nervous; he might as well just say it.
“If you were a star, you’d be the third star in the handle of La Grande Casserole.”