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It’s the middle of the night when Ranboo is woken up.
Usually, he’s wide awake during the night, but with the new moon just coming over the horizon, he feels as if he could sleep forever. He curses the Hypnos Cabin, specifically Clovis.
“Ranboo,” Wilbur whispers. He seems agitated. “Ranboo.” He says more urgently. Ranboo swats his hand in Wilbur’s general direction. A pebble is flung at his forehead.
Hissing, he sits up. “What the hell is your problem?” Ranboo whisper-yells across the cabin. Rubbing his forehead, he takes in the beauty that is his cabin at night. He’s usually on the porch during this time, so he hardly sees the inside.
Blackout curtains hang along the walls and in front of the windows, and there’s wisps of smoke from the still burning incense. Dots on the ceiling shine brightly like stars, and galaxies spiral on the walls. Thanks to the ingenuity of Hecate magic (thanks, mom) and Wilbur grabbing galaxies from out of nowhere, the cabin is a space nerd’s pipe dream.
“Ranboo, I need a favor,” Wilbur says, pulling his knees up to his chest. Ranboo softens and climbs out of his bed and into Wilbur’s.
“What’s wrong?” Ranboo silently casts a protection rune onto Wilbur, pushing it into his heart. Wilbur sighs and his next breath feels more secure than it’s ever been.
He hesitates. “How do I… How do I get the constellations out of my veins?” If Ranboo had any better sense, he’d think Wilbur sounded almost ashamed.
And he does. Have better sense, that is.
Humming, Ranboo holds out his own arm and pulls his sleeve up. Brain fog now gone from his brain, he breathes in, sets his right hand on his arm, breathes out and pulls stars and nebulas directly out. Being a legacy of Selene and son of Hecate, his magic tended to manifest with space themes.
He holds the stars and nebula in each hand. Wilbur looks entranced, and it’s easy to see why. The star in his left hand shines dimly like it's dying out, but it’s gorgeous. Shining with blues and oranges, swirled with purple and red, it looks like the fire in the amphitheater.
The nebula he holds in his right is easily identified as the Orion Nebula. Ranboo didn’t even know that was possible.
Wilbur moves to touch, but stops himself. Ranboo dismisses the star, and with his free hand he grabs Wilbur’s right hand.
“Breathe in,” he tells Wilbur. As Wilbur breathes in, Ranboo doesn’t give him a chance to breathe out. He sets the nebula into his hand. Wilbur’s breath hitches.
He’s never felt so… content. Whole and larger than himself. In his hand he holds literal space, he holds all that had come before humans and all that will come after. It’s awe inspiring and terrifying.
“You don't think about it too hard,” Ranboo starts. “You just focus on where it seems to be the strongest and imagine it flowing out of your veins and into your hands. It comes naturally.” Yawning, Ranboo leans back in Wilbur’s bunk. He never ends up sleeping in his own bed.
Dissolving the nebula, Wilbur breathes in, and breathes out, and in again. On the exhale, the entire Andromeda Galaxy settles into his hands. Wilbur starts to cry.
“When I was younger, my grandmother and I used to talk about how I’d be the first person to see the Andromeda Galaxy firsthand,” he sniffles, “of course, it was just to pass the time, but now… Now, it’s tangible.” He carries the galaxy, and puts it directly onto the wall next to Ranboo’s bed. The magic in the cabin walls animates it, it’s spiral movement constant.
“Thank you, little astronaut,” Wilbur whispers to him.
“Anytime, starshine.”