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Stars were the only things Wes could count on. Nothing stayed, nothing got better, nothing helped, but the stars would always be there, even if Wes couldn’t see them. They were rarely visible where Wes lived now, which… well. That was the reason that Wes was currently lying in the center of the Halley Planetarium rather than an open field, staring at a starry ceiling that they certainly weren’t meant to see. It was nearly 11 pm. Their lockpick sat in their jeans’ back pocket. A quick internship six months back did them good, apparently—it gave them structure , but it mostly gave them knowledge of how to work the projector, and the security guard rotation. Tuesdays were Randall. Randall always fell asleep watching the cameras. Luckily (and ridiculously) there wasn’t an alarm system, but Wes wasn’t complaining. It made their job much easier.
In an hour and thirteen minutes, Wes was meant to turn 18.
They had no intention of reaching midnight. Instead, they were going to sleep watching the stars—they were fake, but Wes didn’t have a car, and there was nowhere with a good view around there anyway. This was the best they could do.
Part of them wasn’t sure about all this.
The rest was very, very tired.
They’d been hoarding their medication—the bottles sat beside them, waiting, watching. Wes wasn’t stalling, not really, they just- weren’t ready. Not quite yet. But soon. It would have to be soon. They were running out of time. Hell, they were probably pushing it now. They took a deep breath, looking over at the bottles. Okay. I can do this. I just need to do this and everything will be fine. Everything will be over.
Their hands were trembling. For some reason, that didn’t surprise them at all.
What did surprise them was a distinctly not-Randall voice, coming from the entrance. It said, “Hullo.”
Wes sat straight up quick enough to make them dizzy, eyes wide. In the doorway stood a tall man with a buzzcut and a leather jacket, leaning on the frame. The light from the room outside illuminated him from behind, and it was a little difficult to see his face, but Wes was sure they could see his eyebrows raise. If they didn’t see it, they certainly heard it.
Wes opened their mouth to speak. They found that they could say absolutely nothing. The man said, “Nice work on the lock. Mind if I join you?”
The most reasonable question to ask would probably be who are you? If not that, why are you here? The trouble with that was, of course, Wes wasn’t feeling very reasonable . They said, “You’re not Randall.”
“Oh, you were expecting company?”
“I was betting against it, actually. I- why are you here?”
“Could ask the same of you.”
“Oh, I’m sure you could, but I asked first.”
“Just lookin’ around!”
“It’s- we’ve been closed since 6!”
“My day job keeps me… busy. Your turn,” he said, walking toward Wes and sitting down a few feet away from them.
Wes adjusted themself to block the bottles from view. They were running out of time. They were running out of time. “Wanted to see stars, but I don’t have a car. I live near here. This is the best I could do. So.”
…Why did they feel so inclined to tell the truth?
“I didn’t say you could stay,” they added quickly. Part of them didn’t want him to go. The same part that wasn’t sure. Wes shoved it back into the shadows.
“Didn’t tell me to go, though. Besides, we’re both trespassing. How d’you know how to work the projector, then?” The man nodded up toward the ceiling. “Can’t imagine you learned it on the spot.”
“I work here.”
“Not for much longer, if anyone checks the security tapes.”
“I’m not worried about it,” Wes muttered, glancing at the bottles to make sure they were still there, before looking back up at the ceiling. This was ridiculous. Running out of time , they should’ve taken them earlier, why didn’t they do that?
“Why not?” the man said, and out of the corner of their eye, Wes could see him peeking over their shoulder.
They shifted again. “It’s a non-issue. Can you go now? I got here first.”
“Nah. Behind you,” he said, and Wes cringed, “what’re those? A late night snack?”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re nosy? Obnoxiously nosy? If they haven’t, they really ought to—”
“Maybe. Likely. Not sure. What’s your name?”
“What?”
“Your name. I’m the Doctor, nice to meetcha.”
“Pleasure is all mine,” Wes said. They shot a fake smile. He shot a real one. “Wes. My name is Wes. Kindly bug off.”
“Why here?”
Wes glared at him for a moment. He didn’t look away, just stared right back. Wes dropped it first—they were never one for eye contact, but right now… worse. “Like I said, I… the stars. If I can’t see real ones, I’ll settle for fake. So. Drop the day job excuse. Your turn. ”
“Well, first off, I like stars too. And, uh, second off, I got… a feeling—”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I got a feeling ,” the Doctor said, firmly, but not unkindly, “that someone was calling out for help.”
Wes silenced for a moment. They drew in a deep breath. Then, they forced a laugh. Tried to, anyway—that stupid, coward part of them was back. “Check on Randall, maybe it was him,” they said, trying to keep their voice from trembling. Didn’t work.
“Who is Randall?”
“Security guard.”
“He’s not very good at his job.”
“No, he’s not. Lucky me.”
“…It didn’t have to be on purpose. The call for help, I mean—those sort of things can be… subconscious.” He was picking his words carefully. Wes wished he wouldn’t.
It was getting stronger.
They should’ve been stronger.
“I’m fine,” Wes said thickly, turning back to the bottles.
“I don’t think you’re meant to eat those like candy,” he said. They could hear the eyebrows again. “Not sure that’s the intended purpose . And it’s a lot of ‘em, just for one person. I’m a doctor, I should know.”
“I don’t think you’re an actual doctor.”
“That’s rude. Why not? Is it the jacket—”
“You broke into a planetarium!”
“Doctors help people. I’ll do what I can, even if it means ‘breaking into’,” and he did air quotes at that, which nearly made Wes laugh , “a planetarium. Besides, the door was already unlocked.”
The Doctor paused, then continued. “Wes, remember how I said I liked stars too?”
“Yeah,” they muttered. Stop sounding so… unsure. Stop being a coward. Jesus Christ.
“Well, there’s this one place I’ve always liked. Bit of a hike, but I’d say it’s worth it.”
“I don’t really feel like going on a hike right now. I want to sleep.”
“Really? I never could have guessed,” the Doctor deadpanned, and Wes… laughed.
Wes laughed.
Oh, come on.
“I shoulda explained a smidge better,” he continued. “It’s a bit of a hike for most .”
“What does that mean?”
“Most, but not for me,” he said, as if it all made perfect sense. “Tell you what—you come with me, I show you stars. Real stars. And after that, if you want to come back, and do whatever… this , is, fine.”
“It’s not an if. I will want to,” Wes mumbled. “What makes you think I trust you?”
“Dunno. If I were you, I wouldn’t trust me either. But I’m not asking you to trust me, I’m asking you if you want to tag along, just for a bit.”
…There was something about him. Wes wasn’t sure what it was, but there was something. Maybe it was the lack of pity, thank God. Maybe it was the joking around. Maybe it was the compromise, maybe it was because he didn’t give the so much to live for, it’ll get better, I swear speech, but it was something.
Oh, hell. What did they have to lose? “Do you promise?”
“Yeah. I promise.”
“Fine. Where is this place, then?”
“Oh, it’s… out of this world,” he said slowly, then grinned to himself as if he’d made a clever joke.
“Are you always this ominous?”
“Who said I was being ominous?” the Doctor said, but it was odd—the grin remained, but, for whatever reason, Wes felt as if he wasn’t joking anymore.
They’d be 18 by the time they’d get back, wouldn’t they? This wasn’t meant to happen, they weren’t met to get interrupted, distracted , but…
But Wes found that, for whatever reason, they were just a little bit alright with that.
***
There was a blue box outside the planetarium that hadn’t been there when Wes went in. There were no wheels on the bottom that could’ve moved it inside, and there were no other signs of ways for it to have appeared, but even if there was, what would be the reason? The Doctor was fiddling with the door, though, and Wes couldn’t tell what to make of that. They were still trying to decide if they were making the whole thing up. Maybe they did take the pills, and they were dreaming or something. On their way out. That would certainly be nice. But everything felt… solid. Real. Strange.
The Doctor opened the door and stepped inside—Wes couldn’t see inside the box, but it was clearly small. “What, are you trying to make a phone call?”
“No, it doesn’t do that. Come on!”
“What’s the use of a phonebox if it doesn’t—”
“You’ll see.”
“Oh, who said I was being ominous, sure,” Wes mumbled, walking over to the door. They closed their eyes, pinching the bridge of their nose as they entered. “You know, maybe I was right not to tru—”
Why was their voice echoing?
Wes opened their eyes.
The normal, Wes part of them confirmed that this was all a dream. They’d already taken the pills, and soon there would be nothing at all. The other part of them, the part that, for whatever reason, trusted the Doctor, couldn’t think of a single thing to say. They settled on a quiet, Oh.
The too-big-for-a-box room was massive, and, to add to the confusion of it all, was circular. Odd little hexagons spotted the walls behind curved, spiraling pillars. Some of the floor was something like translucent, allowing Wes to see under it—it was full of gears and wires and pipes and all sorts of things they normally didn’t care about. Here, though? It couldn’t help but interest them. A soft, whirring sound could be heard echoing around the room, but it was barely noticeable compared to… well, everything else, but Wes couldn’t help but think that it almost sounded like breathing. The entire room was coated in warm shades of browns, coppers, and bronzes. All but the center.
In the center of the room was something Wes couldn’t quite name. A glowing green pillar stood tall in the middle of it all, a contraption bobbing inside. All around it were buttons, levers, wheels and wires, keyboards(?) and switches, screens with symbols and circles that Wes couldn’t even begin to read. The Doctor stood behind the pillar, poking his head out before looking back down at the… control panel. Yeah, Wes thought. That’s what it is. A weird, round control panel.
They looked around, unable to let their eyes linger on anything for too long—there was so much around them, and it all felt alive. They couldn’t quite put a pin on why, but they could feel it. They touched the railing next to them, just to make sure it was solid—it was. It all was. Any and all thoughts about the planetarium were gone. So much in so little space. How did it work ? They could go outside and double check that the box wasn’t connected to anything, but it obviously wasn’t. They could feel it. No, it was just something big inside something small.
Wes felt very, very small.
The Doctor started pressing buttons before looking up again. “Hike for some , but not for me. Mind closing the door? Can’t go anywhere until—”
“Pretty big for a phonebox,” they blurted out. They had plenty to say, surely, but not a single word.
It hit them, then.
Can’t go anywhere.
Wes walked back to the door and closed it with shaking hands. They took a deep breath before turning back around, walking toward the control panel—was console the word?—and staring at the Doctor.
He said, “I did say it doesn’t do that.”
“What?”
“Make calls. It just looks like a phonebox.”
Why? Wes thought. Wes said, “Thanks for clearing that up. Couldn’t tell,” but their voice felt far away. Why did they feel like they were going to go far away?
The Doctor laughed. Oh, joy, I’m still funny on my last legs. They asked, “What is it?”
“She’s my ship.” He pushed a lever, and a different sound took over; this one was something like wheezing. The room shook, shuddered, swayed. Wes grabbed the back of a chair to keep themself from falling. They stumbled anyway. “Bit faster than a car.”
“You said out of this world,” Wes said.
“Yes, I did.”
“And that you weren’t being ominous.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Are you from space?”
“What do you think?”
“I… yeah. Yeah.”
“Right again!” The wheezing stopped and the room stabilized. Wes hadn’t realized just how tight they’d been holding onto the chair—their hand left an imprint.
“Where are we?” they said, looking at the doors. For once, their thoughts weren’t conflicting; every single ounce of them wanted to throw those doors open. They weren’t quite sure why, and even if they were making it all up, even if they were dead or something, they still wanted to. It was funny, Wes realized. They managed to forget how they got there. Why they got there.
Careful. Stay on track.
They… could forget. Just for a bit, they could forget.
“D’you want to open them? I can, but—” Before the Doctor could finish his sentence, Wes half-ran to the doors and pulled them open.
A galaxy waved hello. Speckles of stars lit the sky, whorls of green and purple and blue somethings weaving, spiraling around them. It was moving, too, slowly but surely, a painting in motion. Wes had seen pictures of galaxies online. They had seen fake ones projected, they had seen simulations, they had seen art—not a single one of them looked like what they were seeing. They could imagine those all they wanted. They could think about them all day long, but they looked nothing like this, because this looked alive. Pictures were pretty. This? This was indescribable. They couldn’t words to it if they tried, and even if they could, Wes wasn’t sure if they could speak—there was some sort of joke there about space taking someone’s breath away. Usually they’d make it.
Not today.
Eventually, they said, “Oh. Those are- that’s- we’re in space. ”
“Better than an old planetarium, yeah?” The Doctor walked over to their side and stood next to them. “I’ve seen stars come and go here. Seen them born, seen them burn out. Different beauty every time.”
“That’s not- that's not how stars work, it takes millions of years to- oh,” Wes trailed off, looking up at him.
His eyes were old.
“She doesn’t only travel in space,” he said casually. “Then she’d just be any old spaceship.”
“Time travel?”
“Yup.”
“I thought that was impossible,” they said, and it occurred to them just how stupid that sounded.
The Doctor didn’t comment on it. Instead, “Maybe to you lot. Not to me, though!”
“You’re from the future?”
“Something like that.”
Before Wes could stop themself, they said, “You’re old, aren’t you.”
“What makes you say that? I was hoping I look young for my—”
“Your eyes are tired. You’ve either seen too much, or lived… lived…”
“Too long?” the Doctor said. He moved his hand just slightly—if Wes wanted to, they could have taken it.
They did. Softly, they said, “Yeah. That.”
The Doctor drew in a deep breath. Neither looked at each other. “There’s a lot to see out there, y’know. Loads. Some of it’s bad, sure, but there’s gotta be some good, right?”
Wes said nothing. They squeezed his hand instead—that said enough.
“I won’t say everything’s gonna be okay. That all the bad will just… vanish, that you’ll never feel like this again. That’s not fair, no one can promise that, and certainly not me. But there’s so much to see, ” he continued, “and so many people to meet, so many songs to hear, so many things to learn! And… and I won’t pretend that I know what’ll happen. How you’ll feel tomorrow and the next day and the day after that. I just know that the universe is full.
“I won’t break my promise. If you want to go back, I mean—that wasn’t a lie, it’s up to you.” He squeezed their hand back. “But you gotta ask yourself—do you really want to miss out on the universe?”
Wes could feel tears building. With their free hand, they wiped any potential tears away—the Doctor didn’t mention it. They… they appreciated that. “What if it doesn’t get better?”
“What if it does ?”
Do you really want to miss out on the universe?
…No. No, they… they didn’t.
“D’you want to find out?”
Wes drew in a shaky breath before letting go of his hand. They wiped their eyes again. This wasn’t meant to happen. They were supposed- this wasn’t —
The universe was waiting.
“Yeah. Yeah, I… I do.”
The universe was waiting. How could Wes sleep, knowing that?