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"The stars are like moles of the skin of the night, adorn the darkness, creating wastage of beauty."
"Your beautiful moles form a constellation. They provoke me to kiss and dedicate a song to them. Where I confess that I love you, and that you own my passion."
In between the dark green, vast blanket of trees, somewhere in the world, a quiet corner in the mountains where the population didn't care too much about. So isolated and alienated from the rest of the people. No trace of noise or smells the cities radiate invaded the pureness of this spot. Just white, clear tranquility.
It was early winter. A bright and cheerful morning arrived after the sun first peeked from behind the farthest hill. The sun by itself emanated joy, glee, hope — the weather didn't make it justice by being so cold.
The mountain air was refreshing, in the way peppermint makes your nose and throat clear out with its freshness. It appeared to feel scarcely warm under the rays of sunlight — though it was as cold as icicles around a houses' roof, or the dense carpet of snow lying underneath their feet.
The breeze hitting against the blushed skin of cheeks and noses was so light and carefree, gentle, yet strong and powerful. It filled every nook, touched every branch, caressed every petal of blossoming flowers such as pansies and violas, bundles of leaves hanging off ancient trees, walked over the wet dirt, slid through pine needles.
Those waves of breeze carried a bunch of different smells, and by paying close attention, you could concentrate on scents nobody would be able to ever smell down in the city; where the unpleasant soup of pollution, infected the naturality of what once was clear air.
The gentlest and subtlest of smells. The barely-there flowers surviving through the cold weather, or the raw and strong scent of wet mud, predominant over the others, almost clouding them but not quite. It all summed up as winter — the way winter up in the mountain must smell like.
Apart from them, it seemed there was no other soul within a wide range of hectares and hectares of endless trees. Besides the flora, which serves as the habitat of the fauna, not a single human being.
For once in their entire lives, they could actually take a breath, and not feel like you're consuming and taking in everyone's addition to that repulsive soup of stenches.
It took a couple of days before they arrived. Over the course of those days, they hiked and sneaked around the limitless, and quite scary, areas of the dark forest. Nothing stopped them from keeping going, until they spotted that sort-of cabin, where they finally settled.
Although it seemed no other person had put foot on there in ages, a single toe on those grounds, there had been. There was that cabin in between all those beautiful hectares of pure nature, invading the rows of trees.
A once promising construction had been left unfinished, resting there in the middle of nowhere, its wood deteriorating in the frosty environment. It didn't even have a roof, just four walls and apparently a floor, but it was completely covered in snow.
The reason for such a decision, leaving a project unfinished, was completely unknown. Maybe the fright of having animals lurking around the spot, ready to pay a visit — it's true some wolves howled in the depths of the forest, and some other birds made eerie sounds during the night — or something else completely.
Mother Nature would claim what was theirs at some point, making history of those four wooden walls — just not today, they could make use of it.
The snow seemed to have accumulated there, due to the lack of pines to cover the ground. The sight was marvelous, with no footprints on it, merely and utterly white with no traces of ever being stepped on. After a few boot-prints though, it still looked wonderful.
That tiny place, the half-cabin, had immediately become their home for their trip, where they at least had walls to protect them from the outside, instead of just the relatively thin material of the tents. Which would be then set in the middle of the cabin, above the significantly broad, snowy floor.
Neither of them discussed if it would be a nice and safe place to stay, they had already decided wordlessly. It really had everything they wished for in a hike — there were four walls to protect them, enough space to settle down and, a tremendously beautiful sight and environment, just perfect.
What had started as a spur of the moment kind of thing, which led them to adventure themselves in winter out of all weathers, now was as alluring and enticing as every other trip, if not more.
Winter arrived and it started as a bet from one of their closest friends, daring them to go hike into the forest at that time of the year. And still knowing how hazardous it was, they accepted, not because of the bet, they actually wanted to.
Brendon had always been the more intrepid and curious from them both, pushing to get that tiny extra dose of adrenaline. On the other hand, Ryan was more inclined towards the calmer side, but hoped on the risky adventures alongside Brendon — at least one of them had to have a foot on the ground, figuratively speaking.
The weather was slowly killing them, getting to their bones even though they wore layers and layers of clothes. And it still wasn't as cold as it could get, but getting there progressively. They could only imagine how much colder it got later on.
The fire had died down already, a few too many minutes ago after a long breeze swept over them, making a soft 'hush' sound as it rattled some fallen leaves. They had been talking about nothing in particular in front of the tiny campfire, but shut up after that — it appeared to be an indirect signal from mother nature for them to quiet down, stop disrupting the quietness.
In the following minutes, they wordlessly decided to lay down inside their tent, not having much more things to do, and especially, it was too cold and dark to stay outside with the fire long gone. Besides, the day after would be their last day up in the mountains — a few hours of sleep would be needed.
The tent was big enough for them to fit separately just fine. Yet the weather seemed to play an important part impeding that — instead, making them seek for that little to nothing, natural warmth coming from another body.
It wasn't cuddling per say, but they were as close as their completely thick-fabric-for-cold-days covered bodies allowed them to, one and a half inches away from sharing a pillow.
As it had become a part of their routine, they looked up at the minimal piece of sky displayed through their newly done window on the tent's roof. It really was a shame their bodies weren't used to such an extreme environment, because they'd go as far as sleeping on the mere ground in the middle of nowhere, just so they could get the most real, almost tangible, grasp of the sky.
The darkness above them was the same as always, no remarkable change from night to night, but that wasn't reason enough to stop being amazed by the beauty of it.
The profound, rich, dark blue blanket was covered with endless splashes of glitter — sparkly dots that could become something much more meaningful, after drawing lines in between, connecting them, forming infinite constellations.
The mornings were brilliant and perfect, sure, but the nights... They surpassed the beauty of mornings to an extent, passing by even calmer and serene; complete and utter silence if it weren't for the sudden owl making noise, or some other creature moving around.
It was so quiet they started to believe they could listen to the stars make some kind of noise, a tiny sound as they twinkled in the night sky. After all, it made sense, in a way.
The stars could be trying to communicate in their own language — twinkling, shining brighter or not doing it at all. Just doing something instead of keeping still as if they were forever painted on a canvas, in hopes to transfer a message.
Though everything was a fragment of their imagination. There were no stars twinkling out loud, nor making sounds in a specific pattern following a weird, cosmic version of morse code. It simply was their subconscious trying to fill in the blanks of the comforting yet unnerving silence — it was fun to let the mind wander for a second.
At least that's what Ryan thought, and he hoped Brendon felt it too. He didn't exactly consider it a childish thing, stars acting just like they do in some cartoons, talking and even singing. The whole thing had to be far more complex than a song made for toddlers to sing.
Maybe the stars really were trying to communicate with both of them — the entire world, even — letting people know something they only know, that maybe they couldn't even bring themselves to believe.
And maybe that's why he only hears it now, feels and understands such connections. The intimacy of the place, the vivid image of the sky staring right back at him, nothing but pure, raw nature surrounding him.
Most probably the loudness and brightness of the city didn't allow this. The stars weren't hidden by all the lights from buildings and vehicles, being the only source of it at the moment, and no waves of sounds mixing and blurring the message they try to communicate.
The thing was, what would they be trying to say?
Ryan acknowledged this small issue. If it were true the astros were trying to tell him something, he had no way of knowing what it was. He could only hope for a sort of sign, a real and tangible sign — not only the low humming of the wind as a 'stay quiet', but more.
But nothing happened. No small voice spoke at the back of his mind, nor a tiny fairy appeared by his side over his shoulder, splashing some glittery thing over him to try and help him. He expected as much — maybe he was thinking too much.
As if on cue, Brendon whispered, voice so quiet and delicate nobody would have been able to hear him, if it weren't for the fact his lips were right beside Ryan's left ear. "Stop thinking — too loud."
Ryan startled in the slightest, not knowing just how much closer Brendon had gotten, almost pressed up against him and using his shoulder as a pillow. For a moment, Ryan couldn't be sure if his body shivered from the cold, or reacted to the way Brendon's words sounded so soft and sweet whispered in his ear.
Also, he didn't know what Brendon meant by those words. Ryan wasn't exactly talking out loud, but maybe his thoughts were — like listening to music so loud with headphones on that even other people are able to hear it. Either way, it was just another one of Brendon's sentences — short and not too clear — and Ryan was already used to them.
Nonetheless, it made him stop thinking, and he felt suddenly grateful he had gotten the reminder for it — although it was becoming a little unnerving the amount of times he needed a reminder. Ryan answered a tiny 'thanks', casting a shy glance at the boy by his side.
Everything was just so dark, almost pitch black if it weren't for the faintest light coming from the small window — partially casting over Brendon's delicately-traced-at-some-point-by-Ryan blushed features, taking a pale grey color instead of the usual pinkish, underneath the moonlight.
"Just helping. Wouldn't want you to get a permanent frown." Brendon responded so easily, shrugging; a tad away from being dismissively. But it wasn't dismissive, it was simple, a reassuring gesture even.
Ryan caught Brendon smiling after they had made brief eye contact, which also brought one toothy smile to his face. Maybe Brendon had already figured out what Ryan couldn't, or maybe he had known all along, but wasn't saying anything.
Brendon's eyes glinted, reflecting some of the stars glow above them. But Ryan couldn't stop and admire just how beautiful Brendon's dark eyes looked with the sky reflected on them for too long, for the boy had already returned to look back at the night sky — not bothering to move and lay on his back, but more confident to fully lay his head on Ryan's arm.
The small touch. The consistent weight of Brendon's head resting upon his arm. It had to be the proximity. Longish strands of rich brown hair falling over his head, tickling Ryan's neck featherly light. Skin suddenly felt warmer, tingling under layers of fabric. Everything grew warmer, cozier.
The look of Brendon's eyes had meant something, Ryan concluded. The way the sky was shown on them, giving it a careful shine; like a thin coat of enamel over a wooden furniture for the final touch.
No longer afraid of the outcome, Ryan brought one calloused fingertip to the bridge of Brendon's nose, gently moving the digit to caress the creases of his forehead. Feeling the skin, cold and a little dry from the icy winter air.
Brendon frown deepened slightly, confused, but didn't mind the touch. If anything, curled up to Ryan's side even further, closing his eyes.
Though it wasn't visible in the darkness, Ryan could perfectly see every single one of Brendon's light brown freckles. They dotted his blushed cheeks beautifully, resembling the granulated cinnamon of a snickerdoodle cookie, almost invisible, passing by unnoticed, but present if you look closely.
While Ryan traced the outline of Brendon's eyelid, he came across the tiny mark resting there, two shades darker than the rest of them — couldn't see it with the lack of light, but could visualize it in his mind so clearly, fingertip working as a microscope with no need of an extra light.
A light breeze of realization settled down over Ryan in the form of a warm breath out of Brendon's mouth. Though it didn't come across with Ryan directly, he understood it — took it as the first, long gulp of air after running a marathon and crossing the finishing line, with the knowledge of 'I did it' clear in his mind.
Ryan felt a percentage more confident than he would have been any other day. Being under the presence of the star's eyes made him feel so vulnerable, so open, yet it was so thrilling. Anything he thought or did would be registered by them — but there wouldn't be a need to hide under their persistent eyes, for they already knew.
His lips craved it. The fingertip drawing invisible patterns over Brendon's dotted skin with brownish constellations, came to a stop just above his eyebrow, itching with tiny bolts of something. They really couldn't be any more close to one another, but Ryan needed to be.
Brendon wasn't asleep, nor dozing off, Ryan noted. After his eyelid had jumped slightly, a minimal twitch motion after the soft touch of Ryan's thin lips came in contact with it in a sweet angel kiss. The friction caused by the stubble around Ryan's mouth with Brendon's skin feeling like electricity running over them.
It had been the tiniest of kisses. But Ryan had left a silent promise right there, resting on top of Brendon's closed eyelids. And Brendon got it, lips curling upwards a couple of milimitters. Understood it even if Ryan wasn't sure himself what had been.
There had to be a reason for everything. Minimal things such as why their noses get colder than the rest of their faces. Or, going even further as to why they are even there in the first place.
The bet could have been planned all along, as well as the exact location they'd settle, or finding the cabin — but not exactly by their friend, something much bigger.
Ryan was grateful for it, whatever it was. He felt like he was finally settling down after a long journey of years and years of waiting — complete. A sense of closure, that wasn't the end of nothing, but the mere beginning.
He smiled to himself afterwards. He knew he had done the right thing — both of them did.