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He shivers as the cool night’s breeze creeps underneath his undone coat and he draws the fabric further in on himself with frozen fingers. Snow crunches beneath his boots as he walks – he hasn’t bothered to tie the laces. He won’t be out here for long.
Soft, fat white flakes glow ephemerally in the moonlight. Like little falling stars. He can almost believe they are such. Slowly, he outstretches a hand and allows one to fall onto his palm, watching with a sad smile as it melts within seconds. Fleeting moments. Time is passing too fast for him now, his life fading away like a snowflake in one’s hand.
With a sigh he cranes his neck upwards, and it hurts a bit to do so but he doesn’t care. The glittering lights against the backdrop of darkness; he feels the tension in his body melt away at the sight of it. He inhales, a full breath of crisp, winter air.
There are footsteps behind him but he doesn’t turn around. He knows who it is, and he doesn’t startle when a hand is placed on his shoulder and a voice says, “Hey.”
His head still tilted back, Malcolm closes his eyes. “Hey.”
“What are you doing out here at this hour?”
Malcolm shrugs.
The hand runs down his arm, their fingers interlacing. His hand is warm. “You’re gonna catch a cold,” Trip says.
“That’s a myth,” Malcolm points out.
Trip squeezes his hand. “You know what I mean.”
Malcolm doesn’t respond. He knows the risks, he knows how much more vulnerable he is to illnesses thanks to the incident they dare not speak of. The incident that permanently benched him; and by extension Trip, the engineer unwilling to leave his lover on Earth alone.
“I miss it too,” Trip says into the silence.
At that, Malcolm drops his head and stares into Trip’s blue eyes, blue as ice, blue as the daytime sky. “So why did you leave?”
“Don’t.” Trip’s lips purse into a thin line. “Don’t do this right now.”
“Sorry.”
Then they’re quiet again, Malcolm shivering in his clothes unfit for a midwinter’s night and Trip next to him, a puffy jacket thrown over his pyjamas, providing all the heat Malcolm needs.
With his free hand, Malcolm stretches his arm above his head, reaching, and more snowflakes fall into his palm but that’s not what he wants. He wants to touch the sky, he wants to take as many stars as he can and put them in his pocket. He wants to go back up and explore. He knows he’ll die if he does, he knows it’s impossible for life to return to the way it was, but he try as he might he cannot get rid of the ache deep in his chest for the times that were.
He can feel his vision begin to darken and the world spins around him. Finally, his legs fail him and he falls into a heap, and Trip is there to catch him, holding him, and his body is warm and Malcolm leans into him. “Why don’t we go back inside?” Trip suggests.
Malcolm smiles, still staring at the sky. “The stars look a lot smaller from here.”
There is silence for a moment.
“Yeah,” Trip says softly. “They do.”