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It doesn’t take long for a streak of light to cross the sky, crossing the light of the stars with something even brighter. Jun traces it with a finger as it goes.
“See, Tacchi?” he says, breath visible in the cold air. “I told you they’d be bright tonight.”
He’s got one hand in Tatsuya’s, slowly inching closer and closer over time to take advantage of his boyfriend’s body heat. Tatsuya had known Jun would be freezing in the November air, but he’d wanted to see the Leonids at their peak, and this November had been snowless and slightly warmer than usual.
The park wasn’t supposed to be open at this time, but they took advantage of the flat grass anyway, knowing nobody ever came to check.
Jun’s bangs were blocking his eye, as usual, and Tatsuya half wanted to push them away so he could see better. At the same time, though, there was something about watching Jun in his element that he didn’t want to ever interrupt.
Already, he was watching another meteor form a glowing streak between two distant stars, its light dim and barely visible. “That one, right there, is Pegasus,” he says, pointing to a cluster of stars that looks like nothing to Tatsuya. “It almost looked like he was running on something for a second, instead of just flying like always. I’m sure he would have appreciated the break.”
“I’m sure,” replies Tatsuya, because as little as he usually speaks he doesn’t like leaving Jun with nothing but empty air, and there’s always been something so comfortable about talking around him.
For a while, they just sit and watch the sky in peace. Jun had been right: the meteor shower was at its peak that night, and it was evident in the constant streaks of light through the stars. It felt like Jun pointed out two more that Tatsuya missed every time he blinked.
The night was cold, but Jun’s hand in his was warm, always warm.
After a while, he stops watching the stars, and just starts watching Jun. Tatsuya can see the night sky any night he wants to, but he can only see Jun when they’re together, and there’s only so much time for that. He wants to absorb the way Jun smiles, the way he laughs, the tiny crinkles that form at the corners of his eyes, his hand in Tatsuya’s.
“Tacchi?” Jun rolls over to face him instead of the stars, eyes meeting his. “You’re missing the meteors.”
“I know,” he says, and he smiles.
It’s easy for Jun to lean over and kiss him, just like it always has been. It’s easy for Tatsuya to cup a hand around his face, leaning in further. He thinks he could get lost in these tiny moments. He wishes they would last forever.
Eventually, they break apart. Jun smiles, still laying in the grass.
“You’re missing the meteors,” says Tatsuya.
“I know,” replies Jun. “This view is good too, though.”
From his pocket, he slips something into Tatsuya’s hand— a single daisy, perfectly cut, pressed and preserved so it will never wilt. He doesn’t know how Jun always keeps them so pristine, because his tiny attempts at returning the favor have always ended up crumpled when he pulls them out.
“It’s getting a bit late, don’t you think?” says Jun, pushing himself back upright in the grass. He’s right; by the look of the sky, it’s almost 2 AM. As much as he’d like to sit here forever, he needs to sleep eventually.
Tatsuya tucks Jun’s daisy into his coat pocket to keep it safe on the trip home. There’s nothing he’d hate more than to ruin it.