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The dark sky can tell a million different stories, all from things it has seen and experienced. Stars like eyes, watching over everything from friendships forming and destroying, true loves realized and broken relationships ended, to even simple events that would be categorized as basic human memories. Sometimes, the stars would shine extra bright for these humans, showing them that they are watching, and they care about what happens. The humans, in return, would admire the stars, backs against the cool grass as they watched them twinkle and shoot across the sky.
Two boys walked across a beach, feet close to the shoreline as they got wet from the cool waves crashing. Light laughter filled the humid air, echoing into the night. Laughter turned to sweet giggles as the boys bumped shoulders, looking at each other through their lashes, and giggling again once their eyes locked. The older of the two had raven black hair, blending into the dark sky—if it weren’t for the moonlight reflecting off the ocean and brightening the ends of his hair, it would have completely been absorbed into the dark nothingness. The other boy, whom was taller, seemed to watch the shorter one with such excitement, eagerly wanting to experience everything he did, and not wanting to miss a thing. His dimple deepened every time his smile stretched wider and wider, looking down at the raven-haired boy and eyes sparkling fondly.
The stars sparkled, but they seemed insignificant compared to the stars that were in the boys’ eyes as they looked at each other with wide smiles and breathless giggles and everything seemed perfect and wonderful.
“You are such a weirdo!” The dimpled one says, doubled over laughing loudly at something the older boy said. His words seemed to be the opposite of how he felt.
“Come on, don’t tell me you’ve never thought of what kind of owners you’d have if you were a dog!” The older one said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.
“No, Phil,” The dimpled one chuckled. “You’re the only one.”
“Fine, but you know what I always say Dan…” Phil’s voice dragged a bit, as if waiting for the other boy to respond, which he did.
“I know, I know. ‘Normalness leads to sadness.’” Dan shake his head a bit, smile wider than ever. “You are definitely not normal.”
“And I’m definitely not sad.” Phil quips, eyebrows raised slightly.
“No…” Dan says softly. “No you’re not.”
The boys walk in silence for a bit longer, the humid air taking up the space where their words were before, and filling them with a need to speak once again, to rid themselves of the thick air.
“Let’s sit here!” Phil announces, taking a form of residency right by the shoreline, feet sticking out towards the ocean and watching as the waves come up to touch his ankles, then return back into the water. Dan shrugs, sitting down next to the boy and leaning back on his hands, arms outstretched. They both of them talked for a few more minutes, conversation loose and ever-changing, going from one strange topic to the next. Phil was the one mostly starting the conversations, Dan seemed to find more interest in the way Phil’s mouth moved as he talked, quirking upwards every time he said a weird pun, or how his tongue would poke out at the corner of his mouth when he was about to laugh.
It wasn’t what Phil said that made Dan swoon, it was how he said it. How he could turn any bad situation and make it funny or even exciting. A superpower Dan was sure he believed didn’t exist for the first 18 years of his life. Dan smiles, leaning towards Phil slightly to bump his shoulder with his own, watching as Phil’s normally translucent skin turn bright pink. He gives Phil one last look before leaning down to lay completely on the sand. It wasn’t long till Phil followed suit, laying with one arm behind his head and the other between him and Dan, looking up at the stars.
Dan’s hands were at his side, fingers twitching to move ever so slightly to graze Phil’s. His heart was screaming at his body to do it, to take the other boy’s hand in his own and hold it softly. It was his mind that was telling him no, telling him that Phil wouldn’t like it, and that he didn’t feel that way about him.
So he didn’t. The space between their hands felt like galaxies away, yet he was still able to feel the heat radiating from Phil’s body, so he knew the other boy wasn’t far.
“Have you ever thought ‘bout the kind of things stars have seen?” Phil’s voice was soft, almost absorbed into the air around him, but Dan caught it before it could. He’ll admit, he almost laughed in the boy’s face, had it not been for the serious tone Phil delivered that question with, like he was honestly considering that stars were living beings.
“Again Phil, you’re the only one.” Dan replies instead, turning his head slightly to see Phil’s reaction.
“Really!” Phil whined slightly, as if he actually wants Dan to think about this topic and not just write it off as a typical ‘Phil’ question. “I mean, everyone sees stars. And all the stars in the universe are the same, meaning every person has seen the same star. Who’s to say the stars haven’t seen us?!”
“Because stars can’t see anything… They’re just balls of energy and light. They don’t have a concept of sight or understanding.” Dan explains, watching as Phil’s face falls a bit as he took in what the other boy said.
“Yeah, you’re right…” They were silent once again.
“You wanna know something though?” Dan asks after what felt like an eternity of screaming silence. Phil hums in response, turning his head to face Dan again. His bright blue eyes seemed transparent, too light to register in Dan’s mind. All he could see where the reflections of millions of stars that seemed to shine through the light irises. “If stars could see, they’d be looking at you.”
“And how’d you know that?” Phil asked, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.
Dan’s pretty sure his mind shut down after that, as he just replies effortlessly, “Cause I can see all of them in your eyes.” His mind finally caught up to what his said, and his eyes widened in shock, hand covering his mouth as if to take back the words he’d released.
Phil didn’t seem that bothered by it, as he just laughs cutely and lightly shoves Dan while letting out a breathy, “Shut up!”, so Dan decides to laugh along with him, hoping that would make his heart stop pounding in his chest.
It didn’t.
The stars didn’t stop glistening, but Dan was no longer paying attention to them. His eyes were too busy scanning Phil’s face, lips forming a thin line, then releasing them as he watched everything Phil did: the way his chest rose and fell with every deep breath he took, his teeth biting his lower lip subconsciously. Everything the older boy did seemed important to Dan, his eyes hungry to absorb everything. His lip twitching upwards as he watches Phil stare up at the stars, like they were the most beautiful beings in the world.
Dan would certainly beg to differ, as he was the one looking at the most beautiful being in the world.
Call it courage, but Dan felt his hand twitch again, looking down at it move towards Phil’s, tentatively reaching out for it. His pointer finger grazed over the side of Phil’s pinkie finger, looking up at Phil to gage his reaction. Phil’s face didn’t show any sign of rejection, but it also didn’t show any sign of approval either. Dan’s finger froze in it’s place, waiting for Phil to react, do something!
Like lightning, bright and sudden, Phil’s hand covered Dan’s, his long fingers intertwining with Dan’s. Without even turning his head to look at Dan, Phil’s mouth stretches out into a smile, eyes fixated on the night sky. Dan’s face felt hot, obviously beginning to blush deeply. His free hand covered his face embarrassedly, only getting worse after hearing the beautiful sound of Phil’s laugh.
“You know, I find your apprehension quite cute and endearing.” Phil’s voice sounded light and breathless, like he’s been holding the air in his lungs for a countless amount of time.
Dan couldn’t help the grin that split his face in two.
Twinkling lights above them, the stars observed them, seeming to glow brighter with every giggle or fond look the boys gave each other. And when the older of the two leaned in slowly—his free hand cupping the other’s face, thumb stroking lightly against his cheek—fitting his lips perfectly against the other, the stars emitted so much light, their faces glowing under the starlight.
Their story, like the stories of those before them (and even after them) was written in the lines connecting the stars; a constellation, brightly reminding them of this night forever.