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Qiao Yifan’s on his phone when it happens. He’s sitting on the grass with the rest of them, looking at his bright phone screen in the near pitch-black darkness. There’s a random song that’s playing in his earbuds, probably one that Yingjie had added to their shared playlist at some point.
“Look! Over there!” One of the people next to him calls out, and Qiao Yifan’s head snaps up, following the direction they're pointing in.
The stars, glittering in the night sky, are now backdropped by the faintest tint of color. They had come out to the fields an hour or so before, right when the sun dipped past the horizon. We should be able to see it in a bit, a girl had reassured them as she looked out excitedly.
They had haphazardly set out a picnic blanket, tossing a few snacks and drinks that they had brought along with them. Now, they were all settled on it, chatting and playing games with each other. That was, until one of the guys had drawn all of their attention to the endless expanse above them.
“It’ll be clearer if you take a picture with your phone,” one of the other girls says, her own device already lifted toward the sky. “You need to take it using long exposure too.”
The sound of rustling comes as they all shift around, either standing up or turning their body to take a look. Luckily, the moon had set a few hours earlier, leaving them in just the dim light of the stars. Qiao Yifan brings his phone up as well, tapping on his screen as he adjusts the brightness.
They say we’ll be able to see the northern lights today! One of his classmates had said during lecture earlier in the afternoon. Anyone down to go?
Of course, Qiao Yifan wasn’t going to pass up on the chance to see a phenomenon that rarely extended past the Arctic Circle, even if that meant staying up later than normal. It was worth it anyway, Qiao Yifan decides as he holds his phone in place for ten seconds, his eyes brightening as he sees the pronounced colors on his screen.
A ribbon of green, the edges tinted a pinkish-purple. It’s mesmerizing, the way it slowly waves across the sky. He watches it for a moment longer before he lowers his head again, tapping out a message to Gao Yingjie.
Qiao Yifan’s already smiling as he presses send on the image, watching the blue bar slowly inch across the top of his screen.
A fond expression passes over Qiao Yifan’s face as he texts Gao Yingjie back. Even though the two of them were practically inseparable during high school, Qiao Yifan had ultimately decided to go to a different university, because the college Gao Yingjie had applied and gotten into had a terrific botany program, but their astronomy program wasn’t as well known as Qiao Yifan’s current university.
When Qiao Yifan had confessed his plans to Gao Yingjie, the other wasn’t angry at all, just a little sad as he pulled Qiao Yifan into a hug. I’ll miss you, Gao Yingjie had said as he patted Qiao Yifan’s shoulder. But we can always meet up during break. Remember to text me a lot, okay? We can always keep in touch.
He didn’t show any anger or try to convince Qiao Yifan at all. He was always like that, wanting the best for both of them, but not wanting either of them to compromise if they didn’t have to.
Qiao Yifan agreed easily, promising that he’d text whenever possible. He had kept that promise, the two of them texting nearly every day. It was about anything and everything – what they ate for meals, what happened throughout the day, a stray cat that one of them spotted on the side of the road, a random flyer on a wooden pole.
A buzz from his phone snaps Qiao Yifan out of his reverie, a new text from Gao Yingjie sitting at the bottom of the screen.
Green has always been Gao Yingjie’s favorite color. He would always have a little green charm on his backpack, or have a green folder or notebook for his classes. If Qiao Yifan had to guess, a part of the reason Gao Yingjie had chosen to major in botany was because of the color of the plants.
On the other hand, Qiao Yifan has always had a fascination with space. He’s always been curious as to what’s beyond the Earth’s stratosphere. Thus, he liked deep blues and purples. Their color schemes seemed to match pretty well, Qiao Yifan thought sometimes.
Perhaps something like this was foreordained by nature, with the way their colors are represented as the cool hues on the color wheel, one blending into another. Or maybe the way they flow together, painting the sky with the aurora that waves across the sky like a flag in a small breeze.
It’s in moments like this that Qiao Yifan misses Gao Yingjie the most. He misses having someone he can just lean against and relax with, someone who he can talk to just to talk. Even if Gao Yingjie would probably go on an hour-long spiel about the newest plants he’s been researching, or some fun fact that Qiao Yifan would most definitely forget by the same time next week, he’d at least be able to enjoy the time that they’d spend together.
He taps his phone to turn on the screen again, about to send Gao Yingjie a text when one arrives first. It’s an image of a pressed purple flower, the photo taken in a place with bright lighting, most likely the lab. Qiao Yifan draws his phone closer to himself as he reads the text messages, his heart threatening to burst. It’s like Gao Yingjie’s able to read his mind, even if they’re separated by countless miles.
Just a few more weeks, Qiao Yifan thinks to himself. Just a few more weeks, then he’ll be able to go home, where Gao Yingjie is.
I’ve never seen two people as attached to each other as you guys are, one of his seniors in high school had said before. Qiao Yifan’s cheeks had colored at the comment. He didn’t think he was that clingy. It was just that Gao Yingjie was willing to be friends with him, even if he was a kid that didn’t speak much and was an easy target for people to bully.
When he brought it up to Gao Yingjie, the other had just shaken his head, smiling. So what? I don’t mind it at all. What we think is all that matters, isn’t it?
Somehow, Gao Yingjie made everything feel so easy and natural when the two of them were together. Even if they were both generally quiet people, they enjoyed each other’s presences, the two of them sometimes hanging out together just to sit in silence for a while. There was no pressure or obligation, just two boys who liked existing in each other’s circles.
Even now, in college, Qiao Yifan hasn’t found anyone whose presence he preferred over Gao Yingjie’s. Of course, if Gao Yingjie himself found someone that he likes hanging out with more, Qiao Yifan wouldn’t mind.
Well, he would, but it wouldn’t be his place to say anything. All he wishes for is the best for Gao Yingjie, anyway. But every time thoughts like this start to arise, they’re quickly quashed by Gao Yingjie’s messages. Maybe something like a simple, they were handing out cookies today! or I just passed by this place we used to hang out at.
Small, arbitrary texts that subtly show how out of all people he could go to, Gao Yingjie would choose him. Of course, Qiao Yifan shares this sentiment, most of his out-going texts being to Gao Yingjie.
“Yifan! Let’s start packing up. We should head back soon cause it’s getting late,” one of the boys next to him tapped his shoulder, Qiao Yifan looking up in surprise.
Most of the people around them had started packing away their food, chatting amongst themselves as some of them took a few more photos of the aurora. Qiao Yifan quickly gets off of the picnic blanket so that two of the other people can fold it up, tossing it into the back of one of the cars before slamming the trunk shut.
“We should do something like this again!” One of the girls grinned as she unlocked her car, the lights turning on inside. “This was fun.”
Noises of approval sound from the people around him as they started piling into their assigned cars, Qiao Yifan quickly squeezing into the back row and resting his head against the glass. Before long, the car engine roars to life, leaving the dark field behind.
One of them puts on a quiet song so that the car wouldn’t be left in complete silence, though most of the people in the car are talking to each other. Qiao Yifan looks out of the window, following the aurora with his eyes, watching it slip away.
He lowers his head to look at his screen, watching the cursor blink next to the unsent text. With one last glance outside, he lets out a soft sigh, pressing the send button and immediately locking his phone after. Perhaps one day he’ll have the courage to say the words that are truly on his mind.