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They were no stranger to nights on the road by this point. Stars were awake at night, and gradually Ryoma had managed to shift his sleep schedule to something a bit later—it was easier than forcing Xander to stay awake during the day, easier than carrying him for half of it. It was also safer to travel under cover of darkness; everyone else was holed up in cozy taverns and roadhouses, eating hot meals and sleeping in lumpy beds. Ryoma and Xander had long since learned to avoid those places.
Ryoma’s clothes were still bloody from the last time they’d made that mistake—a woman in a roadhouse, armed with a dull knife, determined to carve out Xander’s heart and eat it to gain the immortality within.
And just as Xander had been recovering, too. It hadn’t been long since they’d run into Garon—the star Xander called his father, fallen and going dark. It had been even less time since Xander had attempted to go back to Garon, to let his father tear his heart out. Ryoma shivered, remembering how he’d found Xander—alone, unharmed, but so eerily distant, like the night was curling in around him. If Ryoma hadn’t realized he was gone… If Xander had actually made it back to Garon…
That darkness hadn’t quite left Xander. He’d never been one for small talk, but there were moments when something cheered him, when he felt comfortable or happy, and he was wrapped in the soft glow of starlight. A funny story, a gentle touch, warm reassurances, the memory of his sibling stars in the constellation he fell from, having his hair stroked until he fell asleep…Ryoma took note of all the little things that made Xander glow, saved them up for when they were away from prying eyes, and did his best to keep him happy. To see that smile, the way he covered his mouth when he laughed, the softening of his brow when he looked at Ryoma.
But the moments when Xander withdrew into his thoughts, when he needed Ryoma to coax him to his feet and do simple tasks, when he spoke as if he had no future or worth, when he tried to convince Ryoma to take his heart as payment for saving his life—these episodes were occurring more frequently of late. Xander had loved humanity once, had watched them fondly from the heavens; he might’ve hated them now. That disillusionment had altered him in some invisible way, and there were times when Ryoma could’ve sworn the world dimmed around him. They had stagnated in their search for a way to return Xander to the sky, and though Ryoma selfishly dreaded the moment he’d lose Xander forever, each day that passed without answers felt like a broken promise.
He should have seen it coming.
Xander stopped suddenly, staring up at the stars above with a wistful, hopeless look in his eyes. Ryoma watched him sway slightly. Then, without warning, Xander slumped, weak-kneed and short of breath.
“Xander?!” Ryoma lunged and caught him. “What’s wrong?”
But Xander didn’t—couldn’t?—answer. There was no mistaking it this time—what little light there was seemed to vanish the closer it got to Xander. Ryoma drew Xander’s arm across his shoulders and encircled his waist and kept walking, scanning for...what? There was nothing around, nothing except…
“Come on, Xander, keep going,” he gasped. “Just to that barn there, okay? Then you can rest.”
There was a farmhouse close by, which made Ryoma nervous; it was late, but not that late, and with Xander like this he couldn’t even run if things got bad.
They made it to the barn. Ryoma tried to open the doors; the hinges squealed as if they had never seen a lick of grease. He swore under his breath.
The sound of a door behind him made him whip around, shifting Xander in his arms to put himself in front. Xander held on weakly and groaned. His brow was slick against Ryoma’s neck.
A pair of women were coming from the farmhouse, one middle-aged, the other perhaps of an age with Ryoma’s brother, maybe younger. Mother and daughter? The older woman frowned and crossed her arms. “What have we here? A couple of ne’er-do-wells stealin' into my barn?” She pulled up short, eyed Ryoma’s clothes. “What’s all that mess from? And what’s wrong with him? He sick?”
“No,” Ryoma said, unable to keep the panic from his voice. “He’s hurt. He just needs to rest.”
“You sure? If he gets blood on my hay—”
“We won’t be any trouble. Please, there’s nowhere else to go, and we left our bedrolls in the last town—”
The woman sighed. “Fine, you can stay one night. But if someone comes a-knockin’, I won’t stick my neck out for ya, ya hear?” She turned to the younger woman. “Mozu, bring them some stew—”
“No!” Too forceful. They were staring. Ryoma held Xander tightly and cleared his throat. “We’ve eaten. Please don’t trouble yourselves.”
The woman squinted, but didn’t press the matter. “Well, holler if ya need anythin’.”
They left, and Ryoma all but carried Xander inside. He placed him gently on a pile of hay, dropped everything he was carrying on his back beside it. He checked to be sure no one was outside, then shut the doors tightly and rushed to Xander’s side. He looked awful, pale and sweaty, adrift in a haze.
There was only one thing he could think to do. Ryoma pulled aside Xander’s coat and shirt, revealing the scars Garon had left trying to claw his son’s heart out.
The skin above his heart was drawing in light, just as Garon’s had been. A faint flickering, like a dying candle, was all that remained at the center.
“No,” Ryoma breathed. “No, Xander, why is this happening? What do I do?”
Xander returned from whatever fog he’d been lost in at the sound of his name. He took Ryoma’s hand—the right one, the one with the scar like forked lightning that twisted up his arm to his shoulder, still ugly months after he’d acquired it saving Xander’s life the first time—and, in a sickeningly familiar gesture, pressed it firmly against his chest, directly over his heart.
Take it, he was saying.
Ryoma ripped his hand away. “No. I told you, I’m going to get you home.”
Xander shook his head. “Before...too late...”
“I already told you, I don’t want immortality. I want you to live. Gods, Xander, you’re worth so much more than—”
“Than anything?” A weak, humorless chuckle. “Anything…you could see and do it all…”
“Nothing in an infinite number of lifetimes would be worth killing you.”
“You deserve it,” said Xander. “More than me. Even Father knew...this is all I’m worth.”
Ryoma growled. That man had been their best chance of restoring Xander to his place in the firmament, and all he’d cared about was taking Xander’s heart to replace his dying one...and here was Xander, on the verge of dying himself, and his only thought was for Ryoma. What terrible gods presided over the world, to let a star like this fall to earth and experience nothing but cruelty?
Tears gathered in his eyes, threatening to spill over. He lay beside Xander in the hay, ignoring the way it scratched at his face and hands to pull Xander close. Xander sighed, eyes drifting closed as he raised a hand and brushed his fingers along Ryoma’s jaw until they rested feather-light against his neck. His hair tried to glow, but even the light of his comfort didn’t escape the black hole in his chest. Ryoma held him tight, tighter than he’d ever held anyone, cradling Xander’s head as he pressed a kiss to the bridge of his nose.
“Stay with me, love,” he whispered. “Don’t leave me yet.”
Keep beating, little light, he thought desperately. Keep him alive for me. Don’t let him die…
Gods only knew how long they lay there, holding each other, just breathing; long enough for Ryoma’s willpower to crumble and tears to flow. Xander’s breath hitched and, for a long world-shattering moment, stopped. Then, tentatively, it started again. Dare he hope that it was coming easier? No…but as time passed, the darkness seemed to ease, and Xander began to glow. It was weak at first, easy to miss; but it grew into a halo, spreading throughout his body, until despite the joy kindling within his own chest Ryoma was forced to roll atop Xander and smother the light with his body, pressing him gently into the hay and praying the walls would contain the soft starlight. He’d never shone so brilliantly before. Ryoma thought it might just be the most beautiful thing he’d ever see.
“Are you…?” Okay? Better? Safe? It all felt too flippant for what they’d just gone through.
“I…I think so.” The ever-present crease between Xander’s brows grew deeper. “I don’t know how, though…”
Ryoma let his forehead rest against Xander’s. “All that matters to me is that you’re alive and safe. Now, rest. We’ll have time for hows and whys later.”
A tremendous squeal ripped through the quiet. Ryoma whipped around, mind racing. Even now, with Xander’s glow dimming, the barn was so unnaturally illuminated that denying it was a lost cause.
The young woman, Mozu, slipped inside, closing the door firmly behind her. “S-sorry to bother ya, but...is everythin’ all right?”
“Yes.” Ryoma was sure she could hear his heart pounding from across the barn. He slid his hand casually as he could to the discarded packs beside them and the sheath that lay there, cursing himself for not thinking to hide the sword more cleverly. He didn’t want to have to kill this young woman or her mother, but if it came down to it, he would choose Xander every time.
Mozu noticed the movement and gulped. “U-um… Y-you don’t have to…”
“Forgive me,” said Ryoma. “I’ve met one too many liars to trust that you come unarmed and in good faith.”
“But I do! I promise, I ain’t here to hurt neither of ya!”
Xander sat up and shook his head bitterly. “They always say that. But humans always want something of me.” He cast an apologetic glance at Ryoma. “All but one,” he added under his breath.
She hesitated. “Well…I guess there is somethin’ I want. Wolves attacked our cows last month, and we lost our last milkin’ cow a few weeks ago. Could use another one somethin’ fierce. But that ain’t somethin’ worth killin’ over! And Da’s been gone so long, he’s probably gotten real comfy in the afterlife. Wouldn’t want us killin’ to bring him back, neither.”
“...What are you talking about?” asked Xander.
In a voice so quiet that Ryoma had to lean in, Mozu said, “Well, everyone ‘round these parts knows that a star’s heart can grant wishes! But Ma and I talked about it, and there ain’t nothin’ anyone could want so bad that it’d excuse killin’ someone like that. And even if that weren’t the case, it’s not like takin’ your heart would do us any good, what with the wishes being claimed and all.”
“I...wishes? Claimed?” Ryoma’s head was spinning. He knew his knowledge of stars and magic was lacking; he’d come from beyond the wall, and had to learn quickly to protect himself and Xander and use the sword without nearly killing himself again. But Xander had never mentioned wishes, only immortality, and he seemed just as confused.
“I mean… You’re in love, aren’tcha? So in a way, you’ve already won his heart. And a star’s only got one wish to give. What did ya wish for, if ya don’t mind me askin’? Or is that too personal?”
“I...um.” Had he wished for something? Was that what had happened? They looked at each other, and Ryoma could practically see the thoughts churning in Xander’s head.
“Um…” Mozu shifted her weight, seeming to realize that she’d said too much, but not what exactly it was. “I know ya said ya were fine out here, but we’ve got a bed ya can use. It’s much nicer than some dirty ol’ hay, and there’s a lock on the inside—Da was the best locksmith around. You’re welcome to it.” Then she slipped back out the door.
“What was it you called me?” Xander asked in a quiet voice. “Love?”
Ryoma turned away to hide his blush. “Let’s...let’s go inside. If it seems sketchy we’ll leave.”
Xander hummed, and took Ryoma’s hand as they followed Mozu at a distance into the house.
There was food waiting for them, and clean clothes, and Mozu’s mother didn’t question when Xander asked that she take a sip of his water before he would drink it. The windows were already drawn in the room they’d been given—Mozu’s, it seemed, with a bed that would require them to squeeze to fit, and a sturdy lock on the inside that Xander turned immediately. And then there was nothing to do to postpone the question.
“Did you mean it?”
“...Yes. I did. Is that okay?”
A hint of smile graced Xander’s lips—a rare expression, alien to him, but one he’d been adopting more and more as he spent time around Ryoma. He started to glow. “I liked it. I liked it very much.” The glow pulsed; Xander’s cheeks grew red, and he pressed a hand over one as if to hide it. “I would not mind if you called me it again.”
Ryoma felt warm and fuzzy, like Xander’s light had settled in his chest and built a home there. “I’ll say it as many times as you wish, love.” Wish…right. “Ah, Xander, do you know what Mozu meant when she talked about wishes?”
“I’ve never heard of it before,” said Xander, “but...the magic contained within the heart of a star is potent. It would not be unthinkable for someone to channel that magic for something other than immortality, at the time of its consumption.”
Ryoma shuddered. He still found it hard to grasp, that so many people could see Xander as nothing more than an avenue to eternal life at the expense of his own.
“So...perhaps there is some merit to what she said,” Xander continued. “I think I have loved you from the moment you turned down immortality. Perhaps I loved you even before that. That night in the bar, when those men tried to kill me...I sat with them because seeing you surrounded by fawning men and women caused me to dim.” He looked away, ashamed. “Something broke in me that night, but you were there. You’ve been there from the start.”
“I was awful to you when we first met.” He’d been stupid; he’d seen Xander as little more than a curiosity, to be chained and dragged home. Everything beyond the wall was so different from what he knew, but that was no excuse.
“But you were there,” said Xander, “and you saved me when no one else would. And now you’ve done it again. I was lost in despair, Ryoma, and even with the most important person in my life beside me, I couldn’t see picture a life where I was happy. Whatever you did…I don’t think I would have surfaced without it.”
Ryoma closed his eyes. “I think...I might’ve wished for you to live. To...stay with me.” A horrible thought occurred to him. “Dammit… Xander, if that’s what it was, I’m so sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?”
“Because I could’ve wished for you to be home again. Xander, what if that was our only chance? What if I’ve chained you to me again? I promised you would keep your heart and get home. Instead I made a selfish wish, and you’re still trapped here…”
Xander took Ryoma’s hand and pulled him close. This time, when he pressed their hands together over his heart, it wasn’t an offer. “Ryoma...let’s stop searching.”
“What? No, don’t say that! You belong in the sky, with your family, watching over all of us for however long stars live. I love you, Xander, so much, but if I kept you from that I couldn’t bear it.”
Xander shook his head. “You don’t see it, do you? There are a trillion worse fates in this world than to live a mortal life with you.” This close, the glow was a halo, softening all of Xander’s sharp edges. It was warm and comforting, and it drew Ryoma in, made him almost wish he could melt into it and become a part of Xander.
“What do stars call the one they love?” he asked.
“I do not think we have such a word. I have only ever known those around me as my family. Love in this sense is new to me.” Xander cradled Ryoma’s face, gazing at him with such tenderness that it stole the air from Ryoma’s lungs. “I have fallen to earth, and I have fallen in love, and though love was no soft landing, I would fall for you over and over until the end of time.”
Ryoma swallowed the lump in his throat. “And I would fall for you,” he said, barely a whisper. “I love you, Xander. More than I can describe.” He leaned in, and Xander closed his eyes, and when they kissed Xander glowed even brighter than before, the brightest he had ever been.
They squeezed into the bed, fitting themselves together like puzzle pieces in the way they had become accustomed to, with Xander on his back and Ryoma half atop him on the side where Xander’s heart resided—a defensive posture, a deterrent to would-be ambushers in places where they weren’t sure of their safety, when they weren’t certain who would sleep and who would keep watch. There was no fear in it this time. They lay there, safe and happy, holding each other and murmuring sweet words. In the early hours of the morning, Ryoma finally fell asleep, beautiful in the starlight with his ear pressed to Xander’s chest.
Xander watched him sleep, as he did most nights, and found a new fascination in the flutter of his lids and the rise and fall of his back—aglow with the knowledge that Ryoma’s heart was his, and his Ryoma’s.