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The soft glow of blue woke him up. At first, he tried to ignore it. His other half must've been awake, practicing magic or using a light to read; that was the only explanation Pure Vanilla could think of as sleep still clung to his head.
When the light didn't go away, he let out a groan before turning on his side to face where his other half was.
"Shadow Milk, what's wrong?" He asked, peeling open his eyes even if it would be useless to see in his blurred vision. "Why are you-"
Then he saw it, and any words that would've formed fell silent as a sense of awe overwhelmed him.
An ocean of stars lay before him, flowing like waves. Constellations shifting and forming in the blue light like a personal map of the universe.
It was beautiful, and he could see it. The blur in his eyes didn't ruin the elegance of the blue starlight. It was the first time he could see something so clearly without the help of his staff in years, centuries even.
He reached out a hand. He yearned to touch it, to make sure the stars were real, that this wasn't just a fabrication of his tired mind.
The tips of his fingers felt the soft strands of the galaxy before him. It felt like hair. The strands subconsciously began to wrap around from his fingers down to his wrist, like they were trying to keep him from leaving. Pure Vanilla ran his hands up and down his hair, caressing it. The larger stars seemed to shift to make way for his hand while the smaller ones got caught in his dough.
Suddenly, the thought and realization finally hit him. This was Shadow Milk's hair. He froze for a moment, expecting a sharp remark, a jab, or anything regarding how "he couldn't keep his touchy hands to himself," and then he'd lose the comfort of another with him.
Quickly, he jerked his hand back. He felt a sting of guilt for touching Shadow Milk without asking for permission. When his hand pulled away, it was covered in a glittery remnant of stardust that shone just as bright as the ones in his hair before they dimmed into nothing.
Was Shadow Milk even awake? He wondered, though, with the lack of reaction, he could guess he was still deep in sleep. Was he even aware of the nebula within his hair, or was this new?
The only time he could ever remember a moment where Shadow Milk's hair could've formed something like this was when he was the Fount of Knowledge. Was it possible that this was a sign of something good, that this was physical proof he was healing?
He eventually lay his head back down on the pillow, though he never pulled his eyes away, as if it would disappear the moment he looked away. Though he supposed that's exactly what would happen the moment Shadow Milk woke up.
He doesn't remember when, but his eyes eventually fluttered closed when tiredness caught up to him, and the stars were gone.
…
Unsurprisingly, the spectacle of stars had disappeared when they woke up in the morning, returning back to the inky black and blue as usual.
But, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious to see if even a small particle was still there.
So when Shadow Milk was turned away, getting his own breakfast, Pure Vanilla decided now would be the best time to look. So, with the stealth of a toddler, he lowered himself and his staff in an attempt to sneak a peek at the underside of Shadow Milk's hair.
On the one hand, he was able to examine his hair, which, to his disappointment, revealed no starlight. "No, they're really gone…" He mumbled to himself. On the other hand, the confused eyes in his hair could very obviously see him and caused the owner of said eyes to swiftly turn around and face Pure Vanilla.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing??" Shadow Milk snapped.
Pure Vanilla quickly stood back up, brushing non-existent dust off his clothes. "Sorry!" He spouted out. "I dropped my croissant, I was just… looking for… it.."
It was, by far, the worst lie the Cookie of Truth had ever told. And Shadow Milk caught on very easily.
"IN MY HAIR???" He exclaimed. "Out of all places to look for a croissant, my hair was the best place to search?!"
Pure Vanilla sheepishly smiled, "Yes?.."
Shadow Milk stared at him for a moment with a look of disappointment before he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Witches, Nilly, you really are the absolute worst at lying." He muttered, throwing the rest of his own croissant in his mouth.
Right as Pure Vanilla was about to direct the conversation away from his failed snoop, Shadow Milk levitated from the ground, only to rest his elbow on Pure Vanilla's shoulder. "Sooooo, care to spill the beans, Nills?"He poked his cheek with a sharp claw. "What's the new fascination with my hair coming from?"
"Oh, umm… it's just…" Pure Vanilla drew out. He knew it would be best to tell him about how his hair became a galaxy in the middle of the night, but a little voice in his head wanted to refrain from telling him. He was aware of his hatred for the Fount, and just how much he resented him; how would he react knowing that part of him was still there? Would he stop sleeping entirely, just so it never has the chance of appearing again? He could completely cut off any chances of healing.
That little voice in him won in the end, "It's… nothing, Bluebird."
…
By the time night came back, Pure Vanilla knew he needed to see the stars again, and thankfully, it was another night that Shadow Milk decided to share a bed with him.
Said cookie stretched out on his side of the bed like a cat before turning over to Pure Vanilla. "You're really going to be reading late, again?" He mocked, though no venom were in his words. "What happened to going to sleep early to retain a 'healthy mind' or whatever you called it?"
"I appreciate your concern for me, Bluebird," Pure Vanilla smiled. "But, yes, I will be reading late."
Shadow Milk's face twisted into a sneer. "Eugh, like I'd care whether you get a wink of sleep or not. I just simply wanted to know if I'd have to deal with your bothersome reactions to your little book. After all, I do need my beauty sleep."
"You go on ahead, Shadow Milk." Pure Vanilla said, returning his fingers to the braille text of his book. "I'm not too tired."
Shadow Milk let out a short but loud laugh as he flopped down on his pillow. "That's your loss, old man." A sigh left him when he wrapped himself in his blankets like a cocoon and closed his eyes.
It took an hour before Shadow Milk was sound asleep, a content expression washed over his face. By that time, Pure Vanilla had put away his book, instead choosing to stare up at the ceiling as he waited for the stars.
And waited.
And waited.
.. And waited..
….
Eyebags had formed under his eyes, and a soft ringing filled his ears from just how silent it was. Occasionally, he shifted his head just to see if there was even a glimmer of blue, but nothing appeared.
Maybe it was just a one-time thing, something that was dependent on circumstance or completely random, and he was just lucky enough to see it once. Maybe Shadow Milk did know, and he found a way to make sure it never emerged again.
Maybe… he had dreamt it all, and it wasn't real.
His brow furrowed in sorrow, and his eyelids were getting heavier by the second. He should sleep. He needed to sleep. He had responsibilities in his kingdom anyway; he shouldn't be looking for imaginary stars.
As his eyes were beginning to close, that's when he saw it. The faint blue light. With widened eyes, he saw as starlight began to flow into Shadow Milk's hair like a river all the way to the crown of his head.
Just as he did the night before, he reached a hand out to touch the stars. They wrapped around him once more, inviting him to weave his fingers through this night sky like he belonged with them.
And in that moment, he understood.
He understood why his friends looked to the night sky in admiration when the stars were this bright.
He understood why cookies would pray under the stars like it was a guardian angel, when it could so easily steal your breath away.
He understood why the stars were treated with complete and utter devotion, for how could one not worship something as beautiful as this?
For as long as he remembered, the night sky had never welcomed him. It was always an empty void that reminded him of just how small he is, how alone he is, even with the warmth of his friends. He never once looked up to the night sky and felt comforted, only the cold dread of isolation.
But when he looked at the stars that held him like this, so gently, he felt the hope that he had been longing for, that the stars had never promised him before.
A single tear ran down his cheek.
He was the luckiest cookie in all of Earthbread.