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Life after Sinsmas had been unbearable.
Surprisingly, it wasn't due to any outside circumstance. It wasn't because of the poverty Stolas was currently living in or because he missed the luxurious lifestyle he'd been born into. It also wasn't because of the house chores he was now forced to engage in, as the current lack of servants demanded of him. And the tedious, boring work at the office also wasn't the reason; not that he went to the office anymore. In truth, the source of Stolas' misery was – as it had always been – his own mind.
The pills made very little difference, although Blitzø insisted that he took them every day. When it had become clear to the imp that Stolas had no intention (or rather, energy) to follow through, he’d taken matters into his own hands and ensured that he’d had his daily dose, both in the mornings before leaving for work, and in the evenings, after returning from the office. Stolas never objected. He didn't have the strength to.
Most days, he spent them on the couch. He slept a lot, that being the only state when his thoughts didn't overconsume him and the numbness cruising aimlessly through his body felt somewhat endurable. His medicine helped a bit, in that regard. But there were times when slumber simply refused to come. During those times, Stolas was forced to lay down, unable to fall asleep, but having way too little energy to even entertain the thought of getting up. He just stared at the ceiling or out the window, without seeing the sky. The only thing he could see was an endless void of darkness, taking root deep into the crevice of his brain, before growing like poison ivy and covering everything around him with its vines.
Despite doing nothing, every day he felt himself growing more and more exhausted. Blitzø was getting tired, too. Stolas felt it deep in his bones and knew that, any moment these days, the imp would finally reach the limit if his patience and throw him out. If Stolas had any decency in him, he would've gotten up himself and left, but as usual, he was incapable of making the first move. He knew he was being selfish, demanding so much if the imp just with his presence alone, but he also didn't have it in him to leave.
At the moment, he was content with just waiting for the inevitable to happen.
Therefore, when, after around two months since Sinsmas, Blitzø came to him one evening with his pills and didn't leave his side afterwards, Stolas knew his time was up. He didn't move his eyes from the invisible spot on the wall to Blitzø's face; looking him in the eyes would've been too much. Instead, he numbly waited for the verdict as though he were again on trial, only this time, it felt more daunting than any of Satan's judgements ever could.
But the reprimand never came. What broke the silence was a single, calmly-spoken question.
“What do you need, Stols?”
The words lingered in the air for a little bit. Stolas heard them, consonants and vowels dancing together past his ears, swirling lazily around his head like flies, but their meaning didn’t register until a few moments later.
Blitzø examined him with a peculiar look. It was similar, he suddenly realized, to the one he had worn the day after his banishment. Blitzø had generously cooked him breakfast on that dreadful morning, a kindhearted attempt at cheering him up after the nightmarish events of the previous day. As they were eating, Blitzø had asked about his usual diet. A simple and logical question, considering their new predicament. But when Stolas had met his eyes, he’d seen it then: the warm glimmer of genuine wonder, blinking up at him. Gentle and soft, almost childlike in its inquiry, yet undeniably there.
Stolas could never recall being regarded with such a look.
The other Goetias had always posed him questions about his life back when he still held his title as a royal, but it was never out of care. More out of forced politeness, at best, or quiet mockery, at worst. Blitzø had, once again, been his first in yet another aspect – making him feel as though someone was truly willing to know him. Not just pleasantries for the sake of it, but truly get to know him. The first and only one to attempt, even shyly, to run his fingers across the shriveling surface of Stolas' withered heart.
Now, that look was once again emerging from the depths of those molten-gold eyes, patiently waiting for an answer. Not providing one would have been disrespectful, especially considering how much Stolas had burdened him these past few weeks with his incapacity. He swallowed thickly, squirming underneath the tender gaze.
What did he need?
Less than a fraction of a second later, his brain automatically lit up with the name of his daughter. Via. His sweet owlet. Stolas’ heart lurched forward in his chest, sending a fresh wave of pain through him. How he ached with the need to see her again - to talk to her, explain himself, find a way to reassure her one hundred times over that she was the single, most important thing in the entire universe. He would’ve given anything to replace the nauseating image of Via’s tearful gaze in his head, filled with reproach and disdain.
But Via didn’t want him. Her words rang in his head, banged against the walls of his skull like an overwhelming migraine. She didn’t want him. She had cast him out, just like the rest of his peers. It had taken her longer than them, but she had finally seen him for the worthless, pathetic excuse of a husband and father that he was and she had torn herself away from his hold. She had vanished like a shadow behind the towering walls of ice, where everything he once held dear now resided – his plants, now undoubtedly withered and eaten by rot, littering the empty palace halls; his constellations, once able to chase away his darkest thoughts just by whispering hidden meanings through their twinkling light, now forgotten behind the drape of magic in his office, with no one to listen to their secrets or keep them company...
“Stars,” his voice, hoarse and strained with tears, surprised even himself. Stolas cleared his throat. “I… I think I wish to see the starts… perhaps. If it’s not too much trouble…”
Blitz’s concerned expression dissolved into surprise for a quick moment, before a pleased smirk etched on his face.
“Say no more, birdie!” the imp’s tone held so much confidence that Stolas found it impossible to not feel at least the tiniest bit comforted. “I got this.”
Then, Blitzø winked at him, just like he used to on their nights spent together. For the first time in what felt like centuries, Stolas could muster the strength to offer the faintest shadow of a smile.
***
Nobody mentioned the stars for a good few days.
Stolas, for his part, hadn't brought them up again. Not because he had forgotten; he couldn't have forgotten about the stars in a million lifetimes, for they were as much part of him as he was of them. But because he simply couldn't fathom Blitzø remembering his request. The imp had other matters to worry about - his business, which was doing better and better by the day, taking care of his daughter or preparing for Moxxie's upcoming birthday, circled on the calendar a month prior to the event. Stolas' childish demand simply didn't make the top of Blitzø's priority list and that was fine. Stolas hadn't expected it to.
Though it would've been a lie to say the knowledge didn't sting. Especially today, when Stolas knew there was supposed to be a meteor shower later in the evening.
He hadn't marked it on the calendar (he had no drive for such futile tasks anymore), but the date had still managed to jostle a distant memory - fresh stardust filling up his lungs, the feel of smooth meteor crust beneath his bare talons, little Via bouncing in his arms as she excitedly pointed out details of the cosmic spectacle. The image was enough to briefly chase away the cloud of debris of the last two or so months.
Late that afternoon, Stolas awoke, a pang in his chest and a nauseating churn in his stomach. He pushed himself off the couch anyway. His limbs felt heavy and stiff, as though they were made of lead, yet they still carried him across the living room and out through the fire escape. Talons pushing through the spaces in between the rusty bars and dangling off of the edge, above the bustling city, Stolas lit his cigarette.
Glancing up at the sky of Pride, he tried to imagine the glowing purples of the cosmos spilling over the darkening crimson. All he could see was the grayish smoke twisting upwards, until it dissolved into the suffocating horizon arching over Hell. It reminded him in a way of an impenetrable lid closing over a cage.
(You shouldn't have left the couch. What were you even expecting? The pits of Hell won't open to let sunlight through just to satisfy the hims of a powerless, former Prince.)
The sound of the front door slamming almost made him jump. More sounds coming from the apartment, like the jostling of keys and sharp steps scurrying around, announced Blitzø's arrival back home from the office. Shame coiled inside Stolas. Once again, he'd done nothing all day and let Blitzø handle all the workload, all by himself.
"Hey, there, birdie. How are you?"
Stolas turned his head all the way around. Blitzø was standing in the open doorway, a small smile on his face, just as gentle as his tone. In the city's afternoon glow, his honey-dipped eyes seemed to sparkle.
"I see you left the couch today. That's good. Did anything interesting?" Blitzø probed again and Stolas realized he’d stayed silent.
"I'm afraid not," he admitted quietly, twirling the cigarette between his talons. He took another drag. "I mostly slept." (Useless.) "And then I came out here to... watch the sky, I suppose. I seem to have forgotten that my lack of powers would make stargazing a tad more difficult than usual."
(Idiot. No wonder your daughter hates you. And it's only a matter of time until he will too. You're already burdening him. Just watch.)
"Actually, I'm glad you brought it up," Blitzø's voice interrupted his spiraling. The imp approached him, a slight lilt in his step and his grin turned smug. "I hope you feel all freshened up 'cause we're going out tonight!"
Stolas raised an eyebrow. "Out? Out, where?"
"To see the stars, why else? I heard there's a meteor shower later and thought, you know... you'd like it. So get your ass up, wash your beak, brush your feathers and all that shit and let's get fucking going!"
Before Stolas could say anything, Blitzø spun around and ran back inside with the excitement of a child going to Loo Loo Land for the first time. He remained still for a few seconds, pupils glued to the empty space the imp had occupied just a few seconds ago.
Blitzø had remembered. And not only that, but he'd specifically chosen their outing to be the same day as an event that he thought Stolas might enjoy. It was more care than he'd shown him since they met; more than anyone had ever shown him in a lifetime.
What wouldn't he have given for Blitzø to give him this amount of attention not even six months ago? How many nights had he craved for the mask of indifference to melt away and reveal his Knight In Shining Armor that would come in and swoop him away from his miserable life? Too many for his own good.
Because he now knew that Blitzø wasn't like that. Stolas had to keep reminding himself. He couldn't risk falling into his own delusions again - that was what had brought all of this mess in the first place. This wasn't the sweet romance he'd once dreamed of living - this was pity. It was still so much more than he ever deserved and yet, a part of him still selfishly yearned for more.
Chest tightening with guilt, Stolas got up. He squashed his almost-finsihed cigarette onto the railing, before glancing one more time at the barren sky.
If Blitzø's mere pity was so great that it brought him a chance to see the stars again, then perhaps Stolas could find it in his heart to settle only for that and never ask for anything more. He would, at the very least, try.
***
The night's air was chilly. Not exactly cold, but the wind did send a few shivers down Stolas' spine, ruffling his crest feathers. He wrapped his arms around himself, clinging to the sleeves of his coat in attempt at tightening it around his body. It was brand new, given to him by Blitzø a little while after Sinsmas. The material was a light-brown color, long and styilish, akin to his tastes, and managed to keep Stolas at least somewhat warm.
Yet another kind gesture he would be unable to repay for a long time.
"Keep your feathers on, birdie, we're almost there!" the imp before him proudly announced, leading the way.
Stolas trailed behind him quietly, down a winding country road of sorts, unpaved and mostly empty. On each side, trees arose from the darkness, proudly extending their towering frames towards the sky. Stolas glanced up and met the full moon's marble gaze, just as cold and glassy as he remembered it, wrapped in a thin veil of fog. Stars peppered the violet-tinged surface, scattered and faded, like lost rihnestones carelessly thrown onto a carpet.
Stolas felt a twinge of worry at the sight. It was foggier than he'd expected and, although such weather wasn't uncommon for the begining of March, it was more than unideal for stargazing and meteor showers. He wondered if this was the cosmos' way of punishing him for leaving It behind, along with everything else in his life that mattered.
(But Blitzø matters too), came the quiet, barely audible whisper in the back of his mind. Without his help, the imp would have certainly met his death on that dreadful day. The image of him lying his head on the executioner's block had burned itself in Stolas' mind. Everytime he closed his eyes, for a haunting second, it would resurface, bringing with it the sensation of a bottomless pit in his stomach.
(Yes, he matters. And what have you done until now to show him that?), another voice chimed in, louder than the previous one, meaner. (You used him for sexual gratification like the disgusting wretch that you are, you cast him out, then you barged into his apratment, into his life, and now he feels obligated to take care of you scrawny, twig ass. Another unspoken contract you've forced him into, that he cannot wait to break free from, you pathetic embarassement.)
Stolas squeezed his eyes shut and hunched his shoulders forward, as if the physical strain would somehow chase the voice away. It was starting to sound uncomfortably similar to Stella's and that was not something he wished to think of that night. He was going to see the stars, something that he had expressed his desire for. Why couldn't his brain just cooperate for once?
"Hey, Stols, check this out!"
Stolas opened his eyes and saw Blitzø pointing ahead. In the distance, a warm glow illuminated the forest. Voices laughing, singing, shouting unintelligible stuff mingled in the breeze and carried over to where the two were standing. The owl spotted dots of color hanging above the village - some sort of decorations.
"Whatever do you think they're celebrating?"
"No fucking idea. Well, only one way to find out," Blitzø said casually before continuing his stroll towards the festivity.
"But, Blitzø, darling," Stolas mentally winced at the term of endearement that had instinctively slipped past his lips. Choosing to ignore it, he quickened his pace until he caught up with the imp.
"Are you quite sure this is a good idea? You don't have a human disguise. And I'm afraid that, with my lack of magical abilities, I'm not able to conjure one myself either."
Blitzø merely scoffed.
"Don't worry, Stols. I do this shit all the time at work! Trust me, no one will even notice we're there."
Stolas couldn't help but feel a little uncertain. Last time they went to the human realm together, they caused a fire that burnt down an entire film studio and resulted in multiple casualties. And that was with decent human disguises on.
Still, he continued to follow Blitzø. After Sinsmas, he trusted the man with his life; surley he could trust him now.
(Like you trusted him on your last full moon together? He didn't give a shit about you then, what makes you think he would now?)
The multitude of scents coming from the crowd was pleasant, if a little dizzying. He could tell it was food, although what kind, he didn't know. The smells were strange and foreign compared to the food he was used to in Hell, yet somehow he was certain they were delicious. The enticing aromas and joyful voices weaved together and ignited a dull warmth just beneath Stolas' skin.
He inhaled deeply, trying to ground himself in the colliding sensations. Immediately, he felt his stomach churn and realized that he hadn't eaten anything for the entire day.
"Damn, that shit smells good," Blitzø said, voicing his own thoughts on the matter. "What even is it?"
"I have no idea. I believe they are some... traditional dishes of sorts? I'm afraid I'm not very familiar with the different human cullinary cultures. But it does indeed smell wonderful..."
He felt his mouth starting to water slightly. Suddenly, Stolas felt hungry. Hungrier than he'd ever been. It was as though his appetite had abruptly risen from the dead, clawing at the walls of his stomach like a savage beast, aggressively demanding oversatiation.
"You hungry, big bird?"
"Huh?" Stolas immediately tore his glowing pupils away from the bazaar. "Oh! I... yes, my apologies, I didn't realize... um..." he hurriedly wiped some drool from the corner of his mouth.
"I... well, I... suppose I am a bit famished. But I would rather you not put yourself in...," the air hissed at his side and when Stolas turned, Blitzø was no longer next to him, but already charging towards the crowd full of humans. "...Danger."
With a sigh, Stolas sat down in the grass, crossing his legs and hoping Blitzø knew what he was doing. He knew there was no point in running after him or trying to stop him. The imp was as stubborn as they came and when his mind latched onto something, Stolas was sure not even the King of Hell himself could change it. Despite his tiny stature, the imp was an absolute force to be reckoned with, akin to a fearless warrior battling dragons and defying the laws of the world he was born into. The former Prince wished he could trade some of his mellow nature for at least a droplet of the Blitzø's strength of will...
Ten minutes later, Blitzø returned. He dropped from one of the trees, a few feet away from where he was sitting, making the owl jump and hoot in surprise. The imp's brow glistened with sweat and he was slightly out of breath, but other than that he looked unscathed and unharmed. In one of his hands he held tightly a brown paper bag. The smell coming from inside it was absolutely divine and Stolas felt his stomach voice another rumbling plea.
"Got some shit for us here, Stols," Blitzø said, panting a little. "It smelled good, so I said why not. Had to climb all the way up these tall motherfuckers just so no one would see me bag some of these... I don't fucking know what they are, I just... hope you'll like them."
Then, unexpectedly, Blitzø hooked his claws onto Stolas' long talons. The owl felt a warm tingle beneath his skin at the touch, body coming alive for a few seconds as he was gently pulled up and helped to his feet.
"Come on, big bird," he said, so tenderly that Stolas felt his knees shake. "Let's go see those pretty stars of yours."
(When will you cease this nonsense? Haven't you humiliated yourself enough already by believing in these foolish fantasies? Get it through your thick skull: he doesn't want you and never will!)
The rest of the trip towards their destination was quiet. As they ventured deeper into the forest, the road took an uphill turn and turned more steep. Boulders blocked the way, forcing them to carefully climb over, and the trees suddenly seemed to close in on them from above. Their branches intertwined like shadowy claws, melting together like the ink in a pot. Stolas' chest tightened and he tried his best to keep his eyes ahead. Blitzø's hand didn't let go of his for one moment, leading the way and occasionally thumbing over his knuckles.
It wasn't for another half an hour or so, until they could see the sky again.
The forest dissipated, giving way to a bare plateau that stretched for a good few hundred feet, before reaching an abrupt drop. Beyond the rocky edge, a beautiful valley spread beneath. It was mostly coated in black, with the sparse villages below as the only nests of light. A large river snaked its way through the valley, cutting through the mountain peaks emerging from the distant, blurry horizon. The fog still gave no sign of wanting to clear.
"I saw some pictures on the internet of this place," Bltzø said, as they sat down on the grass, a bit further away from the forest entrance. He placed the bag with food between them. "It said it was in the, uh, the fuck was it called? Teay-Hang? Tai... Fuck-Place, somewhere in China, I don't know, their names are weird as fuck." Glancing in his direction, the imp quickly added, "I heard it's nice for stargazing and shit..."
Blitzø was right. The Chinese mountains, especially the ones in Tibet, offered their best views of the star-filled sky, even for the naked eye, without the aid of a telescope. There were some facts about the topic that Stolas knew he must've read through at some point and had found them interesting. He could share them. If only his desire for conversation wouldn’t have been so overruled by his apathy…
"Hey, Stolas? Wanna try some? They haven't cooled off yet, so now's the time."
The owl looked down to his left and saw that Blitzø had already opened the case with food. The inside was filled with some sort of rice balls, Stolas believed, of different colors, from plain white to purple or orange, all squeezed in on top of each other. Warm steam drifted upwards and the smell was more than enticing. Stolas felt all of his hunger from earlier return in a heartbeat.
Blitzø fumbled with the chopsticks. He dropped them a few times, before cussing them out in annoyance, picking one up with his claws and extending it towards his face. Stolas opened his beak and the imp gently pushed the dumpling inside. The taste was delicate and sweet. The texture was incredibly soft and chewy, and the stuffing, which Stolas identified as a mixture of crushed peanuts and boiled fruit, danced pleasantly over his taste buds. When he swallowed, he felt a lingering sensation of fullness and light-headedness. A tender warmth temporarily lit inside his chest, before dying out as soon as it had appeared. He couldn't remember the last meal that had tasted this good.
"Mm, fuuuck," Blitzø groaned next to him as he chewed. He hadn't even properly finished his first dumpling, before quickly grabbing another one and stuffing it into his mouth. "This shit is fucking good."
"Indeed. I wonder what it is."
"Wait, I think I saw something about it here, hold on... where the fuck...?"
Blitzø reached in the paper bag and pulled out a pamphlet. As he tried to open it with one hand, Stolas caught a glimpse of the writing in Mandarin at the top, with the English translations beneath: Tangyuan.
"The Tang-you-ann dish," Blitzø poorly pronounced, squinting at the page. "A traditional Chinese dish... served during the... Lantern Festival?" Blitzø squinted at the paper, brows knitted in concentration. "They're, uh... sweet dumplings, basically, yeah, no shit... made out of rice balls and stuffing. There's also a legend behind it or whatever the fuck this is. The You-ann-xi-o myth... oh, the fuck is with these names?!"
"Would you like me to read it?" Stolas asked, smiling lightly. Blitzø grumbled, but still nodded grimly and handed him the pamphlet.
"According to the legend," he began, "there was a maid in the palace during the reign of Emperor Wu of the Han Dynasty, named 'Yuanxiao'."
"She was secluded in the palace for years, missing her parents and crying all day long. Minister Dongfang Shuo was determined to help her, so he lied to Emperor Wu of Han that the God of Fire was ordered by the Jade Emperor to burn Chang'an on the fifteenth day of the first lunar month. The only way to escape the disaster was to let the 'Yuanxiao girl' make a lot of glutinous rice balls, which the God of Fire loved to eat, on the fifteenth day of the first lunar month, and all the subjects would light lanterns and offer sacrifices to her. Emperor Wu of Han approved the request, and the 'Yuanxiao girl' finally saw her family. From then on, the Lantern Festival was formed."
Stolas felt his voice give out as he finished reading. His mouth felt dry and there was a knot somewhere in the back of his throat. He swallowed thickly.
"Damn," Blitzø said curtly after a while. "That's a long-ass story for some fucking dumplings. I mean, they're what, balls made of rice? They kinda look like mine." He picked one up, inspected it and then tossed it carelessly in his mouth.
"Like, they're good, but not that good to deserve a cool origin story or some bullshit that's probably faker than Moxxie’s musical talent, right Stols?"
"Yes... I mean, yes!" Stolas blinked rapidly, chasing away the tears that had already gathered at the bottom of his eyes. "I wholeheartedly agree, Blitzø. It's a stupid story."
He quickly folded the paper and shoved it back into the bag. Blitzø was watching him in puzzlement.
"You're right, it's not real, so it doesn't matter at all. And even if it were, well... good for the maid for seeing her family again after spending her entire life all alone and having no one by her side! I'm sure that must've been wonderful for her!"
A strangled gasp broke Stolas' speech and he covered his beak with his hand. After a few deep breaths, he ran his talons over his face, wiping at his wet cheeks and then through the feathers of his crest. Leaning his head back, he opened his eyes to stare at the sky. It was just as hazy as when they had sat down.
There was a long pause after that. Stolas didn't blame Blitzø for staying quiet. He himself didn't know what to say. The curtain of nothingness in his head remained thick and impenetrable. All of the words he was trying to find continued to float aimlessly just behind it – muted, muffled and meaningless.
(Fucking failure), the Stella in his head taunted. For once, she wasn’t yelling, as there was no need to. The statement itself reverberated like a deafening echo. (You finally did it. You disgusted him enough to leave you, too. Not that it would have taken much longer. He was bound to get fed up with your bullshit pity party nonsense, eventually. You’ve made your bed, now lie in it, cunt.)
"Stolas, I didn't mean -"
"It's fine, Blitzø. There is nothing you should be sorry for. If anything I should apologize..."
"What? Why?"
There was genuine confusion in Blitzø's voice and it made Stolas want to scream into the void.
"For... this! All of this!" He burried his head in his hands, shame burning behind his eyes and deep in his lungs. "For getting both of us into this mess! For almost getting you killed, for invading your house, for forcing you to take care of me after I've already forced you into our affair, for being too selfish and self-absorbed to notice how any of it was impacting you! And now, I've dragged you to some stupid mountain in the dead of night where this stupid shitty sky is too fucking murky to even see a single star – !"
"Whoa, whoa, Stols, calm down!” Blitzø scrambled to his feet and took the owl's hands into his own. “Ok, take a deep breath, there we go, in...," he inhaled deeply and Stolas followed his example, "... and out." They both exhaled at the same time. "That's it, pretty bird, one more time for me. In... and out..."
They repeated the motions a few more times together. Gradually, Stolas felt his heart rate slow and his breathing settle.
"Feeling better?" Blitzø asked and Stolas nodded. "Good. Now fucking listen here." The imp's tone sounded nowhere near angry or harsh, but it was still firm. He didn't let go of his hands.
"First, you didn’t drag us here. If I remember correctly, and I do because my memory is perfect, it was my idea to come here tonight. And second, you didn't force shit on me, m'kay? That deal we had was made by both of us."
"But I - "
"Let me finish, Stolas," Blitzø said, voice unwavering. "We both made that deal and we both knew the consequences. You aren't selfish and you aren't self-centered, that's some big bullshit if I ever heard any. I wanted to do all of those things with you. And right now I'm taking care of you also because I want to. I..., " the imp paused for a second, eyes roaming the ground.
"Look, I know how it feels to lose everything overnight. I told you about my sister, didn't I? How she doesn't want to speak to me right now?"
Stolas nodded, watching him intently.
"Well, it's for a good reason. I deserve it. I... I did some shit and because of that, I didn't have anyone for a long time." Blitzø closed his eyes tightly and pursed his lips together. Gazing upon his face – an expression of barely-contained pain – Stolas felt his heart ache with both sympathy and helplessness.
"But... I want you to be happy," Blitzø continued. "Just like... just like the stupid maid from this stupid story. I mean, she's not stupid! The story is not - it's not - I didn't - the fucking point is that you'll be okay, alright? Your daughter..." Stolas felt his lip quiver, "shit's fucked with her, but we'll get her back. Until then, you'll... have me. And Loonie. And M&M will be there too, though we can tell Moxxie to fuck off if he gets too annoying."
Against his best efforts, Stolas chuckled. He would never understand how Blitzø had such a talent for making him laugh even in his most miserable moments.
"You'll have your family and you'll never have to go through shit alone ever again. I promise." Blitzø squeezed his hands softly and looked right into his eyes with unshakeable certainty. Stolas' heart sang for a solid second.
His palm suddenly itched to let go of the imp's hand and stretch forward. There was an inexplicable urge to cup his scarred cheek, run his thumb over the sensitive flesh, just beneath his big, beautiful, molten-gold eyes, close the distance between their faces –
Something gleamed in the corner of their eyes. Blitzø turned sharply.
"Holy shit..." he mumbled. "Look, Stols," he pointed upwards
Lifting his gaze, Stolas saw the fog dissipating, revealing a beautiful sky of dark blue, tainted in places by amethyst violet. A flash of light sharply cut across the abyss, quickly followed by another. One by one, the meteors began to fall.
Stolas remained transfixed for what felt like hours. He watched as the Universe began to shed its tears of light and stardust and saw the beauty he had so dearly missed: burning parts of life essence, of what once was or should've been, of consumed time and cycles brought to an end, raining above them like billions of fireflies.
Only the stars could be this stunning in their demise. If it could even be called a demise. Stolas had always viewed it more as a temporary passage towards a new form of existence.
Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes, yet for once in what felt like a lifetime, they weren't accompanied by the dreadful pit of despair. He looked over at Blitzø and saw his own feelings reflected in the imp's awestruck expression. It must've been his first time ever witnessing the cosmos in all its splendor.
Blitzø turned to him.
"Are you happy, baby bird?"
A feeling so overwhelming it threatened to burst his heart washed over him. The kindness and care he'd been shown under the imp's roof over the past months had been greater than anything he'd ever experienced and the modest, but cozy apartment felt more like home than any grand palace had ever been.
Perhaps the stars weren't the only ones capable of beauty in their untimely deaths. Perhaps each ending was, in its own way, merely a shining path towards a new beginning. And perhaps, Stolas could learn to find the hope with which to navigate this one.
Smiling through his tears, the owl took the open case and the chopsticks in his hands. Picking up another dumpling, he held it out for the imp. Blitzø opened his mouth and Stolas slowly fed it to him.
"Thanks, pretty bird."
"Thank you, Blitzø."
Blitzø's eyes shined with the moonlight, brighter and clearer than Stolas had ever seen them, and he knew that no meteor shower could ever compare.