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And it's too hard to describe this, in a way that feels honest, but even when I'm quiet, I love you, baby, I promise.
And I hope I never see what your face looks like going. A face I swear that I could spend my whole life knowing.
“Count backward from eight.” Ryland whispered, and he grabbed onto Simon’s hand, holding ot gently as Simon raised an eyebrow. “I have a surprise for you.”
Simon sighed, ever since they landed on Erid, Ryland had been extra strange, especially in relation to Simon, and his blindness. It seemed every day he had a new “surprise” for Simon, a cane, sunglasses for the biodome, about fourteen different eyedrops to try until Adrian and the other scientist found something to help. None of them worked, and nothing was making Simon feel better. But his best friend was trying, and he had to at least try too, so he started counting aloud and Ryland let go of him for a moment to grab something. When Simon was done counting, he felt something rest on his palm. It was xenonite, something with points, and a base, and-
“Do you know what it is?” Ryland whispered, and Simon blinked, even though it didn’t do anything, sometimes he still found himself going through the motions. It was a…
“I-it’s a star…” He could feel the shape on his palm, and the five points on his fingertips, and he was almost certain Ryland had painted it gold, or some color that resembled the stars. Ryland had told Simon that his hair was gold, his eyes blue, and Simon wondered if he’d have to go a whole life without ever seeing him. “You made me a star.”
“Since you can’t see them.” Ryland whispered, and Simon, well, Simon didn’t know what else to do with himself besides throwing himself forward into his best friend’s body, and he waited for a moment, until Ryland sank into it, and he grabbed the golden man’s face and pulled him closer, pressing their mouths together.
Ryland made a noise, fingers creeping up into Simon’s hair, and Simon kept hold of the star, pressing it against Ryland’s back, like a reminder of how patient, soft, and comforting he was to Simon. How he’d been there for him this whole time, helping, caring, making sure Simon never felt blind.
Simon’s lips slipped off of Ryland’s to take a breath and while they were separated, Ryland whispered, “what was that?”
“A thank you.”
And for some stupid reason, Simon started crying, and Ryland sat there and softly wiped away the tears, whispering carefully, and when he spoke, Simon could hear the smile in the words.
“I love you, Simon…”
Which made the sobs ring louder, which made the pain grow rougher, slice through the skin on Simon’s back, leave claw marks as it slid down his spine. Gooseflesh followed after, peppering his skin with bumps and a chill traveled along his veins.
“I love you.” Simon felt a kiss press to his tear lines, on each of his cheeks, and he sobbed a little less. Like a child being consoled by their mother, being rocked back and forth, sung to. Another kiss appeared on the tip of his nose, then to his forehead, and with every single smooch, Ryland whispered, “I love you, I love you.”
Until Simon’s knees gave out from standing and they both sank to the ground in a hump, and he couldn’t tell where he ended and Ryland began. They were tangled together, legs a mess, Ryland’s arms tied into Simon’s arm and the stump that was leftover from the sub. They laid on the ground, Simon curled onto Ryland’s lap, and he cried softly for a while. He didn’t know how long it had been, time moved strangely when you couldn’t see. The star was still in his hand, he cradled it carefully, and when Ryland came home one night, with a new eyedrop to try, Simon counted backward from eight until he could see again. One week later and he blinked, and finally, finally, he saw.
Would you sit and keep me company? In the dark, I'm not scared. I just reach and you're right there.