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Greetings,
It is by request- no, instruction- of our diplomatic offices that I extend this letter to you. The aim, I’m told, is to foster “a spirit of alliance and mutual familiarity” between our two realms. A fine sentiment. I’ve little objection to it.
So, here I am, writing.
I must admit I am uncertain what tone to adopt. I have not written many letters beyond those assigned or archived. But I suppose I should begin somewhere, and so I will start with this: I hope your days have been kind to you.
They tell me your kingdom is brilliant- warm, golden, full of life. It sounds very unlike my own. We live quietly here. The palace keeps to a dim sort of peace, shadows cast by towers tall enough to kiss the clouds. We light lanterns not to see, but to soften the dark.
Do you enjoy writing? That’s not meant as a loaded question- I’m simply curious. I find I am growing more interested in what it reveals about a person.
With respect,
Stargazer, Prince of the Kingdom of the Star
…
To Prince Stargazer,
Hi! Er, Hello, I meant.
Sorry, I know I already messed up on the formality thing. I’m working on it.
Thank you for your letter. I was a little surprised when it arrived- our advisors were vague on whether this whole correspondence idea would actually start, much less continue. But I’m glad it did.
Your description of your palace was…I don’t know, kind of haunting, but in a beautiful way. Lanterns lit to soften the dark. That’s a line I think I’ll remember.
I don’t know if I like writing yet. I used to think I didn’t, but I guess I never really got to write just to talk. If I sound awkward, it’s because I’m still trying to figure out how to not sound like a stuffy old scroll. You’d think it’d come easy to a prince, but no. Do you enjoy it?
My days are- busy. I try not to make a list of everything I’m supposed to do, because then I end up staring at the list instead of doing anything. When I can, I sneak up to the highest wall of the palace and lie in the sun. I don’t tell the court that, of course. They think I’m off studying diplomatic codes or something.
Anyway- thanks for writing. You didn’t have to say much, but you still did, and I think that says something.
I look forward to your next one.
Best regards,
Sunburst, Prince of the Sunlit Kingdom
…
To Prince Sunburst,
I’m beginning to wonder if formality is somewhat overrated. Your letter felt…warm. Like a sunbeam sneaking in through a window. I will admit, it made me smile.
You asked if I enjoy writing. I didn’t used to. Most letters I’ve written were meant to be shelved or sealed- not read. But writing to you feels different. I find myself thinking about what I might say next while I walk the halls at night.
I did something akin to what you said and went to the highest tower. I hadn’t stood there in a long time. The air was cold, but the stars were kind. I thought I saw a flicker of your kingdom across the sky, but it might’ve been wishful thinking.
I don’t know what your voice sounds like. Or what your face looks like. But your letters feel like someone who means what he says, even if he’s not sure how to say it yet. I like that.
Write when you can. No pressure. Just…when you feel like talking. I think I’d like to listen.
Yours,
Stargazer
…
To Stargazer,
Okay, first of all- you smiled?! That might be the single greatest diplomatic success of my life. I expect a medal.
Also, please keep talking like that. I’m not joking. That whole bit about thinking what you’d say next while walking the halls? You make it sound like we’re already old friends. Maybe we are. (Too soon? Maybe. I’m bad at timing.)
I don’t think I’ve ever been described as a “sunbeam,” by the way. At least not kindly. Usually it’s more like “rash,” “impulsive,” “a fire hazard.” You make me sound gentler than I’m perceived. I like how that feels. I feel like who I think I am in your letters.
Anyway, today I bailed on a meeting and blamed it on a nosebleed. I did not have a nosebleed. Just didn’t want to listen to old men argue over who insulted whom at a gala.
Instead, I snuck away and sat on the roof again with one of our pastries. It was very good. I wish I could send you one, but the mess it would make…
Next time, tell me something strange about you! Not royal…just you.
Sincerely,
Sunburst
___
The high courtyard was quiet, lit only by rows of floating lanterns swaying like drifting moons. Pale marble reflected their light in soft echoes, the whole space folded into calm.
Stargazer stepped out slowly, his sleeves fluttering behind him like mist. He paused when he saw Egobworder already standing there, as still and composed as the columns around them.
The royal guard wore his armor with practiced elegance- dark, burnished steel trimmed in teal along the edges, the accents shimmering like deep lake water. His helm concealed his eyes entirely, but Stargazer had long since stopped wondering what they looked like. He could read everything in the angle of his shoulders, the way his head tilted slightly when he was listening, the way his grip on his long spear loosened when the prince approached.
“Good evening,” Stargazer said, his voice quiet but free of stiffness. “You didn’t have to wait here, you know.”
“I was not waiting,” Egobworder said smoothly. “I was stationed. Your route often passes this way. It would be… remiss of me not to anticipate your steps.”
Stargazer huffed a soft laugh and leaned on the stone railing beside him, resting his arms against the cool curve of it. “So, waiting.”
Egobworder gave the faintest tilt of his head- touché.
There was a moment of comfortable silence before Stargazer spoke again, this time with more purpose.
“May I ask you something?”
“You have permission to ask me anything,” Egobworder replied, his voice as steady as ever, though slightly gentler now.
“Do you know anything about the Prince of the Sunlit Kingdom?”
Egobworder did not shift, but something in the air seemed to pause.
“Ah,” he said. “The fire-hearted one.”
Stargazer’s brows knit together. “Is that…what they call him?”
“Only those with a flair for poetry,” Egobworder replied, tapping his chin. “He’s…well-known in diplomatic circles. Difficult to forget, even in reports. Bright, yes. Unrelentingly so. He tends to leave impressions.”
“What kind of impressions?”
“The kind that echo,” Egobworder said after a beat. “He’s been described as impossible to ignore, talkative to a fault, often informal to the point of scandal. But also- compassionate. Fiercely. He tends to care before permission is granted.”
Stargazer looked down at his fingers, tracing faint patterns against the marble. “That does sound like him…”
“He is often seen breaking protocol in the most sincere ways, from what I’ve heard,” Egobworder continued. “Greeting servants by name. Dismissing his own title during festivals. Sharing food with children, sometimes directly from his own plate.”
“That’s not a rumor, is it?”
“It is witnessed behavior,” Egobworder confirmed. “He is radiant in ways I suspect he doesn’t fully realize.”
Egobworder raised his chin. “I have not seen it for myself. However, I’ve heard some say he is gold. That’s the word most often used. Gold in hair, gold in voice, gold in laughter. Some say he blinds you with it. Others say he softens you. The rumors do vary. They all agree on one thing, though: ‘You’ll know him when you see him. He doesn’t hide easily.’”
Stargazer blinked, startled by how much those words felt like the letters he carried close to his heart.
“Should I begin a proper inquiry?” Egobworder offered, tone deferential now. “Discreet, of course. I can summon what records exist. Paintings, perhaps.”
Stargazer shook his head. “No. That won’t be necessary.”
“Very well.”
“I think…” Stargazer hesitated, then smiled softly. “I think I want to meet him on my own. Find him with something other than a picture.”
“A bold choice.”
“Maybe,” he said. “But I think he’d appreciate it.”
Egobworder turned slightly toward him. “Then I shall not interfere, my prince.”
Stargazer glanced up. “You’re…very good at sounding serious all the time.”
“Years of practice.”
“But I know you’re soft under there,” Stargazer added, lips tugging into a grin.
Egobworder cleared his throat. “That is unconfirmed.”
Stargazer leaned his head against the railing. “Thank you for not laughing at me.”
Egobworder let out a quiet chuckle. “I would never.”
…
The palace gardens were loud with birdsong and clatter, vines spilling lazily down stone walls and wildflowers turning their faces toward the sun.
Sunburst strolled through it all with a pep in his step and powdered sugar dusting the front of his tunic, eyes bright and a little distracted.
He stopped near a cluster of sun-warmed benches, where an older servant was trimming vines from an archway. Not someone he knew, exactly, but familiar- he’d seen them around, and they looked like someone who knew things.
“Hey!” he called, voice loud and clear. “You!”
The old gardener turned, shears paused mid-snip. “Your Highness?”
“Quick question,” Sunburst said, bouncing slightly on his heels. “What do you know about the Prince of the Kingdom of the Star?”
The gardener blinked. “Ah. I didn’t know you were taking an interest in foreign nobility.”
“I’m not,” Sunburst said too quickly. “I mean- I am. Diplomacy. Totally professional. Just curious.”
The man gave him a knowing smile. “Well, there isn’t much to tell. He’s rarely seen. Pale, they say. Quiet. Not fragile, but…reserved.”
Sunburst tilted his head. “That’s not very specific.”
“They say he walks like he’s always half-dreaming. That his words make more sense the second time you read them. A poet, not a politician.”
Sunburst blinked. “That- wait. That sounds like him. That feels like him.”
“Then you already know more than most.”
Sunburst scratched the back of his neck. “Have you ever actually seen him?”
The gardener shrugged. “No one agrees on what he looks like. Some say his hair’s silver, some say dark. Some swear he has stars in his eyes.”
“That’s…frustrating,” Sunburst muttered.
“Perhaps you’re not meant to recognize him by his face.”
“What then?”
“By the way he sees you.”
Sunburst stared for a long moment, then looked away, flustered.
“...Thanks,” he said. “That was unexpectedly deep.”
The gardener chuckled and returned to trimming vines.
Sunburst wandered off, brushing sugar from his collar, heart oddly loud in his chest.
___
Sunburst,
Today I found a soft chair in the astronomy hall and fell asleep in it. When I woke up, the stars had moved. I felt like they were waiting for me to catch up.
Do you have any rooms in your palace you hide in? Mine has several. This one’s new. I might claim it.
I hope your week is…manageable.
Sincerely,
Stargazer
…
Stargazer,
I do have hiding spots! There’s a hallway right behind the kitchens where the smell of baked bread never leaves the air. It’s loud, chaotic, full of shouting- but no one ever expects a prince to be there, so it’s perfect.
Also, I think the stars wait for you because they like you. Juuuust a theory.
Regards,
Sunburst
…
Sunburst,
I’m starting to suspect you write your letters with crumbs on your desk. The last one had what looked like a poppy seed embedded in the corner.
For the record, I’m not judging. I find it…honest.
– Stargazer
…
Stargazer,
First of all, that poppy seed was probably from a bun I ate a while ago, I don’t clean my desk all that much. Second, yes- I do eat while I write sometimes. That’s how you know I’m comfortable.
Which reminds me. Do you have a favorite food? I need to now in case I ever sneak into your kitchen.
(For diplomacy. Obviously.)
– Sunburst
…
Sunburst,
Favorite food… hm. Chestnut cake. A local baker used to make it when I was younger. Very plain. Not flashy. But it tasted like autumn.
I suspect yours involves sugar, based on the stickiness of your last envelope.
– Stargazer
…
Guilty.
It’s mango tarts. I’ve eaten three while writing this. No regrets.
That cake sounds nice. You make it sound like a memory, not a dessert. I like that.
– Sunburst
…
Sunburst,
I was forced to attend a formal gathering yesterday. I wore a silver sash and got asked the same three questions by eleven people.
I thought about what you’d do. Probably fake a fainting spell and run.
I didn’t. I stayed. I smiled. But I imagined I was writing to you instead. That helped.
– Stargazer
…
Stargazer,
You’re…actually correct. I did try to pretend to pass out once. Tripped over a bowl in the process. Ten out of ten would do it again.
Also- thank you. You didn’t have to say that last part, but you did, and I read it three times.
Do you have a favorite sound? Mine is sandals on stone! That clack clack echo. Feels like home.
– Sunburst
…
Sunburst,
Favorite sound…I haven’t thought about that. Probably wind through reeds. It whistles softly. Not quite a song. But close.
Sometimes I walk the southern edge of the palace just to hear it. I imagine the world breathing.
– Stargazer
…
Stargazer,
That’s such a you answer. Mysterious. Slightly poetic. Makes me jealous.
Sometimes I think your palace must be made of mist. Do people even run in your halls? I feel like if I visited, I’d be too loud.
(I’d try to tiptoe. I promise.)
– Sunburst
…
Sunburst,
You wouldn’t be too loud. You’d be exactly yourself. And the halls would have to learn to echo differently.
I think the stars would enjoy your footsteps.
– Stargazer
…
Stargazer,
I wish I could visit your sky. I imagine it’s quieter than mine. More deliberate.
You ever think about what you’d do if you weren’t a prince? I think I’d be a trainer of sorts. Maybe training people or birds. Or run away with a circus.
(Probably all three. In secret.)
– Sunburst
…
Sunburst,
I think I’d be a scholar. Or maybe a lighthouse keeper.
Somewhere far from court. Somewhere I could write and not be found unless someone wanted to find me.
(But I’d still write letters. To someone.)
– Stargazer
…
Stargazer,
Keep writing them. Please.
– Sunburst
___
The invitation arrived with the late-morning light, pale and gold and tied with a ribbon as soft as breath. It was brought to Stargazer’s chamber by a silent courier in sky-blue silks. No crest he recognized. No kingdom named. Just elegance. Simplicity. Mystery.
Stargazer didn’t open it right away.
He held it in both hands and stared, as if the ribbon alone might reveal something. The seal was translucent green wax, pressed with the symbol of a masquerade mask- no nation’s emblem. Only an offering. A summons.
Egobworder was standing just inside the doorway, as he often did when not on patrol, his tall frame still as sculpture. His armor shimmered faintly with teal trim in the filtered light, his spear perfectly vertical beside him. The helm that veiled his eyes caught the sun like a moonlit mirror.
“Another ball?” he asked, voice calm and unimpressed.
Stargazer hummed, still not opening the scroll. “Seems so.”
Egobworder shifted slightly, a rare thing. “Shall I make preparations to decline?”
Stargazer paused, then blinked. “What?”
“Shall I prepare a reply to decline?” Egobworder repeated. “You usually do.”
The prince finally cracked a small smile. “Do I really turn down that many?”
“Last season alone, I declined seven on your behalf,” Egobworder said matter-of-factly. “Six grand festivals. One tea ceremony. And a chariot race hosted in your honor.”
Stargazer winced. “The chariot race was a trap. You know it.”
Egobworder gave a tilt of his head- half amusement, half agreement.
Stargazer finally broke the seal and unrolled the parchment.
It was as he expected: a formal invitation to a masquerade, held by a neutral kingdom known more for song than sword. A quiet event- no official alliances, no treaties, no speeches. Just masks, and music, and… names unspoken.
He read it twice, then a third time. He didn’t notice the way his grip softened, the way his shoulders slowly lifted.
Egobworder, perceptive as always, took a step forward.
“Is it different?”
“Not really,” Stargazer said.
“But it feels different.”
Stargazer hesitated. Then: “It’s just…we’ve been writing letters. Six months now. He mentioned wanting to travel more.”
“‘He.’” Egobworder echoed. “Your Sun Prince.”
“He’s not mine,” Stargazer said too quickly, then added, quieter: “Not yet.”
Egobworder stood silent a moment longer before replying. “Shall I prepare your garments?”
Stargazer looked down at the parchment, folding it carefully, reverently.
“Yes,” he said at last. “But nothing too obvious. No stars. Nothing they’d expect from me. Just something…simple.”
Egobworder gave the slightest, most knowing nod. “Then I will choose something deceptively modest and secretly exquisite.”
“Perfect,” Stargazer said.
There was a long pause. Then, softly, Egobworder added, “You’re nervous.”
“No,” Stargazer said.
And then, quieter: “...Yes.”
…
The scroll was delivered during breakfast, slipped between slices of fruit and official reports. Sunburst reached for it with one hand while munching on a sugared fig with the other.
He recognized the ribbon before the seal: smooth and pale, elegant, the kind that usually meant “wear something uncomfortable and pretend to enjoy it.”
He cracked it open with syrup on his fingers.
As he read, his eyebrows arched. Then lifted again. Then- softly- his grin bloomed.
“A masquerade?” he murmured, voice suddenly lighter.
“Another?” one of the advisors at the table muttered. “They do seem rather constant these days.”
“Is this one for politics?” someone else asked.
“No clue,” Sunburst said, folding the scroll with surprising care. “Doesn’t say who’s hosting. Just…invitations. Masks. Dancing.”
The head steward cleared her throat. “Shall I confirm your attendance?”
“Already did,” Sunburst replied, tossing a grape into his mouth and catching it expertly. “I’ll be there.”
“You haven’t even seen the location,” someone pointed out.
Sunburst only smiled. “Doesn’t matter.”
They wouldn’t understand. He wasn’t going for them.
He’d known Stargazer for six months now. Six months of letters- sent at night, read by candlelight, tucked under pillows and into robes and sometimes reread mid-meeting just to feel a little closer to him.
He didn’t know what Stargazer looked like.
But he’d know him.
He had to.
___
Dear Sunburst,
So.
I got one of those invitations. You know the type- overly elegant, unnecessarily heavy parchment, too much ribbon. It's for some masquerade in a neutral kingdom I’ve barely heard of.
Usually I ignore these sorts of things. You know that by now, I think. I don’t like the noise, or the crowds, or the pressure to play charming. It’s never really suited me.
But this one…
I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it more than I expected to. Which is strange. It’s just a party. A very dramatic party, admittedly, with masks and music and a guest list full of people pretending not to be themselves.
But…I might go.
I haven’t decided yet.
Maybe I’m just curious.
Maybe it’s because I’ve been writing to someone for six months, and somehow that’s become the best part of my week. And maybe- maybe part of me wonders what it’d be like to see him in a crowd. To look at someone I’ve never seen before and recognize him anyway.
Not because I know his face. But because I’d know how he holds himself when he’s thinking too hard. Or the way he’d try to make someone laugh just to ease the air.
I might go.
Will you?
(No pressure. But… if you do, maybe wear something bright. Or not. Either way, I think I’ll be looking for you.)
– Stargazer
…
Stargazer,
I was going to open this letter with something cold and nonchalant, but I’ve already folded and unfolded that masquerade ten times today. So I guess we’re past pretending.
I’m going. I decided pretty fast, honestly. My advisors didn’t even ask me- they just started packing things. Apparently I’m “predictable.” Rude.
But yeah. I’m going.
I get invited to a lot of these, but I usually show up, do a few dances, sneak out early, and steal cake from the back kitchens. I don’t expect much from them.
This one feels…different.
Not because of the invitation itself. Just…I guess I’m hoping you’ll be there.
I don’t know what you look like. I keep realizing that. After six months of letters, I’ve got no idea if you’ve got silver hair or gold, if you’re taller than me, if your laugh is quiet or sharp or slow. But I know how your writing shifts when you’re being careful with your words. I know when you’re tired. I know when you’re trying not to say something out loud.
I think I’d recognize you.
Even if you don’t say a word.
So, you should go. Not for me- okay, maybe a little for me- but mostly you.
Worst case, we spend a night behind masks, dancing with the wrong people and eating too many desserts.
Best case…
Well. I’ll see you there.
– Sunburst
___
Stargazer stood still as Egobworder adjusted the collar of his shirt for the third time. The mirror in front of him reflected a stranger: pale silks edged with soft silver, hair swept half-up, the usual jewelry swapped for something subtler. No stars. No sigils. Nothing that marked him as royalty.
Just a soft navy mask lined with silver, paired with a star in the middle and smaller ones beneath his eyes.
“You look like a visiting scholar,” Egobworder said calmly, stepping back and surveying him. “A very well-dressed one.”
“That’s the point,” Stargazer replied, but his voice sounded far away, even to himself. “I don’t want to be noticed. Not at first.”
“You never want to be noticed,” Egobworder replied. “Yet here we are.”
Stargazer hesitated, smoothing a wrinkle from his sleeve.
“I want to see if he’ll find me,” he said quietly.
Egobworder tilted his head, helm gleaming faintly. “And if he doesn’t?”
Stargazer’s hands stilled. His eyes didn’t lift.
“Then I’ll just watch the night pass by. And hope he writes again.”
There was a silence between them, then the quiet clink of Egobworder resting his spear by the wall. He stepped forward and offered a small glass pin- simple, shaped like a crescent moon.
“For your lapel,” he said, voice a touch softer. “You said he likes quiet details.”
Stargazer took it slowly, fastening it near his heart.
“Thank you,” he murmured.
He didn’t know what he was really thinking: Please let him be there. Please let me know it’s him.
…
Sunburst was halfway through tying a cravat when he gave up entirely and flopped back on the couch.
“Too formal,” he muttered, pulling it loose again. “This isn’t a royal wedding. It’s just a party. A really…really important party.”
He stared at the ceiling. Then sat up again, crossing the room to a rack of masks.
He had five laid out.
Too bright. Too dramatic. One had feathers. One sparkled.
He picked the simplest one- pale ivory with soft gold detailing at the edge. The kind of mask that didn’t shout. The kind someone might wear if they wanted to be found, but weren’t trying to show off.
He held it up, squinting at himself in the mirror. Then he pulled it on, adjusting it slowly. He didn’t quite recognize his own face.
That was probably good.
He took a deep breath and smoothed out his suit- a pale, sun-washed yellow with soft trim and buttons that gleamed like the horizon. His advisors had insisted on it. Something light, something warm. “You always look better in sunlight,” they’d said.
He hadn’t told them the real reason he was going.
He hadn’t told anyone.
But he’d packed one letter in his coat pocket- folded, faded at the corners. Stargazer’s second letter. The one that had made him laugh. The one that had changed things.
He tucked it close and whispered, “If you’re there…find me.”
And then he left.
___
The ballroom shimmered like the inside of a jewel box- golden chandeliers dripping with crystals, velvet drapes sweeping the marble floor, and dancers already beginning their soft, practiced turns beneath a painted ceiling of sunlit clouds. Stargazer lingered just beyond the entrance, his hands curled slightly at his sides, hidden in silk gloves stitched with tiny stars.
He hated this already.
Everything was too loud. Too bright. Not in light, but in presence- the way people laughed too freely, the way their masks sparkled as if begging to be noticed. The room smelled of spiced wine and floral perfumes that clung to the air like fog.
He took a slow breath through his nose, tilting his chin higher.
Just for a few hours.
He could endure this. He had endured worse- far colder silences, far lonelier days. A little grandiosity was hardly the end of the world.
His mask, navy and silver, pressed gently against his cheekbones. It was simple, really. Nothing extravagant, unlike many others here whose outfits seemed designed to be remembered, paraded, admired. That wasn’t his style. He adjusted his collar and stepped further into the ballroom.
The musicians played something elegant, strings lilting with a rhythm meant for floating rather than walking. He tried not to trip over the hem of his cape.
“Prince Stargazer,” someone murmured nearby, bowing slightly. Most likely one of the individuals who created the event. He nodded in return, automatic and distant, already scanning the crowd. His gaze swept past dozens of faces- half-hidden behind feathers, lace, golden filigree. Not one of them was familiar.
Of course not. He didn’t know what Sunburst looked like. He hadn’t even asked.
Still, he expected… something. A feeling. A spark. Or perhaps just a brightness- a presence that might tug at the heart like a letter with the seal half-broken.
He laughed at himself quietly, almost under his breath. He was being ridiculous.
But surely, surely Sunburst would be noticeable. He was sunshine in his letters- words full of warmth and energy, barely sitting still on the page. There had to be someone here who carried that same hum of light.
Stargazer moved along the edge of the room, trying to look casual, reserved, princely. Trying not to fidget. He avoided the trays of pastries and flutes of bubbling drinks, not trusting himself to hold one without trembling.
Just a few hours. A few hours and then he could return to silence.
But…if Sunburst was here…he would find him. Or perhaps- be found.
Either way, it was enough to keep him from curling on himself completely.
He straightened his spine, set his sights on the crowd ahead, and waited.
___
It had been an hour.
An hour of weaving through painted masks and gilded smiles, of nodding politely to strangers with champagne laughter and practiced grace. An hour of dodging swirling skirts and spinning couples, of half-expecting something- anything- to spark inside him. But no such spark came.
Stargazer’s feet ached faintly, but it wasn’t from the walking. It was from the slow, creeping weight in his chest- the sinking realization that he hadn’t found Sunburst. He hadn’t even come close.
He hadn’t felt that click, that invisible thread tugging him closer. No electric recognition. No warmth curling through his ribs. He’d spoken to perhaps a dozen guests now- each pleasant in their own ways, charming, poised, decorated in velvet and gold- but none of them were him.
Once again, someone had recognized him. A young noblewoman with a diamond-studded mask had leaned in and whispered, “You’re the star prince, aren’t you?”
He’d smiled and confirmed it quietly, trying not to flinch. She wasn’t Sunburst. And she left after a few sentences anyway, distracted by a laugh across the room.
He sighed now, quietly, letting the music wash over him like tidewater. It was another slow waltz, sweet and slow as sugar syrup. The chandeliers above cast a honey-colored light over the guests, and it made the whole ballroom feel like a dream slipping just out of reach.
He wandered to the edge of the room again, near the tall windows that opened onto moonlight and ivy. The night was still, but inside him was a storm of ache. His gloved fingers tightened slightly at his sides. What had he expected, truly?
They didn’t know what each other looked like. They hadn’t sent portraits, or even sketches. Only letters filled with prose and heart and humor. It had seemed romantic, at the time. A game. A promise. But now… now it felt like searching for a single star in a sky full of lanterns.
The worst part was the growing feeling that maybe Sunburst wasn’t here at all. Maybe something had happened. Maybe his letters had been warm out of politeness, not affection. Maybe he’d never meant to come.
Stargazer lowered his head, pressing a hand to his chest for a moment, feeling the beat of it beneath the layers of silk and stars.
He had tried. He was still trying.
But the glittering hall was beginning to feel cold. The longer he looked, the lonelier he felt.
Perhaps he’d go stand by the gardens soon. Get some air. Or maybe-
“Excuse me,” murmured a stranger brushing past. Stargazer stepped aside, murmured something soft in reply, and continued wandering.
What kind of prince was he, getting disheartened so quickly?
But no matter how he steadied his shoulders or lifted his chin, his eyes kept searching. And the longer they searched, the more hopeless they became.
___
It had been another hour.
A long, slow hour spent seated in a gilded chair pressed to the edge of the ballroom like a forgotten ornament. Stargazer hadn't danced, hadn't even spoken to many- beyond a few polite greetings, a handful of shallow exchanges. The air was thick with perfume and perfume-thick laughter, twinkling masks and conversations that glittered just as much as the decorations but held no warmth, no soul.
He sat still, watching the world twirl past him in silk and music. It was getting harder to keep the smile on. Harder to pretend he wasn’t disappointed.
He couldn’t stop thinking about the letters. About him.
They had written to each other for six months- nearly every week, sometimes more. Stargazer had come to know the way Sunburst thought, how his words warmed even the most mundane subjects. How he described sunrises as though they were holy, and always signed his name with a little slash of gold ink, as if he couldn't help it.
And yet, after all this... they still didn’t know what the other looked like. A masquerade was the perfect place to meet, they had both agreed in their last letter, laughing across pages about how ridiculous it would be to try and guess.
But now, sitting alone and watching faceless figures waltz by, Stargazer was starting to believe Sunburst hadn't come.
Still, something inside him refused to give up. Perhaps it was pride. Perhaps it was the thread of longing, wound too tightly around his heart.
So he rose once more, smoothing down his sleeve, fixing the small celestial pin on his mask. And he walked.
Past the punch bowl. Past the sweeping marble staircases. Past couples that laughed and leaned in close, masks pressed nearly together. He wondered, bitterly, if Sunburst had found someone else here. Someone real. Someone recognizable.
He was caught in the thought when he bumped into someone- hard.
There was a clatter, a sudden mess of cloth and startled breath, and then- he fell. Not gracefully. Not like a prince. Just plain fell.
"Oh stars-! I’m so sorry, are you alright?" a voice said, panicked but kind.
A hand extended toward him, clad in a black glove, strong and steady. Stargazer blinked. For a flicker of a second- his heart leapt. No partner. Gentle voice. Broad shoulders.
Maybe–?
He took the hand, allowing himself to be pulled up. But as he stood, his eyes searched the face behind the mask- and the hope slipped away. The person was kind-eyed and apologetic, but there was no gleam of recognition. No warmth that felt like letters and sunlight and laughter on parchment. They looked normal. Like someone’s guard, perhaps. Not a prince. Not his prince.
"Thank you," Stargazer said softly, brushing himself off. He dipped his head in a small bow, offering a polite smile.
The person smiled back and nodded, already turning to vanish into the crowd.
And Stargazer watched them go.
He stood there for a while, rooted by nothing but longing. Then, quietly- achingly- he whispered to himself,
“Perhaps he really isn’t here after all.”
He didn’t leave, though. Not yet.
Some part of him still waited.
___
Stargazer leaned back in his chair, letting the low hum of the ballroom wash over him like the tide. The tables on the outskirts were mostly occupied now- guests resting sore feet, sipping drinks, laughing with their companions. He had none of those luxuries. His glass remained full, untouched. His legs hurt from pacing, not from dancing. And as for laughter... well, he didn’t quite feel it in him.
The music was beginning to slow- gentler, dreamier. That meant the end was nearing. He stared out through the towering glass windows, watching the lanterns outside flicker like stars dragged down to earth. Beyond his own reflection, he saw only that- an echo of himself: masked, alone, and trying not to look like he cared.
He dragged a hand up, pressing his gloved fingers over the upper half of his face. His breath left him in a long, slow sigh, muffled behind leather and disappointment. What a fool’s errand this had been. He should’ve known. Sunburst wouldn’t come. Or maybe he had and had already danced, smiling in someone else’s arms. Stargazer would never know.
He told himself he’d leave soon.
That is- until he felt a tap on his shoulder. Light, polite. Hesitant.
He flinched slightly, blinking out of his fog. A voice followed. Soft, pleasant. “Excuse me,” it said, “but... do you have a partner yet?”
He answered without turning, his voice automatic, faintly tired. “No, I don’t.”
“Ah,” the voice said, clearly surprised. Then it stumbled on, stiffer now. “Would you- would you like to dance? I haven’t found a partner either and, well... the night’s almost over.”
Stargazer glanced sideways, peeking between his fingers at the glass. His reflection still looked hollow. This was all for nothing, wasn’t it?
Still…
He dropped his hand with a sigh. “Sure,” he said. “Why not?”
He barely had time to react before the person squealed- not loudly, but enough to make him blink- and then immediately cleared their throat. “Ah- sorry,” they muttered quickly, trying to sound dignified, though the excitement still slipped through.
Then they took his wrist.
Their grip wasn’t delicate, but it wasn’t rough either. It was... careful. Firm enough to pull him out of his chair, but not so fast he felt dragged. The gesture reminded him of someone trying very hard not to be too forward, but simply too eager to be still.
Stargazer let out a little squeal of surprise as he stumbled to his feet. “Wait-!”
But they were already walking, tugging him toward the dance floor, and somehow, he followed.
The music swelled around them. The chandeliers sparkled overhead. And when he finally looked up at the person leading him... he blinked.
They were grinning. Wide and unabashed and warm as midsummer sun. Even behind the ornate mask, their golden eyes shone with a kind of childlike delight.
Stargazer’s breath caught. Not because he was sure it was him- no, not yet- but because of the feeling.
Their hand was still on his wrist, and it was warm. Not in the way a hand simply was, but in a way that lingered. Like the touch knew him somehow.
For the first time that night, something sparked inside him. Something light.
Something hopeful.
___
Stargazer stood frozen for just a heartbeat more. The stranger’s hand was still in his, still warm- too warm, almost, like sunlight filtered through gauze. The ballroom around them blurred into soft lights and distant music. He hadn’t even meant to say yes, not really. The words had slipped from him as if his body had decided, tired of waiting, tired of hope turning sour on his tongue.
The stranger, with a crooked, charming grin behind his mask, led him wordlessly toward the floor. His grip was secure, but not harsh- just enough to say, “I won’t let you go, not until this song ends.”
They reached the middle of the ballroom. Around them, couples spun like starlight caught in wind. The string quartet played slow now, low and smooth, like honey melting over a fire. Stargazer hesitated at the edge of the dance floor. He'd never liked attention, especially not when all of this- the mask, the loneliness, the half-buried longing- was weighing so heavy in his chest.
But then the stranger stepped in close, one hand resting lightly at his waist, the other guiding his gloved hand upward. Their fingers interlocked so easily. It sent a jolt of warmth through Stargazer’s arm, then blooming outward into his chest, where it caught him off guard. He looked up sharply- was it a trick of the mask? Of the moment?
The stranger smiled again, radiant as ever. His golden eyes shimmered behind the edges of his mask, and Stargazer, taken aback, looked away for a moment, flustered.
They moved slowly, in time with the music. One step. Then another. Stargazer let the stranger guide him. The world narrowed to the steady rhythm of feet against polished floor, the hush of silk brushing silk, the way that warmth on his waist didn’t leave. He’d expected stiffness, maybe even a misstep- but no. The stranger danced as though he had done so with Stargazer before.
For the first time that evening, Stargazer felt his shoulders ease.
They said nothing for a few heartbeats, just danced. Stargazer looked up again, tentatively. That grin was still there. Not smug, not mischievous, but… soft. Genuinely happy, as though this- a simple waltz with someone who didn’t yet know his name- meant the world.
And then the stranger spoke, voice low enough for only Stargazer to hear.
“You remind me of someone,” he said.
Stargazer blinked. His heart beat a little faster. “Oh?” he replied, carefully neutral, keeping his voice clipped in that practiced, formal tone.
The stranger chuckled, gaze drifting somewhere behind Stargazer’s shoulder, like he could see into the past. “Yeah. He and I used to write to each other. He was… strange. Dramatic, in the best way. He always talked like he was falling in love with the moon.”
A pause. The music swelled.
“I came tonight hoping I might find him. But, well…” A shrug. “No luck, it seems.”
Stargazer’s steps faltered for just a breath before he steadied them. His lips parted, but no words came. A chill brushed his spine, and yet his chest burned.
“That sounds like quite the friend,” he managed to say.
The stranger nodded, then added, softer, “He was more than a friend.”
Another pause. The music turned tender, a violin sighing its sorrow.
“Or… I wanted him to be. But I don’t know how he felt. He was always so careful with his words, like he was scared of letting the truth out.”
Stargazer stared at the stranger, stunned into silence. His mind reeled- those words, those letters, the particular phrasing- it couldn’t be anyone else.
The stranger chuckled nervously, as if he’d said too much. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to talk your ear off.”
“No, please…” Stargazer whispered before he could stop himself. “Go on.”
The stranger seemed surprised but smiled again, eyes crinkling. “He once told me he thought stars only burned so brightly because they were lonely. That they screamed light into the void to feel less forgotten.”
Stargazer’s breath caught.
“That was the first time I realized,” the stranger said softly, “that he might’ve been hurting. And maybe… maybe I wasn’t just writing to a poet. Maybe I was writing to someone who needed someone.”
The stranger lowered his voice further, eyes searching behind his mask.
“I think I had a crush on him, honestly. Still do. Silly, right?”
Stargazer could barely breathe. The warmth of the stranger’s hand on his waist, the gentle grip on his fingers- it all made sense now. He looked up, trembling.
And for the first time, he saw it.
Not just a stranger. Not just a charming smile. But Sunburst. His Sunburst. The warmth, the light, the star he’d longed for all night. His chest ached with how much he’d missed him.
___
The ballroom had begun to dim as the evening waned. Golden light pooled softer now on the marble floors, flickering like candlelight across the faces of the dancers still lingering. The music was no longer bold and grand- it had turned into something gentler, something more like a lullaby. The sort of tune that asked, not commanded, to be danced to.
And still, they hadn’t left the floor.
Stargazer’s cheeks were flushed, rosy and glowing like the petals of a bloom caught in late summer sun. The heat had long settled into his skin, not from the dancing- though the night had been long- but from the closeness. From him.
The stranger- no, not a stranger anymore. Sunburst.
Sunburst, who held him with that same careful certainty, as if Stargazer were made of something precious, like stardust still settling into form.
“You’re awfully warm,” Sunburst murmured with a curious tilt of his head. The gentle concern in his voice wasn’t heavy, but there was a fondness woven through it, like he was already used to caring. “Are you alright?”
Stargazer startled slightly, blinking up at him from beneath his mask. “What? Oh. Yes. Yes, I’m fine. Just… warm,” he managed, pressing a gloved hand to his cheek and willing the flush to fade. “Ballroom air. It’s- stifling.”
Sunburst raised a skeptical brow, amused. “Ballroom air. Is that a known condition?”
“It’s well-documented,” Stargazer said seriously, then broke into a shy laugh, shoulders shaking gently. “Can cause dizziness, shortness of breath, rapid heartbeats… and red-faced dancing partners, apparently.”
Sunburst chuckled lowly. “I’ll have to take note. Shall I fetch a physician? Or- perhaps stop smiling so much? That might help.”
“No,” Stargazer blurted too quickly, then stammered. “I mean- don’t. It suits you. The smiling, I mean.”
Sunburst’s grin softened, eyes twinkling beneath the edge of his golden mask. “You’re rather unfair, you know.”
“Unfair?”
“Looking at me like that,” he said, his voice quiet now. “Like you’ve known me longer than tonight.”
The words stole the air right from Stargazer’s lungs. His fingers tensed faintly where they rested against Sunburst’s shoulder, but the rest of him stayed still- anchored. Suspended.
He didn’t know how to explain the ache of recognition, or why it felt like a memory had taken form in his arms.
“I…” Stargazer’s voice faltered, then steadied into something barely above a whisper. “You remind me of someone too.”
Sunburst tilted his head, as if waiting for more- but Stargazer didn’t offer it. He didn’t need to. The thought of saying it out loud felt sacred, fragile. Like the truth would lose its shine if spoken before its time.
And besides…the way Sunburst smiled at him, like he already knew, was answer enough.
They continued to dance, slowly now, as the song neared its final refrain. Their conversation drifted into something lighter- harmless teasing and familiar rhythms. Stargazer made a clever quip about royal etiquette; Sunburst accused him of treasonous sass. They joked the way old friends did, the way their letters had always joked, laced with warmth and tiny, secret meanings only they could decipher.
For a moment, Stargazer forgot the mask on his face. He forgot that he hadn’t offered his name, or heard Sunburst’s spoken aloud in turn.
All he knew was this: the laugh he’d read a hundred times had a sound now. The smile he’d imagined behind each letter was real. The hand that had written to him by moonlight now held him with care.
And though Sunburst didn’t mention again that Stargazer reminded him of his pen pal, Stargazer didn’t mind.
He simply nodded, slow and quiet, the corners of his lips turning upward in a smile full of hope and heart. A smile that said I know.
Because he believed it now. With all the stars in him, he believed it.
This was Sunburst.
His pen pal.
His prince.
And this was the night he had waited for all his life.
___
The music slowed. Like the last breath of a dream, it drifted lazily toward silence, notes clinging to velvet air before vanishing altogether.
Stargazer barely noticed.
He was still lost in Sunburst’s gaze- no, the stranger's. No, Sunburst. His Sunburst. They stood still in the center of the ballroom while others bowed politely and drifted off, murmurs and laughter softening into background fog. The candlelight flickered low. The chandeliers twinkled tiredly above. And for a suspended moment in time, Stargazer wished he could hold this illusion longer.
But Sunburst exhaled.
A quiet, defeated sigh- like a flame dimming itself out.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, casting a glance toward the distant doors. His expression shifted, something reluctant blooming in the corner of his mouth. “I must get going.”
Stargazer blinked. Going? Now?
Sunburst took a step back. “It’s been…wonderful. Really. Thank you.”
And then, with a rustle of fabric, he turned.
Stargazer’s heart leapt into his throat.
His hand reached out before he could think- before pride, decorum, or fear could stop him- and fingers curled gently around Sunburst’s wrist.
The motion startled them both.
Sunburst jolted slightly, half-spinning, eyes wide. “Ah-! Can I help you?”
There was a trembling silence, and then-
“...Sunburst,” Stargazer said, voice barely a whisper. He stared, hand still loosely wrapped around the other’s wrist. “Are you…”
Sunburst blinked, the gears slowly turning behind his eyes.
He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, a small laugh escaping. “Was I that obvious?”
Stargazer couldn’t answer. His voice had vanished, replaced only by the thunderous rhythm of his pulse. His grip loosened as awe crept into his features. Sunburst’s laugh was soft, kind. Familiar. And then- almost as if teasing- he reached up and pulled away the delicate mask from his face.
And oh.
Oh.
Stargazer might’ve actually died right there.
Sunburst’s face was something he could have only dreamed of- a vision painted in candlelight and moon-kissed warmth. His skin was golden, burnt like the edge of dusk, glowing beneath the ballroom’s glow. His eyes shimmered like molten light, steady yet storming. And his hair- oh, his hair- was the color of a flame in its tamest form, tied loosely back with strands framing his regal face like a crown made not of jewels, but of fire itself.
He was beautiful. Not in the way stories spoke of beauty, but in the way the sun burned the horizon red when it said goodbye. Beautiful, in a way that hurt.
“I’m Sunburst,” he said with a casual dip of his head, unaware that he had just taken Stargazer’s entire breath away. “Prince of the Sunlit Kingdom. And you…?”
Stargazer’s hand hovered at the edge of his own mask.
For a second, he hesitated. The stars had always taught him to remain distant, to observe from afar. But here and now, with the last of the music fading, he no longer wished to be distant.
Slowly, nervously, he slipped the mask off his face.
His lashes fluttered, and the starlight in his eyes was no longer hidden.
“Stargazer,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I’m Stargazer. Prince of the Kingdom of Stars.”
Sunburst’s jaw slackened, his eyes widening in real, open-mouthed awe. The gears froze. His words tripped over themselves. Then-
“Wait- you’re Stargazer? My pen pal?” He took a sharp step closer, grasping both of Stargazer’s hands with a gentle urgency. “You’re even prettier than I imagined!”
Stargazer flushed so red it might've been visible through the columns of dusk outside.
“I- ah- thank you, I think?” he stammered, trembling a little under the warmth of Sunburst’s praise, his hands still cradled between the other’s.
Sunburst laughed, bright and golden and warm.
And Stargazer- poor, fragile Stargazer- could only smile like a man whose dreams had just whispered back.
___
The night air was cooler outside the grand ballroom, sweet with the scent of nearby gardens and faintly touched by sea salt, as if the stars themselves had wandered down from the heavens just to watch them speak. The great ornate doors swung gently closed behind them, the last traces of music fading into the velvet quiet.
They’d found themselves at the edge of the terrace, just beneath a balcony dripping in ivy. Lanterns above glowed gold, their soft flames flickering like timid hearts.
Sunburst walked a step ahead, his hand still laced in Stargazer’s as if afraid he’d float away if he let go. They both slowed together, drawn by the silence, until Sunburst leaned lightly against the stone railing, exhaling a soft, breathless laugh.
“I never thought it’d be you,” he said, looking out into the darkness. “I mean- I hoped. I dreamed, maybe. But I never knew.”
Stargazer stood beside him, still too caught in wonder to speak. He looked down at their joined hands. The touch was so simple, so innocent, but it sparked a warmth that made his whole body ache.
“I didn’t know either,” Stargazer finally said. “Not until you turned. And even then, I... I thought maybe I was dreaming again.”
Sunburst laughed softly, covering his flushed face for a moment. “I really said all that embarrassing stuff in my letters to you.”
“You did,” Stargazer grinned. “I read them twice. Three times, sometimes.”
“Oh stars,” Sunburst groaned, turning pinker than ever. “I was so obvious, wasn’t I? I even said I liked you in there.”
“Kind of,” Stargazer teased. Then, more softly: “But... it made me happy. Every time.”
There was quiet again, but not a cold one. It hummed between them, a new and lovely silence that trembled with possibilities. The lanterns flickered in the hush, and neither moved- until Sunburst gently shifted, glancing at Stargazer with eyes softer than the moonlight.
“So,” he whispered, barely above the rustle of the wind.
Stargazer turned to him, heart thudding.
“I feel the same,” he said.
Sunburst blinked. “Y-You do?”
Stargazer nodded slowly. “I have for a long time. I just didn’t know how to say it. I kept waiting for another letter to make it clearer, or for you to maybe guess. But now that you’re here... I can’t stop looking at you.”
Sunburst's breath caught in his throat. He looked away for a moment, his smile blooming like morning light. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to,” Stargazer whispered.
But Sunburst still turned to face him completely, visibly gathering courage. He took Stargazer’s other hand now, both cradled between his own, warm and trembling.
“Then... would it be alright if I kissed you?” he asked. “Just once. To make sure I’m not dreaming either.”
Stargazer froze. His mind went blank, his heart roaring in his chest. The stars seemed to lean in close, waiting with bated breath.
“Yes,” he whispered, barely audible. “Please.”
Sunburst smiled, all golden nerves and soft delight. Slowly, carefully, he raised Stargazer’s hand, guiding it to his cheek. Stargazer gasped slightly at the warmth there, the realness, the electricity in his skin.
Sunburst leaned in. Gently, reverently. Their foreheads touched first, a brush of warmth and air. And then- softly- their lips met.
It was feather-light at first, like the whisper of a lullaby. But it deepened as they found each other’s rhythm, a sweet and trembling promise sealed in a single moment. Stargazer’s knees nearly gave out from the sheer feeling of it, his fingers tightening just slightly around Sunburst’s. It was everything- everything- he had ever imagined and more.
When they finally parted, breath mingling in the night, Sunburst let out a quiet, dazed laugh.
“That was nice,” he murmured, teasing, but with stars in his eyes.
Stargazer, still flushed and stunned, blinked slowly, heart fluttering in his chest.
“Can we... do it again?” he asked, voice small and hopeful.
Sunburst didn’t even answer. He simply smiled and leaned in once more.
___
Their foreheads lingered close long after the kiss ended- as if neither wished to be the first to draw away. The music inside had softened to a hush, the ballroom's distant lights casting golden shadows that curled along the walls like the end of a dream. Everything around them was winding down. But between them, something had just begun.
Stargazer’s breath was warm and shallow, fanning softly across Sunburst’s lips. He could still feel the tremble in his fingers, still taste the sweetness of that kiss. He had kissed stars before- fallen things, shining and sad. But none had felt like this. None had made him feel as if he were the one being held gently in orbit.
And then- another kiss. Not urgent. Not planned. Just a lean forward, a meeting of hearts in the quiet. Stargazer tilted his head ever so slightly, his gloved hand brushing against Sunburst’s jaw as if testing the moment's realness. And it was. It was so real it made his chest ache.
Sunburst smiled into it- then laughed softly, like the wind rustling through high clouds. Stargazer giggled in return, the kind of giggle that hiccups out of you when joy has built up too full in your chest and has nowhere else to go.
“You’re ridiculous,” Sunburst murmured.
“And you like it,” Stargazer replied, grinning wide enough to crinkle the corners of his eyes.
“I do,” Sunburst said simply. “Unfortunately.”
They both burst into soft laughter again, the kind that felt sacred, like something one would keep in a pocket or hide in a book. It echoed a little in the emptying hall, blending with the final notes of a violin now fading into silence.
But eventually, it all stopped.
The lanterns flickered lower and lower, as if bowing out for the night. The garden's moon-glazed paths waited to lead their guests away. A breeze stirred the trees above them, and with it came the understanding: their night was ending.
Sunburst looked down, reluctant, hands still resting loosely at Stargazer’s sides. “We have to go.”
“I know,” Stargazer replied, quieter than before.
A hush fell again. Neither moved.
Stargazer’s hands toyed with the edge of his glove. “You’ll still write to me, won’t you?” he asked, more hesitant than he meant to be. “Even after all this? After knowing what I look like. What I sound like. What I... am?”
Sunburst’s answer came without delay.
“I’ll write to you even more,” he said, firm and warm. “Because now I know I’m writing to someone real. Someone whose laughter I’ve heard. Someone who dances like he’s trying not to float away.”
Stargazer swallowed, eyes shining. “More than just letters,” he said quietly.
“Yes,” Sunburst breathed. “More.”
They looked at each other for a long while, the kind of moment where time wraps itself around you and you forget where the edges of the world are. Then Sunburst- ever the one to keep his promises- leaned forward and brushed Stargazer’s cheek with a final, featherlight kiss.
It was quick, but it carried weight.
And finally, finally, they pulled apart.
Stargazer raised his hand, fluttering fingers in a half-wave. His voice was soft but clear, threading through the night air like a silk ribbon on the wind.
“Goodbye…my love.”
Sunburst froze, visibly flustered, a sudden color blooming up his neck and into his cheeks like fire through dawn. His mouth opened- but words failed him. He gave a stunned laugh instead, his smile crooked, caught between flattery and disbelief.
“Don’t call me that,” he muttered, flustered. “Not unless you mean it.”
“I do,” Stargazer said, eyes glowing like constellations waking up. “I really do.”
And with that, he turned, every step away heavy but hopeful, leaving behind footprints kissed with starlight.
Behind him, Sunburst watched. His hand stayed lifted in the air, as if holding the ghost of Stargazer’s touch, long after the prince had vanished into the velvet night.
They would write. They would meet again.
After all, love had finally found a face- and neither of them would forget it.
___
It had been only three days since the masquerade, yet to Stargazer, it felt like a hundred heartbeats folded inside one long dream. The world moved slower now, like it was holding its breath for them- for the boys who’d met behind masks and kissed like they already belonged to one another.
In the early hush of morning, sunlight streamed through the arched windows of his tower room. It spilled golden across the floor, brushed his cheeks, lit up the curls of his hair like the wisps of a nebula. The stars outside were retreating, but not entirely. A few lingered, stubborn little things, like love refusing to leave the sky.
He sat at his desk in his robe, legs tucked beneath him, a steaming cup of moonflower tea by his side. The scent of marigolds still clung to the letters on his desk- his letters. All from Sunburst. Stargazer smiled like a boy with a secret, twirling the end of his quill between his fingers before beginning to write once again.
My dearest Sunburst,
I haven’t stopped thinking about the way your voice trembled when you said my name. Or how your lips brushed against mine like a secret, like a promise.
The ballroom feels like a fairytale of sorts now. But you-
You are real.
I still find stardust on my sleeves. I still dream in gold.
Yours until the stars dim,
Stargazer
He sealed it with a wax stamp shaped like a falling star, then set it carefully aside, his fingers lingering on the edge of the paper like he didn’t quite want to let go.
Just then, there came a soft flutter at the window.
His heart leapt.
There it was again- that familiar parchment, this time folded in thirds, bound with golden twine. The edges were singed lightly, as always, from the heat that clung naturally to Sunburst’s fingertips. Stargazer opened it quickly, eagerly, like the words inside might sing to him.
Stargazer,
I miss you. I’ve only just seen you, and I already miss you.
I’ve read your last letter five times. Maybe six. I lost count after the third.
I keep hearing you in the halls- your laugh, your voice, that ridiculous way you say my name like you invented it.
Are you smiling right now? Because I am, like an idiot.
I can’t wait to see you again. I mean it.
(Write back faster this time!!)
Always,
Sunburst
(P.S. You’re not allowed to call me my love again unless you want me to combust)
Stargazer let out a loud, delighted laugh and held the letter to his chest, closing his eyes. He didn’t know how someone could make him feel this light and this full all at once. His whole soul bloomed like a flower in spring.
He stood and walked to the window, watching the sun finally crest the horizon, bleeding light into the waking world. He whispered aloud, as if Sunburst could hear him from his own far-off window.
“My love,” he said just once, tasting the words with a grin.
And so, the letters continued.
Folded in pockets. Tucked under pillows. Slipped into coats. Written in the dark. Sealed with trembling hands. Sent with longing. Received with smiles.
And in every one of them- somewhere between the lines- was this truth.
They were hopelessly, blissfully, unabashedly in love.
Outside, the stars still hadn’t vanished completely. Dawn had come, yes, but stardust lingered. So did the scent of marigolds.
And love- quiet, growing, constant- poured out like ink across every letter they’d ever write.