Work Text:
Useless.
The word clung to Stargazer like frost, settling into the empty hollows of his being where warmth had never quite managed to gather. It was not spoken aloud- no one had ever bothered to speak of him at all- but it resonated through him as surely as gravity pulled worlds into motion.
Useless.
Unwanted.
Unnecessary.
Some beings were born with purpose etched into their bones- guardians forged in storms, healers sculpted from moonlight, deities who bent entire civilizations toward hope or fear. And then there was him. A star-shaped ornament hanging in the heavens, a shimmer across the night sky placed there because no one had considered removing it.
His light saved no one.
His glow changed no one.
Those below looked up at him only when the world had already lost its true light. To them, he was a quiet sparkle, a soft echo of something better. And even that purpose- if one could call it such- had been replaced over the centuries. Sailors once traced paths by his faint gleam; now they relied on towers, lenses, machines that didn’t flicker or dream.
Reliable things.
Useful things.
Everything he wasn’t.
Stargazer often drifted above the world, watching people bustling through their fragile lives. They never thought of him. Why would they? Even when they tilted their chins upward on clear nights, their eyes were glazed with a longing not for him, but for the sun they’d lost to the horizon just moments before. He was nothing more than the reminder of its absence- its lesser reflection.
So of course he loves it.
It.
Never anything familiar or intimate enough to deserve a name. Stargazer’s devotion wasn’t toward a person- it was toward the eternal fire itself. The sun. A blazing, golden giant whose warmth bled across the world like divine mercy. It rose with the promise of life and sank only to make the world long for its return.
Stargazer too, longed.
Always had.
The devotion he felt bordered on obsession, strange and consuming. He adored the sun with the desperation of a moth yearning for the flame that would inevitably kill it. He admired its brilliance, worshiped its strength, envied its purpose.
Where the sun awakened life, Stargazer drifted aimlessly.
Where the sun nurtured the world, he merely watched it spin.
Where the sun was indispensable, he was ornamental.
Sometimes- on the quiet nights when the wind stilled and even the stars seemed to dim- he wondered what it might feel like to be consumed by that radiance. To be burned away. To surrender his useless spark to something so powerfully alive. If the sun devoured him, used him as fuel, perhaps he would finally serve a purpose greater than simply existing.
Perhaps he would finally matter.
He didn’t fear oblivion.
Oblivion sounded gentle.
His light flickered more often now. The edges of his glow trembled, thinning like a candle burning itself down to the last curve of wax. There were moments- brief, terrifying, almost welcomed- when everything in him seemed to loosen, as if gravity itself were letting go. His own shimmer guttered like a star on the verge of collapse.
He told himself he was only tired.
Only drifting.
Only dimming a little.
But he knew the truth.
And maybe- maybe that was all right.
Stars like him weren’t made to shine forever.
And if fading meant inching closer to the warmth he adored,
then perhaps…
perhaps it wasn’t loss at all.
___
Stargazer drifted through the high reaches of the sky like a lantern someone had forgotten to snuff out. His light trembled with every slow turn of his body, spilling faint sparks that dissolved before they could reach the earth below. Once, that might’ve frightened him- the idea of falling apart, of shedding pieces he’d never get back.
Now, it only felt…expected.
He floated with no direction, his glow uneven, his shape softening at the edges. The air around him hummed with a cold so deep it seeped into him, threading itself into his dimming core. Every breath he took shivered out of him like a sigh that had nowhere to go.
He didn’t bother searching for solid ground. He didn’t bother stabilizing himself.
Above him, the night was vast.
Around him, everything was quiet.
Inside him, everything was coming undone.
He thought, vaguely, that solitude suited him.
Decay was less humiliating when no one watched.
Every few minutes- if minutes even existed up here- another flicker ran down his spine. A stuttering pulse. A dimming of his inner glow. He felt the light bleed out of him in soft shivers, peeling like cloth coming unraveled thread by thread.
He studied it with neither fear nor emotion.
So this is what a star looks like when it dies, he mused.
Not with an explosion, not with brilliance-
just with quiet surrender.
He didn’t fight it, he had no reason to.
The world had never needed his stubborn spark to begin with. He’d always been the lesser light, the afterthought, the soft glow mortals tolerated only because they were waiting for the sun to return. He wondered how many nights he had watched humans look up- not to admire him, but to mourn the sun’s absence.
He’d known jealousy over stranger things.
But this had never been jealousy.
It had been longing.
He drifted lower, his body a dim afterimage.
He imagined what would happen when he disappeared entirely.
Nothing, probably.
No cries, no prayers, no desperate search.
Mortals had lighthouses now. Lanterns. Machines stronger than his fragile light could ever hope to be. Even their night skies looked brighter with each passing year- glowing windows, glowing cities, glowing inventions that didn’t falter when doubt touched them.
Reliable lights.
Useful lights.
He was neither.
He wondered if any mortal ever whispered a wish to him anymore. He doubted it. Why waste breath on a star that dimmed every night a little sooner than before?
Maybe they would prefer the sky without him. Maybe the darkness left behind would be more honest. More beautiful. A blank canvas free of his failed attempts at shining.
He let the thought settle, heavy but strangely comforting.
He had always been a burden to the night, he supposed- something hanging crookedly from the heavens, neither bright enough nor brave enough. His existence felt like a mistake someone forgot to fix.
But even as he unraveled, one constant stayed inside him, faint and flickering but stubborn.
The sun.
His devotion clung to him like the last piece of himself not yet decayed. The sun was everything he wasn’t- warm, vital, brilliant, essential. Mortals worshiped its light, begged for its rise, lived their entire lives in the rhythm of its return.
He adored it so deeply it ached.
Sometimes he imagined drifting close enough to feel its fire on his skin, close enough to melt into it, close enough to burn away everything weak and worthless inside him. Eternal daylight- yes, he could almost see it. Mortals would rejoice. They hated when the sun left them behind.
Maybe… maybe he was meant to fade so the sun’s glory would shine uninterrupted.
Maybe this was the natural order of things.
Maybe he was fulfilling his purpose by disappearing.
His glow flickered again- harder this time.
It guttered.
Dimmed.
Returned only faintly.
His vision blurred.
The horizon distorted, like he was looking through water.
He felt hollow, as though his insides were evaporating.
A cold breeze drifted past him, brushing his cheek like a goodbye. He didn’t shiver. He didn’t tense. He just floated, calm, accepting, as though he had been waiting for this moment longer than he dared to admit.
His mind sagged.
His body sagged.
His light sagged.
Every piece of him stretched thin, thinner, thinning still.
This, he thought distantly, might be peace.
No more pretending.
No more glowing for a world that never looked back.
No more fighting to stay aloft when gravity had already forgotten him.
A soft, final breath left him.
He closed his eyes, letting the darkness fold gently around him-
and the fragile star collapsed.
___
Stargazer drifted awake as though rising from the bottom of a black ocean. No pain- just the soft glide of consciousness returning, thin and wavering. When his eyes cracked open, light blurred above him in slow, widening rings. They weren’t stars, not really. They were too close, too warm, too alive. They pulsed like breath.
For a moment, a strangely hopeful thought slid through his mind.
Am I dead?
He hoped so. Gods, he hoped so. The cold in his bones had grown old, and he’d grown tired of carrying it. If death meant silence- if it meant that great merciful nothing- then perhaps this was not so bad.
But the lights overhead kept blooming, unfurling like sunlit petals, and a soft hum threaded through the air. Not silence. Not nothingness. Something was here with him.
He didn’t have long to wonder.
Two warm hands cupped his face- warm, warmer than anything he’d felt in ages- \and Stargazer went stiff as a struck chord. The heat seared into his frostbitten skin instantly, but he didn’t flinch. He only inhaled sharply, breath shuddering, eyes flying wide as he stared at the figure leaning over him.
If it was a figure at all.
From his angle, all he could see was radiance- shining edges, a body outlined in molten gold. It was like trying to look directly into the heart of a sunrise. The glow swallowed all detail, all shape, all sense. He couldn’t tell if he was being held by a person or by light itself.
His pulse stumbled wildly.
Then the warmth-drenched voice spoke, soft as dawnlight falling over shutters.
“Stargazer,” it murmured. “I’ve finally found you.”
The words rippled through him- recognition without memory, comfort without reason. Something ancient in him stirred, aching toward that voice like a flower straining for the sun.
He didn’t move. He couldn’t.
The being drew him closer, guiding him upright with a tenderness so steady it almost hurt. Stargazer felt his cold limbs gather in against the warm shape, his forehead brushing the glow. Every point of contact burned, but he welcomed it greedily.
A quiet laugh, half-amused, half-adoring, shimmered in the heat.
“You’re far too dim,” the voice chided gently, “for one who loved the sun so fiercely.”
A shiver wracked him- embarrassment, longing, confusion, something nameless twisting together. He didn’t even know what to say. He wasn’t sure he could speak. His throat felt full of smoke and starlight.
Then the warmth moved inside him.
Not physically. Not anything as simple as that. It flowed through him like a tide of molten gold, sinking past his skin, threading through the cold void in his chest, filling places he had never realized were hollow. Heat crawled under his ribs, settled in his lungs, chased the ice from his veins.
He gasped- a tiny, broken sound.
But the being held him steady, as though cradling something fragile.
“Rest now,” the light whispered.
And Stargazer’s thoughts scattered like dust in sunlight. His body went slack, heavy in the radiant arms. The world dimmed. Warmth swallowed the cold entirely.
Then- soft darkness.
___
Stargazer rose toward consciousness like a drowning star drifting back to the surface of the sky.
Light pressed against his eyelids, too soft to sting yet too bright to ignore, and a slow tremor passed through his limbs as sensation returned one fragile thread at a time. The world felt weightless- no horizon, no wind, no pulse- just a hush, a breath, a pale glow that seemed to cradle him in the cradle of something half-real.
His eyes fluttered open.
Above him hovered a figure made of radiance. Not a body. Not yet. Just light coalesced into a silhouette, shimmering like a sunbeam trying to remember the shape of a person. Its warmth spilled across Stargazer’s skin in gentle waves.
“Ah…” The figure’s voice fell over him like morning itself. “You’re awake.”
Stargazer nodded, slow and distant. He wasn’t sure he had a body to nod with, but something moved when he asked it to. He tried- automatically, mindlessly- to sit up, but a hand of warm light pressed to his shoulder.
“Keep still.”
No authority. No force. It was simply said, and somehow his body listened. His muscles softened, and he allowed himself to sink back, breath trembling out of him like frost melting under dawn.
He murmured something without meaning to- just a sound, more longing than language.
“S…un..”
The figure tilted its head, the motion rippling sunlight.
“Pardon?”
Stargazer swallowed, letting his voice gather itself again, pulling its pieces together like fallen stars.
“Sun,” he whispered. “Are you…the sun?”
The being gave a slow nod, light stirring in soft waves. “Something like that,” it said gently. “I came because-”
The rest never made it out.
Stargazer lurched upright, raw and sudden, cutting the words off mid-breath. His hands slammed into the figure’s chest- or where a chest should be- meeting molten heat that should have flayed him to the bone.
It burned. God, it burned.
But he didn’t pull away. Didn’t even flinch. Pain was irrelevant, a distant star on a horizon he no longer cared to track.
The figure stilled, stunned.
“Kill me,” Stargazer said.
It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t dramatic. It was a plea wrapped in resignation, quiet as starlight.
“That’s what I came here for, right?” His voice cracked, a glass edge scraping against the air. “To die? You- you’re here to kill me, aren’t you?”
No answer.
The silence felt like standing on the edge of the universe- empty, endless, waiting.
“Please,” he breathed, leaning in, letting the blistering heat crawl up his arms. “Just kill me. Let me go. Please. I’m begging you.”
Instead of flame, warmth surged.
Not destructive. Not punishing.
A pair of arms- solid now, unmistakably shaped- wrapped around him. Heat enveloped him like a sunrise curling around a dying ember. It wasn’t the burn of fire; it was the warmth of dawn itself, soft enough to make his throat tighten.
Stargazer froze.
He didn’t know how to move. Didn’t know what to do with the comfort pressed around him like a promise he didn’t deserve.
The voice came again, thick with something bright and unbearably tender.
“I came because I felt your light guttering,” it said, slow, careful. “Like a dying spark calling for the dawn.”
Stargazer jerked back at that, horror slicing through him.
“The sun… came down for that?” he whispered. “Surely that’s not all. You- you didn’t come here just to save me, right? I should’ve-”
The being opened its mouth to speak.
Then paused. Mid-syllable.
A silence that wasn’t empty followed. A held breath.
When the being spoke again, its voice was softer, lower, almost reverent.
“Why would that happen?” it asked. “You’re far too bright to die.”
Stargazer stared, breath gone thin, gone ragged. He didn’t know what to do with the words. Didn’t know how to hold something that gentle without breaking it- or himself.
The glow pulling around the being softened. Folded inward. Condensed.
Light resolved into skin- sun-kissed, molten, flawless. Shoulders, arms, a tall form shaped like a prayer carved in firelight. A face came into focus, all sharp lines softened by radiance.
A grin- brilliant as noon- bloomed across it.
And when the golden eyes opened, it was like looking directly into the heart of daylight.
“My name is Sunburst,” it said, voice warm enough to melt ice. “And your flame isn’t meant to vanish. Not like this. Not ever.”
Its hand lifted, brushing a thumb along Stargazer’s cheek with a tenderness that made the stars inside him tremble.
“And you,” it murmured, “shine more than you know.”
Something moved in Stargazer’s chest.
A small, stunned flutter.
A beat.
His first heartbeat in ages- cold, faint, but alive.
___
Stargazer didn’t remember moving.
One moment he had been wrapped in blazing arms, and the next he was standing—no, floating- within a pale, boundless expanse. Light pooled beneath his bare feet like shallow water, rippling with each breath he took. Wisps of brilliance curled through the air like drifting petals, swirling lazily upward into an unseen sky.
He blinked, dizzy and weightless.
“How-”
A warm finger pressed softly to his lips.
“Shh,” Sunburst murmured, eyes crinkling with a smile that glowed far too brightly for something so gentle.
Stargazer froze, half-formed thoughts fluttering apart like startled birds. Confusion, awe, fear- they all tangled in his chest, making it tight, making it cold. Sunburst’s touch, warm as late afternoon, only muddled him further.
Sunburst laughed under his breath, stepping back just enough to look him over with amused scrutiny.
“Why do you have that ugly look on your face?”
Stargazer just stared at him. He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t even pretend to know how to respond to something like that.
“Why?” he asked finally, voice almost swallowed by the glowing air around them.
Sunburst tilted his head. “Why what?”
“Why save me?”
The question fell between them like a dying star- soft but heavy, its weight impossible to ignore
Sunburst paused.
Not long. But long enough..
Then he lifted his shoulders in a slow, almost playful shrug, though the warmth in his eyes betrayed something deeper beneath.
“I can’t just let you die, can I?”
Stargazer flinched at the word die, but Sunburst continued, stepping closer with a glow that pulsed gently around him.
“I’ve had quite the interest in you for a long while,” he admitted, and the bravado of sunlight suddenly flickered shy, like dawn blushing over the horizon. “But I was… too nervous to confront you on my own.”
The confession hit Stargazer like a blow. He blinked rapidly, each blink pulling in more confusion, more disbelief, more fragile hope he didn’t dare acknowledge.
Sunburst cleared his throat, glancing aside for a heartbeat.
“Unfortunately- or fortunately- you collapsed,” he added lightly. “So I finally had the chance.”
The sun… interested? In him?
Stargazer’s face went slack with shock, and guilt rushed in to fill the hollow. He stepped back, shaking his head, words tumbling out faster than he could catch them.
“I- I’m so sorry,” he stammered. “I didn’t mean to waste your time, really, I-”
But a warm palm pressed against his mouth again, soft but firm.
“Don’t apologize,” Sunburst said quietly. “You could never waste my time. I came here because I decided to.”
Stargazer’s breath thinned. Those words- so certain, so deliberate- wrapped around him like a warmth he wasn’t sure he deserved.
He tore his gaze away, forcing himself to take in their surroundings properly. Endless light. Endless stillness. Colors blooming without rules, painting soft arcs through the air.
“This place…” he murmured. “Where are we?”
Sunburst let his hand fall, folding it behind his back as a grin tugged at his lips.
“Your consciousness,” he answered simply.
Stargazer blinked. His consciousness. Not a real sky. Not a real ground. Not a real place.
A chill crept through him. He wet his lips, voice small.
“So…did I-”
Sunburst cut him off, not unkindly.
“I’m here to guide you,” he said, as though that answered everything and nothing at once.
Stargazer swallowed hard. Guide him where? Guide him how? Guide him because-?
But another question burst out instead.
“When I wake up,” he whispered, “will you… be there?”
Sunburst’s laugh burst from him like sunlight scattering across waves, bright and warm and unbearably alive.
“Of course,” he said. “I have to be.”
Stargazer didn’t dare ask why.
Didn’t dare unravel the threads of meaning dangling between them.
But for the first time in longer than he could remember, something curved at the corner of his mouth- a small, shy, trembling smile.
And Sunburst smiled back, radiant as dawn.
___
Stargazer woke with a gasp- sharp, startled, too alive.
Light crackled faintly across his skin, like frost melting under dawn. His chest felt strangely full, as though someone had poured warmth straight into his hollow ribs. For a moment he lay still, blinking at the soft haze of the world around him, trying to gather whatever scraps of memory still clung to him.
He remembered… falling. He remembered cold. He remembered dying.
Or- almost dying.
Or- not dying at all, if the sun had spoken true.
Stargazer pushed himself up slowly, a hand pressing to his sternum. He felt steady. Lighter. Almost buoyant-
“Morning!”
He nearly flew out of his own skin.
Sunburst stood right behind him, grin bright enough to rival a sunrise, waving with both hands like a delighted child spotting a friend across a field.
Stargazer yelped- quite undignified- and scrambled backward on instinct, nearly tripping over his own feet. “S-sun- Sunburst?!”
“Yes?” Sunburst chirped, stepping forward with an energy that practically hummed. “Are you alright?”
Stargazer swallowed hard, heat flaring across his face. “I- I’m quite fine, thank you.”
Sunburst didn’t seem convinced. In fact, his grin faded into something focused, bordering stern, as he closed the remaining distance and gently took hold of Stargazer’s arms. His touch was warm- too warm- but careful, almost reverent.
“Are you sure?” he asked, golden eyes searching his face with a seriousness that made Stargazer’s breath catch. “Nothing hurts? Nothing feels wrong?”
Stargazer blinked, startled by the intensity. “No- no, I’m alright. Truly. I feel… lighter than usual, actually.”
Sunburst exhaled a breath he’d clearly been holding, shoulders relaxing as relief washed through him. “Good. At least I know it’s working.”
Stargazer stiffened. “What’s…working?”
Sunburst froze for a fraction of a heartbeat, then smiled almost too casually. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I just needed to make sure you weren’t injured anymore.”
Right.
He had saved him.
Had brightened him. Strengthened him. Filled him with something warm and golden despite how dim and cold Stargazer had been.
Stargazer’s bottom lip trembled before he could stop it. “You… really did all that.”
Sunburst’s grin returned in full force, dazzling and earnest. “Of course I did. And I’ll be by your side from now on- to make sure nothing like that ever happens again.”
Stargazer looked away, jaw tightening. A frown pinched at his brow, and Sunburst, still holding his arms so softly, immediately tilted his head in concern.
“What’s wrong?” he asked gently.
Stargazer swallowed, eyes fixed on the floor. “You came all this way- for me. And I…” His voice cracked, small and wavering. “I only feel like I’m disappointing you.”
The silence that followed was brief but heavy.
Then Sunburst’s hands tightened- not painfully, but firmly, grounding him in warmth.
“Disappointing me?” Sunburst echoed, incredulous. “Stargazer, if I found this boring, I’d have left long ago.”
Stargazer blinked up at him, startled.
“And right now,” Sunburst continued softly, “you’re far from boring. You’re… quite lovely.”
Stargazer froze.
Lovely.
He didn’t know what to do with a word like that. Didn’t know where to put it in himself. Didn’t know how to accept it when his whole existence had been built on dimness and doubt and the quiet certainty that no one would ever use a word like lovely for him.
But something inside him- some small, fragile flicker- brightened.
Hope, he assumed
Or maybe this being’s impossible charm.
Or maybe- just maybe- he wanted it to be both.
___
Sunburst had a habit of sitting too close these days- close enough that Stargazer could feel the warmth trembling off him, like the promise of dawn pressed against a midnight sky. And Stargazer, in all his fragile hope, had learned not to ask why. Asking only ruined things. Asking made him aware of how lonely he’d been before Sunburst started orbiting him with that impossible, steady glow.
But today… today Sunburst lowered himself to the ground beside him, thigh pressed to thigh, shoulder brushing the faint shimmering dust that trailed from Stargazer’s hair. And he didn’t pretend it was accidental. He didn’t pretend anything.
“Talk to me,” Sunburst murmured. Not a command- something softer. A request shaped like prayer.
Stargazer blinked, startled. “Why?”
Sunburst only tilted his head, golden lashes catching the light. “Because I can tell your mind is full,” he said gently. “Too full. And I’d rather not have you carrying all that alone.”
Stargazer’s breath hitched, a thin, brittle sound. He looked away, jaw tightening. “It’s nothing.”
“It isn’t.” Sunburst’s hand found his arm- unsteady, trembling just once, as though he hadn’t meant to reach out that desperately. “Please. Speak.”
And something in that please cracked open a seam inside Stargazer, but still he hesitated, staring down at his own fingers like they were foreign. Sunburst leaned in, voice a whisper brushing the edge of laughter, the edge of sorrow.
“It’s the least you could do,” he said softly. “To pay me back.”
Stargazer froze.
Oh. Right.
Payment.
That was what he was good for, wasn’t it? A debt wrapped in stardust and silence. Something useful at last.
He swallowed hard. Then, exquisite and breaking, he confessed.
“I… I want to be useful,” he admitted, the words crawling out of him like something wounded. “I hate being just… the sky’s decoration. An ornament. A reminder. I hate existing for beauty and nothing else. I wish-”
He paused, eyes fluttering shut.
“I wish I could disappear.”
The words bled out of him, raw and trembling. And then, quieter still:
“And I…love the sun.”
Sunburst’s laugh came soft, surprised, a small bright chime in the stillness. “That’s certainly one way to confess.”
But Stargazer didn’t laugh. He didn’t even look away.
“I mean it,” he whispered.
Sunburst’s smile faded, melted into something gentler. Something real.
Quiet stretched between them- warm, unsure- until Stargazer finally asked the question that had been clawing at him for days.
“Why do you stay so close?” His voice sharpened, not quite angry but frightened of the answer. “Why do you keep doing all of this?”
Sunburst blinked, and for the first time his brightness dimmed. A shadow passed across his expression- thin but unmistakable.
“Because if I’m not near,” he murmured, eyes drifting to the horizon, “you’ll drift closer to…sleep.”
Stargazer’s heart lurched. “Sleep?”
Sunburst’s face tightened. Then he shook his head quickly, brushing it away like dust. “No- just… you’d go back to how you were before I came.” He forced a crooked smile. “And I wouldn’t like to see that.”
Stargazer leaned forward now, gaze sharp as a comet’s tail. “Why?” he demanded. “Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?”
His voice trembled- not with anger, but with fear of the answer.
Sunburst reached out again, calmer this time, thumb brushing the stardust clinging to Stargazer’s sleeve.
“Don’t worry about that,” he murmured. “Not now. I’m here because I want to be. That’s enough.”
And then he smiled- bright, hopelessly bright, like dawn bending toward the night it could never stop loving.
And Stargazer, helpless in the way only the lonely can be, bowed his head and obeyed.
___
They rested beneath a sky that wasn’t finished- brushstrokes of color suspended in half-formed dawn, stars smudged like someone had dragged a hand through wet paint. A world in the middle of creation, fragile, glowing, unsure of itself.
Stargazer blinked awake to find his head pillowed in Sunburst’s lap.
He didn’t know when that happened. He didn’t remember lying down, didn’t remember surrendering to sleep. But lately, things Sunburst did… didn’t bother him the same. They felt less like intrusions and more like inevitabilities, like the sun simply rising because it must.
After all- this was how he paid him back, wasn’t it?
Sunburst’s hand drifted through his hair, brushing through the strands heavy with glimmering dust. Each sweep was slow, almost reverent. His eyes were closed, his voice a hum, gentle as a lullaby carried by spring wind.
Stargazer let out a quiet breath. “I feel… warm,” he whispered, almost like confessing a sin.
Sunburst’s eyes fluttered open. Soft. Bright. A sunrise made of worry and affection.
“That’s amazing,” he said, smiling, thumb brushing away another curl of stardust as though it were a thorn. “Really. It is.”
Stargazer wasn’t sure what they were- not acquaintances, not friends, not anything he had a name for. All he knew was that Sunburst stayed. Sunburst insisted they stay together, even when Stargazer had nothing to offer but silence and the empty ache of wanting to be useful.
A finger trailed along his cheek- slow, careful, pressing just enough to ground him. And then Sunburst leaned down, breath catching, and laid a soft kiss against Stargazer’s forehead.
Light flared around them like a small, private sunrise.
Heat rushed up Stargazer’s face- an embarrassment he wasn’t used to, an emotion he didn’t know how to categorize. It wasn’t pain. It wasn’t shame. It was something bright, something frightening, something like-
Healing.
He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Recovery was its own kind of terror.
Sunburst pulled back, cheeks blooming with a faint blush that made him look almost mortal. He scratched lightly behind his own ear, looking sheepish in a way that didn’t fit someone so radiant.
“Hey… can I say something?” he asked, voice low, shy, an unexpected softness.
Stargazer raised a brow. “What is it?”
Sunburst opened his mouth- hesitated- looked away. A little breath hitched, like he’d stepped into cold water.
“...Never mind.”
Stargazer blinked, confusion tugging at him. “What do you mean never mind? What were you going to-”
Sunburst hushed him with a grin, bright and warm and a little too quick.
“I promise I’ll tell you later,” he said.
And in that moment- beneath an unfinished sky, with the rising warmth of Sunburst’s touch lingering on his skin- Stargazer believed him.
For now, at least.
___
Cold.
It crept in quietly at first, like a draft slipping through a cracked window. Stargazer noticed it in the little things- Sunburst’s hand hovering just a heartbeat too long before touching him, fingers that once blazed like dawn now leaving faint trails of frost on his skin. The warmth never vanished all at once; it simply… thinned. Like a dying ember pretending it could still glow.
And Stargazer, with all his fragmented logic and bruised heart, convinced himself it had to be normal. Celestial things were strange, weren’t they? Unpredictable. He would know. He told himself it was a cycle, some cosmic rhythm he couldn’t possibly understand. Something ancient. Something expected.
But tonight- if time even existed here- something felt unmistakably wrong.
They sat together in that half-formed space, the sky above them a scattered wash of half-painted stars, as though reality had forgotten to finish itself. Stargazer rested against a stone that might’ve been a cloud, or a dream, his breath faint puffs of silver. He felt Sunburst settle beside him, the shift of air smooth yet subdued.
The touch came not long after. A hand to his cheek. Familiar. But-
Stargazer flinched.
Cold. Sharp. Unyielding.
Sunburst didn’t pull away. Didn’t seem surprised by the flinch.
He just exhaled- shallow, thin, like each breath cost him something irreplaceable. “Just a little more.”
Stargazer blinked, swallowed, leaned in despite the cold searing against him. “A little more what?”
A strained laugh slipped from Sunburst, as brittle as cracked glass. “This. All of this. It’s a normal cycle.” He waved one hand loosely in the air, its glow flickering like a fire caught in wind. “I’m simply… burning myself out. Ironic, isn’t it?”
“No.” Stargazer’s voice sharpened more than he intended. “It isn’t funny.”
Sunburst went silent.
The quiet stretched long and heavy, settling over them like frost. Sunburst stared at his hands- hands that once shone steady and bold, now quivering with dimming light. A faint tremor ran through his fingers, so slight Stargazer almost doubted he saw it. The celestial brightness that defined him now clung in soft, uneven pulses around his body, like a heartbeat struggling to stay rhythmic.
His shoulders, once proud and lifted, had begun to slope inward.
His breaths were shorter, tighter.
His gaze drifted somewhere far away.
If Stargazer dared to look closer, he would have sworn Sunburst’s bottom lip was trembling.
A terrible ache pooled inside his chest.
“Sunburst…” he whispered. Sunburst didn’t answer.
So Stargazer moved instead. Slowly. Carefully. Like approaching a sacred, fragile thing. He wrapped his arms around Sunburst’s torso, pressing against him despite the chill, the cold biting deep enough to sting. Sunburst stiffened, startled- but after a moment, he melted into the embrace, forehead dropping to Stargazer’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” Stargazer breathed, his voice cracking softly into the space between them.
Sunburst inhaled weakly. “What for?”
Stargazer closed his eyes, feeling the cold seep through him like a warning. “Because I’m… burning you out. Aren’t I?”
Sunburst pulled back sharply- not harsh, just desperate, an urgency that flickered bright for a heartbeat.
“No,” he said, too quickly. Too forcefully. Then softer, almost pleading, “No. Don’t think that.”
“But-”
“Stargazer.” Sunburst’s voice broke on the syllable, cracks running through the golden tone like fractures in glass. “Please don’t.”
His fingers cupped Stargazer’s face, colder than ever, trembling faintly as they brushed along the curve of his jaw. His eyes- dull around the edges yet still trying so hard to shine- held something raw, unguarded, terrifying.
“It’ll pass,” Sunburst murmured, as though repeating a prayer he desperately needed to believe. “It always passes.”
Stargazer frowned, brows furrowing with a hurt he couldn’t name. “But you’re not- Sunburst, you’re not okay.”
A small, fragile smile tugged at Sunburst’s lips. “I’m glad you care.” His thumb stroked Stargazer’s cheek, a shimmer of light warming just faintly. “And I’m glad you’re grateful. Truly. You were always meant to shine.”
The words felt like a blessing and a farewell wrapped into one.
Stargazer’s chest tightened painfully.
He leaned forward, pressing his forehead into Sunburst’s, trying to share warmth he didn’t have. Trying to anchor him. Trying to hold on.
Sunburst’s eyes fluttered shut. He let out a shaking sigh.
“It’ll pass soon,” he repeated, softer, gentler, like a promise whispered over a fraying thread. “Don’t worry.”
And Stargazer- helpless, earnest, desperate to believe him- nodded.
Because he didn’t know what else to do.
___
Stargazer sat alone beneath the unfinished sky, knees drawn up, arms wrapped tight around himself. He felt small- smaller than usual- even though there was no wind, no darkness, no threat. Only that gnawing, sour ache curling under his ribs. That ugly, ugly feeling he thought he’d buried long ago.
Sunburst said it would pass, he told himself, squeezing his eyes shut. He said it’s normal. He said I shouldn’t worry.
And Sunburst didn’t lie. Sunburst couldn’t lie.
So why did his chest still feel bruised? Why did his thoughts circle like hungry birds above him, picking at every doubt he thought he’d burned away?
He dropped his head, forehead pressed against his knees.
He wouldn’t want me like this. I’m not supposed to be the old me anymore. I’m supposed to be better. New. Useful. Light.
He tried to breathe, but it came out uneven.
Then-
“Stargazer!”
He didn’t jump. Oddly, he didn’t even flinch this time. Sunburst’s voice cut cleanly through his spiral, bright and warm (or trying to be), followed by Sunburst himself appearing behind him with that familiar grin- wide, blinding, a little too forceful at the edges.
But something was…off.
His hands were tucked behind his back.
Stargazer blinked, straightening a little. “Sunburst…? Is something wrong?”
Sunburst’s grin wobbled, turning sheepish. “Wrong? Ohh, nothing! Nothing at all!”
…That was suspicious.
Stargazer narrowed his eyes, tilting his head. “It is something. Please… if something is wrong, tell me.”
He winced immediately. Too sharp. Too demanding. His shoulders caved in, and he shrank visibly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to-”
“No, no- don’t apologize.” Sunburst cut in quickly, shaking his head so fast his hair flickered like loose flame. “It’s okay, really. And it’s nothing bad. Actually-” His grin sharpened into excitement, “-I have a little something for you.”
Stargazer blinked again. “Something…for me?”
“Mhm!” Sunburs brought his hands forward at last. “Ta-da!”
In them lay something small, delicate, strange. A shape Stargazer didn’t recognize: deep navy, smooth edges, soft glittering stars embedded around the outline. It shimmered faintly like it remembered the night sky before it existed.
Stargazer stared. “What…is this?”
“It’s a mask,” Sunburst said proudly, rocking on his heels. “They wear these down there. I, uh-” he scratched the back of his neck, cheeks puffing slightly, “-might’ve snuck down again. Without anyone seeing me. And stole it. Not without burning down a few things, of course.”
Stargazer’s head snapped up. “You- what? Why?”
Sunburst shrugged, casual as starlight. “I figured it matched you. Plus-” his grin softened, turning almost shy, “-your eyes are too pretty to let just anything see.”
Stargazer felt heat rush to his cheeks so fast it startled him, as if the very idea of being seen- truly seen- was overwhelming enough to crack him open.
Sunburst laughed quietly, seeing the reaction. “Go on. Try it. Please?”
Stargazer hesitated- afraid of breaking it, afraid of doing it wrong, afraid of doing anything wrong- but slowly, carefully, he lifted the mask and placed it over his face. It fit like it was made for him, the cool material settling against his skin in a soft embrace.
Sunburst didn’t breathe for a heartbeat.
Then-
“Oh stars- Stargazer- you look amazing! I knew it would match you! It was so worth it-”
Stargazer’s lip trembled.
Sunburst froze mid-celebration, blinking. “Huh?”
The next moment, Stargazer let out a tiny, choked sniffle.
“Oh- oh no, wait, are you- Stargazer?!” Sunburst nearly dropped to his knees, scrambling forward in a panic, hands hovering frantically as if afraid touching him might break him further. “Hey- hey, no, no, don’t cry- what’s wrong? Did I mess up? Is it too tight? Is the color wrong-?”
“I’m fine,” Stargazer insisted, though his voice wobbled like a fragile note. He wiped at his cheeks, forcing a shaky smile that- shockingly- felt genuine. “I’m fine. I just… it’s beautiful. Thank you. Thank you so much.”
Sunburst went still.
Watching him.
Reading him.
Something in those dimming eyes softened, settling into another one of those tender smiles he always showed.
“You’re welcome,” he whispered, smiling in a way that felt more real than any grin he’d worn in days.
___
The air feels unreal here- gentle, weightless, almost shy. A plane of grass that moves like green silk lies beneath them, stretching out to nowhere and everywhere at once. Stargazer sits up slowly, hands sinking into soft blades that shift around his fingers as though greeting him. He glances around, bewildered.
“Where… are we?” he murmurs, half-afraid his voice might break the place.
Beside him, Sunburst leans back on his elbows with that effortless grace, golden hair catching the light like it was painted by a god. “A place woven out of your consciousness,” he says, as though discussing the weather. “Something you’ve… always yearned for, I suppose.”
Stargazer raises a brow, letting his gaze wander through this endless, gentle world. “Yearned for?” he echoes-until he lifts his eyes.
Above them hangs the sun, steady and warm, burning with an unwavering devotion, similar to someone he knows quite well.
“Oh,” he whispers. And in that single syllable he understands.
He lies back down, shoulder brushing Sunburst’s. The contact sends the smallest ripple of heat through him, and he pretends not to notice. They stay there in soft, loaded silence, the tall grass whispering around them. Stargazer thinks this is the closest he’s ever come to peace.
Then- of course- Sunburst speaks first.
“Stargazer.”
A hum answers him, deep in his chest.
“What do you think of me?”
Stargazer’s head snaps a little toward him. “That’s…a loaded question.”
Sunburst giggles- an unguarded, airy sound that seems to brighten the grass around them. “Humor me. I’m bored.”
Stargazer exhales, a long, contemplative breath. “You’re many things,” he murmurs, eyes drifting toward the sun again, “if not all. I don’t think I can pick anything worthwhile to say.”
“Oh, surely that’s not it,” Sunburst teases. “Come on. One thing. Something.”
Stargazer flinches at how gently demanding he is. It shouldn’t affect him this much. And yet…
He goes quiet. Thinking. Searching. Trying to choose a word that won’t feel too small for a being made of warmth and forgiveness and light.
Finally, he speaks, soft as the grass brushing his cheek.
“You’re… benevolent,” he says. Not simple, but full. “A kindness carved into the world. You’re the warmest, most loving thing I’ve ever known.” His voice starts gaining shape, depth, spilling out of him without his permission. “And the thing I’m most thankful for. And- maybe- the only thing I… love.”
The last word lands between them like a stone dropped into still water.
Sunburst’s grin is instant. Bright. Mischievous. “See? That wasn’t that hard.”
Stargazer covers his face with a palm, mortified.
“But I can do better,” Sunburst says lightly, turning toward him. “By far.”
Stargazer freezes.
“One word for you?” Sunburst thinks aloud. “Radiant.”
Stargazer’s breath catches. Sunburst keeps talking, his tone turning soft, grounding. “You’re the most beautiful star I’ve seen in a long time. And you forget it. Constantly.” His voice curls with something like affection, something like exasperation. “You’re not useless. You don’t fade. And you shouldn’t disappear. Not when you shine like this.”
He laughs- bright, delighted- at Stargazer’s stunned expression. “See? Easy.”
Then he shifts closer. So close Stargazer can feel the warmth rolling off him in waves. Sunburst reaches forward, gentle but sure, fingers sliding under Stargazer’s chin. He lifts it, makes him meet his gaze.
“Don’t forget it,” he murmurs. “Or I’d be pretty sad.”
Stargazer’s heart thrums in his chest, too fast, too loud. His eyes widen, glowing faintly with constellations he can’t control, with feelings he doesn’t know how to name. But they’re warm. They’re full.
He swallows.
And he smiles- small, trembling, real.
“...I’ll try.”
And for once, maybe for the first time, he thinks the word might be happy.
___
Stargazer is incandescent.
He shines with a brilliance he never knew he held- warm, soft, steady. A light meant to soothe, to heal, to uplift. Sunburst had coaxed that brightness out of him little by little, day by day, praising him, teasing him, loving him into something fuller. And now, he’s glowing like a star reborn.
Sunburst should be basking in it.
He tries to. He grins too widely, laughs too quickly, steps a little too close, as if trying to soak in every bit of Stargazer’s radiance. His joy is real- achingly real- but there’s something desperate in it. A flickering in his smile. A hollowness in his gaze.
And the coldness…the coldness never left.
It only worsened.
Some days, Stargazer’s breath fogs when Sunburst touches him. Some nights, his hands feel like polished stone. And now… now he catches Sunburst sitting in the grass, sunlight pouring right through him- through his arms, his ribs, his chest- like he’s a mirage wearing the shape of a boy.
“Sunburst,” Stargazer whispers, breath trembling. “What’s happening to you?”
Sunburst startles. Then instantly, he pastes on that practiced grin- trying to straighten his posture, trying to pull himself together like a fraying thread.
“It’s nothing,” he insists. “Really. I’m okay.”
“You-” Stargazer chokes on the words. “You’re fading.”
“Just a little,” Sunburst jokes weakly. “Barely noticeable unless you squint.”
“Sunburst.”
He ignores the warning in that voice, stepping closer, reaching up to adjust Stargazer’s collar as though this is all some peaceful, domestic moment. “Don’t worry, Stargazer. I promise it’s-”
“You’re not fine!” Stargazer snaps, more loudly than he intended.
Sunburst blinks, startled.
Stargazer takes a breath, but it trembles. He swallows hard, voice cracking. “Please. Please stop saying that. Just tell me what’s wrong.”
“I-”
“Don’t say ‘nothing.’ Not again.”
“Stargazer-”
“Look at you!” His voice is thick with despair. “You’re- you’re barely even here!”
Sunburst opens his mouth.
Stargazer cuts him off- panic rising like a tide. “You keep brushing it off- every time- every day- and I- I’m just supposed to pretend it’s fine because you smile?!”
Sunburst’s eyes widen at the sharpness, the fear, the helplessness coming off him in waves.
He tries again. “Stargazer, listen-”
“No! You listen- just tell me what’s wrong- just say it- Sunburst, please- PLEASE-”
“I’m sorry!”
It shatters out of him in a scream.
Sunburst collapses into himself, knees hitting the ground as a sob tears from his throat- raw, shaking, heartbreaking. It’s a cry that sounds like something divine splintering apart.
Stargazer stumbles backward in shock, chest twisting. He’s never seen Sunburst cry. Not like this. Not with that kind of old, ancient pain folded into every shaking breath.
Sunburst’s hands fly to his face, as if he could hide the way he’s falling apart. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry- I can’t- I just can’t fake it anymore-”
“Sunburst,” Stargazer whispers, heart pounding, stepping closer on shaking legs. “What can’t you fake? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t- I don’t want to die anymore-”
The world freezes.
The sunlight dims.
Even the grass seems to start swaying.
“D…die?” Stargazer’s voice barely exists. “What are you talking about? You’re- you’re Sunburst. You can’t- you can’t mean-”
Sunburst looks up at him, tear-streaked and trembling, and somehow tries to smile. It’s a small, broken thing. A candle flicker.
“Oh. Right.” His voice wavers. “You don’t know.”
“Know what?” Stargazer steps forward, frantic, grabbing Sunburst by the shoulders. “Tell me. Tell me now.”
Sunburst shakes under his grip- physically, visibly, like he’s barely holding himself together. His body flickers again, translucent, and Stargazer can see the sky through his chest.
“Sunburst!” Stargazer cries, voice cracking open like thunder. “Say it!”
Sunburst closes his eyes for a moment- as if bracing himself. As if this is the thing he feared the most: not dying, but telling Stargazer he is.
Then he opens them, tears clinging to golden lashes, and says softly:
“I’m dying, Stargazer.”
The words strike like a blade.
Stargazer’s hands fall away. He stares, breath caught in his throat, his light dimming in an instant.
“No,” he whispers. “No- no, no, you can’t- you can’t say that, don’t- don’t say that-”
“I wish I didn’t have to.”
“Tell me you’re lying.”
“You know I don’t lie.”
Stargazer grabs him again, fingers trembling violently. “WHY? Why is this happening?”
Sunburst gives a shaky little laugh, one that sounds almost delirious from exhaustion. “And here I thought you were a little more observant than that.”
“Sunburst.” His voice is breaking, desperate. “Stop doing that. Stop talking in riddles- just explain- please- please-”
Sunburst reaches up with fading fingers, cupping Stargazer’s cheek. His hand is ice. His thumb trembles against Stargazer’s skin.
“Stargazer…”
He leans forward until their foreheads touch- cold against warm, fading against vibrant- and whispers:
“You’ve been dead for a long time now.”
…
Stargazer does not move.
He stands rooted to the earth like a statue someone prayed into existence- silent, perfect, and breaking. The world feels impossibly far away, like it’s drifting off without him, and the only sound anchoring him is Sunburst’s crying.
Soft at first. Then ragged. Then thinning out into something frail, like a candle guttering in wind.
And still Stargazer says nothing.
His lips part only when they absolutely must, when the pressure in his chest can no longer be contained. The word that escapes him isn’t even a word- just a shaking gasp wearing the shape of one:
“...what?”
It trembles through the air, begging for mercy.
Sunburst lifts his head, and somehow- gods, somehow- his expression brightens. A trembling little smile, exhausted around the edges, but gentle in a way that feels like forgiveness.
“What?” he echoes, as if Stargazer had simply asked him to repeat a name.
The cold in Stargazer’s stomach pulls tighter, knotted sharp. He wants to scream. Wants to shake Sunburst until he stops smiling like that. Wants to demand why he’s talking like this, why his edges are turning see-through, why his voice is fraying apart like dying starlight.
But Sunburst keeps going. Keeps smiling. And it’s that smile- sunrise-soft and deathbed-delicate- that makes Stargazer realize something is very, very wrong.
Sunburst laughs.
It’s tiny. Thin. The kind of laugh that sounds like it hurts.
“Well,” Sunburst says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, “ever since you collapsed that day… you’ve been dead.”
The words drop between them like a meteor- silent, but dragging the whole sky down with it.
Stargazer’s breath halts. His heartbeat stumbles into nothing.
Dead.
He wants to ask again. Wants to demand clarity. But Sunburst is already talking, almost playfully, as if explaining a small inconvenience in his day.
“Not entirely gone,” he adds lightly. “Just… mostly. You weren’t really supposed to stay.”
A soft laugh, as fragile as the light in his body.
“So I- well- I kept you here. I’ve been keeping you here.”
Stargazer’s throat won’t open. His lungs won’t obey. His vision buzzes at the edges like static.
“I had to pour myself into you,” Sunburst continues, smile dipping into something wistful. “That’s why I stayed close. Turns out you needed more than just light.”
He huffs a shaky breath. “You needed me. All of me.”
That breaks something in Stargazer’s chest.
He surges forward, grabbing Sunburst’s arms with trembling hands. “Stop. Stop talking. Please- just stop.”
Sunburst looks at him, soft-eyed. “At first, I didn’t mind. But now that it’s gotten this far… I realized there’s so much I wanted to do with you. Just a little more time, a little more-”
“Sunburst.” Stargazer’s voice cracks. “I said stop.”
Sunburst hesitates. Then- oh, gods- he smiles again, that fragile, luminous curve of his lips. “Do you want to know why I didn’t stop?”
“Sunburst-”
“It’s because I think I love you, too.”
The words hit Stargazer like a blade sliding slowly between ribs. Not violent- just devastating.
His breath folds in on itself, trembling. His knees nearly give. His eyes sting hot, too hot, like someone lit a fire behind them.
And Sunburst, even now, reaches for him.
He lifts Stargazer gently, his fading arms curling around him like a dying flame trying to warm its last night. His hands cup Stargazer’s face- cold now, colder than anything Sunburst should ever be- and he leans in until their foreheads touch.
“You’re the brightest I’ve ever seen you,” he whispers, voice quivering but tender. “I didn’t know you could glow like this.”
Stargazer doesn’t realize he’s crying until he feels the streaks down his cheeks- until the tears cool and burn and tremble all at once. His body shakes, barely keeping upright. Every sob feels like it’s scraping something out of him.
Sunburst just watches him, eyes shining with something unbearably soft.
“And maybe it’s selfish,” he says softly, “but I’m glad I got to see you like this. Even if only once.”
The world tilts.
Sunburst’s body flickers- light skipping, faltering. He inhales like he’s about to say something monumental, something that would carve the universe open-
“I’m glad I-”
He never finishes.
His face shifts. The light inside him drops.
And with a sound no louder than a sigh, he collapses
Right out of Stargazer’s hands.
Stargazer catches nothing but air.
He watches Sunburst hit the ground softly, like falling petals. Watches the body he loves fold into itself. Waits- waits for the rise of breath, the comeback quip, the tiny groan of overexertion.
But instead- Sunburst’s body shatters.
Not violently or grotesquely.
But tenderly.
A soft, crystalline cracking, like ice breaking under dawn light. Golden shards drift upward, fading midair, dissolving into sun-dust. His outline comes apart piece by piece, falling through Stargazer’s fingers.
“No,” Stargazer whispers, shaking harder now. “No, no- stop- stop- STOP-”
He kneels, frantically reaching for the pieces, but they melt against his skin. Every fragment dissolves. Every sliver of light leaves him. Until only one flicker remains.
A faint glow inside Stargazer’s chest.
Sunburst’s last warmth.
Stargazer bends over as if struck, his hands digging into the grass. His sobs tear out of him- broken, desperate, shaking the whole plane. He calls every name he ever wanted to give Sunburst. Love. Light. Beloved. My sun. Please.
No answer returns.
Just dust, silence, and the fading warmth lodged in his ribs like the memory of a sunrise that will never come again.
Stargazer stays there until he can’t see through his tears, until the golden dust disappears, until even the echo of Sunburst’s voice goes quiet.
He is alone.
And the last piece of Sunburst’s light flickers weakly, inside him, struggling to stay, struggling to shine, struggling- like him- to not disappear.
___
The heavens did not mourn the way he did.
The cosmos kept to its old rhythms, unbothered by the fracture in his chest, unshaken by the golden dust still clinging to his trembling hands. Above him, the night unfurled itself with uncharacteristic brilliance- stars crowding close, burning with a gentleness they had not shown in eons, as if trying to offer what comfort they could to one of their own.
They glittered. They shimmered. They sang their cold songs.
But none of it reaches him.
Stargazer stood in the hollow ruin of the moment, a silhouette carved out of grief, his breath thin and uneven as though each inhale scraped new wounds along the inside of his ribs. The world around him was painfully unchanged- the grass still trembling in the breeze, the constellations still threading their eternal arcs across the sky, the horizon still preparing to bleed into dawn.
Life marched forward. The universe spun on.
And yet his world had stopped.
When morning rose, the sun ascended with a brilliance almost cruel in its beauty. Light spilled gold across the horizon, warm and breathtaking… and he could not bear to look at it. Not when he knew whose hands had shaped that light. Not when he knew those hands were gone- broken, fading, scattered to the wind like petals from a flower he hadn’t learned to hold gently enough.
The day glowed as fiercely as ever, refusing to dim, refusing to acknowledge what had been lost.
But for Stargazer, dawn would never feel bright again.
Even as the sky burned with colors meant to dazzle him, he saw only the echo of a smile now lost to him forever- sunburst-bright, warm enough to thaw the universe… but not warm enough to stay.
And so the night shone brighter than it had in eons, and the day bloomed luminous as ever.
Though for Stargazer, it seemed it would never be bright enough.
Not anymore. Not without him.
He lived.
Not by his own light,
but by the sun who loved him too fiercely to let him fade.