Rhapsody

constellations: lyra

the twenty-second night.
10:48 p.m.

i run the last few blocks
to the station
and don't stop until i'm right next to him.

you okay?

pant, pant.
yeah, just let me catch my breath.

it takes her more than just a few minutes.
he rubs her back gently, hoping
to help.

i'm good.

alright.

i was running all the way here.

what? why?
did something happen?

his concern is almost
endearing.
i smile at him reassuringly.

no, i just lost track of time.
i was reading.

he throws back his head and laughs.
the sound of it
fills the night air, and
i swear the stars twinkle
a little more brightly.

he shakes his head.

only you would do that,
he tells her.

she grins back sheepishly.

come on. let's get going.

i take his hand and get up,
and we set off.

he stays so close to her that
their shoulders keep brushing.
he grips her fingers tightly.

we walk slowly,
unhurried,
because this is night
and at night we have all the time in the world.

rio has a way about him:
he talks about everything
with such passion, such
life.
he tells me stories
of his childhood,
and i return the gesture.

it was getting easier and easier
to tell her his secrets;
and that scared him. but it was
a comfort to know that
she felt the same way about him,
too.

by the time we reach the clearing
my face hurts from smiling too much.

her cheeks are flushed, partly
from laughter and partly from the chill.
he'd give her his jacket if he had one,
but he didn't bring any.

they lie down in the grass,
side by side,
and he puts an arm around her.

he points upwards.

okay. you see those
three really bright stars
there?

where?

he guides her through the skies
until she finds them.

i see them.

that's the
summer triangle.
some people call it the
"navigational triangle" because
well, in the past,
it helped them navigate
their boats.
each star is part of
a different constellation.

i absorb this new information
for a moment.

which one is...
the second-closest to us?

vega.
it's the fifth-brightest star in the night sky, actually.
the second-brightest in the northern hemisphere.

really? what constellation
does it belong to?

lyra. the lyre.

lyra, like
lyra belacqua?

only you would make that connection.

she grins, but doesn't deny it.

they were good books,
she defends.

that's true.
the second is still my favorite.

really? i prefer the first
and the last.

i thought you would've hated
the last one. it was pretty sad, wasn't it?

kind of. but
it was beautiful.

he thinks about it for a moment.

the stars are quiet above them,
the grasses soft underneath.
he can hear her every breath -
feel each rise and fall of her shoulders.

his arm is around my waist
and my head is on his chest.
i close my eyes to listen
to his steady heartbeat,
and it is
a comfort.

a lot of beautiful things
are sad,
he realizes.

it seems wrong, somehow.

what do you mean?

that we find sad things beautiful.

yes, i suppose.
but i guess we
can't really help it,
either.

mhmm.