The Same Stars (#Wattys 2016)

Breathtaking

Part One

David

"I'm always gonna be a little empty. But, step by step, I'm catching up."

There have not been many times in my life in which I've seen something I would describe as breathtaking.

Which is not to say I've led a consistent life.

I am a result of change.

I am a result of my mum deciding kids wouldn't be a bad thing to have.

My upbringing is a result of change.

Dad changed his mind about his future, and the woman he had promised it to.

My new home is a result of change.

Dad, who needed a change in scenery as much as I did from London's downcast streets, took him with me to leave our shattered household behind.

Mum never said goodbye.

She'd changed her mind about me, too.

Who I am is a result of change. I traded dresses for t-shirts, braids for close-cropped hair, pink for blue.

Changed from Ella to David.

I traded confusion for happiness.

And, it turns out, Dad had some more changing to do, too. With a soon to be husband by his side, it seems we found out why the spark had faded from his old marriage. That is, if the spark were ever there at all.

And, I still am changing.

But, the lack of things to describe as breathtaking has remained the same.

Not much of anything seems beautiful anymore.

But the sight before me, sheets of color draped across a starry night sky, a full moon shining luminously through all of the beauty in the night, still, waveless water, like glass, reflecting the collision of shimmering colors, a chilled breeze causing every blade of grass in the seemingly infinite flat fields to sway - an orchestra of nature, a divine melody.

It can only be described one way. It can only be described by my gaping mouth, by the lack of warmth from puffs of breath that would, ordinarily, greet my lips.

Absolutely,

Undoubtedly,

Breathtaking.

"Miguel," I whisper, regaining long held oxygen, "What are those?"

My new auburn-haired friend, whom I'd just met upon wandering the fields of this unfamiliar place, so unlike my home city, lifts a corner of his mouth in response. A gesture that reveals a small dimple, a dent on shockingly white skin that so differs from my own dark complexion. The gap in between his barely revealed front teeth is an imperfection I hadn't noticed before, but one I'm glad to see now.

The small smile warms both his complex hazel eyes, a multitude of spiraling browns and greens, and my heart.

"'Ave 'ou not 'eard of the Aurora 'orealis?" He asks, his Scottish accent difficult to pick through. Though, his deep, rumbling voice is very easy on the ears.

"Aurora Borealis?" I repeat the words, testing out their sound on my tongue. His eyes search mine, scrounging for any sign of jest. I stare at him, straight-faced as I reply "No, I haven't the slightest idea."