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For a moment, there is silence, and then the room erupts into noise, cheering and applause filling the dim bar. Scott beams, breathing heavily, fingers still poised over the frets of his guitar. The stars around his head whirl, giddy and excited. He glances over at Gem, who’s diagonally ahead of him, hands still wrapped around the microphone and her face flushed pink. Glancing over his shoulder, he makes eye contact with Impulse, who grins at him, expression etched with exhilaration, one of his drumsticks still twirling between his fingers. The crowd, small as it may be, fills the dingy space, and Scott inhales the energy, basking in the applause and the joy of performance as Gem calls out a final “Thank you!” to their audience and, holding the tableau for just a moment longer, the three of them begin to pack up.
The air outside is cool and refreshing, and Scott relishes in it, so different from the stuffy air of the bar. He huffs, grunting a bit as he helps Impulse move his drums to the van. Gem leads in front of them, carrying Scott’s guitar and occasionally calling out helpful things like “Watch your step, curb!” or “Turn left a little bit” or “That’s a pole, Scott, you dumbass, don’t walk into it.” Soon enough, the van is packed up, all of their equipment put away, and Scott pauses, hand still poised on the handle of the passenger side door. “Ugh, hold on, I think I left my jacket inside.”
“Bring me a coke while you’re at it!” Gem calls after him. Scott flips her off without looking back.
The bar hums with a quiet chatter, far mellower without the energy live music creates. Scott heads to the corner near the back where he’d left his jacket, picking it up—he doesn’t put it on, he’s still too hot after their performance, and the stagnant air of the bar certainly doesn’t help—and heads back out after grabbing Gem her coke, ready to go home and crash. Scott loves performing, but it takes a lot out of him.
Brisk and purposeful, Scott makes his way out of the bar, pushing the door open with perhaps too much force—and stumbling straight into the person on the other side.
“Whoa!” they yelp, hands coming up to catch Scott. Scott pushes himself upright, an apology dying on his lips as he locks eyes with the stranger.
The first thing Scott notices about the man is his wings—golden and expansive, gleaming with light from the surrounding streetlights and buildings, flared out ever so slightly behind him. The second thing Scott notices is the spattering of stars dusted across the man’s left cheek, slowly turning from black to blue, the same vivid cyan shade as Scott’s hair and the stars eternally circling his head.
Almost on instinct, Scott glances down to where the wings of his tattoo poke out from the neck of his shirt, sprawling over his collarbone. The mark, which has been an outline of black ink for as long as Scott’s had it, is filling with color—a golden shade entirely too similar to the wings of the man before him. Scott looks back up at the man—his soulmate .
Oh Stars.
That’s—That’s his soulmate.
Far more shell-shocked than he has any right to be, Scott falls back on the one thing he does best: flirting. “Well, hello there, handsome.”
His soulmate, meanwhile, makes no effort to hide the astonishment in his gaze as he watches Scott’s tattoo fill with color, one hand coming up to brush against his own cheek as though he’ll be able to feel the change happening to his own soulmark.
“Oh—oh my goodness, holy moly!”
In spite of himself, Scott snorts. Holy moly? What absolute fool has the universe given to him? And why does Scott find him so utterly endearing?
The man notices Scott’s breath of laughter, a light blush settling over his face as it morphs into a goofy half-smile. It’s cute. He’s cute—the man is absolutely adorable.
He’s also hot , to put it bluntly. His face is long and angular—strong jaw and high cheekbones dotted with freckles, dimples carved along the path of his smile. He’s lean and lanky, a few inches taller than Scott, wearing a denim jacket completely covered with patches and pins over a plain T-shirt and fraying jeans. Scott had called him handsome on instinct, but it’s devastatingly true. Scott’s soulmate is gorgeous , sun-kissed skin and eager eyes and sheepish smile coming together in a way that makes Scott melt . He’s not in love—how could he be? He still doesn’t know the man’s name —but he thinks, in time, he could be. Scott can already feel himself falling.
The man opens his mouth again, and when he speaks, his voice is gentle and sonorous—like a songbird, Scott thinks aptly.
“I—you’re my soulmate!” He exclaims, breathless with excitement, expression alight with wonder that makes Scott’s stomach churn. The man seems so delighted —because of Scott . He doesn’t know what to do with that.
“You’re my soulmate,” Scott echoes. For once, words fail him. Scott usually has no trouble schooling himself into the picture of composure and desirability, flirting without faltering, but this is his soulmate , and the fact pierces him to his core, leaving him unsteady in ways he’s never been before. It’s terrifying. Finding his soulmate is terrifying .
Scott comes back to Earth as his soulmate seems to remember himself. “Oh, where are my manners—I’m Jimmy! He/him.”
“Jimmy.” Scott savors the way the name feels on his tongue. Jimmy —his soulmate. “Hello, Jimmy. I’m Scott, he/him.”
On a normal day, Scott would turn it up to ten. He would follow Jimmy back into the bar, offer to buy him a drink, tell Gem and Impulse to leave without him and come back to his apartment in the early hours of the morning, flushed and with a lifetime’s worth of stories on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be shared with his sister.
But Scott’s depression has been acting up today, and he’s exhausted from their gig, and he hasn’t met just any cute boy, he’s met his soulmate . And Scott… Scott just wants to go home.
“Look, I have to get going.” Scott pointedly looks somewhere to the left of Jimmy’s face when he speaks. Jimmy is smiling, something sweet and enamored and hopeful, and Scott doesn’t want to see that smile fade because of his words. Still, the cyan stars on Jimmy’s cheek linger in his peripheral vision, vibrant and distinctive.
“My sister’s waiting for me,” Scott continues. He’s trying so hard—what he’s trying to do, he’s not entirely sure. Explain himself? Keep the conversation going for just a second longer? Keep the smile on Jimmy’s face for as long as he possibly can?
“Oh—that’s okay!” At the sound of his voice, Scott meets Jimmy’s eyes again. He’s so earnest—Scott had never quite understood what it meant to wear your heart on your sleeve, but that’s exactly what Jimmy does. Every emotion he has is painted across his features and infused into his voice, unmistakable.
“I could give you my number?” Scott hears himself suggest. “And we could continue this another time?”
Jimmy’s eyes go wide. “Oh, of course! Uh, here, let me—”
Scott can’t help but smile at the way Jimmy fumbles for his phone. They swap phones, and Scott does a double take at the sheer amount of cracks spiderwebbing across his soulmate’s screen. Still, Scott punches in his name and number, adding a little blue heart next to his name for good measure. When they swap back, Jimmy has done the same for him. Scott glances down at the new contact and can’t help but smile—Jimmy has put an exclamation mark next to his first name, and has written “canary soulmate guy!!” in the notes of the contact. He’s so endearing. Scott doesn’t know how to feel about that.
So instead he pockets his phone and turns on his heel, calling, “See you later, Songbird!” over his shoulder with a wave and a smile.
“See you later!” Jimmy agrees, a joyful lightness in his tone. Scott looks over his shoulder once more, just to see the blush he knows is on Jimmy’s face. Then he rushes off into the night.
---
When he gets back to the van, Gem takes the coke with a grumbled “What took you so long?” that Scott doesn’t deign to answer. Within no time, they’re peeling out of the parking lot, laughter and happy conversation filling the air as their van trundles down the dim city streets.
Scott, for some reason, doesn’t tell his bandmates about his soulmate. Here, away from the din of the bar and the streetlights and the gleam of Jimmy’s wings, it almost doesn’t feel real. Besides, some part of him wants to keep Jimmy to himself for just this moment longer. The moment they get home, when the lights are on and they’re face to face, Gem will notice his tattoo. Scott wants to savor this ride, the last few minutes where his soulmate is his and his alone. So Scott shelves the encounter at the back of his mind, focusing instead on his bandmates and their earlier performance.
“Today was awesome, guys,” Impulse says cheerfully from the backseat, and Scott gladly jumps on the compliment train. It’s easy to relax into the company of his bandmates, soothed by their familiar presence, the purr of the engine and the whir of tires against asphalt and the murmur of the radio filling in the silences.
“Yeah! Gem, your vocals in Brick By Boring Brick sounded amazing ,” Scott tells his sister. He and Gem will tease each other mercilessly about almost anything—but not singing. Singing is special, it’s theirs , and Scott will never pass up an opportunity to remind Gem just how proud he is of her.
“Really? Thanks,” Gem replies, smiling even as she tries to deflect. “You completely nailed the backing vocals.”
Impulse, thankfully, backs Scott up. “Yeah, but Gem, your voice sounded so good . I mean, I’m not a singer like you two, but your belting tonight? Wow.”
Gem laughs. “Thanks, you guys.” The conversation and the car stall for a moment as Gem brakes in front of a traffic light, pausing to take a swig of her water. Scott grins at his sister from the passenger seat. She raises an eyebrow. “What?”
Scott grins. “Nothing. Just happy.”
Gem scoffs at this, but doesn’t push it, and Scott lets himself bask in the warm feeling. Hearing his sister sing (and getting to sing with her!) always ignites something warm and sappy in him. Gem projects herself with so much confidence now, onstage and off, and Scott practically bursts with pride when he thinks about how far she’s come. Gem’s voice used to be such a huge source of dysphoria for her, but now she’s managed to settle herself comfortably in the alto-tenor range. She’s been working on her higher register lately, and it shows—her range has only grown, and it’s impossible to miss how comfortable she seems now when she sings, joy overtaking every part of her. Scott feels it too—his voice sits lower than his sister’s naturally, now, without trying to pitch it down. It leaves him euphoric just to think about. Singing and music itself have always been something the two of them have shared, and Scott can’t help but get emotional as he thinks about all the ways that they have grown together, as individuals and as siblings, with music and without.
All too soon, the car ride is over—they’ve dropped Impulse off and made their way back to their place, and Scott feels his anxiety return tenfold as he follows his sister into their apartment. In the dimness of the car, sitting side by side with no reason to really look at each other, it was easy to put his soulmate out of sight and out of mind. But here, in the warm lighting of their apartment, everything seems to come rushing to the forefront, and the brand new yellow of his tattoo couldn’t be more noticeable.
Sure enough, as they step in the house and kick off their shoes, Gem turns to face him, and her eyes immediately widen. “Scott! Your soulmark!”
Scott stumbles over his words, uncharacteristically flustered. With Jimmy, it was easy to put on a confident veneer. It’s much harder to do with Gem. He just wants to go to bed . “Yeah, I met him—my soulmate—when I went back to get my coat.”
“Oh my Stars, that’s amazing!” Gem squeals, little whorls of purple magic sparking in her eyes. Then she falters. “Wait, and you just left?”
“I got his number,” Scott protests, defensiveness creeping into his voice as he feels his face grow warm. “Told him I had to go, but I’d message him.”
“Oh, Scott…” Gem says, something cautious and almost pitying in her voice, and Scott feels himself tense up. She knows him too well.
“What?”
“You can’t hide from me, c’mon. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Scott bites out on instinct, only to wither under Gem’s impassive expression. “I don’t know. I just met my soulmate, there shouldn’t be anything wrong.”
“Ah ah ah,” Gem chides. “What did we say about the ‘s’ word?”
“Gem,” Scott whines. It’s late, and it’s been a long day, and he just wants to sleep . He’ll worry about his soulmate in the morning.
For once in her life, Gem concedes. “Okay, okay. Goodnight, Scott. But don’t think we’re done talking about this!”
“Goodnight, Gem,” Scott replies, ignoring the rest of her statement. Gem, his soulmate, and the anxiety pulsing at the edges of his mind ever since his soulmark gained color, can all wait until morning. For now, Scott climbs into bed and drifts asleep, mind filled with thoughts of golden wings and streetlights.
---
“Alright,” Gem says, casting an unimpressed look at Scott’s bowl, where he’s been absently pushing his dinner around without eating any of it. “Spill.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean , you went on a date with your soulmate today,” Gem rebuts. “And I’m your sister, so you have to tell me everything .”
“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Scott protests, but Gem’s gaze is insistent, and though Scott is stubborn, Gem is upsettingly good at getting what she wants.
“Well, he’s… he’s really pretty.” Gem gives him an amused look that Scott pointedly ignores. “His hair looks like it’s spun from gold, you know? Like, I’ve never seen hair that golden. It’s the same color as his wings—he’s a canary, by the way, that’s what my soulmark is.”
Gem visibly perks up. “Oh! So I wasn’t wrong , I said finch…”
“Yeah, yeah,” Scott huffs. “An ego boost. Exactly what you need.”
Scott turns back to his plate, taking a bite of his pasta and hoping his sister’s nosiness has been satiated, but when he finishes chewing, Gem is still staring at him expectantly. With a disgruntled grumble, Scott continues.
“He has an older sister—two years older, same age difference as you and me. He’s getting his degree in veterinary medicine, he works at this pet daycare place and helps out at an animal shelter. He had pet bunnies as a kid, and he used to play piano, and he loves jazz music.” Scott stops himself there. Gem doesn’t seem pleased with this.
“Yeah? What is he like? ”
“Gem, I already told you—”
“You told me the facts. I want to know what you thought of him.”
Scott, for some reason, obliges. Talking about Jimmy feels like floodgates opening, like a dam breaking; now that he’s started, it’s far easier to let his words keep spilling over.
So he does.
“He’s so sweet. Maybe the sweetest person I’ve ever met.” Scott is decidedly not blushing. “He smiles at strangers, and he said hi to every dog we passed by. He blushes so much, he’s so easy to fluster it’s funny. He’s funny—not on purpose, but he’s kind of forgetful sometimes, and he’s such a klutz. He makes me laugh. He—he’s so earnest , I swear you can tell everything he’s feeling just by looking at him. He—he looks at me like I’ve hung the stars in the sky, or something.”
Scott lets the words linger in the air, staring at the space between him and Gem as though he can see everything he’s just said, laid out before them.
Gem barely opens her mouth before Scott cuts her off. “If you make a starborne joke, you’re doing the dishes tonight.”
Gem rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t going to . I was just going to say—it sounds like you’re in love.”
Scott would rather hear a million star puns, actually. “I don’t—it’s not—I’ve only known him for, like, two weeks!”
“Yup. But he’s your soulmate and you think he’s hot and you want to know more about him and probably, like, kiss him and all that.”
“I—when did I say any of that?”
“You didn’t!” Gem looks entirely too smug. Scott hates her so much. “I just know .”
“Okay, Miss Know-It-All. Do you also happen to know who’s taking out the trash tonight?”
Gem pouts. “My wonderful, helpful brother, who’s kind and awesome enough to do his sister’s chores for her?”
Scott levels her with his best deadpan. “Nice try.”
Gem shrugs, digging back in to her pasta. “Worth a shot.”
They finish their dinner, conversation moving to other topics, and Scott thinks that’s the end of that, at least for today. But later, when Scott is curled up and reading before bed, Gem pokes her head into his room. “You’re so in love with him. Just ‘cause you’re scared of it, doesn’t mean you’re not.”
“I’m not in love with him!” Scott protests. “It’s been—”
“—two weeks, yeah, I know,” Gem finishes for him. “But you’re falling. And you’re scared.”
Her voice leaves no room for argument. Scott tries anyway.
“What would I be scared of?”
“Getting close with someone new. That you’re not good enough. That the universe made a mistake. I don’t know, whatever irrational Scott Fears you’ve gotten in your head this time.”
Scott buries his face in his pillow. “Stop knowing me so well.”
“Can’t! Sister powers. Just—remember that, yeah? I want you to be happy.”
On that achingly genuine note, Gem leaves, door shutting gently behind her.
Scott puts his book on his nightstand, turning off his bedside lamp and rolling onto his side. But sleep is a long time coming, Gem’s words and Jimmy’s smile and Scott’s stupid anxieties ricocheting around in his brain.
For his whole life, Scott has wanted to find his soulmate. He remembers learning about it in elementary school, from that one presentation they were all mandated to attend. Scott remembers learning about the ink that would appear on his body when he turned eighteen, forming a picture that would gain color when he met his soulmate. Scott had been so giddy at the thought, then—the idea that somewhere out there was a person the universe had deemed perfect for him. That didn’t change as he grew older—Scott has always thrilled at the idea of soulmates, especially his own. So why, now that he’s met his soulmate, does he feel so much dread?
In the dark, Scott’s fingers find the tattoo on his neck, tracing over the bird in an idle motion. It’s so innocent, so unseeming, painting his chest with vibrant, warm yellows. It’s beautiful. Most of the time, Scott is overcome with fondness to look down and see a reminder of Jimmy , of the person the universe has trusted to love him. But sometimes—sometimes all Scott can do is look at the beautiful bird, unblemished and innocent, tail feathers ending just short of his top scars, and wonder what on Earth he’s meant to do with a love like that—wonder how he could do anything but destroy it.
---
Gem puts the phone back on his bedside table, face up. “I’m gonna go to work now, alright? I’ve told Jimmy, he’s on his way over.”
“Okay,” Scott mumbles. His entire body feels like it’s made of lead, weighed down, immobile. There’s a black hole in the middle of his chest, breaking him open, pressing him into the bed, and it hurts . “Love you.”
“Love you too,” Gem says. And then she’s gone, and Scott is alone, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling.
Time passes, each minute indistinguishable from the next. Scott loses track of how long he lies there, eyes unfocused, body limp, weighed down by the emptiness in his chest. He comes back to awareness at the sound of a door swinging open before closing with a soft thud , the click of a lock preceding the gentle padding of footsteps. And then there’s a knock on another door, his door, much closer, and a soft voice comes through the wood: “Scott? Can I come in?”
“Yeah.”
Jimmy doesn’t waste any time, gently nudging the door open. “Hey, Scott. How’re you doing?”
Scott hums. Rolls over on his side so he can see Jimmy. “What did Gem tell you?”
It’s unfair how good Jimmy looks. His hair is golden, perfectly mussed, wings folded into a heart shape behind him. He smiles at Scott as he pulls out his phone, and Scott wonders how he hasn’t gone blind yet—isn’t it supposed to hurt when you stare directly at the sun?
“‘Hey Jimmy, it’s Gem. Scott’s sister,’” Jimmy reads. “‘Scott’s having a bad day and I have work but I don’t want to leave him alone. Wanna come over?’” Jimmy pauses to look over at Scott, eyes crinkling as he smiles. “I said yes, and then she said, ‘I’m leaving now, but I’ll leave the door unlocked for you. You live close, right? Just lock it when you come in.’”
“Oh,” Scott says, suddenly aware again of the ache in his chest. It thrums with something melancholy, and Scott blinks back the wetness in his eyes. His sister cares about him so much it hurts .
Jimmy pockets his phone. “Do you want the lights on or off?”
“Mm. Don’t care.”
“Okay. I’ll turn off the main lights, but I’ll leave the blinds open, and I’ll turn on your lamp—it’s kind of cloudy out.”
“Okay.” Scott closes his eyes. When he opens them again, Jimmy has done just that, and is now standing awkwardly beside Scott’s bed.
“Do you mind if I sit with you?” he asks, and his voice is gentle, stained with tenderness, and Scott might cry.
He doesn’t. “Go ahead.”
Jimmy perches at the edge of the bed, legs dangling over the side, wings twitching nervously behind him. His thoughtfulness is sweet, but not necessary. Scott rolls over, patting the empty space on the other side of his bed. “C’mere.”
“Oh—okay.” Jimmy’s face is dusted pink, a beautiful compliment to the teal soulmark on his cheek. He crawls onto the bed, sliding next to Scott, back resting against the headboard. Almost absently, he runs a hand through Scott’s hair. Scott leans into it, finding the action far more comforting than he’d like to admit.
“Do you want talking right now? Or just quiet?”
Jimmy is so considerate. “Talking is fine.”
For some reason, Scott has no problem talking on days like this, even as moving the rest of his body feels like an insurmountable task. Sometimes words are harder to find, and he’s far quieter than normal, but speaking doesn’t feel like a chore the way all other movements do.
Jimmy nods. “Okay.” He’s quiet for a moment. “What’s going on? I mean, if you want to talk about it.”
Scott shrugs—as best as he can while lying down, anyway. “I, um—I have depression? And sometimes I have—sometimes there are just days like this.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” Scott giggles a little. Jimmy runs his fingers through Scott’s hair again. “Is this okay?”
“Yeah. It’s good.”
“Oh—okay.” Jimmy is so sweet. It makes Scott’s heart hurt. Scott’s stars bob lazily around his head, as though in a dance with the fingers Jimmy cards through his hair. Scott can feel Jimmy’s eyes on his scalp. “I didn’t know your stars changed color.”
“They—huh?” Scott’s brain feels sluggish, syrupy. Jimmy doesn’t seem to mind.
“They’re duller, now. Than they usually are.”
“Oh. Yeah, they match my… energy levels, kind of. So when I’m really excited, or I have a lot of adrenaline, they’ll be extra bright, and when I’m really tired or low energy, they’re duller. Like now.”
Jimmy hums in understanding. “That’s cool. I didn’t know they could do that.”
Scott doesn’t respond. The room is quiet—not uncomfortably so. Scott keeps his gaze on Jimmy’s face, watching as he surveys the room, eyes landing on Scott’s nightstand. “What are you reading?”
“ One Last Stop , Casey McQuiston. It’s a lesbian romance, it’s cute.”
“Yeah? Do you like romance?”
“Yeah. It’s fun. What do you like?”
“I like fantasy. Magic. Stories like that. But romance is nice, too.” Scott gets the feeling that Jimmy is teasing him, just a little. He pouts a bit, and is rewarded with a small chuckle.
Jimmy reaches over to the night stand, picking up the small framed photograph lying face-up on the nightstand because the stand broke off. He takes it in, then tilts it so Scott can see. “Is this you and Gem? I didn’t know you were a redhead.”
Scott looks up, incredulous. “Jimmy. You’ve met my sister.”
Jimmy groans, embarrassed. “I know, I just—never put it together, I guess.”
Scott spares Jimmy from any further teasing, just this once. “Yeah, starborne powers manifest in different ways. When mine manifested, my hair turned blue, and I got my stars. But Gem got a different type of magic, and her hair didn’t change color.”
“Wow,” Jimmy breathes. “That’s really cool. Tell me more about your magic sometime?”
Scott smiles weakly at the thought. “It’s a date.”
Jimmy smiles at him, inspecting the picture for a moment longer. “Wait—did you have freckles?”
Something heavy and anxious settles in Scott’s stomach. He ignores it. “No, that’s Gem.” He points at the girl with bows in her hair and a purple dress. “That’s me.”
“Oh.” It takes a moment for Jimmy to process. “ Oh . Are you—?”
“Trans? Yeah. Gem is too. Been out for a while, though. Had top surgery… two years ago?” It’s not a secret—neither of them make much of an attempt to hide it, but Scott hasn’t told Jimmy outright. He tells himself it just hasn’t come up yet, that they’ve only been together for a few months. It’s a weak excuse, even in his own mind.
“That’s cool.” Jimmy is the perfect combination of awkward and sweet, bless him. “I mean, that is—thanks. For telling me.”
Scott isn’t prepared for the warmth that rushes through him. He tugs at Jimmy’s arm. “Come here.”
“What—oh.” Jimmy’s eyes go wide, but he lies down beside Scott without complaint, only hesitating a moment before he joins their hands together, wing draping over Scott like a blanket.
Later, Scott will blame the look in Jimmy’s eyes, the way depression loosens his tongue, his tiredness. But for whatever reason, he looks into Jimmy’s eyes, bringing a hand up to trace Jimmy’s soulmark with his thumb, and says, “Can I tell you something?”
“Of course,” Jimmy says immediately, easily, like there’s no question about it.
“I’m scared,” Scott confesses. Jimmy furrows his brow, gently squeezes Scott’s hand.
“What are you scared of?”
“You,” Scott says. Jimmy blinks. “I’m not… good,” Scott explains before Jimmy can respond. “I’m going to hurt you, I think. And I don’t want to do that.”
“What… what makes you say you’re going to hurt me?” Jimmy’s words are careful, measured. They don’t belie the concern in his voice.
“I don’t know. I just will. You’re so—you’re my soulmate. You’re fantastic. And I’m… me.” Scott can’t articulate his fears very well. It probably has something to do with the “irrational” part of “irrational fears.”
Jimmy breathes deep. Exhales, low and heavy. “That’s… so are you, Scott. You’re wonderful. Every time I’m with you, I think, thank goodness you’re my soulmate. I can’t imagine someone more perfect. I can’t imagine anyone else who the universe itself would decide was made for me. I wouldn’t want anyone else”
Tears have been building at the back of his eyes for a while now, but that’s what does him in. One spills over—just one, a single tear, tracing a salty path down Scott’s face. Jimmy brushes it away with his thumb.
“I don’t deserve you,” Scott whispers.
Jimmy makes a noise, low and keening. He opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again. Then, with a soft puff of what might be laughter, Jimmy says, “I think the universe disagrees.” He leans in, and Scott closes his eyes as Jimmy presses his lips to his forehead, feather light, and Scott, suddenly, feels tired down to his very core.
“We should talk about this more,” Jimmy says, “because Scott, you’re amazing. I’m lucky to have you.”
“Okay,” Scott mumbles, tugging Jimmy towards him until they are wrapped together, arms around each other, Scott’s head buried against Jimmy’s chest. “I’m going to sleep now.” Jimmy’s breaths are deep, steady, and his heartbeat sounds like a steady beat, like the count off before the start of a song. Scott lets it lead him away from consciousness.
---
When Scott wakes up, Jimmy is still in bed beside him, propped up against the headboard and looking at something on his phone. When he notices Scott awake, blinking blearily at him, Jimmy smiles warmly and tilts his screen so Scott can see it.
“Dragon’s getting adopted,” he says, showing Scott a picture of a very happy looking dog next to a smiling woman.
“Cute,” Scott coos, still waking up.
“How are you feeling?” Jimmy asks, careful and concerned. Scott thinks for a moment, takes stock of himself like he’s learned to.
Raw. Breakable. Tired. Still not great.
Loved.
“Better,” Scott answers. It’s true. His body feels less heavy, the weight on his chest lessened slightly. Scott pushes himself up to a seated position. “Hungry, I think.”
“Want to get something to eat?” Jimmy offers. “Gem should be off work in an hour or so, right?”
Scott checks the time. “Yeah.” He swings his legs over the side of the bed, and Jimmy follows suit. Before they can stand, Scott turns to his soulmate.
“Jimmy?”
“Yeah?” And Stars , Jimmy really is perfect, immediately fixing Scott with nothing but care and concern.
“I—Thank you.”
I love you , Scott doesn’t say. It’s too soon for that. But every moment is a step closer.
On a whim, Scott leans in and presses a kiss to Jimmy’s cheek, lips brushing against the stars that mark Jimmy as his . He leans back. Jimmy is grinning, dopey and adoring, and there is too much emotion welling up in Scott—fondness and gratitude and something that might be love.
“Can I?” he asks, swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat. Jimmy, thankfully, knows what he means.
“Of course.”
Scott leans in, a weight lifting from his shoulders, anxieties thrown to the wind, and presses a kiss to his soulmate’s lips.