A Night of a Thousand Stars

I remember when I was alone and cold. Especially in freshman year of college, you were there across the hall from me, wearing your baggy sweats, with your imperfectly perfect bangs, complimenting your beanie. There you were, listening to that song, KANON. The way the chords complimented each other, how peace transformed into thunderous harmony. Every key turned into you. The look you gave me. The look you saw from me. Was it the same look? I don’t know. I remember how the song complimented your blue eyes, how it rushed and flowed like the ocean, neverending, never standing still. How can one possess the power of the ocean? How can one like this exist? How beautiful, how tranquil, how neverending. 

We stood in the woods on that snowy night. The snow raged —we could barely see each other, but I heard you. I heard your voice-your soft silent voice. Among all the things around me that should have been a distraction, they were not because of your voice, keeping me in check, keeping me sane. Finally, we found a cabin to keep ourselves warm. We took off our layers and burned wood at the fireplace. We sat on the couch on opposite ends. You were trying to get a signal from your phone as I was trying to keep warm. But then I stared at you without me realizing. I noticed all of you. The snowflakes on your head complimented your dark auburn hair. Your cheeks brightened like a freshly picked apple. I smiled, and looked down. Then I looked up at you. You were staring back at me. You were not smiling, no, you stared as if you’re reading one of Shakespeare’s plays, trying to piece together each word, seeing what fits. As if you were trying to understand Shakespeare himself. Your eyes, your mouth, your lips were all staring at me. You spoke without speaking. I understood you. No words were spoken that night. We didn’t need to speak for you already understood me. I understood you. We shut our eyes now visiting death’s cousin. 

“Hey, wake up.” I opened my eyes. The first thing I saw is the Christian cross dangling from your chest, it was the same one I gave you for your birthday a few months ago. This was the first I’ve seen you wear it. “You gotta see outside! Look!” You said heading toward the door. “You wanna grab your jacket?,” I asked. “No time…look!” You jumped into your boots and ran outside. I quickly followed, putting on my boots stumbling over my steps. I opened the door and saw you out in the night sky with open arms reaching to the sky. You were smiling, jumping in the air hugging the sky—the epiphany of joy. I did not bother to see what you’re happy about, for you being happy made me happy. “Look!,” you shouted pointing at the sky. I looked up and saw bright lights of every color flowing like the ocean. “The Northern Lights.”  I ran to the cabin and grabbed my camera. I took every picture, not missing a shot. “God’s breath now shines on us,” you said, now picking up snow blowing it in your hand. *Snap.* I took a picture of you. I focused on you. Your eyes were bluer in the pictures, complementing the scenery. Your whole essence emitted the same energy as the aurora lights.

We stood there in the cold. You laid your head on my shoulder, as God’s breath shone on us. The snowflakes fell tranquilly, hitting your head perfectly. Our mouths were silent but we spoke profusely. We were standing still, but we were running. Our eyes met again. They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul, but I saw your universe. I saw you. The wind became silent, as did the river, for I only heard the bells; bells jingling on a Christmas Day. I also heard KANON playing gracefully with the snowfall. I think you heard it too. I felt you grab my hand, gently rubbing your thumb against my palm. Our lips touched as the eyes of heaven shone on us. We stood there as KANON played, as the bells jingled, as the angels sang, as our hands tingled. We smiled as we rested our heads against each other under a night of a thousand stars.

This short story was written by Joshua Tomás Alejandro (IG @joshua_t_alejandro).