When he smiled, it was as if a sun had lit in the darkest of starry nights. He was a painting, a picture of bliss unknown by many in a scene so beautiful for the eye to see. His irises would sparkle with a light of a thousand stars and a million planets, and those glimmering nebula would burrow themselves in his dark hair and shine for the world to see. Sometimes, they clung to the rough material of his faded blue jeans. However, when the corners of his lips upturned into that painting so looked upon, every shining light got that much brighter and he shone like the sun. Some would question if he were even made of the stars and not daylight.

His dark, freckled skin would become lighter in mood, and his full moon eyes would cycle into crescents to let the light become its own. It would shield itself from the newly-created brightness and glimmer with the oncoming laugh.

When the twinkling sound left his lips, one could only stare. It wasn't filled with pity or self-loathing; it was genuine and true. It sounded like the wind blowing against the chimes of an isolated cabin now awoken with the bird's call of spring and life itself, everything going into full bloom of reds and sunset-orange and blues and purples. The morning glories would bloom and the bright pink foxgloves would show their hue along the porch that one once sat, rocking, dreaming, and wishing to the night sky that held the starlight wishing for its own.

That was all in Pax, blooming with the season and the roses and lush grass against his bare feet. He held the sun that pushed the flowers to grow, to spread their petals and show their hue against an everlasting green just awoken. It cooed to the grass to become living and breathing, and the breeze to brush through the budding leaves of a nearby cherry tree. It carried the smell of birch and cinnamon and a floral aroma that had been of all the blooming plants the wind had touched and shifted through, taking their scent into its own and mixing through.

This was Pax and it was everything else around him, so moved by the joyous moment that they had gone into a stage to be just as gorgeous as he.