be nice 2 meek 😡
or we fighting
(that's my baby)

—

When I was thirteen, I had a star-gazing phase. My mom bought me a telescope for Christmas and I'd spend hours in the backyard with a head lamp and an old library book full of constellations, trying to identify them myself.

There are thousands of stories in the sky, each group of stars holding more meaning than my life ever could. I was a sucker for the love stories. Mom would Google them on our old computer and tell me all about the myths and legends about gods and goddesses whose love was eternal through space and time.

One of my favorites was the story of Niu Lang and Zhi Nu, otherwise known as Altair and Vega.

Altair represented a poor shepherd boy that fell in love with a young weaver girl, Vega. Their parents did not condone it for reasons unknown and they were forced to meet in secret. When the truth revealed, they were separated on either side of a river, forbidden from seeing each other ever again. Once a year, a flock of magpies took pity on the young lovers and flew down to the river to form a bridge so the pair could reunite.

In the stars, you can see the two separated by the Milky Way galaxy. That story stuck with me, even if I couldn't remember any of the names or where to see them in the sky.

I couldn't shake the resonance while Dallas's hands slipped down my waist and underneath my sweater. No, we weren't forbidden to see each other and Shelby was hardly comparable to a treacherous river. But it still felt like the universe wanted to keep us apart. Even if it only came down to me and my faults, it still felt like our love was for the stars, too.

We hadn't moved from the spot. Dallas's mouth tasted like hot chocolate, sweet and warm. My own hands couldn't resist feeling his back and his chest, his skin firey hot under my palms. I elicited the smallest sound from the back of his throat when I buried my fingers in his hair and tugged on the grown out blonde locks.

Before I could protest, his hands slid under my thighs and hiked me up his body so he could hold me to him. I held on for dear life, linking my arms around the base of his neck while he continued to kiss the breath from my lungs.

He carried me to the bed and sat down with me on his lap. I unintentionally whined against his lips when his fingernails slid down my back, making me arch all the way straight.

Dallas pulled away first. I had to catch my breath from the intensity of just his mouth on mine.

"Fuck, I miss you, baby."

This wasn't meant to be a physical night together. I needed to speak my peace and tell him what I wanted. It was just so hard when he was in front of me—underneath me, actually. My mind went back to Altair and Vega. They probably would have spent their one night a year taking full advantage of their togetherness. In more ways than just talking.

I clambered off of his lap. It had to be done.

He looked like how I felt. His lips were brightened in color, red and flushed. Similar to his cheeks, which glowed in rosy patches. I especially loved when his eyes darkened the way they did when we kissed. Like frozen patches of polar ice sinking under the depths of the Arctic. I resisted the urge to kiss him again.

I tried to speak again. "Dallas, I—"

"Be with me," he blurted, cutting me off once again. "I can't let you say what you're going to say without making you listen to me first. I'm tired of pretending I'm happy with her. I used to be, but since you came back in my life— I . . . nothing's the same."

I felt like I was in the deep end of a pool, my feet not quite reaching the bottom. The worst part? I never learned how to swim.

He reached over and grabbed my hand. "I'll beg, if I have to. I'm breaking up with Shelby after Christmas regardless. The pretending . . . it's not me," Dallas pouted. "I'll get on my knees and beg for you to be with me. Today, tomorrow, whenever. I want you."

I watched in horror as he dropped to his knees on the floor. "Okay, stop," I said, tugging on his hand to pull him back up. "You don't need to beg. Honestly, you're doing too much because you won't let me talk."

Dallas's eyes lit up with hope. I stood up and got my hot chocolate. Normally, I'd seek out a bottle of wine or some whiskey at a time like this, but this would do the same if I pretended it was spiked. I sat back down on the bed and sipped from the mug. After a moment of thought, I held it towards Dallas to sip, too. The action made me smile a bit, the innocence of it all.

When he sat back and licked his lips clean, I felt a swirling nervosity in my belly. "I just told Erick that I'll never get over you."

He blinked.

"And I know I won't, because I've dated guys for months longer, even years longer, and I barely cared about what I'd lost a week after it ended. But with you?" I sucked air through my teeth. "It's like you poisoned my brain when we met. Everything is about you, or reminds me of you, or you'd like it or hate it, or whatever. Then after Thanksgiving, I felt worse than the first time."

Dallas shifted so he was facing me completely. "Me, too."

I looked away, not really wanting to keep talking. It would be easier to write this down as a journal entry and leave the book open for him to read when I'm not looking.

"I'm not doing great," I whispered, then added, "mentally."

Dallas took the mug from me and leaned over my lap to set it on the nightstand. I was then swept into his arms and pulled down onto the bed. My face buried in his chest, the skin sticking immediately from my body heat warming both of us up. I wanted to take off my sweater but it didn't seem like a good idea at the moment.

He kissed my head a million times and I closed my eyes, basking in his shower of love. I gripped his bicep tightly. I feared I'd open my eyes and he'd be gone, so maybe if I held on, he wouldn't go anywhere.

When I looked up, there he was. "I'm . . . I'm safe. I'm not gonna hurt myself, or anything, but—" I swallowed the lump in my throat. Dallas smoothed the hair that would have fallen over my forehead before I cut it. It was starting to take shape again, but wasn't quite there. "After the beach house, I went through some shit. I got really hard on myself and started going out more."

"Is that why you're . . ." He didn't say it, but his hand slipped between us to touch my waist. Is that why you look fucking malnourished these days, Meek?

"I met these girls at my job. A couple of servers, college girls. They were sweet, don't get me wrong, but they partied a lot. They invited me out to the bar one night and then the next and the next and, well. I started day-drinking far too often and I did coke, like, every other night."

Dallas's eyebrows pushed together as we stared at each other, face-to-face on the pillows. "Coke?"

I shrunk a bit under his eyes. "I haven't done it in, like, six months," I said quietly. I didn't fear his judgment like I would have with anyone else. That was a lesson I learned years ago about the man before me. "But I lost a lot of weight from that. I was smaller than I am now. After I quit doing it, I was just drinking a lot and gained a bit back."

"Fuck, Thomas," Dallas breathed shakily. "Was it . . . Is it my fault?"

That alarmed me. "No," I said quickly, but felt I wasn't being truthful. He deserved to know. "Well, not entirely. I had a really dark spot right after we stopped talking and—"

I couldn't.

Worry filled his eyes and he picked his head up slightly to look down at me. "What?"

I shook my head and looked down at his chest to avoid seeing his face. "Just . . . some shit happened that really isn't important, okay? It sent me spiraling and it was kind of right when I met those girls, so I was already vulnerable and . . . yeah," I trailed off, mentally begging him not to push the subject. I couldn't get into that right now.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. I dared to look into his eyes and stopped breathing when they glistened in the dim lighting. "I . . . I didn't mean to hurt you. That was never my intention."

I nodded, feeling my chest caving at the sight of the tears in his eyes. "I know," was all I could reply to that. "That's not— I didn't bring this up just to make you feel bad, though. I just . . . I'm really fucked up, Dallas. I'm depressed and angry all the time and I work insane hours for a shitty job. I don't want to drag you down with me on top of you possibly sabotaging your career by coming out."

He blinked any tears away from existence and brought his hands up under his cheek, looking more child-like than I'd ever seen him. As if he were about to tell me some big news, he took a deep breath and tried to smile.

"Well, I actually had a change of heart."

That can't be good.