I know people tend to associate the feeling of being compared to the grand universe with being small, insignificant, and powerless.

While, on the one hand, I understand the constrained fear that comes from the realization that the Earth itself is a mere dot in the galaxy, I also feel grounded when I look at the stars and the planets and the moon, because it reminds me of how infinitesimal we truly are.

It teaches me to be humble.

Because why does it matter that we question the aim and importance of our existence once in a while? Nothing's going to change the fact that we're mere specks of dust floating in the cosmos either way.

Though maybe, sometimes, amidst the cluster of my own grief and distress, I forget how excruciatingly vast the universe is, how intimately surrounded by distance and space we are; I don't go around carrying the entirety of it on my back even though it does feel that way sometimes.

I'm only human. And sometimes I need to remind myself.

"What are you wishing for?"

It's Meera's voice that cuts me loose from my reverie, and the little kick of happiness in my chest just from her presence startles me a little. I try not to think too much about it and turn to give her a small smile in greeting before picking another penny out of my pocket and dropping it into the scintillating water of the fountain, momentarily distracted by the light ripple undulating from the tiny impact.

"Too personal?" she asks when I don't respond, and I glance at her again to see her leaning forward with her head turned to look me in the eye. "Hi."

"Hey," I respond softly, always taken aback by how lovely she is. Like the sun, she emanates her own light. It makes me wonder if staring at her too long would blind me. "And, ah... no. Not really. Nothing personal." I clear my throat and try to push down the unwarranted embarrassment rising up my cheeks at the thought of telling her the real reason. Shaking my head at the ridiculous, needless hesitance that tries to convince me I'm childish, I remind myself that letting Meera in is okay.

"Then what are you wishing for?"

"For the sky to be clear." I keep my head turned towards the fountain.

I can feel her shift so she can see my face better. "Why?"

Fumbling with the stray threads on the hem of my sleeve, I hope Meera thinks it's the orange sky casting a faint, coral pink across my cheeks and not the abashment. "So I can see the stars tonight."

"Oh."

The vulnerable, irrational part of me wonders if she's about to poke fun at me, especially since there's already a pile of pennies dispersed across the tiled floor of the fountain. When she lets out a thoughtful hum, I stiffen the slightest bit and unwillingly turn to look at her, only to see the expression on her face something akin to warmth.

There's an inexplicable look in her eyes. Still, I don't get the chance to read too much into it because she steps closer and reaches into the pocket of my coat, pulling out a penny and tossing it amidst the sea of copper I had left there after creating a crystalline twist in its wake.

"What... did you wish for?" I ask lowly, still a little hesitant.

"For the sky to be clear," she responds, the smile on her lips nonchalant but the shine in her eyes anything but. "So you can see the stars tonight."

I wonder if she sees how undeniably ruptured the words leave me; if the way my chest suddenly feels chafed is visible on my face.

It may have been my penny she used, but kindness was, and still is a complex emotion for my mind to comprehend. My fingers are always quick to reach for things I drop before other people can pick them up for me, and my eyes always dart around with the fear that someone might look into them and be able to pinpoint the deep sense of shame that I've somehow learned to feel at accepting the barest amount of help.

Why Is It So Hard To Receive? — I remember the title of the blog River had jokingly showed me once, which despite the eye roll I had responded with, I had looked into the second I was by myself with my thoughts. The words 'I can take care of myself and don't need anyone's help!' are still clear as day inside my head, and they flash neon as I search Meera's face for something I can't name.

"Didn't peg you as someone who would believe in these things," I murmur because I can't even consider laying any of the thoughts inside my head bare for her. Not right now. Not the ones I'm thinking about right now.

"That obvious?" She looks at me from the corner of her eye, lips jutted out in an obvious attempt to hold back a smile.

No, I almost tell her. "I don't know." I just pay attention.

She looks back at the fountain and hums. "You're right. I'm not much of a believer when it comes to stuff like this." Her eyes find mine one more time before she shrugs, and turns again. "But you are."

Being indirectly told that I'm definitely not the only one that pays attention throws me off-kilter, so I just tilt my head to one side and point out, "You did still wish for something, though."

"Mhm." I watch her shove her hands inside her coat pockets, and then my eyes travel down just in time to catch her shoes coming together before she begins rocking back and forth on her heels. She's never been able to stay still for more than a minute to save her life. "Easier to pray for other people." There's a faraway look in her eyes when she says the last part, but she blinks once, and it's gone. "You know what I mean?"

I begin shaking my head, but then settle with a shrug instead. "I don't pray." The gesture and the words both come out meek, because sometimes telling people you don't 'believe' is like purposely going around with a sign stuck to your forehead that says I am an immoral monster on it in bold.

"Oh?" The word comes out carrying a wave of genuine confusion. "Is that not what you're doing right now?"

God, I think, does not exist. I've never prayed a day in my life, and I'm not sure if I ever will. They better not. Because I can't stomach the idea of someone watching upon me this whole time and never doing a damn thing about all the demons latched on to my shadow.

"No, I..." I start, tilting my head in thought, internally knocking at my brain to churn out a word that would make sense, and eventually settle with: "Hope."

"Are they not... the same? Sort of?"

I shake my head, feeling her stare boring against the side of my face even with my eyes on the scattered pennies on the fountain floor. "Praying is like... I don't know. Throwing a coin in the sky as high up as you can and running away before you can see it fall. So you can continue pretending like someone caught it."

She makes a low noise of acknowledgment. When I don't continue, she hums again and asks, "And hope? What's hope like?"

A low, mildly embarrassed chuckle makes its way past my lips when I gesture in the general direction of the fountain, pennies and all.

She also breathes out a laugh, but it doesn't sound condescending in the slightest, despite my vague explanation. Instead, she bumps her shoulder against mine and asks, "Does hope not come from a place where doubt already exists?"

I want to tell her about the tiny beacon of light; the candle in my chest that's managed to survive the heaviest of storms in the darkest of nights. I want to. I want her to know that there's still the smallest amount of self-satisfied pride that lives within me, the one that flickers out of life but then back in every time I scrape myself off the floor and try.

"I guess," I say, lightly bumping her shoulder back instead of saying, Yes. There's doubt here and so is fear, but I would rather wait for disappointment to follow than chase an illusion.

Because the world holds my hope by its throat. And that makes it real.

That gets a hum out of her, followed by a low chuckle. "I think it's too early for me to contribute more to this conversation. But for now," she drawls, gesturing at the pennies and then me. "I hope the sky stays clear tonight. For you."

And it makes me smile; cheeks, ears and neck still warm but heart warmer, and for once time doesn't feel slippery.

The clock won't tick until I start walking, and that's okay.

The conversation melts into something that may not be as significant as why there's a gaping difference between hoping and believing, and Why It Is So Hard To Receive, and that's okay.

The image of the fountain and the pennies and the water and our reflections in it would eventually fade into the horizon like everything else does, and I'd be sitting behind that desk in class where I've finally learned to belong and —

"Dude, were you not paying attention when we had that discussion about how Titan has enough lakes and oceans of natural gas in it to allow humanity to function for thousands of years with new technology?" would come from one of the students, and I'll continue to live with the fact that I never stopped trying.

I never stopped hoping.

"And space exploration also creates lots of green technology, which means we may never even need to use the resources on the moon. That's pretty fu —"

"Mr. Coleman."

"— fudging spectacular, if you ask me." Aaron looks away from the other student he was talking to and gives me a sheepish smile, only to get an unimpressed look from me in return. "Sorry, Professor Ren."

It's been a while since I came to a silent agreement with my class to keep Fridays reserved for open discussions. And when the entire room erupts into chuckles at the interaction, I don't regret it in the slightest.

Looking down at the sheet of sections we've covered so far, I draw a green circle around Saturn's moons. and clear my throat. "Okay, I think you guys have got the hang of this part." I look back up expectedly. "So tell me this one: we already collect light from distant objects to study the universe, right? Then what's so important about detecting gravitational waves?"

"Uh, gravitational waves are basically... ripples in spacetime, right? They aren't created by the same properties that create light," Rio says from the back, their eyebrows furrowed in concentration as they try to remember what we went over in class for this. They're not the type to speak up a lot in class, so it brings a smile to my face when I realize that everybody has been paying attention during lectures, visibly active or not.

"They carry information about the objects and events that create them, which sort of like, opens up an entirely new realm for astronomy," someone else adds.

"Yeah!" Aaron adds enthusiastically. "We were actually able to pick up on two black holes swirling around each other before they collided, thanks to the waves. It would have been invisible otherwise. So who knows what other wild cosmic treasures could be uncovered from this?"

"Like a black hole coming to swallow up the entire planet," Aquila says wryly.

The boy blinks at her in disbelief. "Holy sh —"

I click my tongue. Twice. Loudly.

"— shizknuckles. You are one bleak individual, Kiki."

"Shut up, nerd."

Aaron gasps dramatically, and his head snaps in my direction, eyes wide and expectant. Like he's waiting for me to admonish her.

"This is an astronomy class," I state in response with raised eyebrows, and several surprised laughs rise in the room, including his. Shaking my head with an amused smile of my own, I circle another pair of words with green and skim through the rest before settling on Dwarf Planets. "Do you think Pluto should still be a planet?"

"Nope," answers someone from the back, and I lean back with a half-scoff, half-chuckle at the prompt response and the lack of explanation.

"Uh, excuse me?" Aaron replies, offended. He turns around fully to address whoever had responded.

Asa rolls his eyes at Aaron's reaction, although there's no heat behind the action. Everyone in class is pretty much used to each other's antics. And it's no secret that they're all fond of this one kid in particular.

"Sorry to burst your bubble, man, but Pluto is no longer considered a planet." The green-eyed boy purposely makes his tone highfalutin to rile Aaron up, chin slightly tilted upwards. "Even if it's round due to the force of its own gravity and it does orbit around the sun, it doesn't follow the third rule to make it a full-fledged planet." Asa makes a show of pouting at the other boy. "Pluto does not dominate its neighborhood in space." He raises his eyebrows at Aaron, and then wiggles them, shooting him finger guns. "You know what that means, Coleman?"

"What."

"It means Pluto was de-mo-ted, baby."

"I'm dropping out of this class," Aaron announces promptly, turning back to the front and folding his arms across his chest.

Asa clicks his tongue. "These are facts you can't reject, Coleman."

"Are facts not made to be proven wrong, Professor Ren?"

I raise both my hands in the air, more amused than ever. "Not my circus, not my monkeys."

"I think you need to take this one up with NASA, Aar," Aquila tells him, reaching out to pat him on the shoulder sympathetically. He shakes her hand off and lets out an indignant scoff.

"And I think NASA can go shove its Interface Region Imaging Spectrograph up its —"

"Alright!" I interrupt, barely holding in a laugh. If there's anything that brings me more joy than studying space, it's talking about it. Especially with people who are just as starry-eyed about the subject as I am, if not more. "I can see that we're doing pretty well so far, but if there's anything at all that isn't fully clear to any of you, you can let me know."

"Okay, but Professor Ren, do you think Pluto is —"

"Nuh-uh. Class dismissed."

a/n

sorry for no updates last sunday! experienced a bit of a health scare again last week but we're back for now, babey 

my job has also been kicking my ass a bit with the regular meetings and stuff so things have kind of been all over the place but on we go, i suppose . schitt's creek is the only thing keeping me sane right now if i'm being completely honest

thank you so much for reading! please take care of yourselves and stay safe x

until next time <3