A Handful of Stars

The night stretched wide above them, endless and full of stars. The sky was clear, a deep velvet canvas speckled with light, each distant glow a quiet reminder of how vast the universe truly was. A gentle breeze rolled in from the ocean, carrying the crisp scent of salt and summer air, rustling through the palm trees that lined the shore.

Gemini lay on the beach, hands tucked behind his head, his gaze fixed on the sky. The sand was cool beneath him, a soft contrast to the lingering warmth of the day, and the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore filled the silence between them—not uncomfortable, just easy.

Beside him, Fourth sat cross-legged, idly sifting grains of sand through his fingers. His movements were slow, thoughtful, as if he were lost in the motion. The moon cast a silver glow over them, turning the shoreline into something almost otherworldly, like a dream suspended between reality and something softer.

After a while, Fourth spoke, his voice quiet but steady. "You always watch the stars?"

Gemini hummed in response, the sound barely above the whisper of the waves. "Yeah. They make me feel small in a good way."

Fourth tilted his head slightly, considering his words. "Small in a good way?"

Gemini turned his head toward him, his lips curling into a soft smile. "Like… they remind me that there's so much more out there. That whatever happens, the world keeps going. The stars stay the same."

Fourth's gaze flickered upward, following the constellations scattered across the night. The stars twinkled in their steady rhythm, distant but familiar, like old friends watching over them.

He was quiet for a moment, his fingers still absently tracing shapes in the sand. Then, after a pause, Gemini asked, "What about you? What makes you feel that way?"

Fourth didn't answer immediately. His fingers stilled, the sand slipping through them in a slow cascade. The hesitation was brief, barely noticeable, but Gemini caught it.

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, Fourth said, "Music."

Gemini turned fully to face him, intrigued. "Music?"

Fourth nodded, his eyes trained on the horizon. "It's the one thing that's always been with me. No matter where I go, how things change… music is still there."

Gemini studied him, watching the way the moonlight softened his features, casting a gentle glow over his face. There was something about Fourth—something steady, unshaken, yet quietly longing for something more.

Gemini knew what it felt like to hold onto something constant. To find comfort in the familiar when everything else felt uncertain.

Without thinking, he reached over, scooping up a handful of sand. He let it trickle slowly through his fingers, watching as the grains fell like tiny, fleeting stars. The sensation was light, almost weightless, slipping away before he could catch them all.

"Here," he said, holding out what remained in his palm.

Fourth glanced at him, then at his hand, a puzzled look crossing his face. "You're giving me… sand?"

Gemini grinned, tilting his head toward the sky. "No, I'm giving you stars. Tiny ones."

Fourth blinked, his expression unreadable at first. For a second, Gemini thought he might scoff or roll his eyes, brushing it off as one of his usual ridiculous remarks.

But then—

A small, quiet laugh escaped Fourth's lips.

It was soft, barely there, but it was real.

And Gemini swore, at that moment, it was the sweetest sound he had ever heard.

Something warm spread through his chest, gentle yet steady, like the slow rise of a tide. He had seen Fourth smile before—small, fleeting, often hidden behind exasperation—but this was different. It wasn't forced, wasn't guarded. It was just… natural.

Gemini shifted, resting his weight on his elbow as he watched him. "You should laugh more."

Fourth shook his head, still amused. "Not if you're the reason."

"Hey," Gemini huffed, feigning offense. "I think I'm very funny."

Fourth didn't argue, but there was something in the way his lips twitched—as if he was holding back another smile.

The night air wrapped around them, cool and soothing, carrying the sounds of the ocean and the distant hum of the town settling into sleep. Gemini let his head fall back against the sand, staring up once more at the stars.

"They're a lot like music, you know," he mused.

Fourth glanced at him. "What is?"

"The stars." Gemini lifted a hand, tracing invisible lines between them. "They're always there, even when you can't see them. Like a song stuck in your head."

Fourth was quiet for a moment, considering his words. Then, in a voice softer than before, he murmured, "Yeah. I guess they are."

Gemini closed his eyes briefly, listening to the waves, feeling the weight of the night settle over them.

And as he lay there, beside Fourth, with nothing but the sky stretched out above them—he thought that maybe, just maybe, this summer was turning into something he didn't want to let go of.

Something that felt like a song he never wanted to end.

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