Under a starry sky with you
Kirian got there first. He always did. The hill was quiet, grass cool under him, city lights spilled across the valley like shaken gold. He sat in his purple tank, tail in the wildflowers, and tipped his cap back to watch the nebula bloom violet overhead.
Panda arrived the way he always moved—soft steps through the grass, the faint rustle of denim.
“You came,” Kirian said.
“You said the stars were better from here.” Panda sat close. Green tank, dark jeans, that solid warmth. “They’re just lights.”
“They’re ours tonight.”
Their hands found each other in the grass. Fingers laced. Panda didn’t pull away.
“I used to come here alone,” he said. “When the city got too loud.”
Kirian’s thumb traced his knuckle. “And now?”
Panda looked at him. Green eyes, serious. “Now it’s quieter with you. That doesn’t make sense.”
“Makes perfect sense to me.”
Kirian leaned in. Panda met him halfway. The kiss was unhurried—just mouths, cool night air, Panda’s hand settling at his waist like it belonged there.
When they parted, Kirian stayed close.
“Under a starry sky with you,” he murmured. “That’s the whole sentence.”
Panda’s mouth almost smiled. “You’re going to make that a title.”
“Already did.”
They stayed like that, shoulders together, hands locked, watching the purple sky until the city blurred and neither of them needed to say anything else.