The setting sun shimmered across the pond water, illuminating the vibrant plant-life on the banks, as a young man made his way from his mom's car to the watching deck near the pond. In his arm, he clutched the high-powered telescope he'd gotten for Christmas.

Waving goodbye to his mother, he set up his telescope in the same spot he always did, in the same way he always did, and angled it the same direction he always did. It had been tradition for many months for him to come down to the pond every Friday and watch the night sky, often telling himself the stories of the stars.

But there was another tradition that had carried on for even longer. For years now, there had been another boy. This boy older than the first and with hair darker than the nights he longed for every week. This boy did not watch the stars, but instead his gaze was fixated upon the plants that thrived on the water's edge and in the bordering scatters of trees.

These boys both existed in the same way the celestial exists with the earth; always nearby, always aware of the other, but never touching. In a way, they were captivated not only with their fascinations, but also by each other. Dan, the boy with his head in the stars, often wondered about Phil, the boy who was so in tune with nature he was almost indistinguishable from it. And, of course, vice versa. Although, unlike the questions they sought answers to in the sky and the earth, each boy posed questions unanswerable without interacting. But neither had even considered that a possibility. Or so Dan thought.

His telescope finally set up and angled towards his usual starting point in the sky, the Southern Cross, his eyes wandered through the dimming light, searching for the familiar figure who haunted the pond's wildlife. It was never too hard to locate his whereabouts as his skin was ghostly pale.

Eventually, Dan spotted him, wandering among the plants. But there was something different about this time. Where the boy's actions were usually calm and smooth, they were now tight and anxious. And he kept looking around him nervously, as if searching for something. He turned a full circle and his eyes alighted on Dan. They stood, gazing at each other in the illumination of the sunset, and Dan realized he had been staring. They both averted their eyes and went on with their studies. Phil's movements had relaxed.

The night passed as it usually did, with both of them pursuing their separate endeavours. Dan losing himself in the soft glow of the skies and Phil, bare-footed, prowling through the plants. Every now and then, each would sneak a glance and then Phil would see his star boy, the light of the universe shining upon his smooth chocolate brown hair, and Dan would see his plant boy, the shadows of the bushes and trees licking his body and defining his features.

And soon it was dawn and Dan watched Saturn glowing and the moon setting, captivated, as he always was, by the colours and hues and majesty of the sky. And below him, Phil was curled up under a tree, preferring to sleep under the protection of trees when his mother allowed him.

But the sun was rising and their night was over and Dan reluctantly packed up his telescope while Phil yawned, stretched and rose and wobbly legs.

The starry eyed brunette made his way up to where he knew his mother would be waiting in the car. She smiled at him with sleepy eyes.

"Dan, I can't believe I still wake up this early for you." She grumbled, "When we get home, I'm going straight back to bed and you better go to bed too."

Dan laughed fondly. "I will, mum. Don't worry."

They drove the winding road to where Dan lived, when Dan noticed an envelope with plants and planets roughly drawn all around it.

"What's that?" He asked, lifting it up.

"Oh! I completely forgot. It's for you. It was on the hood of the car." He was informed by his mum.

With a puzzled frown, Dan carefully pried open the envelope, a nagging suspicion about who it was from. He felt his heart racing and his hopes rise. He pulled the handwritten letter out of the envelope and opened it.

Hey, space boy

I've seen you at the pond for a while now and I know you've seen me too. I'd love to get to know you, but I'm really shy. I think it's amazing, your dedication to the stars. I think the sky is amazing but I find it too otherworldly to really comprehend it. Sometimes, I think the same of you. That you're so otherworldly and majestic… this is getting rambly and is probably making you uncomfortable. I'm sorry. You don't have to write back to this. But I'd like it if you did. Just leave it on the pier if you do.

Sincerely,

Plant boy

"What are you smiling about? Who's it from?" His mum asked him.

"Just… just this guy I've seen at the pond." Dan said breathily. He had never felt more excited.

Dan spent the entirety of his week planning the letter back to his Plant Boy. He wanted it to be perfect. His letter had seemed so shy and endearing. Dan wanted to let him know that he wanted to talk to him just as much. But Dan was equally shy, if not more. And he had put off writing the letter for fear of messing it up. So there he was at twelve o'clock on Thursday night with an unwritten letter and only the sky as his company. He was staring lazily at the stars when an idea struck him.

He put his pen to paper and wrote in scratchy scribbles, desperate to get out everything he wanted to say. He added a small heart at the end after his name, "Space Boy", and was finally satisfied with what he had written. He really hoped with all his heart that Plant Boy would like it.

The next evening, Dan requested to be dropped off a little earlier than usual. Telescope and all, he wandered down to the pier and deposited his letter. Then climbed the small slope to the watching deck. He pretended to be busy setting up his telescope, but he was keeping an eye out for Plant Boy.

Phil had arrived at the pond full of hope and nerves. He slammed his car door shut harder than intended and excited hurried down to the pier, being careful not to look too eager. In case Space Boy was watching, which he was.

At the pier, Phil fumbled around with his torch, searching and searching. He found nothing. He was about to give up when his eyes alighted on something encased in a pastel pink envelope. He snatched it up and opened it, first appreciating the doodles of flowers and trees. He began to read it.

Dear Plant Boy,

I'd love to get to know you too, but first I want to tell you a story about one of my favourite constellations:

There was once a sheep tender named Ganymede, who was abducted by Zeus for his beauty. Ganymede had been tending to his sheep, a rustic or humble pursuit characteristic of a hero's boyhood before his privileged status is revealed. Zeus summoned an eagle to transport the youth to Mount Olympus.

In Olympus, Zeus granted him eternal youth and immortality and the office of cupbearer to the gods, supplanting Hebe. All the gods were filled with joy to see the youth, except for Hera, Zeus's consort, who regarded Ganymede as a rival for her husband's affection. Zeus later put Ganymede in the sky as the constellation Aquarius, which is associated with that of the Eagle (Aquila). A moon of Jupiter, the planet named for Zeus's Roman counterpart, was named Ganymede.

Zeus loved Ganymede for his mind and soul. He was the only one of Zeus's lovers to be granted immortality.

Ganymede became a symbol for the beautiful young male who attracted homosexual desire and love.

I hope you enjoyed that. And I hope you send a letter back. Please tell me something about yourself if you do.

Love,

Space Boy 3

A smile so large it was almost distorted graced Phil's features as he read the letter. Space Boy had told him a story about love. That had to mean something, right? Right?

This back-and-forth continued for many months, each letter more loving and soft than the next, replacing their 'sincerely' with 'love'. Each slowly falling for the other through their tender words and pretty drawings. But both were still too afraid to talk to the other face to face.

Until one faithful night on December 20th, the winter solstice, the longest night of the year and Phil had made up his mind. He was going to talk to his beloved Space Boy.

It was early evening and Phil had gotten there early to calm himself down before meeting his Space Boy. His anxiety was heightened, but he knew that he was doing the right thing. He knew it would turn out okay. He knew his Space Boy loved him. They had said it enough times in writing. "Love, Space Boy." "Love, Plant Boy." Always.

So, there he was, waiting for his love to arrive. He felt ready. He felt excited. He felt like he was doing what he was destined to do.

He watched and soon enough the younger boy arrived, telescope under-arm, as always. Traditions die hard, but Phil never wanted this one to die. He just wanted to improve upon it.

Dan had just finished setting up his telescope and began looking for his Plant Boy, his sweet, tender, angel of a Plant Boy, when he noticed someone walking up the slope towards him. After a moment of staring, he realized who it was and he froze, his heart about to explode out of his chest.

"Space Boy! Hello!" Phil called out, waving, a nervous smile toying at his lips in the setting sun.

It took Dan a moment to find his voice. "H-Hi! Plant Boy. I wasn't expecting to see you."

Phil nodded, finally reaching the watching deck. Both were in shock. Both were in awe. Dan was just so beautiful and Phil was so sweet and angelic. They felt all the emotions they hadn't been able to properly verbalize through mere letters bubbling to the surface.

Suddenly, Phil shook his head incredulously.

"What?" Dan asked.

"Everything. You're so amazing and celestial and, wow, am I amazed by the sight of you. I really can't comprehend you. And, after how well we've gotten to know each other, I don't even know your name, Space Boy."

Dan looked into Phil's piercing blue eyes, mesmerized. Phil's eyes were the colours of the sky in the morning, when the sun had risen and Dan's eyes were the colour of the most amazing trees and earth. They both saw their love and passion in one another. "It's Dan."

"Well, hello Dan. I'm Phil." Phil murmured.

Dan stepped forwards and closed the space between them, their lips brushing lightly against each other at first, with gentle movements and sweet murmurs of "I love you" and "I can't believe it's really you." Soon it became a deeper kiss, with their soft tongues dancing together and their lips hardly parting from each other. It felt like all their questions and wonderings about each other had been answered. It felt like the earth and the sky had collided in a shower of fireworks. And in a way, they had.

Out of breath, they broke away and sat down on the bench by Dan's telescope. Dan was beaming a smile brighter than the sun and his eyes were glimmering like stars.

"Who put the galaxy in your body, Dan?" Phil panted.

"You did." He replied, "And, Phil? Who put the earth in your touch?"

"You did." Phil replied.

And, every week thereafter, they saw each other. Sometimes Dan would show Phil the stars through his telescope and tell him stories about the constellations, and other times Phil would take Dan prowling through the earth, pointing out plants and discussing their importance.

And so, another tradition was born.