I saw an AU prompt on Tumblr that set the stage with a sick Ivan and an astronomer Alfred. The thing was only about a paragraph, and I found myself wishing for more—for an actual story—so I thought, 'Why not write it yourself?' I'd just like to say that I got the basis for this story from Tumblr. Please enjoy, and let me know what you think of this first chapter!


There were two things about that little forest clearing that never changed.

First, Ivan always brought his large plaid blanket, which he would spread down on the soft grass. He'd had that blanket for years. His older sister had given it to him a while back for Christmas, along with a scarf she made.

The other thing that never shifted was the amazing view one could delight in by looking up. On clear nights, the stars would shine so brightly that you almost felt like the universe had aligned just for you, that everything in your life and all the events in history had happened just to lead you to that moment.

Ivan never ceased to feel that sense of awe when looking at the stars, especially after his diagnosis. He avoided calling it the diagnosis, as he knew his life should be defined by more than an illness, even if it seemed clear that there was a high probability said illness would end things altogether.

Though it was fair to say that Ivan's diagnosis had been one of the larger pivotal moments of his life. The first, naturally, had been when he and his family had moved from St. Petersburg to New York when Ivan was eleven. Of course, he'd gone to high school in America, then attended an in-state college in the city.

At the age of twenty-two, he'd received his diagnosis. Leukemia. So many appointments, so many statistics, so much sadness in the eyes of his family whenever he visited them.

Now twenty-three, Ivan knew things were not looking so great. Five-year survival rates for his type of sickness were around 25 percent, and he'd only been diagnosed for about a year. But still, he hoped. And, settling down on his plaid blanket and looking up at the familiar sky, he found it a little less difficult than usual to hope.

Ivan had always been fascinated by things dealing with space and, really, anything with the prefix astro. Astronauts. Astronomy. Astrology. After moving to America from Russia, the first familiar thing he saw was Polaris.

He'd pointed this out to his younger sister Natalya, who was eight at the time, and all she'd said was, "Polaris. Is that the dog one?"

So Ivan kept his stargazing to himself, which was perfectly fine. He was fairly decent at recognizing a few of the constellations. Definitely a few stars short of being a professional stargazer or anything like that, but he only did it because he enjoyed it and it was something he was still able to do. (And, of course, he was also still quite capable of looking up ridiculous horoscopes online in the comfort of his own apartment, too.)

Around eleven o'clock, Ivan sat up, yawned, and started to pack up his things. He'd brought his sketchbook and some art pencils, but after getting caught up in the view, he hadn't drawn anything. That was fine. He gathered his art supplies and blanket and headed back to his apartment.

It was just over a ten-minute walk through the woods back to Ivan's apartment, which was located in a small town about an hour from New York City. Ivan spent a lot of time lately musing about how life changed so much. He was working as a freelance artist, though his illness prevented him from leaving his apartment very often. Natalya was off at college on the West Coast. Katyusha, his older sister, had started a café with one of her close friends. Ivan visited the place once, and it was very welcoming and cozy. He wished he could go there more often, but it was a bit far even on the days he felt well enough to journey around. Katyusha understood.

Ivan had left his cell phone sitting on the kitchen table, and there were two texts waiting on it when he got back. The first was from Natalya, asking how much Red Bull one could consume before vital organs shut down. Ivan sighed and sent a message in reply, telling his sister to get some rest. The second was from Mathias Køhler, a frequent client of Ivan's, asking about an art commission. Ivan arranged to meet the Dane at a nearby coffeehouse the next day at noon, then, fatigued from being out and about so much, went to bed.


It wasn't until a few days later that Ivan was able to return to the clearing, armed with his blanket, sketchbook, and a palette of watercolor paints. Little yellow flowers, somewhat difficult to see in the night's dim lighting, were growing everywhere. Buttercups, Ivan believed they were called.

When he got to his usual spot, howeverwhich had always been empty, every time he'd gone there beforehe could see someone else examining the stars, a small portable telescope set up a few feet away from a big quilt.

Ivan groaned inwardly. He wasn't really in the mood to deal with someone else, but it wasn't like he could go up to the person and tell them to leave. He himself didn't want to leave, either. He was finally feeling well enough to leave his apartment, and he wasn't about to turn back around just because there was a human being he had to interact with.

Sighing, Ivan headed to the opposite side of the clearing, unfolding his plaid blanket and opening up his sketchbook to a blank page. If he just didn't talk to that other guy, maybe the other guy wouldn't

"Hey! You! I've got an extra sandwich; would you like it?"

What the hell? Ivan slammed his book shut and glared. Obviously he was too far away and it was too dark for the other person to see him shooting daggers, but still, it made him feel a little better. Oh, wonderful. Now this stranger was actually coming over

"So, you know about this place?" The stranger walked all the way over to Ivan's blanket, carrying a wrapped sandwich in one hand and a spiral notebook in the other.

"Yes," Ivan said curtly. "And I apologize, but it is not always safe to accept food from complete strangers."

The strangerwho didn't seem to be more than a teenager, reallylaughed. "Right, sorry! My name's Alfred Jones."

"Ivan Braginsky," Ivan replied warily. "Do you come here often?" If so, how had they never encountered each other?

"Nope!" Alfred said, smiling and looking up at the stars. "I just discovered it tonight. It's fantastic!"

"You like stargazing?" Ivan inquired, tipping his head across the clearing at Alfred's spot, where his telescope stood.

Alfred looked so enthusiastic that Ivan couldn't help feeling his spirits raise a little. "I'm graduating high school in a month. I'm gonna major in astronomy at Cornell. I'm a little sad I'm just now discovering this place for the first time. It's amazing."

"Yeah," Ivan said, glancing upwards. "It is." Ivan also snuck a sidelong glance at Alfred, who was enraptured by the view, his smile a flash of brightness reflected by the stars. Really? Ivan never would have guessed such a loud, excited kid would be patient (or, honestly, intelligent) enough to study astronomy, especially at such a prestigious college. Well, good for him.

"What about you?" Alfred asked, motioning at the sketchbook. "You like art?"

Ivan suddenly felt self-conscious. "It is nothing, really."

Alfred plopped right down next to Ivan on the blanket. "Aww, c'mon! Let's see!"

Ivan looked away.

"Oh." Alfred tapped his pencil against his wrist. "I know some artists get that way with their drawings. You don't have to show me! One day, though...!"

"One day?" Ivan raised an eyebrow. Did this kid seriously think...?

"That's right!" answered Alfred, scrawling down a few sequences of numbers in his notebook, his left hand fiddling with a dog tag necklace that was hanging around his neck as his right hand mindlessly calculated measurements. "Say, where do you go to school?"

"Eh? I already graduated. From NYU. Last year. I work as a freelance artist now." Ivan stared as Alfred, seemingly without thought, scribbled out sum after sum. "You're really good at math, yeah?"

Alfred paused, looking up from his paper. "I mean, I guess I'm all right. Hey! Did you see?"

"See what?"

"Look!" Alfred pointed up at the sky. "Do you know any of the constellations?"

Ivan followed Alfred's outstretched hand. "Well, it's May. I... no, not really."

"Well, that's Virgo."

"Oh, I think I knew that one."

"Great! And—see that? That's Corona Borealis."

"That group of stars there, you mean?"

"Exactly."

They were silent for a minute, Alfred writing out more numbers as Ivan sketched the constellations down.

"Ivan?" Alfred broke the silence, another dazzling grin flashing across his face like a comet.

"What?"

"Do you want this sandwich now?"