Your name is Dave Strider, and you can literally see the stars in his eyes.
Cloaked in darkness, those once glimmering sapphires have deepened to an indigo hue, reflecting the stars he's staring up at - harbouring tiny galaxies within their safe confines. He blinks as the summer breeze misplaces a strand of jet black fringe, and it takes all of the little restraint you have to refrain from reaching over and brushing it back.
He just looks so damn happy.
His eyes attentive; his hair splayed out around where he's lying like a tiny, dark halo; his soft, pink lips parted slightly in awe, revealing the tips of his ridiculous (adorable) buck-teeth. It's like the kid has never seen stars before. To be fair to him, neither have you. Not like these ones. You suppose this is a memory of someone from another place and time. The pitch black skyline is untouched by the lights of the cities, the air clean and crisp, the grass thick and flawless, wavering slightly in the breeze. You can see him marking out constellations with his finger, gently tracing their lines.
"My Dad showed me them." He speaks calmly, but it is enough to bring you from your thoughts with a jolt.
"What?"
"The constellations. He was the one who taught me them."
He told you once that he's going to find his Dad, if he's here, one day. You really hope, for his sake, that he does.
"They're beautiful." You breathe. You wish you could've thought of something more elaborate, at least something witty, but you that it's true. They are. You would say it's like you're in heaven, but firstly that is too cliché to even be ironically acceptable, and secondly, more importantly, by technical terms you are.
"Hey, do you see that?" He points upwards. You wriggle yourself up to his side to see from his angle, following the direction of his finger.
"Oh my god!" Your face twists with alarm and puzzlement.
"Do you see it? You see it too, right?" He looks practically elated. Jesus, what a dork.
"Yeah! Holy shit, man. It's the actual sky! Bless the day we have made a new discovery, fit to go down in dead-guy history!" – his smile fades to a pout immediately, and he punches your arm. Hard.
"I'm serious here! I… I just thought I saw-"
"Yes, yes, I know. Rainbow flashy fucking shooting star. Got the picture." You immediately regret the impatience in your voice. He frowns back at you.
"You still don't see it, do you?" The genuine pain in his voice makes you wince a little.
"No John, I don't." This time you speak more softly, apologetically. He sighs and turns back to the stars.
"Just me I guess. Sorry." He seems so forlorn, so disappointed that before you can think, your hand is in his. You give him a reassuring squeeze.
"Hey, maybe you're seeing things. We should go see a doctor about that, it could lead on to be something fatal. I couldn't li- …be dead without you, man." He squeezes your hand tight chidingly for that, but even so it gets a laugh. You love his laugh.
"Thank you Dave."
Before you can search his eyes to see if that was genuine, he shuts them, a look of contentment on his face. You give his hand a final squeeze before doing the same, unable to deny the smile creeping across your lips.
You suppose you must've slept, or whatever-the-fuck happens in dream bubbles, because next thing you know you've woken up in another land, illuminated by an iridescent lake, shimmering in the glow of the orange sunlight, and you are surrounded by trolls and friends alike. Oh, and there's another you. You catch his (your?) gaze, and you exchange thumbs ups before he returns to his troll friend in a codpiece. You can't help but notice his smug grin as he notices John next to you, and you shoot him a look. He may be a knight, but you've got the prince. The prince - you look over at him. Taking in his surroundings with mouth agape, his hair slightly ruffled from the way he was lying, his hands out at his sides.
You want to kiss him.
You're too busy observing the creases in his suit to see something of a shooting star.
Too engulfed in his smile to notice the light descending from the sky.
In a world too far away to see a sarcophagus float slowly down onto your quest bed.
In fact, were it not for the odd glow tracing his complexion, and his sudden change of expression, perhaps you wouldn't have ever looked at all.
But you do.
And you see.
You turn to him. All you want to do is to hold him in your arms, shield him, tell him to shut his eyes.
It is too late.
He looks at you in bewilderment, confusion. You can feel your heart sinking down to the bottom of your chest. As he turns to face the onslaught, the bright lights, only one thought crosses your mind.
You swear you can see the stars in his eyes.