There is nothing.
An infinity of nothing, waves of it rippling and curling through space. An empty void, barren of all but the crushing silence.
And then, there is something. A flash of heat, a gust of sand.
He walks through the desert, trudging through the thick dunes. His shoes are scuffed and filled with sand, feet dragging hopelessly alongside his weary form.
So, so tired.
He's already forgotten why he won't stop, but he still keeps moving slowly through the endless desert. The heat makes his vest and shirt stick to his back, and his hair curls in the sweat on his forehead.
He remembers a time when he would have bowed low before this sun, turning his face up to the smiling rays. But now, as he gazes up, he is only blinded.
Bright.
So very, very bright.
Almost... too bright.
As soon as the thought bursts into his head, his foot catches and he crumples. His knees sink into the burning grains, shaking fingers cradle his throbbing head. He squeezes his eyes shut, in hopes of finally blotting out the terrible light, but it only intensifies into a dull red behind his eyelids.
Red.
Red.
He remembers.
Her flowing red hair, like a waterfall of fire down her back. He remembers running a thumb over her freckles as her eyelids fluttered closed, a soft smile gracing her face. Cuddling in the back of her truck, talking about the stars. Waking up to the smell of bacon and the sound of her humming along with the radio. Rainy days when they would wrap themselves in blankets and read, legs entwined as they sipped from steaming mugs. He remembers laughter and smiles and being so happy he wanted to write it in the sky.
He also remembers the day she left.
The day she finally got a job, and how excited she was. How she'd been up early, with a smile that refused to leave her face as she fiddled with her new skirt. How she'd eagerly bounded out to the truck, red hair flickering behind her like a candle. How she'd leaned out the window as she pulled off, waving like a maniac. He'd waved back, grinning fondly at the retreating shape of her car.
He remembers the months later, when she'd finally come back.
Five months later, when she'd stepped out of the shining black car and clipped up to his door, knocking primly. When her wrapped her in his arms, heart tearing and sobbing about how he missed her and he loved her and please don't leave again. When she'd patted his back, but said nothing. Only smiled a wide, plastic smile.
That's when he knew that something was wrong.
She slept in her own room now. She always left for work by the time he was awake, and he heard the front door slide open just before he fell asleep. Whenever he did see her, she would give him that sugar coated smile and tell him to believe in a Smiling God.
She'd dyed her hair, too. It was a limp, bleached blonde, tied back into a tight ponytail that filled her soft face with sharp angles. Her eyes, once a warm chocolate color, had darkened until they seemed glassy, like coal marbles. One night, he woke up and found her sitting neatly on the couch, staring out the window. He called her name. She turned, in an almost robotic manner, and gave him that chilling smile, before assuring him that everything was alright. They were being watched over by a Smiling God. There was nothing more to worry about. He laid awake most nights after that, staring at the ceiling and praying that he would hear her fixing a cup of coffee, or reading a book, or even sleeping. Just... being alive. After a few more weeks, he became too scared to sleep. Too scared of those empty silences.
That was when he realized that she'd never really come home.
He curls up on the carpet of sand, screaming until his throat burned and no sound came out. The sun shone even brighter, slicing through his eyelids and painting the desert with its blinding tongues.
He remembers that day. How could he forget?
He remembers how she'd suggested that he come to work with her. Meet her coworkers, her friends, see what she did at the office each day. Get lunch together. It would be fun. He nodded, and allowed himself a tiny sliver of hope. Maybe she was still in there. He remembers how he'd tapped his foot nervously against the floor or the car, while she'd stared straight ahead. Her driving was impeccable. She'd worked with the ease of a computer. When she'd turned and smiled at him, he'd flinched but given a shaky grin. That was all they were anymore. Transparent smiles and hollow laughs. He'd barely remembered what it felt like to really feel joy.
He grabs at his hair, trembling hands frantically trying to block out the sun. Its all he can see now. How could he even think this was a desert? There is nothing to see. Only... light.
He can recall little after that moment. Only a haze of blurred memories, as though someone had recorded his thoughts in ink and dipper the page in water. All he remembers is light. It was all around him, as though he were floating in an ocean of it. Floating, unable to control his limbs, only seeing. He remembers watching someone. A man. A man who talked to her. They exchanged seemingly friendly banter that was practically dripping with threats and loathing. They worked together, employee and boss, both disciples of the omnipotent Smiling God.
The Smiling God. He remembers embracing that sun, that fire. He was addicted to it, the feeling of being ruled. He left behind his longing, his hope that she would return.
He wasn't floating anymore.
He was drowning.
When he finally gains enough of his sanity to open his eyes, he realizes that the sun is gone. The sky is ink, as though someone slathered tar over his eyes. He inhales, taking a lungful of cool air into his bruised lungs. Then... relief. Its as though all of the years, all of the facades and lies are melting off of him like wax from a candle.
He is... free.
And then, he sees them. Like holes in a blanket. The little pinpricks of light, flickering in the sky. Except that this is a different light... a good light. A soft twinkle against the deep velvet sky.
What about that? Her fuzzy sweater slides up her arm as the points into the night.
Which one? He tilts his head slightly, brows furrowed in thought.
He stands, tremors wracking his legs. And as the last of the sunspots fade from his vision, he looks up.
That one's Chara, part of the constellation 'Canes Venatici'. He looks at her, face framed in silken hair and gleaming in the moonlight. In Greek, its name means joy.
She beams, tenderly brushing a feather of brown hair from his forehead. He presses a kiss to the crown of her head, breathing in the scent of her shampoo.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
The moon creeps into the sky, bathing the now chilled desert in its glow. At last, it is night.
Kevin looks up and smiles.
