"How countlessly they congregate
O'er our tumultuous snow,
Which flows in shapes as tall as trees
When wintry winds do blow!-
As if with keenness for our fate,
Our faltering few steps on
To white rest, and a place of rest
Invisible at dawn,-
And yet with neither love nor hate,
Those stars like some snow-white
Minerva's snow-white marble eyes
Without the gift of sight."
-Stars by Robert Frost
Tino and Berwald were no strangers to bone-chilling gales of the nordic plains. As they walked, the frigid night air seemed to blow through them: into their lungs, out of their mouths, across their chests and into their hair. Even as it stole their breath and formed teardrops in their eyes, though, the two travelers barely paid it any heed. They were trespassing in the wind's domain, a frozen no-man's-land of glittering snow and tundra grasses that seemed to drift, disappear and reappear with the gusts; a land of beautiful impermanence, a land that they had worked and braved, over and over again, for a millennium.
They did not shudder at the cold that permeated their coats nor hesitate at the hidden dips and chunks of ice that littered their path in the snow. The very wind howled and threw itself at them in protest but they steadily trudged onward, as if the travelers themselves were constructed out of the same coldness around them.
The starlight guided their steps for miles through the tundra and finally up onto an ancient, weather-beaten hill. Up above the tundra plains, the winds became nothing more than a gentle breeze that brushed past them as they settled down and unpacked. They shed their thick coats, rolled out a thick blanket, and laid down beneath the sky, where thousand pinpricks of light glittered down at them from their places in the inky blackness of the atmosphere.
Tino exhaled slowly, a mesmerized smile gleaming on his face. "Even after a thousand years," he whispered, eyes trained on the heavens, "it's as astonishingly beautiful as the first time I saw it."
"Mm," Berwald agreed, lightly wrapping his arms around the other boy and pulling him close. Tino nuzzled his head against Berwald's shoulder in response, their frozen breathes mingling together in the air.
They laid like that for a few minutes, silently battling the exhaustion that threatened to shut their eyes, until Berwald felt Tino nudge him. "Ber?"
"Ja?"
Tino's voice was quiet, but it cut all too well through the frozen night air. "Do you ever wish that you could die?"
Hmm. Berwald repositioned himself so that he could look the other boy in the eyes. "Why d' you ask that?" He asked.
"Because we're like the stars, Ber," Tino replied, gesturing to a point above them. "We stand by and watch as the centuries pass, never growing older, never forming bonds with others because we know that they'll be dead in a few years anyway. We'll never know what it's like to grow old at the same pace as everyone around us, we'd never be able to have a regular human life if we tried." His voice carried a note of broken weariness and his hands balled into fists. "Even if we wanted to die, we couldn't. We're just… Here. Nameless observers of an ever-changing world that we'll never get to be a part of."
Berwald gently took Tino's clenched fist and smoothed out his fingers. "You're right, ya know. I can't deny it, as much as I'd like to." He paused for a moment before slowly guiding Tino's hand to his chest. "What do you feel?"
"I feel your heartbeat," he replied instantly.
"Mm," Berwald said, releasing his hand. " 'm alive, Tino, and so are you. And so are Peter, Hanatamago, Emil, Lukas, and even that great oaf Mathias."
When Tino cracked a smile, Berwald continued. "We may not be normal people, but we're still human. We're always learning and changing who we are. 'nd we have family and friends who we'll grow old with, even if none of us ever physically age." He brushed a warm tear from Tino's cheek. "So no, I wouldn't die even if I could - because I have the blessing of being able t' spend a millennium with you," he finished softly.
Tino gave a watery laugh. "So that's why you don't talk much. You sound like a starry-eyed poet." He dabbed at his eyes for a second before throwing himself at Berwald, smothering him in a bone-crushing hug that nearly knocked the larger man to the ground. "I love you," he breathed.
"I love ya too," Berwald replied, returning the embrace. On the edge of the horizon, a sliver of golden light was beginning to peak out from behind the tundra grasses. "The sun's comin' up," he announced.
Tino pulled back and looked at the sky, his arms still lightly looped around Berwald's waist. "We should head home. Peter will be waking up soon," he replied wistfully, tracing patterns on the other man's back.
Berwald kissed him on his still-wet cheek. "We have time to stay and watch the sunrise," he murmured, pulling Tino closer to him once again.
And so the timeless pair watched as the dawn greeted the fading stars.