Dante.

My Dante.

It was a weird thought; the thought of a person being yours. I don't know how to describe it really. I don't have the words to. Dante could though, he always had words for everything. He knew what that smell after the rain was called, the word for when you have something on the tip of your tongue but can't remember it.

I rolled onto my side and stared at him. He was wearing a smile and green t-shirt, jeans but no shoes.

"Like what you see?" he asked without looking at me.

I didn't answer him. He was completely immersed in the stars above us. I liked that word; immersed. It described how I felt at this very moment. Immersed in Dante.

I reached for him.

"Ari?"

"Yeah?"

"If we become stars when we die, I hope I end up next to you."

I laughed. "What if I don't want to be next to you for all eternity?"

He gave me a look. "Too bad."

We both laid there in the bed of my truck, his head on my arm, body next to mine. He was warm. Summer was coming to an end. It was here and gone before we could even enjoy it.

"Do stars do this?" he whispered.

"Do what?"

He scooted closer to me, resting his head on my shoulder. "Lay like this with each other and stare at us."

"We're not much to look at, Dante."

"You are, Ari." I felt his toes against my jeans. His breath was tickling my neck. I turned to him. He was so close.

"Dante?"

"Yeah?" he said.

"It's the last day of summer."

"I wouldn't want to spend it any other way."

That made me smile. "Me either."

Then I felt them; his lips against my neck.

Dante kissed like he painted. He'd start at the center and work towards the edges, holding his brush so carefully. When it came to his lips, he'd start on my neck, my center. My edges weren't defined.

"Dante," I whispered.

"Ari?" he asked, continuing his small trek. His nose nudged my jaw, lashes stroking my cheek.

I forgot what I was going to say. He pulled himself up on an elbow. I felt him before I saw him; his mouth met mine.

In that moment, something aligned. It wasn't the planets or the galaxies. The universe did not suddenly shift into some new order. No, it wasn't that.

No, it was him and I.

I kissed him. I kissed him until my mouth hurt. I kissed him like we were the last two people in El Paso, the last two people on the Earth. And when I stopped kissing him to take a breath, he kept going. His fingers tangled in my hair. He must've picked that up from my mom. She was so gentle when she combed her fingers through my hair. Dante was the same; he touched me like I was precious. Dante Quintana thought I was precious.

His hands were drifters though, they never stayed in one place for long. Dante the Drifter; it had a nice ring to it. I'd have to tell him later, if I remembered to. Right now, I couldn't focus on anything except him.

Dante.

My head trapped in between his arms, him looking down at me. I could still see the stars though. They were in his eyes, and when he smiled, they twinkled. Whenever I looked up at the sky, I realized how small and insignificant I was in this vast universe. When I look in Dante's eyes, I don't feel so small.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked.

"I don't know."

"No secrets, remember?"

"I can't remember anything."

Dante laughed. "Why not?"

"You," I replied. "You always make me forget what I'm going to say."

He leaned in and kissed me again. This time he lingered. His hands didn't though. Like I said, they don't stick around for long.

His fingers inched up my shirt.

I wish I could put into words Dante's fingers.

All I knew was I wanted to kiss each of them, one by one.

Dante tugged at the hem. I sat up and pulled it off.

He did the same.

His skin reminded me of the desert. Empty; spotless. A land of a single honey color. It was delicate to the touch and to the kiss. It's a phenomenon; the collision of skin. I can't stop myself from feeling it; him. My hands must be rough, but he doesn't seem to mind. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, allowing the moon to bathe him in light. Beautiful.

It's a lot of pressure, you know. Holding something so beautiful in your arms. You don't want to break it or corrupt it. You want to keep it the way it is. Beautiful things aren't always eternal.

But Dante will always be beautiful.

And he will always be mine.

"Dante," I said, trying to catch my breath.

He stopped and brought his face to mine. "Ari?"

"The smell after the rain, what's it called?"

He whispered it.

"Petrichor."

A/N: I just recently finished Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe. I loved these two characters; they're so refreshing. Enjoy.