Star
The shooting star is nothing more than a brief silver flash which he glimpses in the corner of his eye and which shines for slightly less than a second before it vanishes. Even so, she gasps and claps her hands with joy as though it is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen.
Still glowing with delight, she turns her face up to his, grasps his arm and says, laughing breathlessly, "Did you see that?"
"Not really," he says, and the words come out slowly, because he is distracted by her hands and the way they move over his back and chest and shoulders and neck and face.
"What did you wish for?" he asks after a long pause. Her hands are in his hair and on his skin. They are cold, and yet they spread warmth throughout his whole body.
She shivers, both at the night air and at his fingertips trailing lightly along her lower back. "If I tell you, it won't come true," she murmurs, and she takes hold of the back of his head with both her hands, pulling his face down to meet hers.
There is silence for a long time, during which several more stars fall gently to earth unnoticed.
"You don't get a wish if you didn't see the star," she says finally.
Standing there with her in the dark, lip against lip, breath against breath, he is unable to think of anything else he could possibly wish for.
Author's notes: Sun, Moon, Star. The mini-saga is complete. :3
Could you tell me if you want to read more about Michael? I'm trying to decide whether or not to write him again. :)