Everyone looked to Winston, the voice of the house.

“Please Winnie?” Lucas urged.

“Oh, well, I guess so.”

“If we’re eating over here, none of you get near my blankets,” Gabriella huffed. “You all are so messy.”

Despite her concern, Gabriella grabbed two plates and plopped down on the floor across from her bed. Now directly in front of Mitchel, she handed him the second plate.

Mitchel took it with a grateful smile.

Soon everyone made their way to the sleeping area. Christine gave Winston a plate, before plopping down next to Gabriella. Lucas collapsed in his usual spot to the right of Mitchel. Laura finally squeezed her way between Mitchel and Winston and tuckered in immediately.

“How was the haggle shop?” Winston asked.

“I, um, put a request in for some scissors, if that’s alright,” Gabriella conceded after she swallowed a bit of food, tenseness apparent on her face.

Mitchel had completely forgotten about her little secret. Now, it seemed so insignificant compared to their current problems. Annie looked appalled through a half-eaten bite of her dinner, but Winston nodded in approval.

“That’s alright,” he assured with a strong tone. “But next time, let me know before you put down a request.”

“I just wanted them before they were sold to someone else or the price was raised,” she blurted out in defense.

“I understand,” he nodded. “Scissors are important to have. The old tools we were using to cut our hair are already too dull to do anything. Do you need help paying the request back?”

“N-No,” she blushed and adjusted her glasses. “I should be the one to pay it off.”

Mitchel set his jaw. Thinking about his own debt, he knew how much effort and time it would take to pay them back. Something as hard to find as scissors would not be cheap.

Winston was taking his time with his reply.

This is too much to handle by herself—

“I trust you. Don’t rush, though,” Winston insisted. Delight blushed her face pink.

Mitchel stopped eating for a moment to gape at him.

We should be helping her out!

But, begrudgingly, Mitchel didn’t say anything and swallowed his food thickly. He and Winston had disagreed enough tonight about decision-making, and fighting for his voice to be heard by either the Rwequek guard or his family member was enough to wear Mitchel thin.

Annie leaned into Winston’s side and whispered something into his ear. He frowned and answered back quietly.

Gabriella watched them strictly. The other kids, even the youngest, watched the interaction with searching, cautious eyes. Oblivious to the scene they were creating, Winston and Annie continued to intensify the tension in the air like tightening a peg of a strung instrument.

Really, guys? Mitchel thought and shoved a bite of the bland rations into his mouth.

“Gabbi, why don’t you show us some of your bracelets?” he asked loudly.

Gabriella’s attention whipped from the secretive conversation with her face slowly becoming flushed.

“Mitch!” she protested.

Laura pounded the floor with the palm of her hand.

“Show us!” she demanded with a grin.

“Yeah, show us Gabbi,” Lucas said with his mouth full of food. Christine shoved him.

“I’d like to see,” Christine added, her voice soft.

Gabriella looked between all of them, her eyes landing on Winston, who had stopped his conversation in favor of Mitchel’s distraction. He smiled lightly.

“Well, I was going to save this for later but…” Gabriella sighed and reached over Lucas to grab something from her cupboard. With Lucas peering into her belongings, she closed it with a bang and gave him a nasty glare behind her glasses.

In her hand she held a bracelet consisting of a few strands of blue string intricately braided with small blue and white beads throughout. Across the middle, Winston was spelled out in white thread.

Winston accepted the bracelet gently when she held it out to him.

“You didn’t need to do this…” he murmured as he admired the handiwork.

“Get better, yeah?” she said quickly, ducking her head as it grew pinker.

In one swift motion, Gabriella got to her feet with her empty plate in one hand and Laura’s plate in the other.

“I can do that!” Laura protested and clambered after her as she made her way back to the kitchen.

Lucas groaned but followed suit with Christine not far behind.

Annie helped Winston clip the bracelet onto his wrist, murmuring something too quiet for Mitchel to hear.

Winston flickered his gaze to Mitchel.

“Mitch, I want to get some fresh air before I go to bed.”

“You sure about that?” Mitchel asked.

“Please.”

Annie got up from her spot the same time Mitchel did and offered her hand to Winston. Taking it, Winston struggled to uncurl away from his blankets and stand up, but managed. He smiled at her while holding the wall for stability when she let go, and, without further assistance, Winston made his way to the front of the house.

“Mitch.”

Annie took Mitchel by the hand, startling him. She slipped an object into his grasp before letting go.

A roll of fresh bandages.

He nodded to her, the message received, and slipped the roll into his pocket. As casually as he could, he dropped off his dirty plates in the kitchen while ignoring Gabriella’s impending stare and slipped outside the house.

Above them, the night sky shone a myriad of constellations Mitchel could never identify. But he tried his best to locate the easy ones, if only because that was Winston’s favorite pastime. Hooked in the direction of the mountains, the Big Dipper blinked brightly.

“What’s up?” Mitchel asked.

Winston took a deep breath in and raised his hand like he was going to speak, but instead, his nose wrinkled up as silence ate his words.

“Couldn’t be inside any longer?” Mitchel offered.

Winston let out his breath and smiled gratefully. His eyes went up to the stars.

“Honestly, I can’t believe I’ve managed the last few days,” he said with a chuckle.

Mitchel waited for him to continue. Beyond the wall behind them, the kids could be heard washing dishes and preparing to end the night. The wall damped each movement and conversation as their family slowly settled in for bed.

It was only when the voices died down that Winston began softly.

“Do you ever wonder what it’s like up there? Stars dying, planets forming, black holes eating up pieces of the galaxy…”

“I can’t say I have,” Mitchel mused in intrigue.

“There’s so much going on up there, and we watch from afar like we’re not supposed to be apart of it,” Winston resolved. His eyes twinkled with what Mitchel knew as excitement.

He followed Winston’s gaze. He was utterly confused by the other’s proclamation, but respected him all the same.

“For years, I wished I could don a spacesuit and float around up there. I could cup the Earth in my hands and travel so far that it would disappear into the blackness of my vision. I could land on planets millions of light-years out of our solar system.”

Winston let out a dry chuckle.

“And now, even with the Rwequeks here, I still can’t help but want my old dream to come true.”

Mitchel frowned.

“But that would be so lonely. And if your equipment failed, you would be stranded out there…” Mitchel involuntarily shivered. He wrapped his arms around himself as if to block out the unforeseen chill. “There’s nobody in the dead of space to talk to. No language, no culture, nothing.”

It was almost impossible for him to imagine a life without continuous chatter from himself or his family. But yet, here with Winston, it was quiet. Each sentence was drawn out as if he were holding onto the silence.

Mitchel watched Winston closely whose gaze still had not left the night sky. That was how it always felt to Mitchel. While Winston was looking up at the stars, Mitchel’s eyes were always on him.

“That’s a ‘what if’, Mitch,” Winston protested with a side smile, “It’s just, since I know that there’s life outside our planet, whenever I look up there, I can see myself going. All I need to do is take the plunge.”

“Into the unknown,” Mitchel whistled. “That seems terrifying.”

“It’s exciting.”

Somehow, Mitchel’s stomach was not satisfied with his humble dinner and growled noisily. Winston’s gaze finally settled on his friend.

Now, with Winston’s soft eyes on him, Mitchel felt his throat close up.

“Will you even be able to?” Mitchel asked, his voice tight. “You really think we’ll be free someday? It’s already been four years.”

Winston’s contemplative look settled into a sad smile.

“I think so. I have to imagine myself amounting to something greater than…” Winston gestured around him, his fingertips taking in the harsh smells and dry earth and teetering hovels, “…Than this.”

It took a moment, but Mitchel managed to smile back and reached into his pocket.

“Well. You’re going to need a healed leg to plunge in the unknown,” he said and raised the roll of bandages. “And no excuses. I saw you wince the whole way out here.”

Mitchel patted an upturned bucket to the right of their door. Winston sighed hard, but followed his instructions and sat on the improvised chair.

“I can never win with you,” Winston said.

“Never can and never will,” Mitchel smirked. “Have you looked at it since it was first wrapped?”

“Not yet,” Winston admitted. His fingers were curled around the edges of the bucket in a vice grip.

As Mitchel crouched down on one knee, he mentally prepared himself for what lay underneath. Carefully, he untied the knot that secured the bandage together and undid the wrap slow enough so that the skin would not be pulled with it. A big black bruise wrapped around Winston’s kneecap while red and yellow splotches traced higher up on his thigh. Though the size of the bruise was concerning, a large laceration that hooked underneath his knee was the most appalling to Mitchel. Red and angry, the wound had bled through the first layer of cloth and crusted over.

“Ah, that does look bad, doesn’t it,” Winston chuckled. He sounded defeated.

Mitchel did not allow himself to speak for a moment. He knew whatever words that would tumble out of his mouth would be vaguely disgusted and upset. Instead, he swallowed the words like a handful of nails and wet a bandage with his water cup.

He dabbed at the wound, taking into account Winston’s little sounds of pain, and cleaned up fluids that had dried over. Without looking at it too long, Mitchel wrapped Winston’s wound with the clean bandages firm enough so it would not slip. He tied a knot at the top and straightened the end of Winston’s shorts so it covered his handiwork.

“You’re an idiot, Winston,” he finally bit out.

Winston laughed, unabashed. Mitchel glared, unpleased.

“Thanks, Mitch.”

Mitchel raised from his knees, cracking his neck as he did. Offering his hand, Mitchel lifted Winston to his feet.

“Will you—?” Winston began.

“Yeah, yeah, I won’t make a big deal out of this,” Mitchel said as years drained from him. “If you promise me to take care of yourself.”

Winston furrowed his eyebrows and took back his hand. Mitchel hated how long he hesitated to reply.

“I’ll try,” Winston sighed and cracked a small smile of his own. His smiles never showed teeth. They were only lips: the warmest smile that could come out of person in Mitchel’s opinion.

Why won’t you—

I can’t believe you would—

What happened to—

Will you please—

Half composed sentences threatened to break through and somehow Mitchel turned his anger inwards. He hated that he was forgiving him so easily. For brushing off his safety like it was an afterthought. Even in times like this, when Winston was stubborn to open himself up, something made Mitchel throw aside his anger in favor of making him happy.

He opened the door softly.

“Thank you, Mitch,” Winston whispered, those hazel eyes twinkling once more.

Mitchel smiled back, but it faded as soon as he closed the door behind him.

Why won’t you just trust me?

The two made their way around the table in the darkness, feeling for the edge of the wall where their sleeping place was. Mitchel helped him reach the ground before he dropped down by his side and covered them both with their arrangement of blankets.

From his breathing, Mitchel knew Winston was still awake. He guessed Annie was still awake as well, as tired as she might be.

“Mitch?” finally came Winston’s soft voice.

“Yeah?”

“It’ll be ok.”

“I know that, Winnie. I want you to be ok.”

“I know. But try to relax tonight. For me. Get some good sleep.”

“Not with your snoring,” Mitchel quipped, smirking.

A hand reached out of the darkness and shoved him. Mitchel laughed silently.

Slowly, the noise faded away, and all that was left in the room was silence. Winston’s breathing grew heavier, and as soon as the first snore slipped past his lips, Mitchel knew he was fast asleep. He could not understand how the older boy could sleep so easily. There were always thoughts zooming through Mitchel’s head.

I can’t believe you would ignore your pain like that.

What happened to your leg?

Will you please listen to me for once?

How was I able to speak my mind to a Rwequek, but not to you?

The thoughts cluttered his brain soon enough and he groaned. A headache would come and then he definitely would not be able to fall asleep. He stared into the darkness, seeing little spots of red and green in his vision before they danced away. He stayed like that, staring up at the black ceiling. His brain slowly settled back onto the statement Winston had made earlier.

I can see myself going. All I need to do is take the plunge.

Repulsed by the blackness above him, Mitchel cringed into his blankets. The only comfort that eased him was the heat emitting off of his family on either side. They grounded him, tightly, securely, desperately to the Earth as if he would float away without them.

When you take the plunge, where will we be?

Mitchel’s deep sigh filled the silent room. Sleep finally crept up on him, his eyebrows still furrowed as if stuck in place, his arms sprawled and hugging the sheets tightly. Beside him, Winston shifted and his hand rolled onto Mitchel’s shoulder. His touch, though light, was enough to comfort Mitchel and soon their breathing began to match.

In his dreams, flashes of memories played like a disjointed movie. When Mitchel was with his younger sister on their tío’s sailboat under a speckled night sky. He had to dive in the frigid water to pull her out when she had fallen, screaming in a mix of languages, and laughing not seconds later when she was fine. He dreamt of when the light in the sky crashed down. When he was taken away, forced to survive, and met his current family. Of the aliens that descended from above and changed everything in a matter of seconds— like a hand grabbing into the water for a glint of fool’s gold.

Mitchel dreamt of the North Star rippling above him as he sank into the depths. Fading away, blinking out like a light bulb, and then nothing— the blanket of night sky searching for its precious star.