It had been months since I heard the rapping on my small bedroom window that faced his. I had grown used to going to bed early in the absence of our late-night stargazing, and the sound of Icarus' muffled voice past midnight had startled me out of bed. 

Peeling the duvet covers off my bed with considerable effort, I stumbled to the window, clutching the window sill like a crutch, struggling to unlatch the window. 

"Icarus?" I mumbled as I came face to face with him. It felt like forever ago that he had jumped to my side of the roof. "What are you—"

"I can't sleep," he said. "Can you tell me one of your stories again?"

Long gone was the sadness and melancholy from the pain Elion had caused in his eyes, replaced by a look of wonder and something I couldn't name. 

"What would you like to hear?" I pulled the window back to remove the screen.

He extended his hand out. "Anything, Arche. I love anything you talk about."

I stared at Icarus' hand before looking up at his expectant face. Behind him, the same tattered towel was laid out as it had always been. Taking his hand in mine, I squeezed through the narrow window. His other hand hovered behind my back as I found my footing on the roof's edge. 

We silently clambered to his roof, crouching down to lay on the towel beside each other. The night sky was clear, with not a cloud in the sky. 

"Thank you," he told me, his hand wrapping around mine. "I need to thank you, Arche."

I turned my head to him as he stared up at the stars. "For what?"

"Everything," he whispered. "For being there for me too, listening to me, and giving me advice. For being you."

"You don't have to thank me."

A gentle smile emerged. "I want to. I forgot how much I missed this. Sitting here with you beneath the stars."

"On the tattered towel?"

He laughed. "I probably should retire it for a more professional stargazing mat. Maybe one with stars on it."

"I'll pitch in half," I told him. "Only the finest quality."

"Of course. Maybe a glow-in-the-dark one if they make one of those."

"I'm sure they do," I said. "Anything is possible."

He smiled as brightly as the Northern star, turning to face me. "What story does Arche have for me today?"

There were a million stories I could have told Icarus, a million possibilities, but I chose ours. The story of Icarus chasing after a sun, to realize that a moon was all he needed. It had been made on the spot, convoluted with mistakes and tangents, but Icarus held onto every word as he always did, and he'd fill in his side of the story where I couldn't.

It took nearly an hour of us talking with our hands intertwined when we finished, grinning like this moment was the key to the universe.

We lay there in silence, listening to the quiet lullaby of the dead of night and our tired breaths with the millions of suns, moons, and shooting stars above us. I had only told him a fraction of their stories, of the myths and tales of the constellations above, but the only story that mattered to us was ours. 

Icarus Melgren was my sun, always will be, and I'd his constant, the moon that would follow him forever more, just as the Earth would follow the sun until they reach gravitational infall. 

For Icarus was my home, and I was his.

☀☾