Charles firmly believed that Leo had the universe inside of him.

It wasn’t simply a romanticized belief. It was a fact of life, a truth that Charles could prove.

When he was thirteen, Charles found out that all humans held small slivers of the universe. Back then he was a brand new denizen of the World Wide Web, and wasted hours on end just browsing the internet aimlessly. Somehow, he came across a faithful blog post about the similarities between the human body and the observable universe. The network of brain cells are carbon copies of the network of galaxies. The birth of a cell could be mistaken for the death of a star by a clueless looker, for both looked equally magnificent and majestic. And the human iris, with its subtle coloration and patterns that seemed negligible at a distance but a true marvel up close, was almost indistinguishable from a nebula.

It changed Charles’ life, that blog post. He saw people in a different light from then on. They weren’t just people - they were wonders. Each human being he had encountered was an embodiment of the universe itself, carrying tiny slivers of it inside them until the day they died. And when they died, they returned that tiny sliver to the vast, vast space above, along with all their memories, hopes, dreams and emotions.

Swirling and shivering and shimmering until everything became one, the song of their world.

But there was one problem Charles had to face. No one could see the inside of people’s bodies, so the only windows to a person’s inner universe were their eyes. And it was fitting in a cliché sort of way, how poets and writers of all periods referred to the eyes as windows to the soul. Could they have known since ancient times that each person was the universe masquerading itself as a human for a little while, these intelligent and insightful men?

Slowly over time, Charles had developed a habit of observing people’s eyes. No two eyes were of the same shade. No two eyes possessed the same outward-explosion patterns, the same distribution of pigments. To Charles, it was proof that each person was as unique as the small sliver of the universe they carried. Sometimes the irises were so dark Charles couldn’t make out any patterns at all, but he liked to think that the nebulae were simply covered by rain clouds, or that the owner of these irises were mysterious magical creatures that only reveal their inner nebulae to a significant other. Charles loved every pair of eyes he came across, and he recalled them fondly in his mind on calmer, slower days, when he had time to sit and contemplate their secrets.

That was how Charles met Leo. Sitting next to the young man in Philosophy class during sophomore year of college, unable to tear his eyes away from the mesmerizing orbs that held his attention. The man who captivated his gaze sat with his legs crossed, body leaned forward and slanted sideways on the table, and this position gave him the perfect angle to observe Charles without the risk of being called on by the professor. And Leo was a bit on the flamboyant side too - he always wore green eyeliner, a shade well known for complementing hazel eyes. And such a fine shade of hazel it was, a vibrant kaleidoscope of golden brown and yellow-tinted moss green. Charles had never seen such perfect nebulae in another person’s eyes before.

Charles had gazed into Leo’s eyes with the same wonder he had felt the first time his father took him camping, where they stayed under the night sky until the stars and moon came out. The usual city smog that blocked the sky couldn’t reach the edge of the woods, and so small Charles stared and stared until his neck became sore and his eyes became watery. But he kept watching, because the bright glittering stars were more beautiful than any sight he had laid eyes on in his whole young life.

At that moment, Charles thought all the stars were in Leo’s eyes.

Leo’s lips parted in a knowing smile, revealing two rows of pearly white teeth. Then he slowly closed his eyes, hiding the nebulae behind thick lashes, only to slowly unveil them to stare at Charles with alarming intensity.

Charles sweated like a sinner in church under that piercing gaze.

*****

Everything took off like a rocket into space after that. They started off as friends, hung out in bowling alleys and soccer lounges, went drinking in bars and regularly visiting each other’s apartments to play games. Charles was content and happy with this friendship, but that was until Leo suggested a date at the park. Leo seemed much more experienced in the whole romance department, so Charles let him take the wheel. It didn’t matter too much to Charles how their relationship progressed, as long as he could behold this tiny sliver of the stars, touch it, feel it, and have a small part of it as his own. The “date” was pretty tame too, neither romantic nor nerve-wracking. They didn’t stutter or blush, didn’t try to reach for each other’s hands, didn’t steal sultry glances or throw flirtatious remarks at one another. They just sat, munching on a party-sized bag of kettle cooked chips (barbeque mesquite, Charles’ favorite) and beef jerky (peppered, just how Leo liked it), talking about school and video games.

Before the date ended (meaning, one of them had to go back home to do chores), Leo leaned over the half-eaten bag of chips between them and kissed Charles.

Every ounce of strength seemed to seep out of Charles when he felt soft lips pressed against his. The kiss was chaste and gentle, nothing more than a simple meeting of lips, but it was intimate and vulnerable, with a touch of trepidation and uncertainty. For the first time he noticed Leo’s hands on the picnic blanket were shaking, one balled tightly into a fist and the other clawing against the fabric of the blanket. Leo paused and pulled back, eyes searching Charles’ face for something he couldn’t fathom. He seemed satisfied with what he found, for he quietly nodded and smiled broadly, pearly white teeth on show and glinting in the sunlight.

(Did Leo ever find what he was looking for? Did he saw the same stars Charles saw in his hazel eyes the first time they met? Charles didn’t know)

It was a moment that Charles would replay fondly in his mind years later. Not all the details, he couldn’t possibly remember all of them, and the human brain failed its owner the more it aged. Charles remembered an overwhelming warmth exploding in his abdomen, like sunlight bathing on his skin in an early mid-summer afternoon. He was grateful to Leo for the kiss, for gifting him with a moment so delicate and fragile. It became his personal treasure, that first kiss. The later kisses were nice too, but none of them could make him shiver the same way that kiss did.

*****

A year and a half into their relationship, Charles and Leo had a date under the stars. They lay on the hood of Charles’ pick-up truck (borrowed from his father), passing each other drinks from a cooler that Leo brought along. Charles asked for a Mountain Dew, but Leo passed him a Brooklyn Lager instead. Wasn’t exactly what Charles asked for, but he made do with it. Honestly, anything - Stella Artois, Corona, Budweiser - and Leo brought Brooklyn Lagers with him.

“My mother hates Brooklyn Lager.” Leo muttered as he took a sip from his Cherry Coke.

Charles knew Leo’s mother. Leo used to tell him how when he was young, his mother would beat him black and blue for getting a B- despite his desperate pleas. She didn’t approve of Leo’s flamboyance, and she certainly didn’t approve of Charles. The one time Charles came over to pick Leo up for bowling, she had asked what he wanted to drink while he waited (he said coffee) and gave him water instead, faking bad hearing and complaining how moving between the living room and the kitchen would damage her sore knees. She wasn’t good at listening to others.

“Why did you give it to me then?”

Leo turned to look at him sharply. “... What are you implying?”

“Nothing.” The Brooklyn Lager tasted like piss to Charles, but he kept drinking. As Charles took another swig of the Brooklyn Lager, he thought of how his mom’s specific trait had been passed down to Leo. He didn’t like it.

*****

After two years, Charles decided to tell Leo about his life philosophies - the nebulae in people’s eyes, the small sliver of universe each person carry, the human wonders, everything. They were a personal and irreplaceable part of his life. And as Leo was also an important part of his life, Charles thought it would be fitting to let him know how Charles saw him, how unique and brilliant he looked in Charles’ eyes. Their relationship had been stalling as of late, and Leo seemed colder to him than usual. Charles wanted to fix it before it was too late.

But Leo scoffed at his words. “What kind of childish fairy tales are those? You’re a grown-up, yet you still believe in those myths?”

Charles froze. “You don’t find it interesting, or romantic at all?”

“They’re child’s play, Charles. If your mind is always in the clouds like that, no wonder why you aren’t taking leaps in your career.”

Charles’ throat constricted, as if Leo was slowly closing his fingers around his neck and squeezing it tight. “Leo… those beliefs is a part of my life, a part of my identity. You shouldn’t make fun of people for believing. And even if - even if you don’t believe in any of it, I thought you would be able to see how precious you are to me.”

Leo flicked his cigarette butt onto the pavement and crushed the still-smoking piece under his shoes. “That’s what you want to see, so you see it. I don’t know what you really see in me to be honest. Sometimes I feel like you only want to see yourself reflected in me.”

*****

Charles should’ve seen this coming.

He didn’t want to believe it, however, and he tried to deny it for a while, until he could no longer deny the obvious.

Charles cherished Leo as if he was the finest treasure in the universe. And like the universe he embodied, Leo was intoxicating and potent. He was a creature of motion, elegant in his movements, fluid and graceful, flowing through Charles’ fingers like wisps of ephemeral aurora lights. It seemed impossible to contain him. Charles didn’t dare to contain him - to him, it was the ultimate act of blasphemy for humans to try and control nature. For as long as Leo wanted to stay with him, Charles would enjoy every second of it.

Leo stayed with him for a long time. A few years, but to Charles it seemed like an eternity.

But the universe was subject to change. Violent, unpredictable, monumental change. That was what gave the universe part of its charm. Like the universe, Leo was also subject to change. And like all humans, Leo’s feelings were subject to change too.

And Charles tried. Oh how he tried to stall the changes. He was desperate. He had only felt that desperate once, that time when his father took him camping under the stars. His father was fast asleep the whole time, but small Charles stayed up all night to watch the stars. He feared that if he tore his gaze away, even for just a second, the stars would disappear and never come back. Simply winked themselves out of existence and out of Charles’ life forever - all it took would be a moment of neglect. They were silly thoughts of a young child, but to Charles the thought that he could never again see the stars in the dark vastness of space was the most terrifying thought of all.

The day when Leo stared at him blankly, as if he could no longer see the stars that was once upon a time all he could see in Charles’ eyes, Charles fell into a black hole.