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It was November 15th. She was wearing her yellow-blue jacket and looked as goregous as ever, because she was laughing so much that snot almost went through her nose. Leave it to Lucas to find her attractive even in the weirdest, conventionally disgusting moments. But he'd made her laugh, genuinely laugh, for the first time in what had felt like ages, centuries ago.
They were watching constellations. Even the reason he'd been at her house was laughable, but in a bad way – a school project. Otherwise, she probably wouldn't have let him in.
But they had still been together, and so it happened that – Neil nor Susan were home – they ended up on the lawn, backs on his laid-out jacket, hand in hand. His thumb was stroking her palm and she was letting him – which had been unheard of in the weeks prior. He was set on enjoying every split-second of that moment, in case she would've abruptly gotten up and thrown him out with a bad excuse, just like had been happening more and more frequently.
But she didn't. She just let him stroke her hand with closed eyes and a small smile on her lips.
“You know, sometimes I really like when the world is all black,” she whispered contently. Lucas was a bit alarmed, but tried not to let it show; he could tell she wasn't finished. Max telling him something on her own incentive was nothing short of a miracle, so he was set on letting her speak. “It's all so much more peaceful. You can feel the breeze on your skin and smell the night so much better, too.”
“They say that your other senses get better when you lose one of them,” Lucas said, drawing a little circle on her hand. “But don't try to poke your eyes out so that you can smell the night better, please.”
Shes snorted (the disgusting moment hapened, but he was in awe anyway), then giggled, covering her mouth. “You're so dumb." It was kind. "I think I can promise that.”
“Yeah, then you couldn't see the stars above us. Do you know any constellations?”
“No.” She looked at him consciously, gnawing on her lip. “Do you?”
He didn't, but she didn't have to know that, did she? He knew the names. That had to count for something, right? He cleared his throat to appear more serious. “Do you see that – that triangle above us?” He waved vaguely into the air.
Max nodded reluctantly. “Yeah. That there, right?”
“Yeah,” he guided her hand right to the tip of his made-up triangle. “It has like a tail there. That's Ursa Major. That means the big horse in Latin.” Or some animal; the tail looked kind of like a mane; anyway, Max didn't know Latin, that he was sure of.
Max nodded contently. “Anything else?”
“The Cassiopeia is like a double bridge,” he pointed to two parallel lightly curved arches made of stars.
“Something else?”
“Yeah,” he fished in his memory for something to sound at least kind of valid. “The Hercules. He has like a sword, like a stickman, there to your left, do you see that?” He was completely immersed in his fake-descriptions, so that he didn't notice the warning smirk on Max's face.
Suddenly, she sat up briskly, looking at him with a sparkle in her eyes. “You're making it up.”
“No, I'm not,” he protested faintly, but was met with her murderous stare. “Okay, let's just say that I'm... improvising a little.”
He was met with a slap on his chest, but it was very lackadaisical; anyway, if that was the price to pay for Max's hand to stay there, he definitely wouldn't complain. He put his over hers, both of them feeling his a little-too-fast beating heart. He couldn't help but notice the goosebumps on her wrist.
“Aren't you cold?”
“A little,” she admitted, “But I want to stay here. It's nice.”
Scratch a little-too-fast: his heart beat heart-attack-readily when she smiled at him, the stars from the constellations above reflecting in her irises.
When they couldn't stand it anymore – or rather, he couldn't stand watching her shiver – they went inside, holding hands, and listened to What a feeling on loop on Max's walkman. It was hard to make it work with one pair of headphones, but with some shifting and dangerous bending, they made do.
She broke up with him a week later.
×
For the next few months, she was light years away, escaping further and further with each passing day. It was sad that what had brought them together had to almost have killed her. It was sad that Lucas, in the darkest corner of his soul, the black hole of the unspeakable, had to be at least a tiny little bit grateful for Vecna.
Not only Max had bad thoughts.
He'd told himself that her laugh balanced it out. And the fact that nothing had happened.
Then, something happened.
×
“The Cassiopeia is one of the most recognizable constellations in the northern sky, forming a letter W made of the following stars, west to east when observing from the Northern hemisphere: Caph, Shedar, Navi, Ruchbah...” Lucas trails off, taking a sip of water from the cup Erica'd brought him, giving Max a glance over the plastic. Nothing.
Obviously.
Still, it made the gaping ache in his chest a little stronger, just like every time he'd looked at her and was met with the same nothingness.
Lucas clears his throat. “... and Segin,” he finishes weakly. There's more about the constellation in the atlas: the myth of the Queen she was named after; her discovery. But what does it matter if Max might not be able to see any of it?
“Do you remember when we were watching the stars together, that cold evening in November last year?” Lucas half-whispers shakily. “Max, do you remember what you said? That you could feel everything a bit better with your eyes closed?” He shuffles closer to her, fearfully putting his hand on her blanket. The irony of it is staggering. “Okay, so now, feel me. Can you? My hand over yours. We'd held hands that day, for the last time...”
He has to stop for a little to blink back tears.
Max does nothing.
“Max, please,” Lucas begs, eyes still wet and chest cold. “I don't care if you can't see the stars. If everyting's black for you. I'll describe all of it, it'll be like you're not even missing out,” he stops at his obviously false comfort, but it doesn't matter anyway.
“Don't be scared. Please. Come back.”
×
It feels as if the darkness of Max's brain and his chest are connected. Lucas feels emptier and emptier day by day.
The black hole keeps growing.
But he keeps showing up.
Not every black hole keeps growing forever; if nothing falls into it, Hawking radiation causes a black hole to shrink over time and ultimately vanish.
Lucas still hopes that's the case with theirs.