@kingdonmicrofic day 20: stargazing | 314/314 | rating: g
There are glow-in-the-dark stars stuck all over the ceiling of Mel’s apartment. Not just in her bedroom like you’d expect, but everywhere. Above the couch in the living room, in the hallways, pressed to corners of kitchen cabinets, over the front door. Little green constellations scattered across crackling off-white paint.
Frank wouldn’t normally think much of it. They’re just another oddity; another loving, uniqueness of the King sisters. Something he can marvel at when Mel’s head nestles against his shoulder as a movie flickers on the television.
Except the stars don’t breach Becca’s room. They graze the doorframe, but don’t pepper her ceiling the same way they dot her sister's. Instead, they’re uniquely Mel's and they spill across the entire apartment, unabashed in their presence.
She never does tell him why they’re there.
That’s the thing about Mel.
She has this funny habit of offering bits and pieces of herself, but never fully elaborating on them. She just unfurls her fist, showing off a shiny little pearl of who she really is, and deposits in your palm, walking away before any questions can be asked.
It’s not because she’s secretive or private, he knows more than anyone that she’s an open book. Such unintentional flippance is only born out of people breezing past everything she’s ever offered before, and each time it happens, he slots himself right into the empty space, asking why or when or simply saying tell me more.
In a way, she’s kind of a constellation herself. A brilliant collection of light pinpricks, freckled and picturesque, imploring interpretation. There’s something beneath the straight lines, something that can’t be seen simply from stargazing, only learned through stories.
He’s grateful for each new star she shows him, even more grateful for what he finds in the negative space between.
(He wonders if there’s room in the sky to slot in next to her.)
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