#kimstar

Perhaps that was why Kim sought him out during her first year. People most like each other seemed to be magnetized. In other words, she sensed out those who cared too much about what others thought and how others perceived. It was a comfort, in a way, to have someone so like minded.

Black Star was quick to laugh at her pranks, slow to register that many insulted him personally. He was lax and jovial, and yet he worked harder than anyone else she’d ever met. Kim kept her distance, but knew that if there was anyone who mirrored her, who could understand her, it was him. Maybe he was someone she wouldn’t mind getting to know, and in return maybe she would let him get to know her.

Between years, she found herself at awe.

And envious.

There was a stark difference between the two, after all. The more she hid, the more he demanded to be seen. The more frightened Kim was towards her identity, the more Black Star reveled in it. In those same shadows where she’d resigned herself to, she almost wished that he stayed there with her.

A thought crept up on her. The first day they turned in their names for the academy. Kim immediately stole one of her classmate’s paper, playfully or spitefully writing an awful stage name for her as she was powerless to stop. But when she looked to the side, she could barely make out the beginnings of a name more ridiculous than the one she thought of.

It read “Black Star,” unironically, followed by a messy shitty autograph that looked like a ten year old had penned.

To be fair, he really was only ten.

Just a few years older than he, she cowardly turned in her own paper with just her name. Thankfully, no one called her out on it. Likewise, maybe no one was brave enough either.

Kim opened the door to her shared apartment. She was younger, then. Wiser, now. The background music of a game was playing in her living room, even though there wasn’t supposed to be anyone home at the time. Jackie should have been training new students, and the pair of meisters whom Kim had met during an extended mission should have been in their respective classes. Realistically, the apartment should have been hers to enjoy.

Yet after she’d put away her coat, she turned to see a puff of blue hair peeking from the corner. Unsurprised, she crossed over the short space to join Black Star, who didn’t bother to make room on the couch after sitting back down properly. She made herself at home on the other end, draping her legs over him and over the controller he was holding, though he swatted her away without much of a glance.

Sighing, settling into the cushions, she relaxed just as she would if no one were around. In response to that, Black Star turned down the volume by a few notches. He still hadn’t said a word to her.

Loud and careless, she thought, eyeing him.

Eventually, it became too obvious to ignore.

“Something on my face?” he asked.

How was she going to respond?

“Yeah, probably.”

He took his eyes off of her roommate’s game for a moment. “It’s called beauty. You can go ahead and say it.”

“More like ugly,” she said, stretching.

And to that, he hummed of acknowledgement, but didn’t go any further.

Kim went back to her thoughts, recalling how it was only two hours since she’d last seen him with his group of friends on campus. He’d been energetic, thriving at the center of chaos. Anyone who passed their space in the hallway had to make a visible round to avoid the mass, even though all they were doing was talking, laughing. Their noise was almost like a barrier, telling others to be cautious, be wary, of the elite group of fighters who could claim a room just by looking at it.

Did that describe his aura in public well? She wondered.

How did he switch to this dormant form when they were alone?

Rubbing her legs on his, she could already say that he was softer, more calm. He was focused, a picture of seriousness even as he was playing Kirby’s Epic Yarn. Rather than get frustrated at the game, like how anyone would expect he would, he would simply sigh and try the level again, remember exactly where he hit the game over, and learned from that attempt.

Beyond that, he was just far more gentle, she guessed.

“Still staring?”

“Thinkin’ about shit. Trippin’ on memory lane. ‘Bout when I was still a fetus.”

“How the fuck are you going to remember being in a womb?”

“Magic,” she whistled, wiggling her fingers.

He scoffed, “Witches.”

If it were anyone else, maybe she would have gotten mad. But he already knew about her rejected past. Accepted it anyway. Joined her in the shadows and closed their distance. So she responded instead, “Abra Kadabra,” pretending to swing a wand, smiling when he laughed.

It was a different kind of sound than the one she’d heard previously.

So this is the Black Star only few can see, she explored again, still at awe, still envious.