#olnf x reader

People came and went. He smiled, putting on an outgoing, charming persona, the same one he displayed when he first arrived at Sunset Bird. The same one that slowly washed away when met with earnestness and sincerity. However, he had no use for his own genuineness anymore. Nobody stayed in his life long or got close enough—he made sure of it.

Baxter lived through the rest of his college years that way. It was better like this, he tried to convince himself. He was already so used to his act of suavity that he thought it would be easier. He made sure people liked him, but never enough to hold any expectations of him. The only expectations he had of himself would be determined by him and himself only. An occasional thought of it’s lonely would be swiftly brushed under a rug. He could deal with it in exchange for the protection of familiarity.

Holding an act for people was not something new to Baxter. It was tiring, but had become routine for him. He knew his parents would never approve of his feelings for Qiu. Despite being a few years older, he was hopelessly charmed by the ballet dancer. Baxter found himself clinging to the other boy in a way he had never clung before.

His parents never masked their dismay with Baxter’s friend group, nor their friendship, throughout the years, so they certainly would not have changed their minds just because of his feelings. So he acted. Baxter pretended his chest did not squeeze when he was near Qiu. He pretended to be disinterested in what his dear friends had to say. He distanced himself from everyone in Golden Grove. It made his judgmental and bigoted parents marginally happier, allowing him to live another day without confrontation.

Baxter had comforted himself with the thought of the new family that moved into Qiu’s cul-de-sac. The mother and child duo were quite charming, and Baxter had no doubt that they would keep his friends safe from criticism and happy, something he could not do himself. They had fit snugly into the friend group with ease, along with a bright-eyed, red-headed girl, easing Baxter’s worries. With that, he brushed the memories of his time with that party into a quiet corner of his mind.

Graduation came, but his parents did not, as expected. Baxter found that he simply did not care—why should he, when they never did? They had only sent him a simple bouquet of sunflowers and a plain card that had “congratulations” written in elegant handwriting. His stomach churned as he held the bouquet in his hands, the wrapper crinkling under his tight grip. Of all the flowers, it just had to be the one that bombarded him with thoughts of that summer. The summer he was greeted with a smile brighter than the sun. The summer he learned the warmth of keeping good company. The summer he chased after in his dreams.

Baxter found himself grimacing. The once sweet memory had turned bitter with each guilty thought he had locked away and suppressed. What started as tiny pinches of remorse eventually snowballed into stabs of shame and regret, all of which he stuffed deeper and deeper into the depths of his mind. As he lay in bed that night, he was suddenly hit with a pang of yearning. Baxter found himself unable to sleep that night, an uncomfortable nausea kept constant in his gut.

Baxter found himself back on the sandy beaches of Sunset Bird. He was quite proud of himself for finding a notable job as an event planner all by himself, without the influence of his family’s money or name. He was content with this new start as a recent graduate in a new destination. In the back of his mind, however, he wondered just why exactly he decided to settle for a job in the place where he committed his biggest regret.

He made connections here and there, but no longer cared to maintain any friendships. He remained professional and just the right amount of likable to all those he came into contact with. As the seasons changed and months passed, Baxter had hoped his longing for a warm summer would go away, but it never did. It clung to him like a constant itch that he could not reach.

It had nearly been a year since he moved to Sunset Bird. A cold gust chilled him to the bone, despite it being spring. He could never quite shake off the numbing coolness in his heart. Baxter thought back to the time his sunny, temporary neighbor had dragged him out to the beach with their friends. They had somehow coaxed him to at least dip his feet into the gentle waves, their soft hand never letting go of his elbow, anchoring him. He could feel the sun-heated water lapping at his ankles and the sand tickling the soles of his feet. He missed the heat that radiated from the sun and from their hand. He hoped the memory of it would be enough to ward off the biting winds that tormented him.

As desperately as he tried to cling to the sun-kissed memory, he was no match against the brewing storm. The warm waters churned and splashed, turning into a freezing whirlpool that dragged him further and further away from the surface. No matter how hard he fought against the violent currents, he was being yanked relentlessly to the ocean floor, just as he had always feared it would. He could no longer feel the safe, grounding hold they once had on him.

It hit him then. Summer took all the warmth and joy with them, leaving Fall with a chilly breeze and longing for something he could never reach. No matter who or what Baxter pursued, Fall would always be chasing after Summer. The thought settled like a deep, cold, unending pit in his stomach. Baxter clenched his fist, fingernails digging deep into his palms. The pinch was no comparison to the sudden ache in his chest.

The moment their eyes met, his walls dropped. He shook himself out of his daze—he was quick to guard himself again. What are you guarding? He asked himself. Memories from summer five years ago flashed through Baxter’s mind. He had nothing he needed to protect himself from. In fact, he would not be surprised if they had their walls up instead. He could tell from just a glance how deeply he had wounded them. He did not deserve them, just like he had first thought when he left them abandoned at his doorstep the night before he departed.

Forced to remain in their proximity to plan Jude and Scott’s wedding reopened many wounds—wounds he had created for both of them. Despite the hurt, he found their presence healing at the same time. As they practically relived their first dalliance, he found himself shivering less and less. Baxter found himself just as he did five years ago, greedily reveling in undeserved warmth and care. His chase was nearing its end. They were so close to his grasp, he was almost there. He knew if he did not end the chase himself, he would run out of steam and fall behind.

The wedding kept him extremely busy. He took much pride in how well it was going. The satisfaction of a job well done was just enough to keep his nerves at bay. Before he knew it, the wedding reception had ended, and he found himself face to face with the very person whom his heart had been orbiting the past five years. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow upon them as they reached out a hand, asking him for a dance. The light haloed around them as he spun them around, feeling lighter than he ever had been in the past half-decade.

Baxter had so much to say, but they all caught in his throat as they slowed their dance. He managed to get out a proper, genuine apology for the way he had left things, at least. Unfortunately, he still had responsibilities as the event coordinator that dragged him away with a promise to talk later. They left him with a smile he did not realize he had missed so much. Baxter turned away quickly, hoping they did not catch the flush on his cheeks.

Later that night, Baxter let out a sigh of relief that he did not even realize he was holding when he led them back to his apartment. Settling down on the couch in the lobby of his apartment, he chuckled. With them nearly snuggling him on the seat, he fondly recalled the cabin trip they both took that fateful summer. Now older and wiser, Baxter was even more determined to set things right.

They talked. Well, Baxter talked and they listened attentively. For once in his life, he no longer felt like he was running. He had slowed to a jog, then a walk. It was nice.

He bared his soul wide open to them, told them everything, all his desires, turmoils, and hopes. Finally, he felt free—free of the chase he had set himself on. Their hand had made its way onto his at some point, and his heart stuttered at the gentle warmth. Oh, how he had missed them.

There was a certain melancholy in their eyes that Baxter so desperately wished to ease. However, they reassured him that their heart ached for his inner conflict, not theirs, accompanied by a gentle squeeze of their hand. He smiled.

His chase had finally ended. Instead, they now walked side-by-side. They were no longer running in two separate seasons, but together in the liminal period in between. Baxter spent years staring at the back of their head, praying they would turn around and spare him a smile despite how cruelly he had left them. Now, he was able to admire their profile. He drank in the image of them, basking in the warmth of the fireplace, eyes kind and gentle, greedily—he vowed to himself then and there that he would never let them go again.

Baxter slept more easily that night, knowing he had properly made amends with them. The thought of them sleeping peacefully just a door away made his heart thump. He made a promise to them and to himself that from now on, he would continue making up for the five years of grief he had caused.

They spent all day together, and Baxter found himself wishing it could be every day, even when their moms had given him a well-deserved talking to. It made him appreciate them even more, and he was glad they had parents who worried over their child like such. Baxter was surprised at how easily their moms had accepted him despite it all. Although they were stern with him, it was clear they cared for him as well, even knowing that they had hurt their darling child. 

He now understood where they had gotten their empathetic nature from. They had heard him out and accepted his apologies with such ease, despite his five years of icy abandonment. Baxter hardened his resolve, silently vowing to himself that he would protect their heart of gold, no matter what.

Baxter assured them he did not expect anything more than friendship when he had made amends. However, he secretly hoped for more. Baxter knew he was already receiving more than he deserved for being friends with them again, and he would never push for anything more, but he knew his yearning would never cease. Although his chase had ended, the longing remained.

He was glad they had accepted his offer for a dance that night. They danced together briefly at the end of the wedding reception, but it had been cut short due to his duties as the event planner. Baxter hoped to make this dance something more personal. As they spun around the office studio, Baxter could not take his eyes off them. Their smile shone so brightly it hypnotized him.

At the final beat of the song, Baxter dipped them low. They held that position, and Baxter found his eyes darting between theirs and their lips. There was a fiery gleam in their eyes that made Baxter’s stomach flip and his heart pound faster. He felt his face warm and gently tugged them into him, out of the dip. He let go of their waist reluctantly with an excuse to get them both some water.

As they settled down on the couch in his office, Baxter decided he could not hide his feelings any longer. He still would not put any expectations on them, but he knew he could no longer keep bottling things up and hiding away.

Baxter confessed. He confessed again how he never meant what he had said when he left five years ago. He confessed how they were a constant on his mind and how leaving them was his biggest regret and mistake. He confessed how his heart had stayed with them despite having left Sunset Bird. He confessed how he had wanted to kiss them just moments ago.

His heart skipped nervously at their laughter. However, they quickly eased his nerves and worries with a deep kiss. Baxter’s heart fluttered. His breath hitched as they bit down gently, and his hands flew up to cup their face. They both panted when they pulled apart. Baxter saw just how wide their pupils had blown out, and he was sure his was matching theirs.

Both of them were giddy and giggling as they tucked each other into bed, lying side by side. Rather than the sleepless nights he had grown used to, Baxter went to bed that night sleeping more soundly than he ever had. He dreamed of summertime, splashing around in the ocean and sharing ice cream. He also dreamed of fall, strolling under the golden leaves together hand in hand, of winter and huddling under a blanket together, sipping on hot cocoa, and of spring, lying on the dewy grass, watching flowers bloom.

Waking up next to them was a delightful surprise. Baxter had almost expected to wake up all by his lonesome, mourning the pleasantries of the previous day. Despite not being a morning person, Baxter found himself content being awake. He silently admired the way their hair fell against their face and how the warm sunbeams gave them a golden glow.

Baxter had found himself loathing summers the past five years. For a long time, he had trapped himself running and running, chasing after a warmth he thought he would never find again. It led to a grudge against the summer heat, as it only served to remind him of his remorse.

Now, as he marveled at their sleepy state, Baxter found that he favored the sunny season. It had brought them to him, and he would not let go this time. He finally found that fire he had been searching for again. It burned bright, fiery, and passionately as his own personal sun in the form of his now lover. Baxter was done running, he was done chasing—there was no longer a need to, since he had found his sun again.

thanks for reading!! hope y'all enjoyed this as much as i enjoyed writing it (o˘◡˘o)

Tamarack

If the idea of a soulmate, as a child, made Tamarack indifferent, it now filled her with fear.

It wasn’t supposed to be like that, she was sure. Not like she’d ever admit to these feelings to anyone— Finding your soulmate was a goal to strive towards, a consolation on difficult days.

It’s what all romance books centered around. It’s the topic of all of the songs people listen to on the radio, the advice columns on magazines the girls much cooler than her read. 

It’s a daunting notion, perhaps, but a natural one. Her soulmate will appear when she least expects, her world will fill with colours she had never particularly wished to see, and she will be granted a companion for as long as both shall live. The other half of her soul, a missing limb she had never noticed was gone.

But how could she ever muster up excitement for it when her future was so uncertain?

Maybe her soulmate was back at her old home, at the school she’d have attended if her parents had kept her instead of leaving her with her grandparents. Or maybe, if they followed through on their promises to take her back, she’d just miss her soulmate moving into the perpetually empty, likely haunted, house in the middle of the cul-de-sac.

A soulmate could be the anchor she’d always wished for, a tether somewhere, but it could just as easily twist into another loss, another painful what-if to occupy her thoughts.

And losing the one thing you wished for isn’t terrifying?

So she continues living her life. Hoping that she’s just another person to meet their soulmate just a little later in life— her parents had met in college, after all. Things would just work out if the universe could hold out for just a while longer, until her family’s mess could finally settle itself or she was old enough to make her own choices, put down roots somewhere she was certain they wouldn’t be cruelly ripped out the soil. 

She had heard many tragic tales of the sort, after all. Soulmates that meet briefly only to be torn apart. People who are meant to each other, but who are destined to just weave in and out of each other’s lives, only having brief, blissful moments together.

She hates to admit it, but the idea of suffering such a fate keeps her awake, sometimes.

Tamarack was tired of holding her breath and waiting for other people to make decisions for her. Soulmates were a cosmic matter, beyond the reach of any plea or plan. And if people could be fickle and unreliable, she doubted the universe would be any more inclined to listen to her wishes.

Every year that passed, with her world continuing to be coloured in the greyscale she was so fond of, made her just a little more hopeful, dimming the fear and anxiety she had long grown used to.

But things have a way of changing when you least expect it.

This Halloween was different. It was her first as a teenager, and she had obsessed over her costume for weeks. How could she not? Everything felt more important this year, like the tiniest details suddenly carried the weight of her entire identity. Adding to the excitement, her Omi had mentioned something Tamarack couldn’t stop thinking about: after years of vacancy, someone had finally moved into the empty house next door.

Before she could head out for her own festivities, her omi invites her to deliver her homemade sweets to the new neighbours.

Tamarack stood on the porch of her grandparents’ house, the evening’s chill nipping at her nose. She adjusted her cape— a flimsy, dollar-store last minute addition to an otherwise well-planned witch costume. Her Omi had insisted on the traditional sweets, meticulously wrapped and sealed in clear plastic with small bows. Tamarack clutched the basket, feeling every bit the reluctant Little Red Riding Hood.

“Go on, sweetheart…” her Omi urged from the doorway, every bit as boisterous as she always was “First impressions are important!”

First impressions, Tamarack thought bitterly, only mattered if you planned on sticking around. Still, she trudged across the lawn to the new neighbor’s house, pausing at the edge of the worn wood porch, and the sparse decorations out on the lawn. It brought a smile to her face— the residents had likely not fully moved in yet, but they at the very least bothered to decorate for the occasion.

Her heart thudded as she raised a hand to knock, suddenly a little nervous. She looks back at her grandmother, who seems impatient enough to do it for her when suddenly…

The door swung open, and Tamarack’s breath caught in her throat.

A kid stood there, about her age, also wearing a costume, trying to add in the last accessories while answering the door. Behind them, she can see boxes piled into the living room.

“Uh, hi…” they said, eyes darting to the basket in her hands. “Trick-or-treat?”

Tamarack blinked, suddenly hyper-aware of the weight of the basket.

“Oh, um, no. I mean, yes. Sort of? My grandmother…”  She looks back towards her grandmother for a moment “Wanted me to bring these over.” 

Before she can offers the sweets, the kid’s mother, appears behind them— her Omi’s attention quickly shifting to the other adult as they commence introductions. Tamarack shyly, albeing awkwardly thrusts the basket forward, as a peace offering. 

Her new neighbour looks up for the first time, her red eyes meeting theirs.

It was like a silent firework had gone off in her mind, flooding every corner with color. The drab greyscale of the world she had grown so accustomed to was suddenly replaced by shades she didn’t have words for. The red of their costume was vibrant and rich, and the soft yellow light from the porch lamp bathed their features in a warmth that seemed dream-like.

Her knees felt weak, and her hands trembled as she tried to process the transformation. She glanced down at her own costume, marveling at the green hue of her skirt, the deep black of her cape that somehow seemed darker than before.

They were staring at her, wide-eyed. Their grip on the basket slackened, and a few candies tumbled out.

 “You’re seeing it too, right?” they whispered.

Tamarack nodded slowly. She leans down to grab the fallen candies just as her soulmate does. When their hands touch, they both pull back like it’s fire.  

The moment is awkward for just a second— before she laughs, and accompanies her.

Her heart pounded in her chest as a thousand thoughts jumbled together—fear, confusion, disbelief. She had spent years imagining this, dreading it, preparing for a moment that always seemed far away, out of reach.

Now, it was here.

Her world had changed in the blink of an eye, and she hadn’t even had time to catch her breath.

“I wasn’t ready for this.” 

She admitted softly, barely more than a whisper. The fallen candies back in her basket, and her heart feeling just a tad lighter.

“Same…” Her soulmate replied, in disbelief. “Well… It isn’t as bad like I feared it would be.”

Surprisingly, she shares the sentiment. 

Behind them, her Omi and MC’s mother were deep in conversation, already swapping stories and laughter as though they had known each other forever.

Tamarack barely noticed. Everything around her felt distant— muted compared to the colors she couldn’t stop staring at.

She forced herself to take a breath, steadying her nerves. This wasn’t what she had planned. It wasn’t what she wanted. But maybe… maybe it didn’t have to be as terrifying as she thought. Maybe this wasn’t the end of her carefully constructed world, but the start of something else.

Qiu

There was once a time in which Qiu longed to find their soulmate.

Back when things were brighter, easier. When the idea of finding the person that stood on the other side of their invisible string felt like an inevitability, a cheat code to meeting a new friend— their perfect equal, the way to make their life just a little more perfect. Golden grove was a little boring, but it was a little town brimming with potential, filled with wonderful things, little secrets, they knew of, and they were eager to share with their perfect match.

That hope belonged to a different version of Qiu, though.

A younger, more naive one. The boy with sparkling eyes and an eager need to please who he once believed themselves to be.

Now, it felt like a memory from someone else’s life, not their own. 

Regardless, it was a hope Qiu had held onto for an embarrassingly long amount of time. Even when things became less certain, and making new friends became a chore rather than an exciting prospect, they still hoped anyway.

Fantasised about their eyes meeting when they took their bows at the end of a ballet recital, the world blooming into colour as they found them in a crowd, eyes soft and adoring, their appearance shifting with every second they conjured their little daydream— not knowing what they would look like, but wishing that, just at having a glimpse of them in a dream, Qiu would just know.

Or perhaps in the bustling halls of school, a casual brush of shoulders with a new transfer student would change everything.

It occupied their thoughts during boring classes or frustrating days when no one understood them, no matter how much they tried to speak: the ever-shifting face of their soulmate, the kind eyes, the idea that someone would be able to tell them who they were, someone who’d instinctively know.

Not having found their soulmate, despite their increasingly desperate attempts to do so throughout their childhood, had been just another in a long list of disappointments in Qiu’s life. 

It was just another testament to a fact that terrified them: they didn’t know who they were, nor who they were supposed to be. People around them had an idea— expectations, their own stifling view of who Qiu Lin was, and the more they insisted on it, the less Qiu wished to fulfil their expectations.

Like with most other things, in recent times, they had just stopped trying.

Why should they even bother with a soulmate, anyway? They had lost so much time together already. The colours their parents had described sounded headache inducing, the idea of a soulmate stifling in a way it hadn’t before. They stopped greeting colleagues in the hallways and avoided any chance to meet new people. Their friendship circle was small, and ever dwindling— And it was better this way. 

A soulmate would just be another person to disappoint, after all. Like the list wasn’t long enough already. It was better for them, and for the poor soul tethered to them, if they didn’t meet at all.

For that reason, the first day of high school was terrifying.

Golden Grove’s only school rarely got transfers. The golden-haired whirlwind that was Tamarack, their neighbour, had been an exception. But what made Qiu particularly anxious was the sinking feeling that this was it. That something was in the air. Some deep, impending change they were too small to ever possibly stop.

They couldn’t stop it, but they could delay it, whoever.

If locking themselves in their room wasn’t an option, which Qiu was sure it wasn’t, then the solution was simple. Instead of heading straight to school, Qiu veered off course, slipping into the woods that gave Golden Grove its name. The golden leaves heralding autumn crunched beneath their sneakers as they made their way to the old bridge over the creek. It was a cherished spot, a secret place they’d often escaped to as a kid.

The boy’s club, with Tamarack as an honorary member, had once made it their domain.

They throw their gym bag on the floor, huffing as it falls with a thump on the top steps, leading to the small bridge. Qiu slumps right beside it, fishing their phone out of their pockets to shoot a quick message to Ren, reassuring him that they’d show up eventually, and putting some music on.

The crisp morning air helped clear their thoughts, even if the anxiety still simmered beneath the surface.

Skipping a few hours of school seemed worth the inevitable lecture they’d get at home. For now, they could breathe, even if just for a little.

“Excuse me…”

An unknown voice sounds from right behind them, above the sound of their music. They’re momentarily taken aback. No one ever came here. It was a local secret. Who else would be in a bridge in the woods in the early morning hours?

A gasp escaped their lips as the vibrant hues overwhelmed them. Blues, oranges, and reds assaulted their senses, a kaleidoscope of shades they had no names for.

It was too much.

Qiu squeezed their eyes shut, reeling from the sudden intensity.

The stranger staggered too, pages from a notepad— Qiu’s notepad,  slipping from their grasp and scattering across the bridge steps. Their wide eyes darted around as if trying to process the same blinding shift.

Qiu’s heart raced, cautiously grabbing one of the fallen pages. A note they had made a few weeks ago on ideas for Ren’s birthday gift. 

Had they led their soulmate straight to them without realizing it? The colours were no less dazzling now that they started getting used to them, but the feeling was slightly more bearable. The stranger’s hair gleamed like sunlight, their features sharp yet soft, framed by a hesitant, confused, smile.

“Are you okay?” the stranger asked, voice shaky but kind. They crouched to gather the rest of the  fallen pages, glancing up at Qiu with equal parts concern and awe.

Qiu’s mouth went dry. Words tumbled through their mind but refused to align into a coherent sentence.

They’d dreamed of this moment for years, yet nothing had prepared them for the overwhelming reality of actually meeting them.

“I…” They swallowed hard, trying again. “I didn’t think…”

The stranger smiled softly, offering a hand. 

“Me neither.”

Qiu hesitated before taking it.

Their hands touched, and the colors seemed to pulse, brighter and warmer, as if the universe was reaffirming the connection. For the first time in years, Qiu felt a glimmer of hope.

“Girls!” Granny peeks her head through the kitchen window, “you’ve got thirty minutes ‘til dinner!”

“Okay!” You call at the same time Tamarack says, “Okay, Omi!”

Looking back at you, Tamarack beams. Neither of you had been invited to this special slumber party, so it made sense to throw your own. “Maybe Omi will let us stargaze after.”

“If she doesn’t, we can sneak out when she sleeps.” The two of you share matching expressions of mischief at the thought. Is it really a slumber party if there isn’t? Not that you had many in your life before moving to Golden Grove to make the comparison. Movies are really your only insight into the childhood ritual. Moving from apartment to apartment, it left little time to connect with kids enough to be invited to one. You’d never been a fan favorite enough in any of your previous classes for it in the first place.

That much hadn’t changed in Golden Grove.

Yours and Tamarack is a similar problem—too.

Too loud. Too much.

Or maybe they’re just boring. You're pretty sure they’re just boring and your best friend would agree. It’s only been a month or so since you and your mother moved to this mountainous town in Oregon, but it has always felt like you’ve known Tamarack Baumann your entire life.

She’d tossed a paper airplane at your shoulder and the trajectory of your life changed forever.

A glint of gold pulls you from your thoughts. You’d been in the middle of digging around for mushrooms when Granny made her announcement and you realize she haven’t continued since. “Nyla,” Tamarack cocks her head. She’s set aside her haul of pretty stones and mushrooms in favor of furrowing her brows in concern. Your chest warms despite the cold. “You okay?” There’s hardly a quiet moment between you with how much you both talk.

“Did you know I can hold stars in my hand?” You say suddenly and Tamarack blinks at the sudden declaration.

“Really?” Tamarack leans. “You can?!” Her red eyes widened, cheeks puffed in a smile of surprise.

You grins with a nod, “uh huh!” You scoot closer across the leaf-dappled ground. “I’ve never shown you before but I can.”

It’s the second part that really gets Tamarack excited, bouncing on her knees like she can’t contain it. “Show me! I wanna see you hold a star!”

If you were like Mrs. Murray or Qiu, you’d hum to draw out the suspense. Pretend to hem and haw before doing exactly what you already planned. But you aren’t. You’re buzzing with too much energy to even try. “Alright.” You shuffle to sit directly in front of Tamarack. “But you have to close your eyes first.”

Giggling, Tamarack squeezes her eyes shut.

It’s nothing for you to cup Tamarack’s fluffy locks in your hands. You have met a lot of people in your 10 years of living.

Some of them had cranberry hair like Mom. Some of them had red hair like Mrs. Murray. Some had dark brown, orange, pink, purple or even peach. None of them ever had hair that sparkled—Tamarack is the first and only.

It’s amazing.

“Tada!”

Tamarack opens her eyes and a series of expressions pass over her face from anticipation to confusion. “Where are the stars?”

Tamarack giggles, “That’s my hair!” Contrast to her usual movements, the way Tamarack shakes head is careful. You watch in amazement how the natural occurring shimmer never fades, moving like glinting sun on waves of gamboge. “That’s not a star!”

It’s hard to breathe as Tamarack’s apple-red eyes look up at you, just as dazzling as the sparkling strands that frame them. Still you stand firm. “Nope.” The ‘p’ pops against your lips in a mirthful-variety of stubborn. Seldom is there a topic the two of you disagree on, this will simply have to be an exception.

Soon evening will fall over Golden Grove. The sun will set beneath the horizon and the town will drape her shoulders with a star-dusted shawl and it will be evident to all that the stars above rest upon a crown of gold on Tamarack’s head. It never has to be a specific time of day to see them.

Tamarack Baumann is the prettiest girl in town, and probably the entire world too. Magic. She’s made of magic. You’ve known that since day you met underneath a rainfall of leaves in the middle of the forest. This was truth in its purest form even if you knew half of the child-aged population of Golden Grove would be keen to disagree.

You wiggle your fingers and marvels at every individual speckle.

That’s okay, you think. I’ll think it enough to make up for it.

—

It’s four years later and it’s the first day of school—or, it had been. It’s been a couple hours since the school day ended and you and Tamarack are leaning against the stone edge of the bridge. A final adventure before the day ended and you were forced to retire for the night by rules imposed on you by your respective families.

Your neck aches as you look back at the skies and you give it a break. The milky way is crystal clear. Something to do with a lack of light pollution, Tamarack told you. As a man of science, it’s a factoid that would make Mr. Murray proud.

Tamarack has stars of her own—their glow may be faint in the low light their cellphones and the moon above provides, but still they shine. They’re from her mother, you learned over their years of knowing the girl next door. Not that you ever had a chance to see it with how often Dr. Nichole Baumann dyed her hair.

That makes Tamarack’s all the more special.

It takes a moment before Tamarack realizes your eyes aren’t on the skies above. Her eyebrows knit for a heartbeat, concern flashing over her face—then her expression relaxes as if recalling your words in front of the Diner Place. If you were upset, you’d tell her. So Tamarack smiles, soft. “What’s got your mind so preoccupied?”