sharing long term dreams, goals and aspirations with one another
blossoming romance writing prompts.
ON EARTH, YEARS FROM NOW, Spock would look back on this moment and wonder if Jim possessed a measure of foresight despite the ever-moving target of Jim’s own mind.
He tells himself that they will have grown well — having grown old together — entangling themselves with a brilliant network of gold-work and red string, fingers that have crossed and creased with age, uncaring of the universe that had taken to watch them as they traveled the stars side by side.
They have known each other through listless dreams. Jim’s were always forward, reaching and looking upward, staring out and past everything else, even if Jim was trapped in the veil of youth, enamored by the human’s first love of space.
Who was Spock to compete with the breadth of them all: the stars, white hot and outlasting even the desert, more beautiful than death?
It was Spock that brought the Captain to a slow — no longer a shade of time, yellow streaks at the edge of Spock’s eyes — but never a stand still. He had attempted for so long not to give thought to the ephemerality of life — of Jim’s in particular — human and so finite; all Spock ever wanted was to remain at Jim’s side.
Like a comet to the earth, they collided, but his thoughts were bound to him before they could exist, until eventually, it transformed cracked rock and steaming crimson fissures, stalling the smoke that had undone an entire species.
Lying against the grass, he looks up at the night, hands interwoven into Jim’s when Jim asks him, “ Did you ever see yourself here? ”
—calm, he thinks Jim means, eyes cooled. Or perhaps, a universe beyond duty and the humming tone of the ship’s breathing; they left the Enterprise to younger, better hands.
He feels Jim shift, lines of old age and gray hair shining in the corner of Spock's vision. The addition rattles him, “ With me. After all this time. ”
—illogical, as always, and even now.
Gently tightening his grip, there is no hesitation, thinking not to the beginning but the very end of all things. Spock can envision the fields within himself, long wheat grass that Jim had seeded at the edge of the desert, fading verdant lines into gold — more sunlight — and with him, Spock thinks he will never truly die.
“ That answer was simpler than presumed, ” he says softly, turning his eyes on Jim, swelling at the brightest point of their katras, one and together; t’hy’la, “ There was never anywhere else. ”