S E V E N T E E N

Journey's blue eyed gaze gleamed, irises bathing in the eerie darkness, as he waited to gauge Jeong's reaction. A pitch black curtain covered the sky, a spitting image of Jeong's hair.

Peering through the lens of the telescope, his finger traced the constellations with ease, counting off the names. The stars appear to be cushioned upon the soft velvet of the sky, sparkling under the moonlight.

The corners of Jeong's dark lips tugged up in a halfhearted smile.

The pure excitement drawn onto Journey's face filled him with amusement.

Apparently, Journey was able to list off every celestial body, planet, and collection of stars in the galaxy. It was cute, that's for sure.

"My mom told me the stars were like fireflies that returned to dance every night. One day, I plan on studying Astrophysics. My family, especially my mom wants me to go into the medical field, but I'd rather be in science. The subject has always fascinated me in school," he laughed shortly. "It's the only subject I'm good at."

The stars, the color of a birthstone blue, twinkled in the sky like scattered moondust, acting as the sunlight in a veil of darkness. For Journey, the stars were his beacon of hope, for he used to wish on shooting stars all the time when he was little boy. His parents promised him if he tried hard enough, all of his wishes, even ones labeled as blissful thinking, would come true. So he wished on every star that grazed the ground outside his bedroom window.

As he peered into the nearly black orbs of Jeong, he realized most of his dreams weren't blissful thinking. The dream he cared most about was that someone would accept him with all of his flaws. That someone would treat his flaws, even his panic attacks, as constellations decorating his skin, bewitching to look at and fascinating to touch. That someone would calm his fears.

Before, his classmates would slowly back away when he'd have a panic attack, unsure of how to manage the situation.

Because he had panic disorder, he'd panic about small events that were irrelevant. As a small child, before he knew why the attacks were occurring, he assumed he was different and as a result, he cried all the time during school, afraid of telling his parents. Eventually, they realized he had panic attacks and signed him up for therapy. The therapy sessions didn't last, for his parents weren't able to afford them when his mom lost her job.

When he was younger, he had small stars glued onto his celling. He'd stare up at the celling sometimes and trace every star with the tip of his finger. He pretended he had the milky way imprinted onto his celling, falling asleep every night with a smile on his face. During his panic attacks, he'd close his eyes and told himself he was back in his small, pale blue bedroom with the stars stuck to his celling.

"I can't sleep," Heidi spoke into his phone, his eyes glazed over with tears.

"Apollo, I can't sleep. Fuck, I feel like I'm trapped in here. I feel like I'm suffocating." Tears were streaming down his face now and he was full on sobbing. His heart was pounding in his chest. "My head feels like a damn drum. I'm hurting like shit, Apollo. Please.... help me." At the end, his voice broke, shattering Apollo's heart in the process.

"I'm coming over," he replied, his voice groggy and his tone sleepy.

Less than ten minutes later, Heidi pulled open his door. "Am I fucked up?" Heidi blurted out, startling Apollo.

Apollo raised a questioning brow at his best friend. "No, of course not." Heidi hugged his knees to his chest, tear stained cheeks caged in his elbows, as he leans his head against the wall, brown strands sprawling across his face. "You're perfect just the way you fucking are, Heidi."

"Sometimes, I feel like I'm simply a ghost living in the dark shadows, forced to watch my life play out. Sometimes, I feel numb and lifeless, like I'm not even fucking here."

At every word that rolled off Heidi's lips, a knife wedged itself deeper into Apollo's chest, blood gushing from the wound, staining the torn carpet below his feet. The pain etched onto Heidi's face tormented Apollo, piercing his skin like a round of bullets. But in reality, his pain couldn't compare to the soul crushing agony Heidi lives with constantly. He constantly inflicts pain onto himself, whether it's verbal or physical.

The fresh tattoos imprinted onto his skin, the monarch butterfly on his middle finger and the anchor on his left forearm, both scribbled in bold ink, covered the red marks he etched into his skin less than a week ago.

"Apollo, I feel like I'm a burden," he stares at the bathroom door, to avoid eye contact with Apollo. "I feel like I'm weighing you down-"

"Heidi." Apollo pulls him into his embrace, the faint smell of whiskey on Heidi's shirt wafting through Apollo's nostrils. "You're not weighing me down. You're not a damn burden. I'll be here for you, Heidi. Whatever you need, no matter how much it costs, I'll be here for you. I care about you."

Actually, you love him, his heart whispers. Apollo bit down on his bottom lip to prevent tears from pricking in his green orbs. The boy he cared about more than anything saw himself as a burden weighing him down.

The reality of his heart's words tumbled onto him like a waterfall, spilling into a serenity pool of defeaning beauty beneath. Tears stained his cheeks, the droplets like blue satin threaded with silver, as they drizzled down his face, silent sobs bubbling up from his throat. The waterfall of sadness plunged onto the torn, beige carpet, brutally pelting onto the cool surface of the rocks below.

The brown haired boy, held together with glue, collapsed like a brick wall, thrashing the concrete bracing the foundation, just as Atlas carried the weight of the heavens upon his back.

Heidi's head fell onto Apollo's shoulder, his eyes fluttering closed, the tears shimmering on his cheeks.