His smile glittered like the stars that reflected on his glasses. He laughed, a sound like tinkling bells with the slightest bit of melancholy. His red hair was a mess as a midnight breeze ruffled it. He was beautiful.

He reached out his hand for me, guiding me off the worn rusty ladder and onto the rooftop of my apartment. 

My feet barely touched the concrete before his arms were around me, my face buried into his red t-shirt and unzipped black jacket. His scent of Honey Butter Buddha chips and Dr. Pepper enveloping me. So warm, despite the chilly winter night air.

“Let’s get married at the space station.”

A joke, really, since I doubt we’d ever make up there. But it was the thought that counts. 

I smiled against his chest.

The first time he’d said those words to me was when we were both lost. Both of us were searching for safety and comfort and warmth. A place to stay. A life where we were no longer hunted by our inner demons.

The first time he’d said those words was through a screen. When he laughed and joked like nothing had gone awry and that he wasn’t drowning in that hellhole he called work. 

“Dangerous”. That word he used to describe himself. Too dangerous. Hands too dirty. Too ruined for me. But thinking back, I don’t think he was ever a danger to me.

But rather a danger to himself. Dangerous in the sense that he had trapped himself in, stumbling about in the darkness within a room filled with thorns. Dangerous in the sense that he was drowning in his world of code and a stifling darkness utterly convinced that he was the monster in this tale. Or perhaps he saw himself as a flame: alluring and bright in the darkness, but also dangerous and destructive.

I think he forgot, though, that he himself was not a flame but a beautiful star that lit up the darkness of my world. He pulled me out of my own darkness, as I did his. Perhaps we were moths with glowing wings, drawn to the light of the other. 

Sometimes I wonder when he fell in love with me. Sometimes I wonder what he sacrificed to be with me. Maybe the countless bags of honey buddha chips I steal on a daily basis, or maybe half of his bed. Or maybe those minutes and hours he would have once spent on working, or his nails that are not painted pink.

I know he’s sacrificed more than superficial things. But just like him, I think we are both afraid to talk about and remember the price of our love. It saved us, but it also cost us.

Sometimes I wonder how much he must have hurt for my happiness before I chose him in the end. He has given me so much, it would take an eternity to return the love he has given me. 

I sighed quietly before gently pulling back and staring into those golden eyes that were brown in the darkness. Almost like liquid gold. So soft, so bright. And that smile of his.

God, I would do anything to protect that smile. I would do everything to be someone worth smiling for. Anything for him.

My one and only love, forever and ever, until the end of this binary world. I will look at him and love him and be the evidence that he existed and I will be his sun as he is my star and I will love him.

Through the good and the bad, at the end of the day I will look at his beautiful face and smile like I haven’t a care in the world. Because he is not dangerous to me. And even if he was, I would rather die than be without him. He is my world. My light. My stars.

And it’s only fitting we’d get married surrounded by a galaxy of them.

So, I let loose a small laugh, barely more than a gentle exhale of air. I lean forward, getting up on the tips of my toes, and placed my lips right next to the curve of his left ear and whispered:

“Yes, my love. Let’s do that.”