Paper lanterns spiral infinitely in front of us, much like wayward constellations. The moon’s beauty casts onto the water, disturbed only by the occasional ripple. Pollution makes stargazing difficult, but the stars have found a way to shine over the beginning of summer festival. 

Festivals, theoretically, are supposed to be loud. Ear-splitting, in that regard. But seeing you tilt your head back in earnest, eyes bright as every star in the Andromeda Galaxy, I don’t think I hear anything.  

Our lanterns sit next to each other, not yet free and afloat. Yours, donning jellyfish sketches, and mine, thoughtfully decorated with black and white betta fish circling each other. Your lantern has a reddish-brown stain after I spilled some of my red bean taiyaki on it while attempting to juggle four different kinds of street food. I insisted on visiting every stand, even after eating half your lunch at school. You assure me that it’s okay, that the stain adds a certain novelty. 

You laugh afterwards, and I want to bottle it up for safekeeping. It echoes our shared laughter inside the record store’s listening booth across the school, where we first exchanged glances in the small alcove of record players. That booth was privy to our listening sessions, where distorted synths flowed through shared headphones, intertwining our hearts. 

Now, you gingerly set your lantern down, and I follow suit. We let go at the same time, our lanterns floating in tandem among the vast expanse of water. 

“When we—you know, where do you think we’ll go?”

“Maybe it’s like being set free, sent back to your natural essence. Like fish returning to the ocean.”

“You know, in another life, I imagine the two of us akin to koi fish, or Yin and Yang, so different, yet so whole together.”

 Our shoulders brush, much like our chaste touches between songs in the record store. The fireworks begin, a beautiful display of colors that illuminate your eyes.  I foolishly look over at you and meet your gaze. 

 The world turns tactile; the stifling density of the crowd and loud fireworks dissipate. The corners of my mouth curve infinitesimally, barely failing to conceal my awestruck expression. 

Our lips meet tentatively. There is no sky, no outside world, just warmth, and two bodies eclipsing each other, remembering what closeness is. 

We break after what feels like an eternity. Your eyes scintillate before me, the glow behind them azure and deep violet. The discerning wind blows, causing the lanterns to sway and shift direction. A sea of paper constellations surrounds you, likening you to their lucida, their brightest star—or perhaps, mine.

“When we both go, let’s meet here, okay?”