Night breaks, and shy glowing lights show their beauty to those who long for it.
The lights reflect on the metal floors; their various colors form a spectacle.
Malik lays on the ship floor as it hums. He hears the snores of everyone below, but something feels missing.
Pondering, he vividly recalls something she said as he felt the cold metal press against his back. "You let us live another day, Malik. I'm grateful."
I don't like the way she worded it. She spoke as if her life, and everybody else's life, is at my mercy. It's hard to remember what happened after I saw the tapes, but I wonder . . .
Did she hug me out of her will, or was it because she was scared?
Exhaling, he stares out, looking at the blinking lights in the sky.
Suddenly, he hears something behind him. A light set of footsteps reaches closer to him. The footsteps attempt to be quiet, as a means to not alert him, it seems.
Then—
"Hi, Malik," Kaya greets.
Malik darts his eyes to her. He sees her flowing hair hovering over him.
"Hello, Kaya," he mutters, instinctually.
She lies down next to him, silently, enjoying the view.
She seems to be as interested in the view as I am, but does she see it the same way I do? Does she see the reflecting lights? I should say something. I don't know her intentions with this.
"Do you like staring at the night sky as well?" he asked.
She turned her head towards him. "I do. I like the emptiness of it. The darkness of not knowing what's in it—that's what brings me to it. But what do you think about it?"
Malik smiled with his eyes. "I also like the emptiness in it. But when you think about it, there's everything in nothing. Maybe what you see as darkness is part of a big stream of light waiting to be seen. Because there is no such thing as the dark, only the absence of light."
He paused. "I like to try to see past that layer of darkness. Because I feel that there's something there, and I tend to imagine it."
"But something tells me that you don't have to imagine it," Kaya said softly.
Malik opened his mouth, staring at her.
"Malik." She takes a note out of her pocket, giving it to him.
He reads it.
"The star forgives you." He holds the note tightly; his arm shakes as his fists clench it.
How did she get this? Did someone give it to her?
Her eyes turn amber. ". . . What are stars?" she asks innocently.
Malik hesitates. "You wouldn't believe it even if I told you. Nobody ever does."
"But didn't you say you hated the way things were hidden from you? Why hide things from me?" she insisted.
"Kaya, if I told you, would you trust me?"
. . .
"I want to trust you, more than anyone."
Malik furrowed his eyebrows. ". . . The stars are what I see in the sky. Bright, colorful, lively."
She giggled. "Was that so hard to say?"
"You'd be surprised," he responded.
She turns her body, her knees facing him. "I hope I get to see them someday."
Malik sighs. "I hope so too."
"Tell me, Malik, if they're so bright, can you let the light shine on me?" she asks, grinning.
Looking at her, he sees the light reflect on her, welcoming her eyes.
"I can see you as clear as day, and I can see your eyes trying to shape my outline."
She exhales. "I see you the same way I see the sky. Maybe that means there's a light, a star, waiting to be seen, right?"
"A star?" He laughed. "There's way more than just one, Kaya. Some larger than others, some smaller. It depends on how close they are."
They both stare out into their view of the sky, despite lying inches from each other.
"You know, I think I've seen a star before," Kaya said.
Malik raises an eyebrow. "You have? When?"
"Yeah, I have. I saw one yesterday," she says, facing him.
"Did you try to hug it?" Malik asked, smiling.
"I did. It was warm, kind, and deep down, I knew it never had any bad intentions," she responded.
Malik's eyes widened. "And why did you hug it, knowing the fact that it could burn you?"
". . . Some stars don't have to burn. Some can be cold and sweet." Kaya closed her eyes.
. . .
The ship hummed, quieter. Rocking lightly, the stars grew dimmer than before.
Malik sits up, hands on the floor. "The stars I see show me everything, but they never tell me everything."
Kaya thrusts herself upward, closer to him. "What do you mean?"
". . . I hurt you, didn't I?" he asked weakly.
"N-no. You never have. What makes you say that?" Kaya commented.
"I asked you if you trusted me. Yet you still lie to me." He looked down.
"Malik. Tell me what's wrong," Kaya persisted.
Malik pointed at her neck. "I thought I saw something when you showed your necklace to us, but now it shows me."
The light pointed to a deep bruise, hidden by the necklace, only barely visible.
"Oh . . . that's nothing. Don't worry about it." She tensed.
"Please stop. Tell me what happened," he asserted.
Kaya frowned. "You never meant it."
"How can you be so sure that isn't the way I truly am?" Malik clenched his fist further; his nails began to dig into his palms.
"I know you didn't want it to happen," she said, consoling.
"It shouldn't have ever happened. Hell, the fact I even have to think about that shows something, huh?"
"You knew you were in the wrong, and you regretted it," Kaya said, her eyes gleaming. She wiped a tear rolling down her face.
". . . That's how it always ends," Malik mutters.
He rubs his eyes, opening them. The sight stayed the same.
I am not deserving of the stars. Only the dark suits me.
Suddenly, he gets up. The stars dim further with every step he takes.
As he walked forward slowly, he heard a sharp voice echo.
"Malik! It never hurt. At least, not as much as it hurt you." The voice pierced his ears, but he ignored it.
Silent, he kept walking. In the corridors, there were no lights—only darkness.
He looked around and took a deep breath. He saw what they all saw.
Entering his room, he quietly shut the door.
Then, he sunk into his world once again.