28. Star-chasers always lose their…
STAR-CHASERS ALWAYS LOSE THEIR…
Lor
I’m curled up in an oversized, blue velvet armchair, staring out the window at the rain. Ro convinced me to give therapy a try, and now we both attend weekly. I haven’t decided how I feel about it yet though, and dredged up emotions swirl through me as I try to relax after my last session.
There’s a dried yellow flower, a sparkly stone, and a metal jigger from Tempo sitting on the windowsill. Trinkets that Ro has collected from our time together. We’ve done a lot of work getting this house fixed up, and now it’s the first place that has ever felt like a home to me.
Fat raindrops hit the sprawling fern leaves beneath the trees, and occasionally one will roll down the window in front of me. It’s peaceful, something I never thought I’d experience.
The chair is a second-hand piece Ro ordered last week, and it’s become a constant battle between myself and Kahlo over who gets to use it.
Today, Kahlo is happily curled up on the back of the couch behind Ro.
He got a bartending job in the city as he explores if and what else he might want to do, but it’s his day off, and we were planning to go star-chasing.
Then the rain hit and we decided to wait it out instead.
A decision I never thought I’d be able to make.
The urge to follow the stars hasn’t been weighing on me like it used to. For one thing, I feel the pull much less often here, so my idea of moving somewhere the stars fall less frequently seems to have worked.
But I think it has to do with Ro, too. Even when I do feel the pull, it’s not as urgent. Ro has shared some of his therapist’s techniques and coping skills with me, which help, but he’s also made me question everything I thought I knew.
He thinks I can embrace being a star-chaser, like he’s embracing being a demon.
A few months ago I would have denied it was possible, but now…
I’m not so sure. I wonder if the star-chaser madness was due to always being alone.
Or maybe because we never knew what to do with the stardust when we found it.
It’s not like being a star-chaser comes with an instruction manual.
Ro encourages me to meditate, to let my instincts guide me.
I hated it at first, but now I think there might be some magic in it.
After every star fall, when we get back home with the stardust—my ancestors’ remains—I let the universe tell me what to do.
Most often, I’m inclined to mix the stardust into the earth in a special garden we have along the edge of the tree line.
Sometimes I follow the urge to sprinkle it through the trees deep in the forest, or into a river that runs about a mile back.
Everywhere the stardust touches, after being reverently spread or mixed into the earth, beautiful plants grow.
Flowers that glow in the dark, thick moss that covers the ground in a protective layer, trees that grow far faster than normal and have strange, hollow centers like they’re meant to house tiny creatures.
I don’t know what to make of it, but it feels right like nothing else ever has. It helps me feel settled, a sense of comfort, like I’m giving myself and my people a protected home where we can always see the sky. A home where we can be together in the only way possible.
Inevitably, my thoughts turn to my mom, and my heart skips a beat when I wonder where she is.
Kahlo, perhaps sensing the distressing turn of my thoughts, rises in a languid stretch, then pads over and jumps into my lap.
They give me a threatening side eye before kneading my legs and settling into a fluffy cat loaf.
I crook a small smile; we’re learning to show our appreciation for each other in more healthy ways now.
I haven’t heard from my mom in many months, longer than normal.
I have no way of reaching out to her, as her old phone number is disconnected.
I hope she’s okay, and I wish she’d call so I could tell her what I learned.
I don’t know if she’d listen, and I don’t know if I’m ready to talk to her yet, but I want her to be okay.
I haven’t forgiven her for abandoning me, but I think I might be able to, in time.
I don’t know if my anxiety will ever fully go away, but I already feel less inclined to madness with Ro by my side—or, more accurately, stalking me.
Because yeah, that hasn’t stopped.
Although it tends to be more of a planned stalking these days, rather than whatever unhinged nonsense he was doing back in Chicago. I truly don’t know what I’d do without him. If I’m honest with myself, I know he saved my life.
He’s like a bridge holding all the different parts of me together, turning something I despised and resented about myself into something I look forward to.
He’s somehow able to twist the most mundane or uncontrollable moments into joyful memories, and it makes my heart skip a beat for a different reason when I think about our plans to go star-chasing after the rain lets up.
I look down at Kahlo when they start purring, a tiny motor rumbling on top of my legs. Then I glance at Ro, with his bright green nails and glinting piercings. His easy grin and demonic urges. He’s a contradiction I can’t get enough of.
When he first showed me this place, and I expressed my worry about not being able to stay in one spot forever, he made it easy.
“We can always go, and we can always come back.” He said it so simply, so matter of fact, that I had no choice but to accept it as truth. Those words have become my lifeline, my mantra. A consistent reminder of his love, and devotion, and acceptance.
“You want to head out after we eat? Looks like the rain is done for now,” Ro says, his eager voice interrupting my reflections.
I glance outside to see sunlight streaming through the trees.
“Yeah,” I say, turning to narrow my eyes at Ro’s wicked grin. My lips twitch up in an answering smile of my own. “Let’s go.”
Ro
My stomach flips as my heart races with excitement. I’ve been planning this outing for weeks, figuring out how I can make it work with the knowledge that I can’t plan where the stars will fall. It needs to be flexible, but still cover all the bases for safety, and I think I’ve got it.
Lor throws a suspicious look my way as I dump extra food into Kahlo’s bowl, then drop a kiss on their head.
“No parties!” I say, then amend my statement. “Actually, you can party, just don’t wreck the house.”
“We’re not going to be gone that long,” Lor says, eyeing me.
I hum a noncommittal noise as I grab her hand and our go-bags, then skip out the door to our bikes.
We take off down the gravel driveway, winding our way through trees and mountains as Lor follows the pull in her blood, and I follow her.
My mind wanders as my body sways on autopilot with the movements of my bike, but I can’t contain the grin stretching across my face.
I never expected to create a life like this, one I’d be happy with. Where I like who I am, and have learned to work with my demon urges instead of suppressing them. They’re mostly satisfied by our “stalking” games, plus setting controlled fires when we go camping or stardust hunting.
Lor loves curling up against my warm flames; she claims they feel different than a regular fire. It’s helped me realize I can do good with my urges, that my demonic side doesn’t define who I am as a person, and I don’t have to change who I am to be good. That I can embrace all parts of me equally.
My parents are just pleased I’ve found someone and am happy.
I realize now how they were modeling for me all along that being demons isn’t bad, but none of us knew how to handle my inclinations for fire and stealing.
They also ask far too many questions about my sex life, and love to give unsolicited advice.
I no longer wish I was a sex demon like them, though, because if that was the case, I wouldn’t have ended up here with Lor. I tighten my hold on the handlebars as excitement floods my veins.
Finally, she pulls off the road into a forest of towering trees.
I swear, every time we drive somewhere new, the trees are bigger than the last place.
I take in the surroundings, my brain whirring as Lor pulls over and kills the engine, then saunters off into the trees.
Her tight black pants look painted on, the curve of her ass making my mouth water in the dappled sunlight as I follow her further into the forest.
I force myself to look away so I can keep track of where we are this time; I don’t want to get lost later.
After what has to be at least a mile of weaving through trees, Lor finally comes to a halt alongside a rushing river.
The impact site is obvious. A decent sized crater disrupts the surrounding greenery like an open wound.
Lor is already pulling out a cloth sack and spade. There’s nothing I can do to help with this part of it, so instead I start plotting.
Trying to look casual, I stick my hands in my pockets and slowly walk around.
I check the nearby areas to see if there are any distinguishable landmarks, widening the perimeter of my circle as I go.
There’s a grouping of boulders near a small ravine that looks treacherous and I grimace, making a mental note to make sure we don’t go that way.
I try the opposite direction, walking along the river as it curves away from Lor’s fallen star.
I push through the thick foliage, then stumble when I nearly face-plant into a serene pond.
The river takes another turn here, but it’s created a small, secluded oxbow lake alongside it.
My eyes widen as I take in the picturesque setting.
There’s even an open grassy area along one side that’s been dried by the sun already.
It’s perfect.
I’m giddy with anticipation as I swing my backpack off and unload my supplies.
I stamp down some of the overgrown grass, then spread out a blanket and weigh it down with a couple rocks and my pack.
I flop down, and am instantly surrounded by grass with a clear view of the clouds above, tree branches fringing the edges of the sky.
I nod with satisfaction and jump back up, snagging the last thing I need from my bag.
I scope out the rest of the areas surrounding Lor’s crash site just to be sure it’s safe, and then make my way back to her.
The cloth sack filled with the newly collected stardust is set to the side of the turned up earth, and she’s walking around with her hands on her hips, a look of fierce concentration on her face.