Our Constellation
Molly
THE PARTING GLASS is what the song’s called. Niall plays it for me in his room, and explains what it means. I pretty much get the gist.
It’s a classic Irish folk song, all about leaving and memory and the bittersweetness of goodbyes. I find it to be a sad form of irony.
“He would’ve really liked you,” Niall tells me, his eyes fixed on the spinning record. “Really.”
“I’m extremely likeable,” I agree, a small smile playing on my lips. I try for nonchalant, but my heart is thumping a frantic, hopeful rhythm against my ribs. I shrug, trying to play it cool, but I can feel the blush creeping up my neck.
Niall laughs, shaking his head, a fond exasperation in his eyes.
He’s sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of his record player, sleeves rolled up to his elbows again, his forearms resting on his knees.
I’m perched on the edge of his bed, watching him more than the record player, while Comet rests his head in my lap.
The needle lifts off the vinyl with a soft crackle, and the room falls into a comfortable silence, thick and warm and filled with all the things we’re not saying.
Claire and his mom had been downstairs watching a movie when we got in. Normally his mom tries to keep us downstairs, but she let Niall bring me up here with a wave of her hand and a warm, trusting smile when he said he needed to use the record player.
I don’t plan on betraying her trust by boning her son. Just for the record.
“What time do you have to be home?” Niall finally asks. I shrug.
“I could always stay over. In Claire’s room of course.”
“Well, naturally,” he says, a slow smile spreading across his face.
“I wouldn’t dare suggest anything different,” I say, playing along, my voice light and teasing.
“Of course you wouldn’t.”
Niall carefully lifts the record from the turntable, sliding it back into its cardboard sleeve with a reverence that makes my heart ache.
He puts it away on his desk, next to a stack of other records, each one a piece of his past, a story waiting to be told.
Then he moves to sit by me on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight.
He brushes a loose piece of hair behind my ear, slowly as if he’s afraid I’ll flinch away from his touch. I don’t, instead leaning into it.
Comet sighs heavily in my lap, clearly annoyed that our idle chatter is interrupting his nap. He shifts, his paws twitching in his sleep, chasing rabbits in his dreams. Niall leans into me, his shoulder pressing against mine. “I’m really glad you came out with me tonight.”
“I am too.”
“I have... something to tell you...” He looks nervous, his eyes avoiding mine, his hands fidgeting in his lap.
My stomach feels funny. Oh no. Is it something bad? Is our two day official status already a tanked ship? Does he hate my French Sweater?
A million frantic thoughts race through my mind, each one more disastrous than the last.
“Okay...”
“I told the lads that I was in love with you,” he says, the words rushing out of him in a torrent of confession.
I swear I feel my jaw hit the floor. It’s a good thing I’m sitting down, because I’m pretty sure my legs have just turned to jelly. Comet looks up at us like we're crazy, his brow furrowed in confusion, then huffs himself back down on my lap, deciding we’re not worth his attention.
“Because I want them to know. And I want you to know too,” he continues, his voice gaining strength, his eyes finally meeting mine. They’re so blue, so earnest, so full of a raw, unfiltered emotion that takes my breath away. “Because I am.”
He says it so plainly, so easily, like it’s the simplest truth in the world. Like it’s a fact as undeniable as gravity, as real as the stars in the sky. There’s no hesitation, no doubt, just a straight up declaration of love that leaves me speechless.
“I love you too,” I whisper back, the words feeling both strange and familiar on my tongue, like a song I’ve known all my life but am only just now learning the words to.
“You don't have to say it because I did,” he says quickly, a flush of color rising on his cheeks. “I don’t even know if I know what love is, but this just feels...”
“Right,” I finish for him, my heart swelling in my chest.
He nods, his fingers curling around mine. A perfect fit.
“Yeah. Right.”
And then he kisses me, soft and slow, like we have all the time in the world.
??ˋ ?? ?ˊ?
“THAT ONE'S CALLED Orion. It's a winter constellation, but you can see it in summer too, sometimes.” I point up at the sky, my finger tracing the shape of the mighty hunter against the vast, inky canvas of the night. “And the three stars in a row—that’s his belt.”
Niall nods, squinting up at the sky, trying to see what I see.
He’s lying on his back on the garage roof, the rough shingles a familiar, comforting texture beneath us, his hands folded behind his head, a picture of easy contentment.
I’m laying beside him, pointing out constellations like some kind of amateur astronomer.
“And that one’s Cassiopeia,” I continue. “She was a queen in Greek mythology. Super vain. Got turned into a constellation as punishment for her misdeeds.”
“Harsh,” Niall murmurs, his eyes following the ‘W’ shape I’m pointing out.
“Yeah, well. Don’t piss off the gods.”
“Noted.”
The night air is crisp, biting at my cheeks and nose, but I don’t mind. Niall’s jacket is draped over my shoulders—he insisted I wear it when we climbed out his bedroom window to lay on the roof again.
“How do you know all this?” he asks, turning his head to look at me.
“Got a kit when I was nine. One of those ‘Junior Astronomer’ things with a little telescope and a star chart.” I shrug. “Used to drag my dad outside to look at the sky with me whenever he was home from work. He hated it. Said it was too cold.”
Niall laughs softly, then nudges my side with his elbow. “Tell me more.”
“Okay, well...” I scan the sky, searching for another constellation. “That bright one over there—that’s Sirius. The dog star. It’s the brightest star in the night sky.”
“Huh,” he says, his voice full of a genuine, simple wonder that I find incredibly endearing.
“Yeah. And if you follow Orion’s belt down—” I trace the line with my finger.
“That sounds scandalous. Stay out of his belt. As your boyfriend I forbid it.”
I grin, nudging him with my knee. “Shut up. If you follow Orion’s belt down, you’ll find Sirius.”
“What's Sirius doing down there, hmm? Is it a dog star because they’re a couple of dirty dogs?”
“Oh my god, you're such a guy. Think about something that's not sex for two seconds.”
“It's hard,” he says, his voice dropping to a low, suggestive whisper that sends a shiver down my spine.
“I bet,” I shoot back, my voice also teasing.
He laughs, probably loud enough to wake the neighbors, then grabs my hand, fingers lacing through mine.
He pulls me closer, so close I'm practically on top of him, my body flush against his.
I curl into his side, resting my head on his shoulder, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a comforting drum against my ear.
“This is nice,” he murmurs.
“Yeah. It is.”
The stars twinkle above us, indifferent to our existence in their ocean of light. The world is so big, and as unforgiving as it is, I still managed to end up here.
Maybe finding him was just something that was written in the stars, a constellation of its own.
“Hey,” Niall whispers, squeezing my hand. “Look.”
I follow his gaze, and my breath catches in my throat. A shooting star streaks across the sky, brilliant and fleeting, a silver tear in the fabric of the night.
“Make a wish,” I whisper, my voice full of a childlike wonder I haven’t felt in years.
He turns his head, his eyes finding mine in the dim light. “Already got it.”