5
The industrial city was a groggy memory now. To Pulse and Quark, being under the vast dancing nebula and social stars was familiar, calming, and serene.
Seret left Pulse with an extra pack of cigarettes, which they kept tucked away in their jacket as they polished off the remaining smokes in their first.
It had been a hot moment since Quark had made a verbal, mental note. He took off his shoes, splaying his feet in the grass as they settled into the bed of earth. He sat like he was crammed inside an egg, arms folded over his knees, and his chin tucked into his elbows.
Pulse let the silence go on. They watched Quark with interest. His eyes glowed softly in the navy-blue darkness, and his pearly hair shimmered as a gentle breeze tried to brush it out of his face.
"Quiet, huh?" Pulse commented while they rested their head on their balled jacket "I am curious though: Why sleep here?"
Quark shrugged. "I like the feeling of the grass and dirt. It's new. It's strangely comforting to me. Soft, cool... I like it."
Pulse propped themselves on their elbows. It felt wrong to flick away the spent smoke into the grass, so they tucked the cooled cigarette into their jeans. "So... You are a big fan of me, huh?" They said with a teasing grin.
Quark hid most of his face in his folded arms. "Hush, it's not a big deal, really, I..." He faltered, forcing out a huff.
"It's okay, it's flattering."
"I'm sure, but it's embarrassing for me. I probably seemed so lame talking like that."
"No! Not at all. I mean, it's good for the ego, don't get me wrong, but I'm glad I got some fans out there. After Black Star, I had a tough act to follow."
"Honestly, I kinda like your voice a little more than Black Star..."
Pulse sat up. "Really? He was amazing."
"He was. He was one of the best. But you have such a lovely voice..." Quark made sure to keep his head turned away. "It's soothing but powerful. When you sing that one Hymn, it just leaves me feeling—haunted, but in a good way. Like a warm embrace. Comforting, soothing..."
Pulse smiled, trying to look more prideful and flattered than the bashfulness they felt bubbling in their chest. "I'm glad you think so. That means a lot to me."
After they nudged Quark’s shoulder, they had to laugh when he shooed their hand away.
"You just want to see me flustered."
"Why do you think that?"
"I can see your smile. Your tricky little grin. You must think I'm a massive dork."
"Come on now,” Pulse corrected, "I like the notes you make about things. I like to hear you talk. Any reason to hear you talk is good enough for me."
Quark side-eyed them, not daring to show his cheeks. "You like hearing me talk?"
"Well, I don't meet many stars willing for such casual conversation about things other than music. It's refreshing and, you know, you have a good voice too."
"Now you're just flirting."
"I'm honest! It's a very smooth alto voice. If I was flirting, I'd say you sound fucking cute when you start stumbling over your words."
Quark pushed Pulse over. "Stop it, you horrible, horrible flirt!"
Pulse laughed, accepting their new position on their back. "I'm sorry, I had to take the opportunity."
"No, you did not, and you know it."
For a long time, Pulse coaxed Quark into relaxing. They relented from teasing him further and just went on asking him questions. Nothing in particular, just going from one topic to another. A train of thought not restricted to any tracks.
"What do you think it's going to be like?" Quark asked. His voice was softening–he was growing tired. His eyes looked heavy, struggling to keep open. Blinking slower and slower.
"What do you mean?"
"With Leo, with being, I guess, wishing stars? Being in this place for who knows how long. Any of it, I suppose."
Pulse rubbed at their chin. "With wishing stars, and this being a job, I don't know much about that. All I'm worried about is Leo. She's going to be a handful for both of us."
"Tell me about it..." Quark laid back, with a two-foot gap between him and Pulse. "She's amazing," he went on sleepily. "She's so—what's a good word for her?"
"Vibrant, I think." Pulse finished.
"Vibrant... That's perfect."
Pulse listened to Quark speak until he was mumbling, voicing his notes and thoughts about the odd little carbon creature. When he stopped mumbling, Pulse figured they had finally fallen asleep.
The sky danced, massaging their eyes, lulling their mind into a calm.
Stars mingled with one another, like it was after shift, making plans and striking small talk.
Pulse could hear bits of music—the choir was practicing.
They wonder about them. Do they know they were dreaming?
Where was their real body now? What does a pulsar look like when it sleeps?
When will Pulse return to their true form?
What happens when they dream in a dreamer's world?
Quark rolled over, seeking warmth, laying over Pulse's chest.
His arm draped around their stomach, essentially dropping his limb on top of them.
Pulse's hands were up, not daring to touch the white dwarf.
He was in a deep, deep sleep, unaware the warmth he sought out was Pulse's skin, but his face eased, his body limp and relaxed.
Pulse tucked their arm around him. They were gentle and apprehensive, but something about falling asleep with someone curled up so close was nice.
Then they were dreaming. They were home, but it was different.
It looked different, darker in a way. The void of the universe was emptier and quieter.
It was like walking into a replica of their home, without all their trinkets to fill the space; without the familiar voices and chaos of a life they knew best.
It was a somber peace. It was the transient space between change.
Something was missing to make the home complete.
They couldn't figure out what, just yet.