9
Quark was glad the little town was just as decorated with flora as the garden.
Marigolds and ivy all but overtook the brick buildings.
The contrast in energy between the places was stark.
The streets were louder with conversation and laughter, and inside the pub, Quark could physically feel the tempo of the music.
Ghostly women were dancing, dressed tastefully but with more of an edge.
Bashfully, Quark kept his eyes averted away from the women's proudly displayed breasts.
The men sang along with the music, drunken and festive.
The rhythm of the drums thundered through Quark's chest.
He felt the booming inside of him, like the music was inside of him trying to punch its way out.
There was room for one hundred people inside, but whoever ran the place decided to let in 50 more.
A conflicting smell of sweet dandelion and spilled beer made the stars contort their faces in a myriad of different expressions.
If the patrons were not drunk, they were high on something else.
The music left everyone jovial, dancing with bare feet and kissing in the darker corners of the room.
Leo was unperturbed, because it faded into the background for her. The stars were, contrary to what she said, distracted. She ordered a round of drinks from a barmaid, leading them to sit at a tiny, unsteady table: "While drinks come, let's chat."
Pulse sat down first. As awkward as it was for Pulse to sit in a chair comically too small for them, they still managed to squeeze out grace in their movements. "What would you like to know?"
"I was thinking a lot about you two before I woke up. About the Cosmic Choir, especially. I find it rather fascinating. I knew space made noise but never thought of it as music."
"Something in particular you want to know?" Pulse lead on.
"Well, what is it supposed to sound like?" She asked. "I listened to a few clips online about certain sounds from planets—from black holes, other stars—what does it sound like to you?"
Pulse looked to Quark like they hoped Quark could help with some of the descriptions.
"A lot like the music here," Quark said. "Drums and brass are similar, but, hmmm..." He pinched at the air, trying to grab the words, "Of course it's different, but I think to help you understand, maybe some examples from your reality would help."
"Yeah!" Pulse agreed. "What kind of music is in your world?"
Leo looked around, searching for something in particular. Jugs of mead were placed in front of each of them when she made a loud a-hah! "Okay! I know of a guy. He was pretty big in my world. I know a perfect song that maybe you two would like!"
She asked the barmaid to bring over a gramophone. The barmaid raised a brow. Whatever she said to Leo made perfect sense to her, but the ghost's words were blathering to the stars. The maid hurried and fetched the antique device for Leo, setting it with disregard in the middle of the table.
Leo was setting up a large black disk into the device, gushing all the while.
"Okay, so, this isn't my favorite kind of music. I grew up with punk. Well, emo-punk, whatever. Nothing like David Bowie, but it would be a crime not to play his songs. He was an all-around classic, no matter the taste. Bowie was a hell of a man, let me tell you."
Pulse and Quark leaned in close to the horn of the gramophone. Pulse was nearly close enough to be sticking their head inside. The slow windup of the music sounded distorted and unrecognizable, but when the machine caught up to speed, Pulse eyes widened.
"Black Star..."
Leo raised a brow. "Sorry?"
"That sounds like Black Star... What did you call him?"
"David Bowie?"
Pulse smiled warmly and solemnly. They leaned against the table, making Quark panic that it would collapse the whole thing, but it remained steady. He watched as Pulse closed their eyes, breathing as if he was inhaling the music.
"What am I missing here?" Leo looked to Quark.
"Black Star was the lead of the Cosmic Choir before Pulse," he said to her. "He was their mentor before then."
"Holy shit... I knew David Bowie was amazing, but that? That's epic!"
Pulse rested their cheek in their palm, soaking in the voice of his mentor like a lullaby.
"Taught me everything I know now," they said wistfully.
"Said he had dreams about worlds away from our mother nebula. He always talked about these strange places. How different his body looked in each dream. He always went on rants and flights of fancy about performing in these worlds. We all accepted him as being eccentric.
I thought maybe after he faded back into the nebula, it was him dying. Returning to entropy, but..."
They closed their eyes, slowly taking a deep breath.
"Maybe I'm being hopeful, but right now, I'd like to think he transcended. Maybe his soul found a body. Maybe he was right about being able to do stuff like that."
"So, he was some kind of god or something?" Leo asked.
Pulse looked at her. "God?"
"She might mean something eldritch," Quark clarified.
"Eldritch?
“Like Cthulhu?"
"Who the fuck is Cthulhu?"
Leo stared at them, making incredulous sounds, unable to figure out how to respond. She pressed her lips together, frustrated when she couldn't figure out what to ask. Where does a conversation go from there?
"Okay, so," Quark began. "What you think of as a god, we classify them as Eldritch. It's almost a one-on-one comparison. In theory they are equal in age and power to stars—celestial. From red Giants to Pulsars, all that. But the thing is, is that they're more so stories. Just legends of the cosmos.
They don't exist."
"At all?" Leo asked. "I mean, wouldn't, in theory, they exist in some way? Like in some universe, reality, planet, in some shape or form?"
"The Universe is—infinite," Quark said. "But out of every system I've visited, there has been no evidence of Eldritch life except for tall tales. They're just concepts, as far as I'm aware."
She nodded thoughtfully, taking sips of mead from the hefty Stein glasses. Pulse and Quark tasted the frothy drinks. It was sweet. For Quark, it was painfully sweet and weirdly dry to them. They felt the back of their mouth tickle and their tongue sap of moisture.
It was apparent Leo wanted to know more about Eldritch lore and everything related, but her eyes snapped to Pulse. "I gotta hear you sing."
If Pulse still had their mouthful of mead, they might have choked from the sudden switch. "Uh, okay? You sure?"
"If you were trained by David frickin' Bowie himself, hell yeah!"
Pulse rubbed their chin, expertly hiding the flattered smile with a charming one. "Okay, I can do that. I need a good song, though. Where do I start?"
"Try that leading one," Quark offered. "Just like when you would perform before the concerts."
"Yeah, that's a good start."
Pulse took three breaths—two for steady and control, and the final breath as the wind up to that first note.
The leading song was just a warm-up. A song that would signal to all the stars it was time for the choir to perform.
Pulse's voice pierced through the masses of thundering footsteps and laughter; Annunciating and dictating their tone, inflections, vibrato, and keys and tempo.
Their eyes closed, and that sweet, melodic, powerful voice caused the room to halt.
The ghosts stopped dancing. The drums and brass quieted.
Pulse was unaware of the sudden shift until after the song.
When they opened their eyes again, they seemed sheepish for disturbing everyone.
"Sorry about that, everyone-" they began before Leo slapped her hand on their shoulder.
"Don't be," she couldn't contain the excitement in her voice, "Keep going!"
The Ghosts lead Pulse to the stage, chanting their gibberish, begging them to keep going. Trying not to seem too prideful, Pulse put up a touch token of resistance. The call of the stage was too infectious for them, in the end.
Some laws of the universe that must always be adhered to: Black holes eat light, gravity dictates the flow of time, and when Pulse sings, all must halt and listen.
It was perfect. Despite being in a different realm altogether, the band accompanied the song.
Ghosts sang along and danced in perfect unison to the tempo, which gradually accelerated as Pulse naturally fell into their performance.
Instruments that did not exist in the band played along for them.
Even here, the universe and all life within must be their orchestra.
Leo was, as she should be, enthralled. Her hands clasped over her chest, only allowing herself to breathe between choruses.
Quark leaned both elbows on the table, watching Pulse with admiration.
He knew all these songs by heart since Pulse became the leader.
Quark couldn't bear to close his eyes for a second.
Pulse moved with such flowing grace, with perfect command of the audience.
There was a hypnotizing quality to their hands, summoning the right notes and key changes all while enchanting the audience.
With their voice, they weaved their tune into the world as natural as if they were born here.
But being here, seeing them and how all the ghosts cheered and sang with them, Quark could feel the area right under his eyes grow hot, a clenching in his chest, and a strain to his breathing. He averted his gaze to the table. 'Shameful,' he thought.
Leo nudged him, making him jump in his seat. Her face was softened by a frown.
"What's wrong?" She asked him.
'Pulse is performing; why is she talking to me?' He didn't like those thoughts and tried to shake them out.
"It's nothing," he lied. "I'm just enjoying the songs!"
Her brows furrowed. "I know that look on your face. I know that look."
Quark shrunk in the chair. He prayed Leo couldn't see the shame on his face through his hair. "It's awful, don't worry about it."
Unrelenting, she brushed his hair out of his eyes, forcing him to look at her. "You can tell me."
He couldn't begin to say, not while Pulse was so happy.
"Are you jealous?" She prodded.
"No! Yes, but..." Quark could only look at the mug of mead on the table. "Pulse is amazing. They worked so hard, they are so talented and wonderful, and overall amazing. They deserve the attention, everything, and I...."
He couldn't look at anything anymore. He squeezed his eyes shut.
"I am a wandering star. I don't have planets that orbit or a system I belong to. I drift through the cosmos. And usually, it's okay. I get to see so much. I never have to be bored with what I'm looking at, because it will always change, and I've seen so many amazing things. But—but..."
"It's lonely..."
There was such a sad, soft conviction to her words that Quark snapped their head to look at her.
Is this the same Leo they met the first time? Her eyes had drifted to her hands wringing in her lap. That bombastic energy, her radiance, and confidence cracked open enough to see someone entirely different. A familiar sadness. A sorrowful understanding.
She let out a slow breath. "Trust me, I understand." Quark's chest swelled. It felt like he was choking for a moment. 'This poor dreamer.'
He reached over, grasped her hands in his, and held them. "I don't know much about you, admittedly. You say your life is boring, but isn't there anything you can tell me?"
Leo looked at his hands in surprise but didn't pull away. She bit her lip. Quark knew she was carefully crafting her reply, and remained patient.
"It is rather boring," she said. "I work two jobs, one as a barista and one as an intern in an observatory. I work, I study, and then I sleep. It's monotonous, and it's exhausting, and draining. I go home and just eat whatever is in the fridge before bed. Dreaming is the only thing that helps.
Being able to have adventure. To be in beautiful places and meet amazing people—amazing stars."
"You—You don't talk to anyone?"
She shook her head. "I speak to people. I make small talk about the weather and work. But I don't talk to people."
"Not one?"
"The closest is my neighbor, Oliver." She admits.
"It's funny; everything I order, be it pizza, a package, anything, it always gets delivered to his door. I don't get why, and I've reported it countless times. But he always brings me the stuff, and we sometimes share the pizza. He's a nice guy. Goofy, funny, dorky... He's great.
But—But I wouldn't say we talk talk. It's—Replying to each other, I think."
Quark rubbed her hands with his thumb. They were cold to him. "I'm sorry... But you know, if you are interested, you can talk to me about anything. Anything."
Leo smiled, freeing one hand to cup his cheek. Her thumb brushed his face, and her cold hands flushed with warmth. Quark held still but didn't lose eye contact.
"I know I'm not like Pulse," he admitted sheepishly. "But, I hope I can help you. I want to make you happy, somehow. I just—"
Leo brushed her thumb against his lips. She laughed endearingly when he was stunned silent.
"Thank you," she said, leaning her face closer.
A violent shock went down his throat into his core when she pressed her lips to his.
His eyes popped with a beam of light, and his stomach burned.
He had to grip the table to keep from falling back.
It was brilliant. After closing his eyes, the initial bolt that nearly killed him settled into a smolder.
He had no idea what to do with his hands, his mouth, or even his feet.
He had no idea what this even was, but it was natural and comforting.
He was disappointed when she pulled away. His lips tried to follow her, but he had to catch himself, wondering why he was so eager to keep kissing.
"Thank you," she repeated, softer. "You are so wonderful..."
'That kiss was wonderful' he thought without hesitation. Quark could feel a heavy thump in his chest, his lips tickling with longing. He held still as a statue while his face flushed red hot.
Quark was terrified, in the best way, at what was happening to his body.