The Sun and The Sky (G)

Usually when couples on TV moved in together it was to usher in the next chapter of their lives. Like they’d been talking and he’d been agonizing about asking her for about eighty episodes, then he finally does it, his eyes closed in anticipation. Her yes comes with a giggle before they embrace, him now feeling foolish for how long it took to ask. That was how I envisioned it would happen for us.

But this was so awkward.

Jasper was in the kitchen, and he looked fine, to my relief, but it was like the counters created a wall separating the two of us. I wanted so badly to punch my way through that social shield. I could try to help him cook, but what if that made it worse? Spaghetti wasn’t really a two-person job when Jasper was at the wheel. I could set the table, though, taking extra time to make the forks neat and nice. Or was the phrase ‘nice and neat’? Wouldn’t neat be first alphabetically? Did it apply to names, as well? Would people say ‘Grace and Jasper’ or Jasper and Grace’?

“Gracie?”

I squeaked. “Huh?”

My sweet Jasper chuckled as he put the food on the table. Eager to make up for my daydreaming, I lurched forward to his aid. I guess I sucked at movement ‘cause the next thing I knew, we were on the floor, me on top of him, our eyes locking onto each other. I felt like a cat caught in the act—Like the time Mittens had eaten half the Thanksgiving turkey, which was funny until my mom—

“Sky?” Jasper asked gently. “Where’s your mind at, girl?”

“Just thinking about my beautiful boyfriend,” I fired back.

He grinned. “Well, your beautiful boyfriend would like some spaghetti, so could you let him up?”

I sighed dramatically. “If you insist.” And I laid on him.

Jasper was the perfect pillow. Not too firm, but just soft enough for me to really enjoy. Make him my whole bed and I could pass out right then and there. I made sure to push my hair so it fell against his neck. His laughter told me I’d hit my mark, and he wrapped his arms around me. I felt him run his hand up and down my back for a while. Then he picked me up bridal style.

“Oh, fair maiden,” he said. “What am I to do with you?”

“Adore me,” I said, holding on to his neck. “Praise me.”

“Feed you?”

“Ah,” I sighed, “but you are already such a wonderful feast for the eyes.”

“Hey,” Jasper laughed, “That’s my line.”

“Really?” I asked as he put me down in my chair. “I thought it was ‘of course, my la—’ mmph!”

It was hard to finish sentences when you had food in your mouth. But that let me focus more on the scenery. Jasper had dirty blond hair cut short, yet it still somehow always ended up in his face. His eyes looked as though blue and gray were hugging, their colors mixing in joy. But that beauty was shadowed by something within, an inner turmoil I wasn’t quite privy to just yet.

“Jasper?” I said between mouthfuls of food—the man could really cook. “Are you okay?”

“You already asked me that earlier,” he said patiently. “Why?”

“It’s just. . .” I shifted awkwardly. “It feels weird now, after. . . what happened tonight.”

“Sky,” he said firmly, those pretty eyes meeting me square, “it’s not your fault. Is it freaky that they found out? Yeah. Do I think any less of you for it? Of course not!”

“Besides,” he adds, “I’m sure this’ll die out soon anyway.”

I scoffed. “The boyfriend of the hottest pop star on the block gets doxed and you think it’ll fade off soon? Yeah, no. I give it a few weeks, but definitely not soon.”

He grinned. “I’ve got twenty bucks that says it fades in one.”

Competition: my fatal weakness. “Done.”

A bit more flirting—okay, a lot of flirting—later and we’d finished everything. The food was attended to, the dishes clean—thank God for boyfriends. We agreed that sharing a bed was the best—and definitely the most graphic-novelesque—thing to do. I was personally more excited for breakfast, which I had managed to get Jasper to agree to make.

Given the circumstances, he’d said, his boss would understand him taking the day off. That meant I had an entire twenty-four hours with him all to myself. I mean, sixteen if you include sleep, but I was monopolizing him for that, too. Unfortunately, bullshit drama didn’t stop the work from flowing in, so I had to leave my boyfriend cold and alone—his words, not mine—to go into my studio.

Fully soundproof, the small room was absolutely perfect for a focussed space. In fact, I’d been tempted to ban my phone from it entirely, but that backfired when every application and their grandpapper needed text or email verification. I didn’t care if someone stole the account for my old editing software! I just needed it for that one picture that used to be on a device I don’t have anymore.

Those oddly specific scenarios would make for a fun song. Like ‘I left my car keys on the stove again’, but poetic. Sadly, that fun stuff didn’t fit my brand. I was going for the ‘idol with an attitude’ vibe, since that was what the people seemed to like. Maybe when I died down a bit, my comeback could be me with a different vibe? Like I go from pop to emo rock. It was a fun thought. But entertainment wasn’t going to get my work done.

With my headphones in place, I tried for inspiration. I needed to capture feeling in the palm of my hands. My emotions were falling stars, and I just needed to catch the right one. That time I called the teacher mom? No. The day Mittens died? Closer, but no. Real events weren’t working, so I had one option left.

I walk into the living area tomorrow. I smell Jasper’s work on the table. Eager, I go to grab a plate, but he already has one waiting. Smiling, I sit across from him before I notice his expression.

“Grace, I have to tell you something.” His voice is cold. Nothing like the sweet boyfriend I know.

“Yeah?”

“I think we should see other people,” he says. “This paparazzi stuff is too much.”

I’m an empty cup. Tears fill my soul as it screams at the injustice. Why did my fame steal the one person who has stuck by my side? I should have never gone public. Interacting with nice people, getting opportunities for shows? It was all pointless if I had to do it alone. God, why? What was so wrong with me that I could be robbed of my happiness so quickly?

By the end, my voice was hoarse from the agony, but the results were beautiful even to my standards. Satisfied, I put my equipment away and sent the best takes to my manager for a second opinion. I made the tracks, but it was always good to have another person peeking at it. Tomorrow, he’d probably tell me all the ways it sucked. Okay, not really, but I sure would. That was my process: rile myself up, use my pain to make my art, send it off, and degrade the quality of it in my hand. No matter how many albums I sold, that was just how it went.

Channeling my inner ninja, I snuck away to my room. Every wall was a reason to flatten myself, senses keen for anyone looking for me. Opening the door, I mentally thanked Fabi for oiling the hinges with me last week—the fact that she’d made time out of her busy schedule was truly touching. To finish my mission, I crawled into bed with Jasper and waited. It only took about a minute for him to grumble in his sleep, hand flying out to grab me in a safe embrace. This was the way I liked it: soft, romantic, serene. Part of me wished the night would never end so we could stay like this forever: a normal couple keeping each other warm.

Just a Sun holding his Sky.