A pocket full of stars.

Their fingertips barely touched as they lay on the edge of the horizon - the edge of reality, as it were.

His hands were long, slender, thin. Strong. They were marred with callouses and healing burn-marks., wrapped to the knuckles in fraying bandages. Hers were fragile, delicate, though too big for her wrists and they made her arms look gangly. The only blemish on her pale skin was the occasional freckle marking the top of her hands and up her forearm.

The stars above them seemed to flow in a thin and simple stream, like a river. He slid his hand into his pocket, and then reached it up to the sky, unclenching his fist. Orbs of glittery light slid out of his hand, each shimmering a very vaguely different color. They floated along in uneven, wobbling paths to join the stream of sparkles far above their heads. He smiled.

Her free hand landed weightlessly on the space above her heart, still vaguely surprised by the lack of beat there, but not as much as she had been the first time.

“You’ll have to go back, you know.” He said eventually, his fingertips enclosing around a glass vial chained around his neck. It, too, seemed to be filled with glitter, though the swirling glitter-like substance there was distinctly sunshine yellow. She eyed it warily, and looked back up to the stream above them.

“I don’t.” She said quietly. “I don’t want to. I want to stay here forever, with you. You wouldn’t make me leave you.”

His lips pressed into a smile, and he dropped the vial back to his chest.

“You’re right.” He murmured, his gray-blue eyes fluttering shut. “I wouldn’t.”