A Galaxy Between Us

“Has anyone ever told you that there’s stars in your eyes?”

I looked up from my position at the dinner table– my heart stuttering, my hands pausing over the keys. Nights like this, we sat side by side, silent—two ships passing. And no one had ever said anything like that to me. Not him, not my friends, not anyone.

“Really?” I raised a brow. Stars in my eyes? I swallowed hard– for a moment, it was as if I couldn’t make out the words. Growing up, people rarely said anything nice about eyes like mine… eyes like his.

Eyes like ours.

He leaned back slightly, eyes warm, a hint of a grin tugging at his lips. “Yeah, Yuna. Anyone ever tell you that?”

I shook my head– closing my laptop, running a hand through my hair. A little laugh escaped me despite myself– stars in my eyes, even as they were covered by the wire-framed glasses instead of framed by the false lashes I always wore.

“I mean– not really.” It felt strange. Dizzying that someone could see me this way. That someone would notice, just for once. “They don’t really notice, right?”

He tilted his head, resting his chin on one hand as he offered another grin, his nose widening and his eyes turning into crescent moons.

“Well, I do. And I mean it– they’re fucking beautiful, Yuna. Truly.”

I blinked at him, a slow grin tugging at my lips. “You really think that?”

He shrugged. Casual, flippant, but the warmth in his gaze made my stomach flip. “I notice more than just the stars, eo? I notice you. Always.”

I stared at him. “You really notice everything, huh?”

He tilted his head to the side– and the way his dark eyes caught the light of the dim lamp made my chest tighten, flutter. “Not everything,” he said, “just the things that matter.”

I let my gaze linger, tracing the arch of his brows, the low bridge of his nose, the slight, dark sweep of his lashes– and the way his almond-shaped eyes glittered, like the Silver River and the Seven Stars of the Northern Dipper and the Cowherd Girl all at once– stars.

I could see them too, in the eyes that were laughed at before, in the eyes that people looked at with a mix of curiosity and disdain– but never like this. Never appreciation, affection, or acknowledgement of the beauty there.

“You have stars too,” I whispered. “A lot of them.”

He froze for a beat, then a soft laugh escaped him, his hand reaching across the table to grip mine in his soft palms. A soft smile tugged at his lips– and for a moment, the room was quiet except for the hum of the fridge, the tick of the wall clock, and the faint hiss of the rice cooker.

“Guess we were lucky,” he said, "To have inherited a little galaxy between us.”

I laughed softly, the sound unsteady, breathless. “A galaxy, huh?”

“Yeah,” he continued, leaning forward. “Not just stars. That’s an understatement.”

My heart fluttered. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do. What, you meant it too, didn’t you?” A quirk of his eyebrow, another smile playing on his lips.

I laughed. “Always will.”

His hand squeezed mine– just briefly, and yet, when he did, nothing else existed. No laptops, no leftover dinner, no quiet apartment.

And in that ordinary apartment? It didn’t feel so ordinary anymore. Because there were stars in my eyes. Stars in his– in ours. And above all, a constellation, a galaxy, forming quietly between us.

💕💕💕💕

Audrey Kim is a Korean-American student in Connecticut, and an aspiring writer. She currently is working on editing her first fully completed manuscript, and has received a publication from the Academy of Heart and Mind. Find her on Instagram at @ axdreykim.

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