Nothing else mattered in the world but that moment. There they were. They were polar opposites, and they knew it, but there they were, laying on his roof in the middle of the goddamn night. There were no stars in the sky, instead they were held captive in their eyes. They spoke no words, they spoke stars. Her lips were the Milky Way and his smile was moonlight. The galaxy was but their minds, their thoughts. She looked over at The Boy Who Held. He was something from another world, another planet. If he were a star he’d shine the brightest. Always kind. Never wrong. The Boy Who Does No Wrong, she thought. His skin was pale, delicate, gentle. He was porcelain. His lips were the softest pink she’d ever seen. A color she wanted to paint on every