Archive of Our Own

I pity you, my child.

You have been born into a prison, likely to never see all the beauty this world could offer. You’ll live your life chained to a dog house to prevent you from ever learning to run or jump.

I truly pity you.

Those had been the only words Yuta had ever heard uttered from one of his kind. To this day, they sometimes echoed through his mind like a petal brushing naked skin. Like a wisp of memories spreading through space.

There had been a time where he’d believed them, allowing them to stoke the resentment born from the intolerable itch under his skin. His body had matured though, and his volatile senses had settled. He could see it more clearly now, why humans and other races were so deadly afraid of him. There was something a little pitiful and primitive about it but Yuta had grown up among humans and had adapted plenty of their little quirks and traits himself.

And while they were definitely the ones who had shackled him when they found him on a desolate planet, flicking stones through the air with nothing but his mind… they were also objectively all Yuta had. Would a life free of those shackles be truly that much more enjoyable when he spent it on his own? Would being woven into the fabric of the universe make up for all the fleeting and piercing, gentle yet violent bustle of humans around him? Yuta didn’t know, and he'd never find out. He was born a witch and he’d die one, and until then he would live under the watchful eye of the civilizations mingling in space. He may never learn the full extent of his powers and become the reality-distorting force his kind had once been, but personally, Yuta was alright with that. Being a captive, a tool, a weapon - it wasn’t as dramatic as people made it out to be, especially not to someone who had never known any different. As far as Yuta was concerned, he was simply a man with an unusual job.

Plus, there was no use ruminating realities he’d never get to live.

What he could do, however, was appreciate what he had.

And what he had was Johnny Suh.

Pink.

The little stone around his neck was pink again.  It was doing that a lot these days.

“Is everything alright?”

Yuta hummed, not looking up from where his thumb was tracing out the setting around the matte, round stone that was no larger than the nail on his pinky finger.

Next to him, Johnny had lowered the tablet he’d been reading on, with his attention having shifted to Yuta a while ago. He didn’t have to look up to know that. He felt it in the shift of the air and the movement of the threads.

“It’s pink again,” he said, showing off the small amulet. Johnny barely moved but his gaze dropped to the stone Yuta had found in a box of nondescript clutter on one of his rare off days. It had called to him back then, and he’d worn it every day since. Funnily enough, it had been Johnny who first noticed the stone changing colors. It was a thing they talked about sometimes, speculating what the stone might be reacting to.

Johnny checked the screens mounted by the sliding doors.

“Maybe it’s the time of day, after all,” he said. Yuta leaned back into the plush sofa with a snort.

“Day and night don’t exist in space.”

Johnny gave him a look that clearly called him out on being a know-it-all.

“Maybe it’s certain time intervals,” he corrected himself, enunciating his words in an exaggerated fashion. “Or does time not exist in space, either?”

“It exists,” Yuta agreed right away, looking past him and out of the large window where the ocean of space prove just that. Despite knowing better, Johnny followed his gaze. He always did that, always ready to protect him if need be and always turning just in case he could see whatever Yuta was seeing. He rarely did, but he never stopped checking. Sometimes Yuta wondered if he didn’t do it in hopes of seeing something, but to make Yuta feel seen instead.

He dropped the stone, letting it lie flat against the stark white signature blouse that had heads turn on whichever ship they set foot on.

“I just don’t think it cares much for time,” he said.

“Maybe the patterns are just too complex to be picked up on by you,” Johnny said, clearly only trying to be smart. He also liked to do that - to poke at Yuta, to quietly challenge him and align their eye levels. It was something that had confused and provoked Yuta initially. Now he knew it was nothing but a display of trust that had formed between them over the last two years. When Johnny had initially been assigned to Yuta’s side, he’d been as suspicious and downright terrified of him as every other stranger encountering a witch in space. It had taken many wary glances and even more hours spent in dark, wordless company until Johnny had begun to let his guard down enough to ask questions. A murmured “Do you even have to sleep?” in the dark turned to a reluctant “Why are you playing along with this?” thrown over dinner, eventually leading to “What does space smell like? How does it feel to move a meteor?”

Now it was ‘Why do you think your necklace turned blue?’

‘I’m ordering dinner. Are you still in the mood for stew?’

‘Are you alright?’

“Yuta?”

He blinked. Johnny was looking at him. Attentively, relaxed but unflinching in a way that wouldn’t register to the public as the display of worry that it was.

Yuta shot him a smile.

“Sorry, just got a little distracted,” he admitted, absently playing with the necklace. He felt like leaning into Johnny’s side to feel the warmth, maybe get in a light nap, but that while they weren’t on active duty, they were still very much in public. Yuta would like to say that he didn’t care about rumors, which were irrelevant even by human standards, but he had his pride, too, and hushed whispers of Johnny having tamed a monster were rubbing him the wrong way. For one, Yuta did not consider himself a tamed anything, especially not a monster. And Johnny and him were not involved like that. Johnny Suh was an elite soldier put by his side to observe him - and to end his life should he go rogue. A feat they both knew he wouldn’t be capable of. Johnny had entered this mission against his will, expecting full well to die sooner rather than later. That was in the past though. The tall, taciturn man hiding his terror behind a blank mask had morphed into a man who used his strength to protect young soldiers from strict higher ups, who put on big expressions for children; who smelled like coffee beans and warm-toned cologne, and who was always enveloped by intricate, pleasant patterns, as if space itself approved of his physical existence.

They were friendly now. Friends even.

He flinched when he felt a hand brush his side. As he stared at the white chiffon fabric lying over his thighs, Johnny’s hand went from unsure hovering to fully resting on his lower back. A glance told him that he had gone back to reading his article, even as the air around him betrayed his crumbly focus. Yuta turned back to the front, allowing his eyes to slip closed as he quietly basked in the warmth bleeding through the fabric.

They were friends now, and Yuta had learnt a lot from him.

If only he hadn’t taught him what it felt like to want more than that.

Against the white fabric, the small stone dangling from his necklace was shifting citrine.

One of the first lessons Yuta had taught his newly assigned witch handler was that the life of a recruited witch was incredibly boring. There were certainly moments of high stress and danger, and one time Yuta had even forced a spaceship to a standstill before, taking control in the most classic human fear-mongering scenario; most of the time, however, Yuta’s existence itself was the Union’s threat and bargaining chip alike. He simply ought to be there, remaining on call to perform war miracles while at the same time not looking too far into how to actually perform them. It made them nervous to see Yuta hone his skills, it made them nervous to see him do nothing, and it made them even more nervous to not see him at all. That was something Yuta had had to grow into, as well - most of his youth had been spent suffering from a seemingly insatiable hunger that had him desperately claw for anything within arm’s length to try and fill the gaping void in his head.

That, too, was in the past though. Yuta wasn’t bumping into the bars of his cage anymore - neither on purpose, nor by accident - and in return, the door was left ajar. And while Yuta did venture out when he felt like it, the prospect of the door snapping shut didn’t have any power over him. He knew how to spend his time and keep his mind healthy. And he wasn’t above roping Johnny into joining him. Not that the latter seemed terribly mad about it.

“I can’t believe you need an entire pool to yourself,” he currently commented, taking in the deserted area, water splashing over his bare feet. Yuta shrugged, crouching by the rocky poolside.

“I never said I wanted it all to myself,” he argued. “It was their choice to leave.”

With a fabric rustle and the clinking of a belt as his only response, Yuta dipped his fingers into the water, feeling the surface break. It was slightly luminous, amplifying the brightness of the light bouncing off the cave-like walls. Of all the different areas the luxurious spa had to offer, this was the one that had immediately called to him. The artificial light was mingling with the natural one from above in a downright poetic way. In moments like these he truly wished there was someone who saw the world the way he did. Then again that meant sharing the view of goosebumps crawling up the skin of Johnny’s calves as he slid them into the pool. They looked so pale like this, with the water drawing a stark line over the ridges of his defined stomach.

“You’re staring,” Johnny informed him. It wasn’t exactly news to Yuta - he’d always been notoriously bad at being subtle about his own feelings, so pushing onward with his head held high was usually his best option. In this case, that meant reaching out to graze a nail over his dry skin. Quick and playful. Like it didn’t send his heartrate up at all.

“You’re flexing,” he said.

That pulled a surprised chuckle out of Johnny.

“No, I’m not,” he argued, covering his stomach with splayed fingers that did nothing to hide him. “Maybe you’re just a pervert.”

“Maybe you just have a lot to look at,” Yuta fired back, before swinging himself into the pool as well, effectively splashing Johnny. The water was slightly cool but Yuta’s body could produce enough heat to survive in space, so this barely registered to him. Johnny sighed, and when he caught a glimpse of Yuta’s mischievous smile, he swept some water right back at him. Yuta didn’t even try to avoid him.

That was another thing about Johnny - he wasn’t a touchy person by nature. No matter how much Yuta bickered with him, whether it be in good fun or actual arguments, Johnny never put a finger on him. At first, Yuta had assumed it was purely due to him being scared but as he spent many days sharing the same living space - sometimes even the same bed - he realized that Johnny was simply polite and respectful of people’s space. If he did touch him now, it was always a very deliberate display of comfort and never a punishment.

It was charming as it was frustrating because it meant that any amount of heckling and testing the lines would just pearl off of Johnny. And Yuta couldn’t help but draw his fingers along those lines, tapping them playful and soft, trying to gauge reactions that never came as Johnny only watched him in mild, neutral interest. It was embarrassing, it was frustrating, and yet never enough so to snuff out the yearning curling in his stomach as he watched him resurface with slicked back hair and a rare, peaceful sigh. He wanted him so bad.

Between the water droplets, the gemstone was sitting on his chest, sporting a dark shade of pink so warm it was teetering into ruby territory. And something clicked into place.

Intuitively, Yuta covered it with his palm. A silly move because it only drew Johnny’s attention.

“Everything alright?” he asked. “Is it doing something funny?”

“No,” Yuta said, accidentally stepping right into ambiguity, which had Johnny inch closer, sending the water to slosh around them. The pool was shallow at this end, with the water not even reaching his shoulders. It stopped even lower for Johnny, though he seemed perfectly unaware of how distracting the sight was as he kept his eyes on the pendant. He even reached out, as if to pry Yuta’s hand free, but once again thought better of it.

“Come on, what is it?” he asked, aiming for a lighthearted approach instead. “Did it start to sparkle?”

With a snort, Yuta pressed his palm on more tightly.

“If you want me to show you that badly, why don’t you make me?” he asked, feeling a lot like a child baiting an adult - only that he wasn’t a child, and there was a forbidden thrill to this that never seemed to die. Predictably enough, Johnny gave him a flat look.

“It’s not doing anything at all, is it?”

Yuta held his gaze, feeling like the smile on his lips and the look in his eyes were communicating two entirely different emotions as he leaned in closer for effect.

“I guess you’ll never find out,” he said, a tad too breathy to be casual.

Johnny just stared at him, silence stretching between them to the point that Yuta expected him to roll his eyes and drop the topic any second now. Just when he relaxed and lowered his guard, however, Johnny’s arm shot forward, taking a hold of his wrist. He would have slipped if not for the iron grip Johnny now had on both his arms as Yuta splashed around like a struggling fish. Before he knew it, the uneven border of the pool was digging into his lower back as Johnny pried his hands away to take a look at the pendant. His heart was beating faster, too, Yuta could tell it in ways he wouldn’t be able to verbally articulate. It sure wasn’t visible in the measured gaze of his that dropped to the now exposed pendant.

“It’s red,” he pointed out, brows furrowed in mild confusion. “Not a common one, but nothing special, either-”

And then he paused, his words cleanly cut as he was struck by a thought, and a cold wave of panic licked up Yuta’s spine. Had he come to the same realization as him? He struggled in his grip, making a show of it in an effort to distract Johnny from the scarlet-colored stone dangling with his movements.

“You can let go now,” he demanded in faux exasperation. “You won, I got it.”

Johnny’s gaze flickered down once more, only to thankfully settle back on Yuta’s face, a smug grin tugging at his lips.

“What, the big bad witch can’t overpower a foot soldier?”

Yuta narrowed his eyes at him, but even as he tried to wrestle himself free with actual intent, Johnny barely even budged. It painted a flush to his cheeks and pulled a chuckle out of Johnny.

“Can’t believe it,” he murmured, firmly pressing Yuta’s wrists down. The motion put their faces closer together and Yuta would revel in that if not for his very newly found anxiety regarding the stone around his neck.

Johnny’s eyes were sparkling now, the gleam sneaking into his low voice.

“You could pull a star from the sky but you can’t pull yourself free from this grip?”

“If I got you a star, would you let go?” Yuta asked back, blowing at a rebellious strand of his bangs.

His response was a split second of silence, a surprising gap in their back and forth that was perfectly covered by a chuckle as Johnny loosened his grip and stepped away. Yuta felt about it the same way he did when he woke up without the distant weight and heat on the other side of the bed.

“Can’t believe I know a guy who would pull me a star from the sky,” Johnny said jokingly as he turned away to look up at the faint clouds above them. Yuta used the opportunity to try and straighten out all the inappropriate reactions his body was signaling way too generously.

“What do people want stars for, anyway?” he grumbled, scooping up water to slick back his hair. “They can’t exactly do anything with them except getting crushed under one.”

“To make a wish?” Johnny asked. “I think the saying used to just be a placeholder for an impossible task someone would commit in the name of devotion. Get you someone who would be willing to pluck you a star from the sky or something. Humans also used to wish upon shooting stars though and now it symbolizes a wish? It all got a little mixed up over time, I feel.”

“Humans wished upon shooting stars?” Yuta asked, half-expecting Johnny to laugh but he just shrugged.

“You see it all the time in old movies,” he said, wading a few steps further to let himself drop into the deeper part of the pool.

“That’s so dumb,” Yuta stated, watching the muscles on Johnny’s back flex as he dove down, not pursuing their conversation any further. Yuta didn’t follow him. He used the moment of privacy to angle himself away, catching another look at the pendant. It was pink again, though hints of purple were taking over, possibly reflecting the anxiety that had bubbled up in his chest.

Just how the red had mirrored his attraction and the pink had betrayed his yearning.

Yuta didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry.

He closed his fist around the pendant before it could answer the question for him.

A greenish black was sitting around his neck as Yuta followed Johnny down the deserted transfer gate. It felt like an appropriate color with how tense the atmosphere between them was, weighed down by a rather bitter encounter with the local authorities. They hadn’t exchanged a word since then and while Yuta was itching to break the topic, he kept his lips clamped shut.

They’d argued about that before, about how Johnny tended to keep his cards too close to his chest for Yuta to be able to play his part. He’d promised to do better. And he had been trying since then - there were still plenty of times were not even Yuta’s very particular insight on the world was enough to read Johnny Suh, but if he exercised patience Johnny would usually carry his thoughts to him eventually.

Which was why Yuta followed after him in silence for the time being, focusing on the echo of their footsteps pounding around them like two soft heartbeats. Not a perfect match, but a synchronized one nonetheless. He had no idea where they were headed but Johnny had spent some time at this particular base before, back when Yuta hadn’t been his concern yet. His memory regarding locations had always been good, or maybe his stay had been particularly formative - whichever it was, Johnny used it to navigate the maze of corridors all the way to a deserted-looking stairway that led them outside.

It wasn’t often that they got to enjoy unfiltered air so Yuta embraced the cold filling his lungs as he took in the vast, empty space around them. Clearly, this must have been their main area for departures and arrivals before everything had moved underground. He could still see the last chips of paint reminding of order and structure among a sea of asphalt. Those and the pale streetlights lining a metal fence were the closest the place had to feeling alive. Yuta wasn’t one to disregard the amount of life sitting in gravel and metal, but it still felt like a thick, static blanket covering the land. There was something appropriately quiet and secluded about it. Johnny prove that he shared his sentiments - the moment he had led Yuta to one of the old metal benches, he spoke up.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

Yuta glanced at him, and then down at his shoes, where the cold was nipping over the polished surface.

“Shouldn’t have done what?” he asked casually, more to keep him talking than anything. Next to him, Johnny stuffed his hands in his coat pocket.

“Don’t play dumb,” he sighed. “It’s not a good look on you.”

Yuta could argue that that wasn’t true, but he was a lot more preoccupied with the fact that Johnny was upset at him. It was actually surprising how hurt he felt about that.

“They were way out of line,” he only said. Johnny didn’t even budge.

“You threatened them.”

“They threatened you first,” Yuta argued, feeling like a child receiving an unjustified scolding. Because it was true; they had been the ones to aggressively push for the Union’s cooperation, the ones who had been cowardly - and dumb - enough to try and steamroll Johnny into submission in an undocumented meeting, only to make things ugly and personal when the other was standing his ground. Yuta had been a good witch and held his tongue, leaving the politics to his handler as he stood back and stared at the increasingly bold men. So what if the ground between them had cracked, splitting sideways in a thin, razor sharp warning when one of them took a step too close for comfort? It had been an appropriate reaction in Yuta’s books, and he’d do it all over again. He’d protected him, and he’d do it all over again, whether Johnny thanked him for it or not. But getting mad at him for it? That was uncalled for.

Johnny sighed, and his voice lost some of the confrontational edge.

“I know,” he said, patience and exasperation wrangling for the top. “But that doesn’t mean you can go around doing the same. You don’t have to defend my honour. It’s not worth it.”

“How about defending your stupid jawline from the punch that guy would have thrown?” Yuta asked dryly but to his annoyance, Johnny simply ignored his jab and turned towards him like Yuta was the annoying one.

“Do you know what this looks like to the public when a witch steps up for their handler like that?” he demanded.

“That they’re a well-integrated union drone?” Yuta fired back, adding provocation to the precariously wobbly tower atmosphere. Johnny shook his head.

“That they’re a liability. A witch who is too attached to their handler is a witch who’s not under control.”

Yuta felt all kinds of heated emotions crawl up his spine, but he decidedly only let the anger travel past his lips.

“That makes zero sense - they should be happy I’m attached to you,” he said, putting air quotes around the words with all the sarcasm he had in himself, “since that would obviously mean I’d follow your orders. And stop talking about me like I’m a contained circus animal.”

“I know you’re not,” Johnny said right away, but the frustration outweighed any apology, “But that’s how they see it, and you know that. If a witch and a handler are getting too friendly that means the handler has too much power and has to be replaced before he abuses said power or falls victim to the witch.”

He held Yuta’s gaze, his voice losing volume but only gaining clarity for it.

“They are going to take me away if you keep doing shit like this,” he said. “If we’re getting out of this alive at all.”

Just like that, he aimed to extinguish fiery defiance with a cold reality. Yuta had never been one to bow to the cold though.

“I’d like to see them try to take you from me,” he bartered. “Or hurt you, for that matter.”

Johnny shook his head.

“Yuta,” he said seriously, his hands twitching forward only to stay in his own lap. “It doesn’t matter how powerful of a witch you are, you are not untouchable. You’re not bulletproof, either.”

“I’m pretty much laser-proof,” Yuta argued. “Who even shoots bullets in this day and age, anyway-”

“I don’t know, someone who has it out for a witch?” Johnny snapped, only to turn away from him with a frustrated groan. Somehow this, him retreating out of his space, cut more than any of his words. Yuta could only sit there, lips parted around words that had been swept off his tongue while Johnny ruffled his hair and curled in on himself.

“It’s not that easy,” he pressed out. “You live with this unshakeable belief that you’ll just get anything you want, but that’s not how it works. It’s just not that easy.”

Yuta looked at his hunched figure. In all the time he’s spent with Johnny, he’d never seen him like this. He’d seen him angry, unsure, exhausted, but never defeated. Not like this. It ached, but it also filled him with a certain warmth. Because Johnny cared - not only about his own life, but also about Yuta’s. He wanted to stay by his side, was ready to shoulder an amount of weight that would reduce him to this shadow of the arrogant, prideful soldier he’d been handed to. And now that he thought about it… there was truth to his words. Yuta did live with the natural expectation that the world molded according to his whims as long as he played his part and stayed in his lane. Still…

“So what if it isn’t easy?”

Johnny didn’t look up but he was listening, Yuta could tell. He cleared his throat, willing his voice to regain its strength.

“You think I’m just going to lie down and give up at the first sign of resistance?” he asked, letting out a huff. “Just because no one has given me a reason to bite doesn’t mean I have no teeth. If they give me trouble, I’ll give them hell.”

When Johnny looked up at him, it was hard to single out any of the conflicting emotions. Yuta licked his lips and placed his hands on his thighs, just barely grazing his cold fingers.

“If you don’t want to leave, you won’t, and I’ll make sure of it,” he promised. “And if you do want to leave, I’ll make sure you get to do that, too. And I will use my own hands to bring down every single ship or soldier trying to go after you. I don’t give a shit about the Union.”

Johnny’s lips twitched into a smile, with a chuckle sneaking past as he dropped his head in a vain attempt to hide it.

“That’s an insane thing to say,” he said, a soft blend of disbelief and fondness trying to hide the small flicker of hope beneath all of it.

“I never claimed to be sane,” Yuta said quietly, drawn in by the tentative way Johnny’s fingers were tracing out the side of his. The urge to fully grasp his hands and pull him close was unbearable as it was inappropriate. It took all his willpower but Yuta pushed himself to his feet, taking a step out of Johnny’s space, who looked up at him in mild confusion.

“What now?” he asked, and the familiar, fond suspicion was a wonderful sight, but Yuta knew he could do even better, so he shot him a winning smile.

“Now,” he began, pausing dramatically, “I’ll show you something cool.”

He heard Johnny get to his feet but Yuta had already turned on his heels, taking a few steps out onto the sea of asphalt. This space couldn’t be more perfect for what he had in mind. Now he only had to live up to his big words.

“What are you going to do?” Johnny asked, clearly suspicious. “You’re not going to get us into trouble again, are you-”

Yuta lifted a hand and shushed him without so much as a look over his shoulder. The fact that Johnny actually complied came as a surprise, but one he barely registered as he took in his surroundings. Then he rolled his shoulders, fidgeting in his spot to quickly loosen his muscles as he let his gaze wander up to the dark, murky-looking sky. Alright. He had practiced this, albeit never with a canvas this big.

With a quick, decisive step he dug his heel into the asphalt. He felt the stone respond, its structure loosening and rearranging, flowing into shapes of water ripples frozen in time. The momentary space was enough to pull up some of the water below the surface. It wasn’t enough to create a pool or even particularly deep puddles, but together with the moisture lingering in the air the ground was coated in a sheen of still water and that was good enough. This entire move had mostly served to clear his surroundings, anyway. Now for the real challenge.

Yuta took a deep breath and reached out. He used his hands, too, subtly moving them in front of him to stretch out his fingers to help the motion. He felt the space weave around his breath, felt his reach fan out further and further, forcing himself to fill his lungs to the brim. When he couldn’t possibly keep going any further, and icy needles were starting to prickle at his vision, he stopped. Slowly, he curled his fingers, stopping short of forming a fist. Locking onto the volatile mass without squishing it.

Then he exhaled, slow and deliberate, and pulled. It wasn’t easy - it felt like trying to pull selected strings out of a tangled mass of woolen scraps, each differently textured but slippery. He wasn’t used to doing anything this large and yet finely detailed. And when the scraps and the space between his fingers were threatening to spill, when the air was running low in his lungs, he opened his hands and let go. Above them, the sky was crystal clear now, with all the clouds dispersed. He smiled in between deep, regular breaths, before his eyes slipped closed again. Directing light was something that required strength and reach over finesse, and Yuta had plenty of those.

Behind him, Johnny let out a small sound, something just shy of a gasp, and Yuta opened his eyes, only to blink at the sky in surprise. He’d meant to pull the light towards them, and he had, that much was evident by the myriad of stars twinkling brightly. What he hadn’t planned was for it to gather in streaky, curtain-like veils crisscrossing above it in shades of vivid green and yellows bleeding into turquoise. Quite frankly, it was probably proof of his imperfect technique. It was pretty, the way the sky was dipped in so many colors that the wet ground only mirrored, but he couldn’t help feeling a little embarrassed - which was why he didn’t turn towards Johnny as he gestured up at the sky.

“Remember how you said people used to wish upon shooting stars?” he asked, not waiting for an answer. “I thought that was exceptionally dumb because why ask for something of a star that’s already falling, right?”

He stuffed his hands into his pocket, feeling the chill catch up to him with how preoccupied he was with keeping his heart rate in check.

“You shouldn’t wish upon dying stars,” he proclaimed. “You should wish upon those that are burning bright.”

He turned to look at Johnny, nodding towards the sky.

“So there. If you have a wish, now’s the chance.”

Before Johnny could meet his eyes, Yuta’s gaze flicked back to the front, focusing on the reflections blinking up at him from the water. Johnny’s lack of a verbal response was starting to make him feel self-conscious. He’d been meaning to do this for a while but the environment and the timing had never been right. Maybe now wasn’t the right time, either. Maybe this wasn’t comforting or encouraging when he was still annoyed by Yuta, or weighed down by expectations of the Union or-

“What if I want the star?”

Yuta frowned in confusion. Behind him, Johnny looked up into the sea of light. It was hard to read his voice, and even harder to gauge his expression.

“What if it’s the star I wish for?” he elaborated. Yuta followed his gaze as if he could possibly guess which of the thousands of stars had caught his attention.

“Which one?”

A touch on his arm had him turn towards Johnny, who was a lot closer now. His fingers were cold as they brushed Yuta’s skin, following the trail of the chain around his neck until they closed around the pendant. It was even more tiny in his hand. He looked up at him, fighting the urge to shirk away under his unwavering attention.

“This one,” he whispered, and tugged him into a kiss. It was so quiet, so simple, and yet heavier than the weight of the sky and the pull from beneath his feet. For a moment, he didn’t feel like a witch. He felt like a human who could only feel what touched his skin, and who couldn’t process anything beyond warm lips encasing his, beyond a faint scent of cologne and the contrast between the grip on his pendant and the gentle hand sitting on his lower back.

When Johnny drew away, the heat gleaming on Yuta’s skin was entirely unnecessary.

His didn’t realize that he was staring, wide-eyed and speechless, until Johnny’s let out a disbelieving huff.

“What?” he had the audacity to ask. Yuta parted his lips, feeling the faintest hues of warmth and moisture covering them like a balm.

“You- you want-”

“If you’re about to ask me if it’s the necklace I want, I will turn around and leave you here,” Johnny threatened, deadpan and dry. He alluded to doing just that when Yuta grasped his wrist.

“Wait,” he burst out. “I didn’t know you felt that way-”

“Bullshit,” Johnny cut him off, rolling his eyes. “You’ve been parading that knowledge around for months. Don’t act surprised now.”

When Yuta only stared at him, Johnny gave his necklace a soft tug.

“It took me a second to get it, but when I did, I seriously debated tossing you out of an airlock, just so you know.”

“What?” Yuta asked, looking down at the pendant in confusion. “All this thing does is change colors according to my emotions-”

“To mine,” Johnny corrected him. “It’s reflecting my state of mind.”

“Huh? No, it doesn’t-”

“What color does it show right now, then?” Johnny asked, cocking his brows. Yuta blinked down at his enclosed fist. He felt… well, he felt a lot of things right now. Too many for one to come out on top. He shook his head.

“I don’t know, all of them?” he guessed. It brought a fleeting smile to Johnny’s lips, but he shook his head.

“It’s pink,” he said with perfect certainty, opening his hand.

Yuta glanced at the small stone. Even in the colorful light drenching them, he could tell Johnny was right.

“What does pink stand for-” he began, only for Johnny to cut him off and tell him without words.

When he was a teenager, Yuta had visited a foreign base where he had met a fellow witch for the first time. She’d been old, with centuries sitting in her bones, threatening to crumble them at any given moment.

'I pity you,' was what she had told him, shaking her head as she took in his lanky frame and the untamed, clumsy way space moved around him. 'You will grow up in a world that will keep you captured to perform tricks like a circus animal. You’ve been born into a truly dystopian world, my child.'

Yuta had spent many years ruminating those words, and while they had brought him grief and anger alike, their grip on him was loosening. Whether she’d been right or not, whether times had been easier at some point or whether they would only get tougher from here on out, it didn’t matter.

Because Yuta wouldn’t exchange what he had for the world.