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(Pics from TheCotCK on twt)
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I think it’s pretty neat that stargazing was a Gallavich thing.
In season 2, Mickey says “you want us to put a blanket out and look for shooting stars next?” There is that—once again—an inner desire hidden behind the veil of a witty rhetoric. The dawn is popularly the symbol of new hope, the sun coming up shining its light, enveloping the ground with a potential of joy and rebirth. But with stargazing, the darkness in which it transpires precedes the coming of dawn. It is the hoping itself, the wishing, the tilting of head towards the sky, like the heart whispering a prayer to the universe. The sun is a very bright star that illuminates all. It’s overwhelming with its promise of renewal and warmth of love. That's why it’s much easier to look at tinier, less brighter stars at night. The multitude of them enough to give light—not too much—but just enough to stare at, so it doesn’t hit you all at once. The dawn would tell him he deserves to love and be loved, and that contrary to his belief, he’s not fucked for life. It’s a crazy jump, and the blaze of it might even burn. Meanwhile, the twinkle of the stars would tell him that a boy likes him enough to hang out with him, and that it is okay to long for something so far out of reach, for now.
In season 5, Ian is having some grass time (he’s lying on the grass), stargazing. Earlier than this, he mentions you can never see this many stars from Chicago because of light pollution. Mickey calls, and he holds it up to stare at his ringing phone. Contemplating whether he should or should not. He stares at the stars—weaver of fates, guider of travels. Desire, once again, for answers. A confirmation. Some direction. There must be something because here, they’re clearer, unlike back home where it’s hindered by stray city lights. Maybe this could help clear his clouded mind. Maybe he could draw constellations by connecting the dots and it’ll show him what to keep, what to lose. A glint. A flicker. “That’s the most important thing, to find somebody to love, right? Who loves you back for who you are.” But the thing about the stars’ divine message is that it could often be misunderstood. Misinterpreted. Maybe the stars will sigh, oh well. Guess you could take detours. Because another thing about stars is that, although enigmatic to a fault, they know where everything must go. They are close to the language of the gods. Perhaps for now, the answer is to be apart because in the grand scheme of things, it will all play out as planned.
In season 7, together, under the very same stars. It is hope and desire realized. Who would’ve thought? It was inexplicable, almost alien, that this is how their story is going now. But to the stars, it’s an old song. This is exactly where they should be. It’s the same narrative back then under the bleachers, when they didn’t know better. When voicing your feelings seems a futile and gargantuan feat. It’s the same story now, when they reconvene after, celestial forces refusing to cut these ties. When feelings are all you could voice out, as you’ve learned that if they swim inside you long enough, you’ll drown. “God I missed you.” The stars have known since the beginning. Its plans, slowly unfolding themselves. The wisdom they hold seem nearer now that if reached by the fingertips could be cold to the touch—not yet, not yet.
But even stars could grow impatient.
Even stargazer lilies—observer of heavenly bodies, predictor of futures—bloom facing the sky. Upwards, toward the stars, the flower looks upon. Maybe they’re ready for the dawn. The sun, the bigger and brighter star. The ball of fire catapulting itself, yet it doesn’t burn. It caresses, warm to the touch, and over the land gives life. It is here before them, and it will be here after.
“Now?” Now.
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second chapter is DONEEEEEEEEE then it's the third and when THAT'S done I'm throwing a party I'm getting drunk I'm walking into the sea and falling asleep on the deepest darkest part of the ocean and never coming back
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