Disclaimer: Some minor astronomy-related mistakes and mythological errors as well.

Scorpius

You follow her finger as it traces quick lines in the air, connecting the pinprick stars of the night sky. A cool breeze washes over the field and her hair flies, presenting you with a picturesque portrait that causes goose bumps to rise on your skin (it must be the wind, you think).

"That's Scorpius," she whispers, as if afraid of waking the creature. "The scorpion."

She tilts her head to the side, seemingly in deep thought, and you survey her posture – casually sitting, her legs outstretched and one arm cocked backwards, keeping herself propped up, hand fisted in grass. It's as if lying submersed in green on a summer's night is her natural habitat, the place that feels like home to her.

"Do you know why Scorpius is in the stars?"

You shake your head, your ears ringing.

Her voice is light, unburdened by the weight of a long day, and yet she looks pensive. "According to Greek mythology, the great hunter Orion bragged to the goddess Artemis that he would kill every beast on Earth. And while Artemis was a huntress herself, she was also the protector of all animals." You watch her lips form the words effortlessly, an easy story to tell. "So she sent a giant scorpion after Orion. After a great battle, the scorpion slayed the mighty hunter and Zeus was so impressed that he set the image of the scorpion in the sky."

The corners of your mouth lift.

She scoots closer to you and, leaning over, points to the constellation. "Right there."

At such close proximity, you can see the smoothness of her face, the slope of her jaw, the specks of stardust in her eyes. A deep inhale sends her scent, a mixture of light perfume and something else (something that is uniquely her), racing down into your lungs.

"Artemis requested that Orion be put into the sky as well as a reminder for mortals to curb their excessive pride," she's not looking at you, still fixated on the twinkling lights.

"Where's Orion?" You croak, your mouth filled with the taste of copper (from biting the inside of your cheek), the first time you've spoken all night.

She laughs into your ear, low and short. "He's still fleeing from the scorpion."

You stare hard at her mouth, curved upwards, dangerous and knowing. For a brief moment you feel like Orion fleeing from her, the scorpion. You rest your forehead against hers, still staring at her lips, and think about closing the distance. And maybe that analogy isn't so far from the truth.

You pull away, retreating.

It's a long time before you agree to go stargazing with her once more.

"There are some great constellations in November, come on!" She pleads with you, her lower lip sticking out in mock sadness.

"Astronomy isn't my scene," you protest as always, but she's especially determined tonight.

"Tom is out of town," she says, and you wonder if there's any meaning underneath that statement. "I need someone to keep me company!"

"Do you usually take him?" Simple detached curiosity. Simple. Detached.

"Hm? Oh, no. He works nights."

So this is your thing. Like hers and yours. Something only for the two of you.

Pisces

Her arm sweeps in an arc, gesturing at a portion of the sky, "Here's Pisces, the fish."

You squint. "I'm not sure I see it."

It's chilly, and you shiver, huddling closer to her. She wraps the blanket around you as well, arms encircling your waist. The nondescript grey blanket is warm from her body heat.

"It's like a V-shape." When you still can't identify it, she grabs your hand gently, a feather light touch, and guides your fingers towards the sky. You imagine a little farther and you might be able to brush against the moon. "Like this," she uses your fingers to draw the shape of Pisces. "One fish on this side and another on this side."

"Seems more like handcuffs." You're staring at her fingers around your wrist.

"I guess I can see that," she muses, brow dipping.

"And where does Pisces come from?" You want to hear the lull of her voice, the tale weaving itself in front of your eyes.

"There's an old German legend about it."

"Tell me." A wispy request. "Please."

"There once was a man named Antenteh," she begins, her eyes making hesitant contact yours. "All he had in the world was a tub, a shoddy cabin, and a wife."

"Women aren't possessions," you smirk automatically.

"Hush, Ms. I'm-Majoring-In-Women's-Studies," her face shows open amusement, faint dimples appearing. "As I was saying, Antenteh was a poor man when one day, he met a magical fish. The fish offered him a wish, which he refused, but his wife begged him to return to the fish and ask for a beautiful furnished home. This wish was granted, but her desires were not satisfied." Your eyes trail away from her and towards the sky. "She then asked to be a queen and have a palace, which was granted as well, but still her desires were not satisfied. When she asked to become a goddess, the fish became angry and took everything away, leaving the couple with the tub and cabin once again."

"And that's the fish?"

"Yep."

If you were Orion before, then now you're Antenteh's wife, wanting more.

You asked for a cure for your loneliness and the fish gave you friends. You asked for someone to hold you on cold nights and the fish gave you Jesse. What are you asking for now?

Chloe nudges you.

"It's getting cold, let's head back."

She stands. She looks at you expectantly before offering a hand.

You take it, knowing this will come at a price later on.

"How was looking at the stars?" Jesse hops off your bed, greeting you with a kiss on the cheek, DVD case in hand.

"Informative," you reply diplomatically.

He inserts the DVD into his laptop, but you touch his arm, stopping him, "I'm really worn out, maybe another time?"

"Yeah, of course." He leans in to kiss you, and you falter, but for only a moment. His lips press against yours briefly before you break away.

"Something wrong?" He seems a little concerned.

"Like I said, I'm worn out," you answer nonchalantly.

"'I'll let you get your rest then," he shuts the door behind him softly.

You flop onto your bed, but think of nebulae, clouds of beautiful colors (you picture blue especially), and red planets, circling your mind.

Sirius + Canopus

It's another couple of months before the next stargazing, but you find yourself almost waiting for her to invite you again.

"There's Canis Major," she points behind you. "Greater dog."

"And what's the story behind it?" You want to see the swirling galaxies in her eyes, to see the mystery of an eclipse in her expression, to hear her wistful tone.

But she disappoints you.

"I don't know any actually. But you can see Sirius, the brightest star, even without a telescope," she doesn't need to point it out, as Sirius shines so obviously bright compared to its neighbors.

"Like Harry Potter?"

"Must be where she got it from," Chloe grins and sticks her hand into the pocket of your hoodie, her freezing fingers clutching yours. "And there's Canopus," your gaze follows hers not too far to the side. "The second brightest star in the sky. The Polynesians think it's a solitary star, so they call it He-who-stands-alone."

You're not really thinking. Well, you are, but only of how you enjoy the feel of the back of her hand cradled in your palm, fitted snugly.

"Maybe it's lonely, that's why it's not as bright as Sirius." The words are out, lingering in the space between the two of you. Astronomy, that's what you're talking about, yes. Never mind that it's not possible or logical for stars to feel, or to shine brighter based on emotions. Now that you've proven you're thoughtlessly thoughtless, it's time to leave while you still have some dignity left.

You turn away to hide your embarrassment, but she reaches out and brings your face towards her with both hands. You have a split second to see her eyes, every single sparkle as bright as Sirius, before her lips crash against yours, a comet making impact.

Yes.

This makes sense to you now.

Your heart is jolting incredibly, and in that moment, you think the universe is so vastly infinite that it must be a possibility, perhaps even an inevitability, for you to fall in love with her.

Neither of you wants to be the one to break the silence.

She buries her face into the side of your neck, her eyelashes fluttering against your quivering pulse every so often.

"I really like you," she whispers, quick and elusive.

Your stomach clenches.

"You're cool," you smirk, covering up your shakiness.

This time you lean first and she meets you halfway, a tentative kiss, careful and experimental.

Gemini

The next night she takes you a new spot, a higher hill, one that has a better view of the night sky. She insists on carrying you piggyback to the top, giggling and nearly pitching over every few steps from laughter. You merely cling on for dear life, swearing at the top of your lungs.

She sets you down at the top and promptly collapses, exaggerating her breathlessness. Playfully, you plop down on top of her, straddling her lower half and looking deeply into her eyes before kissing her.

Midway she gasps, "There's Gemini!"

"Really?" You roll your eyes, exasperated, but follow her line of sight to the stars.

"The twins," she says seriously.

"And what's the story there?"

You rest her head on her shoulder as she speaks, "According to Greek mythology, there was once a set of twins named Castor and Pollux, but Pollux's father was Zeus, while Castor's father was King Tyndaerus-"

"How could they be twins then?" You interject, regretting it when she silences you with a withering glare.

"Zeus probably had magical sperm, now let me finish," she swats your knee. "Anyway, Castor was mortal and when he eventually died, Pollux tearfully pleaded to his father to resurrect his brother and bestow upon him the gift of immortality as well. Instead, Zeus set the two of them into the stars, uniting them forever."

"That's sweet," you decide.

"Two halves of one whole," she agrees, threading her fingers through yours.

"Are you saying we're brothers?" You tease, voice muffled against her shirt.

She pouts, her lower lip sticking out. You do something you've always wanted to and draw her lower lip into your mouth, teeth biting down softly. Groaning, she tightens her hold around your back.

And you feel strangely complete.

"Where the hell were you?"

You close your dorm door, alarmed by Jesse's anger until remembering, "Shit. I forgot."

"How could you forget?" He looks more disappointed than upset. "We have movie nights every week."

"Jesse, we need to talk."

"Just tell me who it is," he slumps, defeated.

"Chloe," your mouth relishes in the feeling of her name, but now is not the time to revel in that.

"She's dating Tom," he states plainly, but it's nothing you don't already know. "What are you playing at?"

"I don't know."

"You know what the funniest thing is?" His laugh is bitter, a dark and hollow sound. "I really thought you would never hurt me."

You close your eyes, hands cupping over them.

Corvus

Her finger traces light scars in the dark backdrop of the sky, connecting familiar paths. A chilling wind ravages the yellowed grass and her hair tosses, a sight that forces you to bite your lip, unable to fully contain the affection you have for her. This is much like the beginning, you think.

"Corvus," she hushes, her voice oddly quiet. "Meaning raven or crow."

"This will be a cheerful one," you joke, but her solemn expression doesn't change.

"Greek mythology again. Coronis, Apollo's lover, fell in love with another man and the pure white crow that Apollo had left to guard her informed him of such." Your chest tightens. "Enraged that the crow had not pecked out the other man's eyes before he had the chance to approach Coronis, Apollo scorched the crow with a curse and turned it black. He later set the image of the crow in the stars apologetically."

You push back her hair from her face tenderly. Her eyes catch yours as they begin to spill over in tears.

"As for Coronis," her words sound unstable, as if one step from the edge. "Apollo had his twin sister Artemis kill her, for he could not bring himself to do it."

"What's wrong, Chloe?" The pad of your thumb absentmindedly wipes away her sadness, her tears coating your finger.

"I love Tom."

So swept along by everything, the myths, the legends, the starry skies, you hadn't even considered that she might not feel the same as you do.

"And you have Jesse," she sniffs, which you don't refute for now.

"I don't understand," your tongue feels heavy, leaden in your mouth.

"I can't do this," she gestures between the two of you.

"Why not?" A stinging takes residence in your throat.

She wipes her eyes, the blue still reflecting all the constellations of your heart. "I always thought of myself as a good person, but now I see that I'm not. I never thought I'd be a cheater, Beca."

"I love you," you admit, hoping it will change something in her.

"And I love you too! But don't you see, if I could cheat on Tom, then I could cheat on you."

"What do you want from me then?" You're throwing all your barriers up again, the magic of the night fading. You're frantic, fingers tapping erratically against the ground.

"Space. Time. I need some time to think this through clearly."

Too late, even as your walls try and protect you, they're crumbling at her words.

You stand.

She watches you leave, her regret blurring her vision.

You thought, you were tricked, but you thought that if galaxies could form, if moons could orbit a planet, if total eclipses could occur, then you could fall in love with Chloe Beale easily. It turns out, easily is not applicable for love.

You should've known when you first saw Orion in the sky and God, how he should've ran, shouldn't have thought he could take on the scorpion.

Or you should've known when you saw Pisces, known that you couldn't get too greedy, that this is the price you're paying.

Or maybe you should've known that Canopus is meant to be alone.

And Gemini, the twins, supposedly together forever. But the Greeks didn't know that all stars move in their own separate orbits, they didn't know that one day, maybe thousands and thousands of years in the future, even Castor and Pollux will be separated.

Astronomy is a damn tragedy you decide.

A damn beautiful tragedy.

You watch her slow dance with Tom at her graduation party, her head resting on his chest. She opens her eyes and sees you staring back at her. She smiles, a sad one.

You can't find it within you to smile back.

You're sure, somewhere, your star is moving slowly away from hers.

So you leave, discarding your dreams of outer space, merely a futile chase of stars.

A/N: Thanks for reading, I appreciate it! Leave a review if it so suits you.