For centuries, Aster had roamed the celestial plane, observing humanity from among the heavenly bodies. He had seen nations rise, empires fall, civilizations fade away only to usher in new ones.......
While it all happened, he had simply observed.
The god of stars and longing, his existence was defined by distance: a beacon of hope for mortals who wished on his light, yet he remained unreachable, untouchable.
But there was something this time, something had drawn him down to earth- a voice that carried through the void, a quiet prayer that called out to him. It wasn't the faint bit of hope that had had attracted him, but the ache within, a delicate longing that he could not resist, grief that pierced the barrier between realms.
He found her in a silent park at midnight, her silhouette illuminated by the dim glow of street lights. She sat on a bench, her face titled skywards, as if expecting an answer from the heavens.
"Who do you pray to?" Aster asked, stepping into her view from the shadows he had shrouded himself in.
The woman stifled a gasp, her hand flying to her chest.
"You startled me!"
"I'm sorry," he said, softly. "I didn't mean to."
She studied him warily for a bit. There was something in his eyes- a light that seemed to shift and shimmer- that made her curiosity overcome her fear.
"I wasn't really praying," she said, after a moment of thought. "More like venting. Talking to the stars, I guess."
"They listen. More than you could ever imagine." He said the last part under his breath, so that she would not hear.
She snorted. "Do they? Because if they do, they're not doing much about it."
He tilted his head, locks of hair, black as night, falling over his face.
"What would you ask of them? Assuming they could hear you, that is."
The woman hesitated, then shook her head. "Never mind, it's silly."
"It's not silly," Aster said, his voice gentle. "Please, tell me."
She sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "It's just... Life's been hard lately. I lost my mom about four months ago, and I've been drifting ever since. I thought I was getting better, but a month ago, I went down this spiral and I just... I keep wishing for something- anything- to make me feel grounded again."
He words hung in the air, raw and unadulterated, her heart splayed out in letters.
"What's your name?" Aster asked.
"Layla," she said. "What about you?"
"Aster."
"Nice to meet you, Aster," she said, with a faint smile.
The way she said his name felt like gravity, pulling him close.
Aster couldn't stay away. Every night, he found Layla in the park, her quiet presence drawing him, like a tide to the shore. She told him stories of her mother, about the hole her absence had left, the struggles of keeping her florist shop afloat. He listened, and offered solace in form of gentle words and shared silence.
In turn, Layla began to piece together the mystery that was Aster. He was kind, but there was something different about him. Something foreign, otherworldly. He spoke as though he had seen ages, his voice tinged with a wisdom that both comforted and unnerved her.
One evening, as they sat beneath the star-studded sky, she finally asked the question that had lingered in her mind.
"Who are you, really?"
Aster hesitated, his gaze fixed on the stars. "Would you believe me if I told you I'm not from around here?"
"Not from around here?" She repeated, raising a brow. "That's obvious. I mean, you don't look like you're from here."
"I'm... Not from this world," he said, picking his words carefully.
The look she was giving him now was incredulous. "You're an alien?"
He sighed in disbelief. How could she not have gotten it by now?
"I'm not from this realm, this plane," he said, gesticulating mildly to convey his point. He adjusted his posture, his back straight as a die, and said, "I am Aster, god of the stars and of longing, of love lost, and of grief, of heartache, and of hope.
Layla stared at him, waiting for the punchline. When none came, she laughed nervously. "That's... Quite the claim."
"I know it sounds impossible," he said, his tone earnest. "But it's the truth."
She laughed again.
"Prove it, then," she challenged, folding her arms over her bosom.
Aster held her gaze, nothing about his expression betraying even an iota of frivolity. He extended his hand. A single star descended from the night sky, hovering just above his palm, its light soft and warm.
Layla's breath caught in her throat. She reached out instinctively, but the star dissolved into a spray of light and heat, scorching her fingers before they could touch it.
She looked up at him, her expression a mixture of awe and disbelief. "You're serious."
He nodded. "I am."
"Why are you here? You shouldn't be here." Her voice barely a whisper.
"I heard your voice," He said simply. "Your grief. It called out to me."
Layla's head swam. The revelation was too much, too surreal, frightening, even. Yet... Something about it made her heart beat expectantly.
Their nights together took on a new meaning after that night. Aster spoke of the stars as old friends, sharing their stories and secrets, while Layla introduced him to the small wonders of the material realm: the warmth of coffee shared in the early morning, the sharp tang of jest and laughter, the serenity of tending to her flowers.
But the more they shared, the more the weight of Aster's truth pressed upon them. He was eternal, undying, a god of the stars, whereas she was fleeting, her life a mere breath in the span of his existence.
So, one night, as they sat on the same bench where they had first met, Layla voiced the fear that had been growing in her heart.
"What happens to us? When this ends?" Her eyes were glistening.
Aster's expression was pained. "It already draws close," he admitted. "My time here is limited. Not because of rules or punishment- I would disregard those for you- but because my essence is fading."
"What do you mean?"
"The longer I stay in the mortal realm, the weaker I become. I am bound to the stars; they are my lifeblood. Every moment I spend here, I drift further from them."
"Then why stay?" She asked, tears welling in her eyes.
"Because I love you, Layla," he said, his voice breaking. "And I would trade all the stars in the sky for a lifetime with you."
Aster began to weaken visibly in the following days. His once luminous eyes dimmed, his voice lost the resonance that had first drawn her to him. Layla begged him to return to the stars, but he refused, determined to stay with her for as long as he could.
One evening, as they sat beneath the darkening sky, Aster leaned his head against hers. "I can't stay much longer," he whispered.
"Then take me with you," she pleaded, desperation clawing at her insides.
"I can't," he said, gently. "Mortals shouldn't walk among the stars."
"I can't live without you. I can't."
Her voice broke, and she began to sob.
He cupped her face with trembling hands, his gaze full of sorrow and love. "You will live, Layla. You will carry the memory of us, and that will be enough. It has to be."
Layla sobbed, holding him tightly as his body grew warmer, his form flickering.
"I'll never forget you."
"And I will always watch over you."
As the sun set, and was replaced by the starry sky, Aster dissolved into starlight, his essence returning to the heavens. Where he sat mere moments ago, a deep purple flower now lay, delicate and shaped like a star. An aster.
https://www.pexels.com/photo/purple-cluster-flower-1651040/
Layla looked for him in the night sky every evening after that, her heart aching with love and loss. The brightest star above her shop glimmered more than the rest, and she swore it flickered whenever she whispered his name.
As the days passed, Layla spent more and more time with her flowers, pouring all her love and grief into them. She planted Dahlias, tulips, heliotropes, all symbols of the love that had refused to die. But greatest of them all was the lone aster her lover had left her, it's petals as bright and strong as ever. She carried it with her always, a reminder of what she had, and what could have been.
One night, as she closed up her shop for the day, her heart began to ache like never before. She reached for the Aster in a vase on a shelf, and held it in her hands. It smelled of him. She closed her eyes, trying to stop the tears. She wished, from the deepest parts of her heart, a wish that went up, straight into the heart that was hers.
"Layla."
She gasped softly. It couldn't be.
"I'm here, Layla."
And yet, it was. She turned, and there he stood, tall bright-eyed and handsome as ever.
"How are you here?"
"We wished. For each other. The stars listened, and granted our wish. I'm here now."
"Aster, I-"
She was cut short by his lips on hers. She felt her heart blossom with love and passion. He was here, with her, forever, and nothing else mattered.
