[2:13 am]

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Jake has told the stars about you.

The stars have heard many stories throughout the millennia, of sneaking through open windows into the violet night, memories of forgotten summer sweethearts carried away by the sweltering breeze, coffee spills and timid smiles—all told by hearts so overwhelmed with midnight blues that they have no choice but to pour it out to the only companions they could possibly have at this quiet hour: the moon and her constellations.

This time, they listen as Jake Shim tells them of a person with the loveliest eyes, who has made him smile the way he hasn't before, who writes small messages in the margins of his notebooks and he says you tell the corniest jokes but you are thoughtful, and kind, and he wishes he has half your strength to hold the world with such resolve and dammit he just can't get you off his mind and they don't know how to tell him this, but Jake's eyes go brighter every time he says your name.

He asks the stars what it is, the encompassing feeling in his chest when he hears gentle syllables fall from your tongue, words interweaving themselves into inky, clouded nights when he was hanging on the edge of a thread, you're incredible, d'you know that? Rest well, bub. You did great today.

They tell him it is love.

(They tell him he has helplessly, undeniably, fallen in love with you.)

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