Reaching for Stardust // Josh Kiszka

Part XX

Word Count: ~3800

Warnings: none <3

A/N: Well, my friends, we've made it--the final chapter. I'm so sorry it took me so long to get to. I started it weeks ago but kept faltering. Ending stories is always the most difficult part for me, and letting Josh and Darling go again does hurt my heart a bit. I love these characters and this story and thank you to every one of you who asked me to write this sequel <3 Thank you to all who have taken the time to read it too! <3 I had so much of this mapped out in my head and in various notes that writing most of it felt easy--this last chapter, though I had planned most of it, didn't feel so easy. But I'm happy to say that I'm satisfied with it. I hope you are too <3

P.S. link to my Spotify is on my main page if you ever want to listen to the RFS playlist (or any of my others lol) 

Also, thank you to @joshkizzy on tumblr for the gif

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Nothing at all really changed after we were married. The sun still rose each morning, though not always visible through winter skies. But when it was there, it cast its warm, stunning light through our small but cozy apartment; it threw golden rays across Josh's serene, pretty face as he slept in our bed and it warmed our sheets as the cold days trickled on.

I still watched Josh whenever I woke up first, same as always–I watched the shallow, even breaths that made his chest move slightly, the gentle twitch of his eyebrows as he dreamed. I watched the stretching of his limbs when he first began to stir, and the slow blinking with long lashes as he began to open his eyes into the morning light. Then the light would catch in his bronze irises and create a kaleidoscope of diamonds and color, leaving me bewitched and smitten just as I had been years ago.

And still, with rings on both of our fingers, the smile that graced his sleepy face, on those perfect lips as soft as rose petals, shined even brighter than the sun outside and each morning it looked brand new to my eyes.

Winter carried on. January staggered on by us in shades of gray and what would normally be a constant state of agonizing monotony wavered into a brighter couple of weeks, even if the sky really was pale and devoid of sunshine past the dawn.

February came on fast and our little world, our little home, was splattered with bold colors–pink, red and purple everywhere, because we'd decided to lean into the commercial capitalism of Valentine's Day with loads of decorations and frivolity. We went out to dinner, sat beneath artificial warm bulbs and drank wine and talked about the past and the future, but it all felt less painful and less daunting then–I could only explain that emotional relief existing because of our union and because at least this part of our future was solidified.

But when March came around and we were in the dregs of another Michigan winter–the slow, muddy, wet and snowy days that dragged on and on–and more talk of the future commenced when the boys called a "meeting" of sorts. My heart raced even at hearing the invitation, and the days leading up felt like their own individual eons until I was practically unraveling with nerves and questions about this mystery they were about to lay out.

Because, after all, was it entirely a mystery? I asked myself when I thought about Danny's gentle warning from a few months prior–things were happening. Big things. Big changes.

So when Josh and I were officially told that the boys had landed themselves new management and a record deal and were moving to Nashville in May, the two of us silently decided the course of our future was going to change along with theirs. Because, also after all, we were all family and we couldn't imagine our lives being torn apart like that. It was just that simple.