Title: "Starlight and Sunrise"
Proxima and Isaiah were opposites in almost every way—Proxima, quiet and thoughtful, and Isaiah, full of energy, always the life of the party. Yet, like two celestial bodies moving in perfect orbit, their paths crossed one summer in a small coastal town.
Chapter 1: The First Encounter
Proxima had always preferred solitude. With his sketchbook in hand, he would spend hours on the beach, drawing constellations in the sand or capturing the way the waves kissed the shore. He liked the quiet moments, the spaces in between words.
One evening, as the sun set, Proxima sat alone on the boardwalk, the pink-orange sky reflecting in his deep brown eyes. Isaiah showed up, his skateboard screeching to a halt nearby. "Nice drawing," Isaiah said with a grin, peering over Proxima's shoulder at his sketches.
Proxima blinked, surprised someone had noticed him. "Thanks," he mumbled, tucking a curl behind his ear.
Isaiah flopped down beside him without an invitation. "I'm Isaiah, by the way. You always draw the stars?"
Proxima shrugged. "They make sense. They're predictable."
Isaiah laughed. "Well, get ready. I'm not."
Chapter 2: The Orbit
As the days passed, Isaiah kept showing up. Sometimes with two iced coffees, sometimes with music blasting from his phone. He was like a burst of sunlight in Proxima's quiet world.
At first, Proxima found Isaiah exhausting. But there was a warmth to him that Proxima couldn't ignore. Isaiah asked questions—real questions—about Proxima's art, his dreams, and the reason behind his fascination with the stars.
"I like how they burn, even if no one notices," Proxima admitted one night as they lay on the sand, looking up at the constellations.
Isaiah turned to him, his green eyes soft. "Sounds familiar," he whispered.
Something shifted between them that night—something unspoken, but undeniable.
Chapter 3: Colliding Worlds
Their friendship grew into something deeper, though neither dared to say it out loud. Isaiah would take Proxima on impromptu adventures—night swims, late-night diner runs, or watching the sunrise from the cliffs. And Proxima would teach Isaiah how to slow down, how to find beauty in the quiet moments.
But summer couldn't last forever. Isaiah was moving to a different city for college in the fall, and Proxima knew it. The thought of separation hovered over them like a cloud, unspoken but ever-present.
One night, under a sky full of stars, Isaiah broke the silence. "Come with me," he whispered, his voice unsteady.
Proxima's heart ached
