Falling Stars- A Romance Without Words

Star thought she knew what she wanted from life. She wanted perfection, the perfect home, the perfect career, the perfect family, the perfect love. She knew what she wanted from life, even at the young age of twenty-one, working as a freelance author. She knew from the moment she had first read a fairy tale. The princess was awoken by true love's kiss, and happily ruled her kingdom for the rest of her days.

Star loved the idea of love and success, the idea of living a perfect life, and sought perfection. So many times, she'd fallen in love with successful men- rich men, intelligent men, but they didn't love her as strongly. So many times, she'd had her heart broken by who she thought had been the one- the man who could see her on her way to everything she desired, and more. So much more.

Star knew that she was lonely, even in crowds of thousands, of millions of people. People who, like herself, craved perfection, but could never find it. She was a hopeless romantic, she knew it, but she just loved the thought that, somewhere, in the world, was a perfect person, waiting just for her.

Star met many people through her line of work, fleeting networking connections, people who were friendly with her, but just for the time they'd be working together. She knew that not everyone wanted to make friends, but all of them at least wanted to work in a friendly environment.

All except Elliott. Like the others, he was an editor Star worked with- for a particularly long project, at that. However, unlike the others, he didn't smile and shake her hand when they met in person. He gave her a glance of acknowledgement, and they got to work in the small café, passing a draft back and forth between them at short intervals. He'd told her that it was the fastest way to get it done, and seemed to be more enthusiastic about the day they'd part than working with her.

Elliott was a pessimist. During a break once, Star asked him what he wanted out of life. He'd told her that all he wanted was the best it was willing to give, and that he hoped to God that his rundown apartment wasn't it. She'd chuckled awkwardly at the time, but honestly, she couldn't understand him.

Star had always been so driven, sure of everything she desired from life. She knew what she wanted, how she could get it, and everything in-between. Elliott seemed to have no real direction but staying afloat. He didn't want to achieve big things, or even small ones, for that matter. She'd always been striving, but he'd just been surviving. Star couldn't understand Elliott, and Elliott couldn't understand Star.

They met again the next week, and the week after that. As their meetings became more frequent, every other day, more and more coffee and snack breaks between where they'd just sit and enjoy the other's company, she began to realize him, and he her. They didn't really speak, but she'd found that he wasn't so aimless as he was practical. He shot for only what he was sure he could reach, only what he saw close enough to touch. He'd found that she wasn't so overzealous as she was hopeful. She was hopeful for a future, a life in which all of her dreams had been realized. She was optimism at its best, and he was pessimism at its best. Neither really saw eye-to-eye with the other, but they understood, to some extent.

About a month into their work, they'd begun to meet every day, simply enjoying each other's company more so than working. They didn't often speak unless it was required of them, rather basking in the blissfully loaded silence between them. It was there, in that quaint café, one quiet night, that Star chanced a glance out of the large front windows that sat beside them, a quiet gasp leaving her lips at the sight unfolding before her. Elliott, curious as to what sparked the awe in her gaze, looked out as well, watching as stars fell from the sky, one after another, landing soundlessly at unknown destinations. Elliott felt a bit silly at the childish glee that filled him when he said what he said to her next, uncaring of the consequences. He told her there was nowhere else he'd rather be then, no one else he'd rather be seated across from. He waited with bated breath until she softly agreed.

Star knew it was silly when she'd started to pick up his small ticks- the anxious, the nervous, the sad, the angry. They'd spent half of a year together, so she thought it was normal, meeting every day during that time. Star herself was an open book- never hid much about how she felt, or her thoughts. It's probably why she'd never been able to go a week in a relationship without her intense feelings coming to light. However, Elliott was almost completely unreadable- his face was, at least. But she'd picked some things up, some tell-tale signs of how he was feeling. They mostly only came when the feeling was negative, but she'd learned them all.

When Elliott was anxious, his gaze would dart around worriedly, index fingertip tapping at the opposite knuckle. When Elliott was nervous, he'd fidget his hands in his lap, a quiet, thoughtful reservation in his expression, the only tell involving his face. When Elliott was sad, he'd keep his face downcast, hands folded in front of it as if to keep himself safe from scrutiny. When Elliott was angry, his jaw would set tensely, eyes holding a dark sheen over them to hide the raw dismay, toes tapping restlessly, as if to stop him from up and leaving to confront the problem.

Star knew him, she realized with a start, and there was one more tell she knew all too well. One she was sure she'd face today.

Star had stormed in, face red and blotchy, eyes red-rimmed, still spilling tears relentlessly. She sobbed lightly, covering her mouth and trembling as she cautiously made her way into her seat. Having become regulars in the café, even having the seat saved for them each and every day, it was natural that the owner regarded her with concern, resolving to bring her her favorite tea, on the house.

Elliott's face flooded with concern, eyes wide and alarmed, but filled with fear, and sympathy, and even a twinge of pain, all swirling with worry. She put her elbows on the table, head in her hands, rubbing lightly at her face as she hiccupped and sobbed. When she dropped a hand to the table, and it stayed there, waiting, he took it as an invitation, slipping his much larger palm onto hers, easing his fingers through the spaces between her own. She finally mustered up the courage to look into his eyes, her gaze bleary, tear-filled, and guarded. Elliott had never seen her like this, so wrecked and broken. She couldn't meet his eyes for too long, shaking with panic and worry. He glanced at the café owner when her tea arrived, both equally as stumped and startled. He spoke to her softly, gently, asking her what was wrong, noting the subtle squeeze of his hand, but not commenting on it, knowing that she was using it- using him- as an anchor, something to keep her grounded amidst the chaos in her mind. She lost whatever composure she had regained at his kind, listening ear.

Star cried that day, about how she was sure she'd set her hopes for the future too high. She cried that she was sure she'd never have the perfect life, never be perfect, how she should've set her sights lower. She was crushed, having woken up that day to find that her small stories weren't making much money, weren't gathering much attention. All of her hopes were riding on the project she had with Elliott, but she wasn't sure it was good enough to place all of her bets on. With all of the times she'd been dumped throughout the course of her dating life, she wasn't sure she was good enough to place her bets on.

Star cried all of this to Elliott, unsure of why she was doing it, unsure of why their relationship had become something more than business partners when he'd been the coldest, unsure of why she'd come to depend so much on him, unsure of why she didn't mind that, unsure of what this new fluttering in her chest was.

Elliott reassured Star that he believed that she was not only good enough, that she was perfect, to him, at least. He reassured her that, one day, she would find someone who'd catch a falling star if she asked him to.

Star found herself looking up from her tea. She sipped it lightly, and asked Elliott if he would do that. He asked her what she meant, heart hammering in his chest as if she'd already said the words. She asked him if he would catch a falling star if she'd asked him to. He was breathless when he responded to her, catching himself swearing to God, to all things holy, to all things otherwise, and to everything in-between, that he would.

She need only ask.

To say that Star thought Elliott was a step down from her plans would be a lie. He was simply a real choice, one she'd stumbled head-over-heels into over a project that wound up making their careers together and made them a permanent team. To say that being an accomplished freelance author with her partner in life and in business by her side loyally was a step down would be another lie.

Somehow, someway, she'd found something she loved far more than just an idea- something better than anything she'd ever imagined.

She found reality.