And so, Keigo falls in love with a guy who wears constellations on his skin and stars in his eyes.

He feels like he could never get enough of him, his silent fascination, his obvious love for the worlds around them, but also his very soft looking black hair, the tattoos covering his arms, the faded space telescope shirt he wears way too often.

And still, Keigo can’t help himself hoping each day that this mystery guy will show up again, and get excited when he is there at last, fully content to just watch him watch the animated sky above them.

They haven’t talked, haven’t had any interaction other than the guy looking at him in awe when he explains the mysteries of the universe like it’s the first time he’s heard any of it.

The last few months have been different, though. There’s this guy coming in, two or three times a week, always alone. He must know the show just as well as Keigo, by now, but still he comes in and watches with a fascination Keigo can’t help but admire.

But he likes the people working there, the director, the only person who gave a starving teen a job without asking questions, and now, they’re almost like family — whatever /that/ actually is.

And sometimes, it makes him feel like a caged bird, the promise of the open space around him all day, and he’s stuck in there, sees more of the sky on the screen than in real life.

He was never all that interested in space, but he can pretend — knowing by heart all the facts he has to tell eager listeners at each show day in and day out.

Keigo sometimes feels trapped in the small showroom of the planetarium, where he spends most of his waking life taking care of the enormous and complicated projector.

So space, the big, vast, unexplored /nothing/ all around us, is where Touya /doesn’t/ feel alone. 
The very cute technician who explains the wonders of the sky in /the/ most relaxing voice ever certainly helps.

He’s always been fascinated by space and the universe and everything, and it’s the one thing his fucked up family couldn’t ruin. Because how could anyone ever ruin something when they’re so infinitesimally insignificant in the face of everything.

Even if money’s tight — because working the register at the corner store doesn’t pay much — he spends most of it on the planetarium anyway, losing himself in the stories of distant planets and galaxies.

It’s strangely comforting to know that the universe won’t care, that they will pass, that everything will pass, eventually, and be swallowed up by an exploding sun in the end. Even if things are bad, nothing will be around forever.