“There’s something wrong with Captain Yunho.”

Zhou Mi sunk a bit lower into his favorite chair in the ship’s communal lounge area and debated toeing his shoes off. He was certain he was no longer growing, but his shoes were starting to pinch like they were too small. His boots, the ones he wore off the ship were fine, but it was looking like he needed to invest in the shoes intended for scaling ladders, navigating walkways and running errands.

“Seriously.”

Tapping his fingers against the screen of the data pad in front of him he tried to work his way through his latest crossword puzzle. He was particularly fond of puzzles of the sort, especially when they increased his vocabulary and made it so he had to ask around for an answer, or search for it on the net.

“You’re not even listen to me, are you?”

The thing about being a predominantly freight ship, the kind that took on odd jobs once in a while but mostly moved things from point A to point B, whether it be cargo or people, was that there was often a lot of downtime. Of course there could be a gunfight at any time, or a space race, but most of Zhou Mi’s days, honestly, were spent balancing his duties on the ship and working on his crossword puzzles.

“I’m going to start a harem and I’ll steal Kyuhyun out from under you to be the first member.”

“Unlikely,” Zhou Mi eased out without much a reaction. “Oh, Leeteuk, a nine letter word, starting with m and ending with it too. Clue is optimistic philanthropy.”

Across from him on the wicker based sofa, looking tense and unhappy, the ship’s first mate, the Captain’s oldest friend, shot him a look of incredulous annoyance. “I’m trying to tell you that something is wrong with Yunho, and you’re just ignoring me.”

Optimistic philanthropy. Hmm.

“No,” Zhou Mi told him, “I’m pretty sure you were trying to tell me about your attempt to steal Kyuhyun from me. I’m going to have to advise against this, and not only because he’s a handful that will probably make your life more of a burden than a pleasure, but also because that pretty Companion of yours, the one based out of Ariel, probably won’t take that well. You having a harem, I mean.”

And, naturally, because Zhou Mi would kill anyone who attempted such a thing with his Kyuhyun.

His beautiful, precious Kyuhyun.

Crossword forgotten for a second, all Zhou Mi could see in his mind was the moment he’d stepped out of the bank on New Austen where his size and physical capabilities had lent him to a life of protecting money for the very few Rim residents who manage to acquire it. There’d been a commotion outside that drew his attention and he’d never been more sure that placing the bank directly across from the bar was the most foolhardy decision anyone in the town had ever made.

And sure enough there’d been a brawl going on, and it had taken mere seconds for it to spill out into the streets, startling residents but not really shocking them.

“Let it die out on its own,” his superior had said, taking no more than a half look at the fight before going back inside the bank.

Zhou Mi had been poised to do so, until he’d seen Kyuhyun. His wild little Kyuhyun had been on the back of some man who was attempting to trade blows with the brown clad man who’d soon become Zhou Mi’s Captain. He was flailing almost crazily, knocking the man of balance and delighting in the way the man he was perched on shouted madly for him to get off.

There’d been such fight in Kyuhyun. Such fire.

The fight had gone on for minutes more, the then unknown Leeteuk and Yunho handling the large group of men fairly easily, Kyuhyun using his lithe form to dart around and help out where necessary.

When Kyuhyun stripped a man of his belt in one flawless move, causing the man to yelp and clutch at his pants comically, Zhou Mi had laughed. It was the first time he’d laughed in months, and it was fair to say he’d fallen in love with Kyuhyun in that moment.

Neither did it hurt that Kyuhyun was handsome. Zhou Mi saw quite a lot of people in a day, including men who’d had cosmetic work done and women who hid their natural imperfections with makeup. But Kyuhyun was different. With his unkempt hair, bold features and straight lines, he’d stood out. He’d have stood out in a crowd of a million, or a billion.

Few people had the kind of natural magnetism that Kyuhyun had.

Zhou Mi had gotten his spot on the ship as added muscle, not that Leeteuk hadn’t been filling the void before him adequately enough, because he’d seen the backup arrive and go straight for Kyuhyun during the fight. He’d seen one of the men pull Kyuhyun off his feet, level a fist into his stomach and rear back to start kicking.

And Zhou Mi had nearly killed the man for it.

Once on the ship, the Toshoshinki flying as far and fast from New Austen as possible, the Captain had slammed an ice pack down in front of him, said gruffly, “Put that on your eye, it’s starting to swell up,” and turned off to take care of Kyuhyun.

There’d been no official agreement of his joining the crew. No negotiation of wages. He’d simply known that his old job was gone, there were now close to a dozen men in New Austen who wanted him dead, and Kyuhyun was there on the Tohoshinki.

Later on Leeteuk would tell him, “You’re family now, right? Kyuhyun’s our little one. He just turned sixteen and the kid thinks he’s invincible. You pulled his out of the fire back there and that makes you worth a lot to the Captain.”

“I did what anyone else would do when faced with a group of grown men targeting a child.”

Leeteuk had grinned wide and spectacular with his unexpectedly perfect teeth. “Kyuhyun’s no child. But I guess you’ll find that out sooner, rather than later. Rest up. You deserve it.”

Leeteuk’s words had only been a mystery for as long as it took for Kyuhyun to seek him out the next day to flirt so terribly that Zhou Mi had to put him out of his mystery by kissing him on the spot. Years later, right before their wedding, Kyuhyun would confess to Zhou Mi likely the only thing he didn’t know about him, that Kyuhyun had loved Zhou Mi from the moment he’d seen him, too.

Now, snappishly, Leeteuk said, “Don’t you bring Heechul into this.”

Zhou Mi gave a silent nod. He couldn’t begin to understand why Leeteuk had taken up with Changmin’s Companion friend, or how they made such a relationship work, but neither was it his business. Though he did find it fascinating that not one credit had ever passed from Leeteuk to Heechul for services rendered, and it wasn’t likely to change. How did one acquire a Companion and never paid for them? Even Yunho had to float credits Changmin’s way to have any kind of access to him.

“Your guess?”

Leeteuk frowned in a confused way. “What?”

Zhou Mi turned the data pad around. “For the crossword puzzle. Nine letters, beginning and ending with m. Optimistic philanthropy.”

Leeteuk threw up his hands a bit dramatically. “That’s the problem.”

“No, Leeteuk, it’s the answer.”

Leeteuk gave him an icy glare that had Zhou Mi dropping all guesses and waiting patiently.

“I saw the Captain this morning before breakfast,” Leeteuk told him seriously. “He’d shaven. He never shaves that early in the morning. He’s always afraid he’s still so asleep he’ll cut his own throat. But more than that, he put on aftershave! He hates the smell of aftershave, but it put it on anyway.”

Zhou Mi reasoned, “Maybe he just wants to clean up a bit. His style could be changing. Or he could merely be practicing for when we reach New Haven. He’ll have to pass for at least a respectable Core citizen if he’s going to accompany Changmin to the planet. I’m not sure why you’re getting so worked up over something as small as a shave.”

“There’s more,” Leeteuk insisted, reaching forward and pulling Zhou Mi’s data pad away so he wouldn’t be distracted. “What do you remember seeing at breakfast this morning?”

“Oatmeal.”

Leeteuk sighed. “I’m starting to think you’re the wrong person to talk to abut this. No, Zhou Mi. This morning is the first time the two passengers joined us. They didn’t yesterday morning, remember? Now, where did the Captain sit during the meal?”

At the question Zhou Mi had to think. Meals on the ship were a first come, first serve type of experience, even though they all ate frequently together. Chairs were of all types and sizes, some more comfortable than others, and places at the table always shifted around. Zhou Mi almost always took his meals seated next to Kyuhyun, but once in a while he’d get shuffled next to Ryeowook or Leeteuk.

Of course the Captain typically sat at the head of the table, out of tradition and routine, more than anything else.

“He sat next to that philanthropist,” Leeteuk supplied for Zhou Mi.

So he had. Thinking back to the meal a few hours previous the Captain had sat in the middle for once, right next to one of their guests. The one Kyuhyun said went by the name Hero.

“How is this a problem?” Zhou Mi asked. “I hardly think the Captain was in mortal danger from a simple seating arrangement, no matter how much it varied from the normal.”

Leeteuk hastily agreed, “Not that. But did you see his face during the whole thing? He was … happy. He … smiled.”

Zhou Mi felt himself laugh, “The Captain has a crush.”

Leeteuk, who normally was a very quiet, reserved individual, gave a half glare. “Yes!”

Zhou Mi tried to recall more from the morning. But it was difficult. Zhou Mi hadn’t really been aware of much until the caffeine had kicked in around halfway through. And the rest of the meal had been dominated, like most of his life, by Kyuhyun.

Because Kyuhyun, who’d still been sleeping when Zhou Mi got up to do his early rounds of the ship before breakfast, had come sauntering into the dinning area wearing some of Changming’s more stylish clothing, his hair quaffed, and the faintest trace of kohl around his eyes.

The kind of beauty that Kyuhyun was, was more than enough to distract Zhou Mi on a regular day, but all dolled up like a high class courtesan?

Zhou Mi remembered the gold and red Kyuhyun had been wearing. He remembered the way Kyuhyun’s gorgeous brown eyes had popped, making him look a touch too young, almost like the way he’d seemed when Zhou Mi had first met him and learned he was the ship’s pilot. And the smell coming from him … cologne that probably cost a small fortune … it had taken a great deal of self control for Zhou Mi not to pull Kyuhyun from the table immediately and take him back to their bunk.

Kyuhyun probably would have been game. Kyuhyun and his high drive always seemed game.

But the Captain’s interactions with Hero? Zhou Mi hadn’t noticed those in the slightest.

“Why is the Captain having a small crush or attraction such a bad thing?”

Leeteuk looked almost like a petulant child. “It would be different if these passengers … these philanthropists were part of the crew. Or even staying on for a little more. But they’re only going to be with us a little longer, Mi. They’re getting off the day after tomorrow. And I don’t want …”

The Captain to get hurt. The Captain, who never opened up to anyone outside of who he considered family, never took a chance on love anymore because of what had happened in the past. Their Captain who was more susceptible to having his heart hurt than he let on. And who the rest of them had an unspoken agreement to look out for in all matters, including those of the heart.

Still, the Captain wasn’t a child, and it had been a long time since his heart had been broken. Maybe long enough now to heal a little.

Gently, Zhou Mi said, “The Captain is a grown man. He can make his own choices, Leeteuk. And I assure you he’s very aware that we’ll be losing our passengers to the Moon Hub.”

With unease, Leeteuk said, “That’s a whole different matter there.”

“I agree,” Zhou Mi said, not looking forward to the Moon Hub in the least bit. “You’ll be making the delivery?”

Leeteuk dipped his head in the affirmative. “It’ll be best if the Captain doesn’t make the drop, and not just because he’s starting to develop feelings of some kind for a passenger. There are bound to be at least a few people on the station who want him dead, and a couple who might act on it. I’m sure there’ll be people there who want to kill me as well, but hopefully less so than the Captain. And I want to be in and out as quickly as possible. The Moon Hub … it makes my skin crawl even to be this close. All those rich bastards, thinking their money gives them the right to do those things …”

“And I bet they really get their jollies off knowing they’ve got more than enough money to pay the officials to look the other way,” Zhou Mi said.

“So I’ll make the drop quickly,” Leeteuk said with finality, “and I want you to stay here. Keep watch over the crew with the Captain. Particularly watch our Companion and Kyu. I don’t think I need to tell you that both of them would be targets. Ryeowook’s too smart for foolishness, but Kyu’s exceptionally curious and Changmin would fetch an unreasonable amount of attention. I don’t think anyone would be stupid enough to try anything with a licensed Companion, but you never know.”

Zhou Mi assured, “Don’t worry. It’ll be a fifteen minute exercise in your patience. The Captain and I won’t let anything happen to the ship while you’re gone. Though … the Captain is more than capable of taking care of things on his own. If you want a little backup, I’d be more than willing to go with you. A little extra intimidation is something you may want to consider.”

“I will,” Leeteuk promised. “I’d take Onew with me if he hadn’t gone and bleached his hair recently. He looks like a goddamn angel right now, especially with how pale he’s gotten, and thin. He used to be a force to be reckoned with. Now he’d be easy pickings.”

“For understandable reasons.”

Zhou Mi was doing his best now to avoid Onew without making it obvious or uncomfortable for the both of them. If Onew was falling apart due to his grief, then Zhou Mi was holding himself together despite his guilt. It might have been him died and made Kyuhyun a widower. It might have been him in Joon’s place, taking a bullet to the chest, bleeding out before proper medical assistance could be rendered.

And it should have been.

Onew knew, and so did Zhou Mi.

“Where’s the Captain now?” Zhou Mi asked, taking his data pad back. “Is he with a certain philanthropist? Is that why you’re all worked up?”

Leeteuk clambered up to his feet, looking like he needed a vacation. Or maybe just a visits to his Companion. Ariel wasn’t that far away, though if the plan on New Haven miraculously worked, they’d have to lay low for a while. And Alliance heavy places like Ariel would be off limits for a while.

As expected, Leeteuk said, “The Captain’s busy giving one of them, the one he likes, Hero, a ship tour. He’d never given anyone a ship tour before. Though I suppose if it’s any consolation the other one, Micky, looks like he’s been a lemon over the whole thing.”

“Jealous?” Zhou Mi wondered.

“No,’ Leeteuk said confidently. “More … worried.”

There weren’t many certainties in the world they lived in, but Zhou Mi could say without doubt, “The Captain isn’t the type to take advantage of someone, or take a partner who isn’t completely willing. Neither does it seem like our philanthropist might still be untouched at his age.”

“That’s hard to say.” Leeteuk stretched and shrugged. “We picked him up on Helios, and I saw the way he was dressed, let alone the way he stood and talked. Mi, Alliance families are very controlling, and often very unhappy. And the things they do to their children ...”

This was something Zhou Mi had never heard before. “They what?”

Leeteuk looked disgusted. “Before they’re born a lot of them undergo genetic sequencing and manipulation. The Alliance tries to regulate this, but as you know, money can buy anything. The wealthier families can have designer babies if they want, and they usually do. They can make their children look and desire whatever they want. You want your baby to be artistically inclined, okay. You want your baby to be ambitious and driven, okay.”

“That’s …”

“Horrible,” Leeteuk said. “What makes people interesting is how different they are, and how they become the people they are by their experiences and unique personalities and random chance. And that isn’t the worst of what parents can do to their children.”

“Tell me.”

“Behavior modification,” Leeteuk said, voice low so they couldn’t be overheard. “If parents think their children are too loud, too rambunctious, or just downright act in an undesirable way, they can have them modified. It’s a fancy way of lobotomizing their children, and making them more pliable. And some families … some of them, Mi, will remove or greatly reduce the part of the brain that makes people desire and love. They want their children to marry for political and economic reasons. It takes a lot of work and money to raise a child, and they’re a bit like investments. Parents don’t want to take the chance that their children might run off prematurely and marry the first person they fall in love with. So they make sure it’s unlikely to happen.”

The thought made Zhou Mi feel winded, like he’d run a mile or more. “You think Hero may have had this done to him?”

“Some of it at least,” Leeteuk said without hesitation. “All Alliance babies have something, but what, it’s impossible to say. Maybe he doesn’t even know. But I’d wager they haven’t tampered with his brain. I didn’t just watch the Captain earlier. I watched Hero, too. He’s just as interested in the Captain as the Captain is in him. It’s very mutual, and children who’ve had the pleasure center of their brain muted, don’t often show interest of the ual or romantic kind.”

“Then let them be,” Zhou Mi decided. “The Captain can make his own choices, regardless of the consequences, and our guest is a grown man as well. Let them dance around each other. Let them flirt. It won’t matter in a few days. I know you want to spare the Captain unnecessary hurt, but it isn’t as if they’re going to fall in love over the next two days.”

Heading to the doorway, Leeteuk called back ,”You sure about that? How long did it take you to fall in love with Kyuhyun?”

With his perfect timing, Kyuhyun breezed past Leeteuk, asking, “Are you two talking about me?”

“Always,” Zhou Mi said, feeling himself brighten immediately from just seeing Kyuhyun.

The younger pressed, “And I hope you’re saying nice things.”

Before Zhou Mi could answer, Leeteuk teased, “Never.”

Kyuhyun rolled his eyes and sat next to Zhou Mi, tucking into his side like it was second nature. “What were you guys doing in here?”

Zhou Mi showed Kyuhyun his data pad. “Leeteuk was helping me with my crossword. Or maybe distracting me. It’s hard to say. What are you doing here, Guixian?” He put an arm around Kyuhyun who was staring intensely at the crossword.

“Yunho, who apparently likes Hero now, and doesn’t want to throw him out the airlock like I thought he did, is showing him the bridge. All their was suffocating me, so I decided to come see what you were doing. I’m greatly disappointed.”

Zhou Mi laughed and kissed the side of Kyuhyun’s head, mostly because he knew it annoyed him. Kyuhyun was hardly a tactile person, not compared to someone like Zhou Mi himself. Kyuhyun liked affection, but not an excess of it, and being overly so was the fastest way to irritate him.

“Just because my crosswords aren’t as stimulating as your games, doesn’t mean they’re boring.” He kissed Kyuhyun again for good measure. “And you’re not the only one apparently suffocating by their attraction to each other.”

Kyuhyun tucked his legs up under him and posed, “Don’t you think it’s weird?”

Zhou mi asked, “Have you ever seen the Captain show an interest in someone since he got his heart broken? You have his ear more than anyone next to Changmin.” Typically either Zhou Mi or Leeteuk went out with the Captain for jobs that required any kind of man power, but none of that could compete with the hours of quiet conversation that the Captain and Kyuhyun engaged in late at night when the rest of the ship was asleep.

“Once,” Kyuhyun allowed slowly and seriously. “But it didn’t go anywhere, and it kind of demoralized him, which is why I find this the most confusing. The Captain has to know he’ll never see Hero again. Or even if they do keep in contact, they won’t be able to have a real relationship.”

Zhou Mi agreed. “Maybe it’s not as serious as you and Leeteuk think it is. Maybe this is just a case of two people enjoying each other’s company more than either of them expected. People who end up good friends can initially have ual chemistry.”

Kyuhyun scoffed, “There was nothing friendly in the way the Captain was pressed up behind Hero, using the radar system as an excuse to be that close to him.”

Well. Wasn’t that something.

“Regardless,” Zhou Mi said, “it’s time for you to get back to work, Guixian. Run those two out of the bridge if necessary, but get up there. I have to go, too.”

Kyuhyun scrambled up to his feet, reached a hand down for Zhou Mi and with surprising strength, pulled him up to his feet. He leaned up against the taller Zhou Mi for a proper kiss, and as a way of parting he said, “Meliorism.”

Zhou Mi tugged his hand to keep him in place. “What’s that?”

Kyuhyun, with a sly expression said, “Your crossword, Mi. The last word you need. It means the belief that things ultimately get better, and people can be a part of making that happen. Optimistic philanthropy.”

Kyuhyun disappeared around the corner and Zhou Mi looked quickly down to his crossword, then to where Kyuhyun had been standing.

Kyuhyun never ceased to stop amazing him.

But if there was something else that didn’t let up, for Zhou Mi it had to be his curiosity.

It lurked at the back of his mind for the rest of the morning, distracting him from mundane but important ship tasks. And it was still there for the lunch, hour persisting into the evening as well. It was relentless and it made him restless. At least until he couldn’t take it any longer.

Long after Kyuhyun had gone to bed and was snoring softly next to him, Zhou Mi donned his ship shoes, his jacket and prepared to walk the ship until he was tired enough to go to sleep. Or content enough to pretend he was until the morning came.

Kyuhyun hated that he was such an insomniac. He hated that too frequently he’d leave the warmth of their bed and not be there incase Kyuhyun had a nightmare.. The nightmares themselves were waning with time, becoming less and less aggressive, but they still occurred once in a while. And they were more like terrors, frightening years off Zhou Mi’s life as he inevitably clutched at a screaming, thrashing Kyuhyun.

Zhou Mi must have walked for hours. Up and down the same pathways, same ladders, same spaces. He never kept track of his wandering, merely letting himself go until he felt satisfied.

But just as he was starting turn back, the call of Kyuhyun’s warmth and intimacy with his husband too strong to ignore for much longer, he heard the soft murmuring of voices.

Other people being awake on the ship at ungodly hours was nothing new or unexpected. Currently Leeteuk was on the bridge. The Captain never seemed to sleep these days. And neither did Onew for that matter. Any one of them could be talking to each other … or even to themselves. Kyuhyun talked to the ship. Ryeowook talked while he was cooking.

It was where the voices were coming from that was far more interesting.

Everyone on the ship had a spot. It was the one place they tended to lurk more than anything else. For crewmen like Onew it was easy to guess where he spent most of his time. For the Captain, who roamed the ship endlessly, it was what he’d nicknamed the ship’s sweet spot. He went every chance he got, and he rarely took people with him. It was his thinking spot.

Maybe Changmin was with him?

Zhou Mi’s curiosity got the better of him.

Getting to the sweet spot required a tight squeeze past a narrow passageway of bulkheads that were partially exposed and somewhat falling apart. You had to duck down through a low ceiling, traverse a rickety walkway and avoid being hit by any of the hanging circuitry that was barely holding on. The ship held together for the most part, but in the less traveled parts of her hold, plenty of her age showed.

Trailing after the voices Zhou Mi was forced to struggle along the way, almost going back twice before he recognized one voice as belonging to the Captain, and another so unfamiliar it had to be one of their passengers.

Zhou Mi had a very good idea which one it was.

“Look there,” the Captain said, his voice becoming more clear as Zhou Mi came ever closer. “See that cluster of stars there?”

“I see,” the second voice said eagerly. “The one kind of shaped like a crescent?”

False accusation laced the Captain voice as he asked, “You already know what it’s called.”

“No, I swear,” a pleased voice responded. “Tell me.”

“There’s a story,” the Captain said, sounding not at all as stressed as he usually did. In fact he sounded like he was enjoying himself. “A story about those stars together in that cluster there. It’s an old tale, the kind that Changmin could probably tell you a million times better than me, about how one of the old gods was born with a frown on his face. And no matter how his sisters and brothers tried to cheer him up, creating beautiful mountains, plowing incredible rivers, and even creating an endless cycle of sunrises and sunsets, nothing could put a smile on the god’s face.”

“But …”

Zhou Mi peeked around the corner just enough to see that he had been right. The Captain was there, at what he liked to call his sweet spot, leaning on the railing he’d set up the one and only time Kyuhyun had climbed into the space and promptly fallen, shattering one of the bones in his left forearm.

And near him, impossibly near, was the apple of the Captain’s eye. Hero.

They were standing shoulder to shoulder, arms braced on the metal railing of the raised platform their feet were planted on. And all around them the endless windows covered them in stars. Even from where Zhou Mi stood, his breath was stolen away.

The Captain chuckled, smiling so much with his eyes that they nearly sparkled. “One by one the other gods and goddesses gave up on making their sad brother smile. All except for one.”

Wonder on his face, Hero leaned in even closer, his chest rising and falling evenly in a way that indicated perfect ease.

“Tell me,” Hero urged, his eyes turning back to the constellations. His head tipped back to see them fully and with the light of the stars, shining down on his skin, Zhou Mi did think he truly looked beautiful. “Tell me how it ends.”

The Captain held up a single finger. “There was one goddess who refused to give up. She was born of utter love and joy, and she wouldn’t let her brother go without experiencing what she did every moment of every passing day. So she took the best parts of herself, including her ability to love, her compassion for others, her happiness, and her perchance for charity. Then she them up into the sky in this shape, a crescent that looks a bit like a smile, right? Her brother had no choice then but to become the god who smiled. How could he not? After all his sister did for him?”

Hero sighed happily. “That’s a wonderful story.”

Zhou Mi recognized the way the Captain was gazing at the other man in the moment. He recognized it all too well.

“Like all the old stories, it baits you with the good stuff.”

“It’s sweet,” Hero argued.

The Captain tipped his own head back. “The rest of the story goes something like the god who smiled was so moved to happiness by sister, that he wanted to do something himself to retain her memory.”

Zhou Mi himself had only heard the story once, so he was just as interested as Hero who snapped towards Yunho and demanded, “Why would he need to remember her?”

Gingerly, the Captain said, “The young goddess of love took all the best parts of herself. She tore out what made her who she was. There was nothing left of her to exist.”

Hero’s shoulders fell and he turned to rest his back against the railing, blocking the stars from sight. Zhou Mi had to press himself backwards quickly to avoid being seen.

“This story is less sweet now.”

“Like I said,” the Captain reminded, “the old stories, they bait you with the nice stuff, then hit you with the punch at the end. But the story ends well, I swear.”

With some reluctance, Hero finally said, “Okay. How does it end?”

“The god who smiled, thanks to his sister’s sacrifice, was so moved that he wanted to both remember her and show his appreciation. So he took the parts of him that had kept him from happiness, the darkness in him and the endlessness, and he became the space around his sister’s stars. So now they’re together, forever. She smiles for him in the form of her stars and he protects that smile, in the form of the space all around her.”

Sounding almost childlike in his tone, Hero inquired, “Who told you this story? This sounds like a bedtime story a mother would tell a child. It’s nice like that.”

Zhou Mi found himself holding his breath at the mention of mothers. Family was a notoriously touchy subject for the Captain, not having much of it himself. He certainly didn’t like to talk about the parents who had abandoned him to the streets without so much as a warning, and with him much too young to survive on his own.

“I guess,” the Captain said with a shrug, “I collect stories like this. I like them. I ask around for them. But Changmin is much better at telling stories than me, especially the ones about the old gods. When I went to see him this last time he was teaching some story to a bunch of companion initiates. Changmin’s got about a million stories up in his head, but I guess in a way the older companions were like mothers and fathers when they told the stories to him, and he’s like a father when he tells them to the younger kids. Didn’t your mother tell you stories as a kid?”

Tension ripped through Hero visibly.

The Captain reminded, “You don’t have to say anything to me you don’t want to. That’s the rule up here. The only kind of words that are given, are the kind that are given freely.”

Hero took a deep breath and said, “I have a younger sister. She’s absolutely brilliant. She’s a professional danger. A ballerina. But when she was born there were complications for my mother. My sister had a twin, who died during delivery, and my mother almost bled out. She lived, thankfully, and so did my sister, but when my mother came home she wasn’t the same. I don’t think she ever got over carrying a baby to term and then losing it at the last moment. My father didn’t even try to understand her pain, either. I don’t know if he couldn’t, or if he just didn’t want to.”

Accusingly, eyes narrowing, Yunho demanded, “Your father … he …”

“I don’t want to talk about him,” Hero said quickly, a hint of fear in his voice. “My point in telling you all this is that I didn’t really have a mother to read me bedtime stories, or tell me old legends about the old r. ll screams an cries every time she sees my ister. days, and still can’t. A mother who lost all interest in being a mother to me the day her baby girl died, and who still screams and cries every time she sees my sister.”

The Captain inferred, “You raised your sister.”

Hero shot back confidently, “You raised your brother.”

At this, the Captain rebuked, “Hardly. I mean, the Companion Guild did most of the work.”

“No,” Hero said, his hand reaching out for Yunho’s shoulder. “You raised your brother,” he said definitively.

Zhou Mi took a step back, and then another. Leeteuk had been all worked up about the Captain and Hero, but the truth was it simply sounded like they needed each other to be a sounding board. Maybe each of them needed companionship. There was certainly nothing flirty about how they were speaking, or ual.

Zhou Mi was almost completely gone from earshot when he heard Hero say, “I want to apologize to you, Captain. I was terribly rude to you when we first met, and I judged you harshly. I made assumptions about your character, and I did this all while being afraid you were doing the same towards me. So I want to apologize. It was wrong to do so. You’re much different from how I first believed you to be, and I feel ashamed.”

“Are you kidding me?” Yunho asked him, an apology on his own face. “I’m the one who thought you were this … rich spoiled little boy. I wasn’t interested in seeing if my own assumptions of you turned out to be true or not. I wanted them to be. I wanted to be able to dislike you, because then I could keep on believing that the Alliance produces nothing but pompous, egotistical, arrogant citizens. The kind who are undeserving.”

“Then,” Hero suggested, “instead of offering apologies to each other, we should just start over?”

The Captain cleared is throat and straightened up. Zhou Mi could imagine the picture he made as he said, “My name is Jung Yunho, Captain of the Tohoshinki, and it’s very nice to meet you.”

Zhou Mi was squeezing back through the bulkheads he heard Hero reply, “It’s very nice to make your acquaintance, Captain. And the pleasure is all mine.”

Kyuhyun was awake and waiting for him when Zhou Mi returned to their bunk. He was sitting cross legged on the bed, dressed in one of Zhou Mi’s larger shirts, a patient smile on his face.

“Feeling restless again?”

Zhou Mi pulled his shirt over his head right away, kicked off his shoes and was working on his pants when he said, “I was. I’m better now. You’re awake. Bad dream?”

Kyuhyun shook his head. “I just couldn’t sleep without you.”

What did it matter, Zhou Mi thought, if the Captain and Hero were building a romance or a mere friendship. They were sweet together, and just awkward enough to remind Zhou Mi of exactly how he’d been when he’d first started courting Kyuhyun.

“What are you thinking about?” Kyuyhun questioned, pulling a thick quilt up over them before hooking his leg between Zhou Mi’s.

“Nothing really,” Zhou Mi promised. “And nothing to worry over.”

Especially considering Hero, and his friend Micky, would be gone in a day.

“Go to sleep, Guixian,” Zhou Mi urged.

In the window of their cabin, and with perfect clarity, Zhou Mi could see the crescent cluster of constellations. Shining in perfect formation, Zhou Mi didn’t think he’d ever overlook them in the blackness of space again.