There’s stars in her hair and sunlight in her eyes. She’s a god made flesh, and Minji for once isn’t exaggerating, laying in the milky way, reading the class material as she watched Bora make planets and suns and stars, small hands grabbing tiny milky-white clumps of white and molding them to her will.

Minji isn’t even sure how she got Bora for herself; all she knows is that this girl, older than anything Minji’s astronomy field ever studied, is hers. Or maybe Minji belongs to Bora, and everyone knows except Minji herself, but she doesn’t dare ask. Some things are better left unsaid.

Bora’s eyes look to her, and she finished giving the final touches on a planet that will be soon discovered, throwing it back into the endless void of space to find a home for itself.

“Something wrong, Minji?” She likes the way Bora says her name; every time she does, Minji feels like a sun is born in her tongue. Maybe it’s the warmth of Bora’s touch, the girl goddess slipping to the star bed Minji’s using, sitting by her side without disrupting the pile of books. She’s dazzling, decked in a crown of suns and with moons for earrings.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Minji replied, leaning into the touch. At some point, she knows she’ll have to leave the warmth and comfort of this bed made of stars, go back to old, boring Earth, but that moment isn’t now. “I was just thinking about the stars.”

About you, Minji corrected herself, about how I’m so lucky to be yours. Bora’s smile is so dazzling it could burn, but Minji’s used to the light that she emanated. 

“Are they up to your standards?’ Bora asked, eyeing the books Minji was reading, pictures of stars in every page, diagrams in black and white explaining what the hands touching her had made with so much love and care. 

Minji had always been in love with the stars; she had never expected to fall in love with their maker, too.

“Everything you make is something I love.” Minji replied, kissing the girl’s wrist, and Bora purred in satisfaction.