Yunho trails stardust over the delicate column of Changmin's neck, traces constellations on his cheekbones and feathers pirouettes on his closed eyelids. There's something magical about lying side-by-side, grass tickling their bare limbs as they watch the world go by. He hums under his breath; husky voice trickling into the still air as he sings of fleeting meteorites and faraway galaxies that implode beneath Changmin's skin. 

He can see the stars.