Add in another page of memory, bound by love and stitch in time. Scatter the fragments across the universe, wound them through the stardust. He stands at the edge of the world and waits. The moon reflects his darkest secrets; dark craters marring the smooth surface. He waits. Waits. Waits.

The ground doesn't open to slip him in.

He waits, waits, waits.

Add another page. Breathe in. When the sun break across the horizon, he shields his eyes and looks as far as he can. Looks to where the vast blue sea meets the orange rays. He doesn't see it, can't see beyond the glare and the tears welling up.

But he waits, waits, waits.

The wind sings through the breeze. It carries a sad tune. Jinki doesn't know if Heaven will wait. He doesn't know if it will open up its doors. But he waits. They say Heaven can be seen at the edge of the Earth, nestled between the first peeking of the sun and where the world spills over. Just a little beyond the horizon.

He doesn't see the glimmering gates, just the shimmering water below the cliffs. He doesn't hear angels sing, just the crash of the waves on the rocks down below. Still, Jinki waits.

He doesn't have to get a glimpse of Heaven. He doesn't want to know what is beyond those golden doors; just wants to deliver a message. Jinki wonders if the stars will hear him instead. He waits for the sun to set, for dusk to settle like a blanket - still sitting on that cliff, still adding more pictures to his photobook. There are two people on the last page, two smiling faces looking back at him.

"If we all came from stardust, is that what we become?" He stretches out his hands and he almost feel the cool night sky against his palm. "Then, are you up there?"

There is no answer even though he waits and waits.

"Well, I just wanted to say...it was you. Forever and ever, it was you."

Jinki digs a lighter out of his pocket and sets fire to the plain and loosely bounded book. Amber flames quickly turns into grey ashes, carried away by the wind. Up and up and up. To the stars, to the Heavens, to the one he loves.

He waits and waits.

When the sky opens up and rains, he thinks it tastes bitter. Tastes like the tears on his face on those lonely nights when the bed is too big and the empty space leaves him too cold inside. 

"It was ever you," He says, following the trail of stars home. There is no more answer. No more time. There is no more reason to wait.