You traced your fingers over his beauty marks with the most gentle of touches. From his forehead, down to his cheek, you made a constellation of your own, your favorite of them all. The stars of his face didn’t appear only on clear night skies – they were always visible, always there for you to admire. His stars were far better than the ones above, so far away, impossible to reach; his stars were there, right in front of you, yours to touch, yours to explore, yours to love. After him, looking up at the night sky felt cold, whereas he was all warmth. How could a vast dark emptiness compare to the beautifully made canvas that was his face? How could the weak brightness of stars compare to his golden glow? How could the constellations you were ever barely able to make out compare to the visible marks you could trace with the tips of your fingers, the unknown shape more breathtaking, more significant than anything any civilization has ever observed in all of history prior to him.
Ethan would scrunch his nose, smile, and ask what you were doing every time, the light-hearted tone of voice making you sink further into the pillow, happy.
look i know this is a george daniel blog but while we’re on the topic of drummers can i just say ethan torchio. that’s it. okay bye again see you whenever george emerges from hibernation or whatever.
