center of the universe

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warnings: none!
description: Reader and Nez are out stargazing, but Reader soon grows more interested in something much brighter than the stars
a/n: sorry my dear readers, i very much have a thing for mike's hands — this is a result

warnings: none!description: Reader and Nez are out stargazing, but Reader soon grows more interested in something much brighter than the starsa/n: sorry my dear readers, i very much have a thing for mike's hands — this is a result

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"Ah, look! Did you see that one?"

A bright white star shot across the night sky, a stark contrast that you should have noticed. That was, if you weren't currently preoccupied with your boyfriend Mike whose hand absentmindedly rested atop of your stomach, his fingers loosely interlocked with yours.

The two of you were lying flat on your backs in the bed of Mike's pickup truck. Hours ago, the cotton candy skies casted a burnt orange shadow on the earth until that vibrance gradually drained from the sky and the stars slowly crept into focus against the night. Mike had suggested driving upstate, away from the light pollution to star gaze. You were ecstatic as the two of you loaded up the bed of the truck with soft cushions and a picnic basket packed with snacks and cool drinks.

The night under the stars was quiet, the only sound that could be heard were the insects chirping and the soft breeze rustling the trees whose outlines you could only visibly distinguish in the dark night. And out here, cuddled against Mike with the sparkle of the stars in your eyes and scent of his cologne mingling with the wonderfully refreshing, pure air in your lungs, you felt more at peace than you had in what seemed like forever.

"I think I missed it," you said, only partially returning your attention to the vast sky, squinting your eyes up at the tiny orbs that gleamed with purity. The other half of your attention was fixed on admiring the hand in yours.

In the warm July night, the air seemed to wrap around you like a blanket, caressing your skin with the lazy solace that only the summer could bring. The season offered long, slow days of sun-drenched bliss and nights that were as comfortingly balmy as being cocooned underneath the covers. Long days meant more time spent with Mike. And more time spent with Mike was all that you could ever ask for. To be impossibly close to the man whose very touch could send your knees trembling with an overwhelming spell of happiness.

Looking over at him, you studied his restful face as he stared in wonderment at the sky of stars above him. The corners of your lips automatically tugged into a smile. Watching Mike when he was unaware of your eyes on him was quite possibly your favorite thing to do. The expression on his face when he was deep in concentration, the confidant way he moved about a room, the engaged way he spoke in conversations, or when he just is. Ordinary moments when he's just sat on the couch, completely unguarded and relaxed. He was a sight of incomprehensible, utter charm, even when he wasn't trying to be anything other than himself.

You felt Mike shift beside you as he became mindful of your gaze on him. He turned his body so he could now gaze at you in admiration, and you moved to do the same, the stars still shining brightly above you. As your eyes glanced up, they met Mike's adoring look, his eyes roaming your face in the pale light of the silver moon.

He reached up to gently graze your cheekbone with his left hand. The cool feel of the ring he wore on his pinky against your skin sent a pleasant shudder cascading down your spine, which he took as an excuse to pull you closer. Chuckling, you reached for his hand that caressed your face and intertwined your fingers with his once again. It wasn't long before you found yourself completely absorbed in the intimacy of your hand in his than the visage of the millions of stars above head.

You raised your joined hands to your mouth, tenderly pressing kisses to the back of his hand, then to each of his knuckles and his fingertips, before drawing your hand free from his grasp to press your lips to the inside of his palm. Mike's glistening eyes watched you as you played with his hands, the left corner of his mouth hitching into an upward curve. His long fingers flexed outward as your index finger traveled down the paths of grooved lines on the inside of his palm.

There was nothing particularly special about this part of his body, but with Mike, it was easy for you to become enamored with every little part of him. Even with something as insignificant as the short crescents of his nails, which he had always made sure to keep cut so as not to interfere with his instrument playing. His hands were those of a guitarist, slim, full of power, but rough where it should've been soft. Mike had large hands; it was no wonder why yours often felt lost within them. They were hands that you knew as well as if they were your own.

The first time Mike had reached to hold your hand, butterflies whirled inside your stomach, fluttering madly at the innocent feel of his skin on yours. A feeling that almost caused you to forget how to properly speak. There was something that felt so right about your hand in his, an immediate feeling of safety.

He would reach for your hand anytime the two of you were out together, giving it a gentle squeeze of reassurance when you might be feeling apprehensive. It was your own private language of love that the rest of the world was privy to. Even long after he'd let go, you could always still feel the electrifying buzz of his hand in yours.

Playing with Mike's hands calmed your thoughts. Tangible warmth and love radiated from his hands. Love that was exclusively for you. They had the ability to create and pen the most meaningful of compositions in the very same motion. The one thing you knew you could always rely on was that, when the sun slipped away from the sky each day and dusk crept in, so would one of Mike's hands into yours.

Just as much, your touch soothed Mike and brought him back home to himself while his touch in yours was everything you never knew you needed until you did. Your mind raced restlessly and could only be silenced by the same hands that stummed on a guitar and made music for the rest of the world to hear. But, while the rest of the world had his music, you had him — the center of your entire universe.

Out of all of the mesmerizing constellations of stars, bright faraway planets, and unperceivable swirls of galaxies, Mike would always exist as the one beaming pillar of light in your life. The embodiment of a fixed celestial, heavenly body of light that you would always gravitate to in any lifetime.

𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬.Where stories live. Discover now