It was a little strange how much Albert DaSilva truly loved the stars. You could ask them about a single star and they would surely know something about it.
All of this rooted from endless nights of sitting on their roof after getting into another argument with their father. The stars twinkled up above and sent them a message that it would be alright. That they wouldn't hurt anymore. That their mother was watching them, holding them close and singing the song of the universe. Their song. The one she would sing them to sleep with, the one she would sing when Albert had a rough day. She always reminded them that they were worth it.
It wasn't until fifth grade when a new ecstatic blonde kid transferred to Albert's school that they made a friend. Albert wasn't all that passionate about having friends. They couldn't trust anyone after the endless years of bullying. That was until this kid basically forced them to be his friend.
At first they opposed to it completely. They hated the idea of someone that wasn't their mother caring about them.
Slowly and steadily, they grew accustomed to this boy. They showed him their special spot on the rooftop, the one right outside of their second story bedroom window. That simple night in the sixth grade spoke to Albert. The blonde's face was buried in the crook of their neck, breathing slowly and admiring the artwork up above.
That only made Albert fall all the more in love with the wonders over their head.
One.
The star Albert named after their mother shone brightly above him every year on her birthday. It was the brightest star in the sky. It shone madly, grabbing anyone's attention.
April 21st. That was the day their mother let them. But they always knew in their heart she was there. Watching. Smiling.
They knew she was proud of them. They knew she missed them. They knew she would do anything to see them again.
Albert's mother had introduced them to the stars. She had dozens of books on space. She would read them to Albert whenever she could. And they never stopped reading about the universe. They wanted to know everything. They wanted to know "why?". It was a very open question, and they were open to every answer possible.
They knew how big the galaxy was. They knew there were more than silly stars. But that didn't really matter. Their mother loved the stars. They love the stars.
One night their father and them had gotten into a huge fight. They found themself in their safe spot on the roof.
"Al?" Their mother peeked out of the window. They quickly whipped their tears and turned to her. She smiled maternally and wrapped her arms around them once she climbed over. Albert leaned their head into her chest.
Their mother would comb through their dazzling red hair and peck their temple. "You see that one?" She pointed you to a giant star in the south. "That's Canopus. The second brightest star in the sky. Three hundred and ten light years away from the sun."
Albert relaxed, closing their eyes. "I know. The brightest star is Sirius."
Sirius. Selene DaSilva. That was their mothers name. They had nicknamed her Sirius after learning about that star. And it stuck even after death.
Five.
It sounded silly to think this was a reason why Albert loved the stars. Well. Every moment they shared with Race was a reason to love the stars. The stars told their story.
"So then Sally yelled at me! Just because I was hanging upside down on the monkey bars!" The fifth grade huffed, crossing his arms.
"She should be able to use the monkey bars, racey," Albert responded bluntly. Race didn't look happy with that response.
