.

Close the Space Between Us

just because people lied to you,

doesn't mean i'm lying now.

and just because something seems crazy,

doesn't mean that it is.

— gardner elliott —

She is beautiful. Completely, utterly, irrevocably beautiful. In the glow of the fire, she is radiant, brighter than any sunrise he had ever witnessed on Mars. The way she dances under the stars, the blue dress billowing and rippling in the light breeze, the smile that adorns her face, the vivacious laugh that echoes throughout the canyon—he can't look away. She is here, on Earth, dancing in his arms; he can't imagine anything better than this.

"Gardner…" she breathes, a shiver crawling down his spine at the sound of her voice saying his name.

The girl in his arms instinctively pulls him closer, the space between them closing. She is so warm, warmer than he ever could have imagined. Is this what it feels like to be held? He doesn't know; he can't remember the last time he's been touched by another human being.

"Tulsa," he exhales with a shaky breath, hesitantly wrapping his arms around her waist.

He doesn't want to lose her now. He can't, not after everything he's done to find her. Maybe this was something only Earth inhabitants could feel. Unlike Mars, maybe Earth made him feel as if the world had stopped spinning when she was gone; as if his bones became brittle and liquefied like melted mercury wherever she touched him; as if the gravity made his heart sink, the pressure making it swell; as if she were the only thing keeping him from floating away into another atmosphere, another universe.

"Say my name again," the blonde whispers into his shirt, her voice like a gentle vibrato against the fine cotton.

And Gardner realizes in that moment, that the sound of her voice is beautiful too. He remembers the first time he heard it, really heard it. She'd been settled comfortably on the piano bench, her fingers delicately splayed across the black and white keys as a whisper left her lips: the ghost of a song. In the few years they'd chatted over the millions of miles between them, he'd read her lips, heard the anger bubbling on the edge of her tongue, felt the raw terror in her voice; she was so astutely scared of anyone viewing her as anything but brave. But Gardner knew otherwise—the way she disguised her uncertainty with impatience, with an uncanny hatred toward the world, was apparent to him because he'd been the same way—totally and inarguably angry at his home planet for keeping him from returning, when really, Mars was indescribably the most beautiful place in space. They were both at a loss for words when it came to home, both in love with the place that raised them. So when he saw her that day in the store, stroking those piano keys, a hint of a smile playing on her lips, he knew what he was witnessing was magic, was pure, undying love.

"Tulsa…" he says into her hair, reaching to caress the back of her head, "sing for me."

"Why?"

"Because I want to hear your voice."

And so she does, her voice dripping with honey, pulling him into the astounding world within her eyes.

"Break my heart; break my hands…" she murmurs with a slow, steady rhythm, "you can take anything but my plans…"

She continues like this for a few minutes, her voice carrying the weight of the dance, the two beings from different worlds waltzing together, in sync, in circadian rhythm. He steps on her feet a couple of times, she clears her throat once to finish the song, they both breathe the same air throughout the conversation between their bodies. When the last note rings out into the night, Gardner is amazed, spellbound by her.

"How did you just become more beautiful in twenty seconds?" he asks in awe, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Do you want to kiss me?" she replies, face blushing.

He loves the way she blushes, the blood rushing to her cheeks. It's cute and distinctively human. Carefully, he unwinds his arms from her but doesn't widen the space between them, then reaches to stroke her temple, finger trailing down to the indent in her lips.

"Yes… but I don't know how."

She smiles again, arms wrapping around his neck, "you will."

And then she leans in, his breath fanning across her face, lips achingly close to his. He doesn't know where to put his hands, what degree to angle his head, whether he should keep his eyes open or closed.

"Gardner," she whispers, the vibration leaving his skin tingling, "close your eyes."

Once he does—shutting out the world, the fire, the stars, the girl standing before him—he is overwhelmed by the delicious taste of Tulsa's mouth against his, the softness of her lips making his knees buckle, his hands automatically wrapping around her waist to keep himself standing upright. He feels her smile against him, and he grins in response, earnestly closing the space between them once more, arching his neck and slanting his jaw to better kiss her, to better taste her sweetness, to better absorb all of the love seeping from her mouth into his heart. Because he knows, this is the only way she will ever be able to tell him she loves him. This planet has been hard on her, has bent her so close to brokenness—he assumes this because she told him so during the road trip across the countryside—and he knows that the words "I love you" are painful to say, rough like sandpaper on the throat. Because once she says those three words, someone leaves, someone gives up, someone abandons her and moves on. It makes loving someone terrifying, and Gardner understands this. Which is why he says it for her.

"Tulsa," he says, shyly breaking the kiss, "I love you."

"Shut up Gardner," she mutters but continues to kiss him.

With the fire crackling nearby, the contact between their bodies becomes unbearably hot, a sweaty sheen slick against their skin. She eventually finds the courage to take his hand and lead them to their sleeping bags, lying beneath Gardner and staring at him through half-lidded eyes. Tulsa is the first to remove her shirt, much to Gardner's surprise. But his curiosity betrays him, his eyes roaming over her exposed neck, her chest, her hips. He looks at her in apprehension, asking for permission to touch her further.

"It's okay… I want to," she says, gently guiding his hands to cover her breasts.

He swallows thickly but willingly explores her, hands trailing between the valley of her breasts, caressing her ample mounds, bending over and kissing her mouth once more. She moans into his mouth, arching her back to give him better access to her glorified chest. He can't help but grin at her reaction, then leaves a trail of kisses from her jaw to her ear, sucking the juncture between her shoulder and neck. By this point, he is at a loss for his senses, his human instincts guiding him. That and the sounds emitted from the girl beneath him, the way she grips his waistband and attempts to shrug them off his hips, the friction she creates between their bodies, the raw need to simply be closer to her.

"Gardner… please…" she pants, closing her swollen lips over his.

And he consents, giving into her touch, her desire, sinking into her with the utmost ease. She grits her teeth and trembles; fingernails digging into his back, eyes screwed shut, she whimpers in discomfort but doesn't tell him to stop.

"If you want me to stop, I will," he wills himself to say, even though in reality, the last thing he wants is to discontinue, putting things to an end.

"No…" she rasps, then takes hold of his face, "I want this. I want you."

She kisses him again, bringing him deeper beneath the surface, pulling him under. He thrusts into her while she moans his name, clutching her to his chest as he nears the edge. And when he finally spirals into euphoria, the girl shaking within his stronghold, he is once again in awe of her. Beautiful. Completely, utterly, irrevocably beautiful. And in this moment, with her hair spread like a golden halo around her head, face aglow with adoration, he knows he has fallen to Earth. He has fallen for her.