God, I'm Sick of Sleeping Alone

Whether they know it or not, everyone has a passion. Everyone has that one thing that they know they can turn to. For Alex, that one thing was space. He’d sneak out of his bedroom window at night, and crawl up onto the brown shingled roof and set up his black and silver telescope his dad bought him for his twelfth birthday, and he’d lean down on one knee and look through the peep hole and stare at the stars. He had a book of all the constellations and he’d identified them over a thousand times, their star lit patterns burnt into his memory. He loved music and wrote songs every day, and sometimes he swore that being a musician was what he wanted, but when he was looking through his black and silver telescope on the roof of his house at 4 in the morning, he knew he wanted to be in the sky. He’d pack up his things and climb back through his window and into his warm bed, but sometimes he would bring a blanket up with him and sleep on the roof with the stars and the night sky and he dreamed of the day he would go up there and see it all without help. He dreamt of catching the stars in a jar like lightening bugs and taking a bite out of the Swiss cheese moon.
For Jack, he was happy to stay on the ground. He was terrified of the big black mess out there, actually, and he didn't think nebula's were quite as beautiful as Alex seemed to. Opposites attract, though just like they say, and Alex and Jack were a pair that didn't ever want to be separated. Jack had his football and Raven’s jersey that he could only dream of wearing on the field with his name printed on the back in shiny metal-colored letters. Alex would drag his best friend up onto the roof late at night and they would take turns looking through the glass window and Jack would whine about how he didn't care that there was a shooting star and Alex would slap his arm, and he would look anyways. Because deep down he cared because Alex cared and it was the same way with football. Alex couldn't give a flying shit about sports but he would sit at the 50 yard line, Jack at the goal, and they would throw the brown ball back and forth until their arms felt like noodles and their legs felt like jelly from standing for so long.
Alex did have an advantage for liking space so much. While Jack stared at his ceiling late at night, afraid of the end and afraid of not being a football star, Alex was up in the clouds because death and space were synonymous to him: A big black nothing full of things he’ll never understand. So while Jack stared at his ceiling, Alex stared at the stars and he loved life and he loved being able to play football with his best friend, but he knew that when he died that wouldn't be the end.
So Alex and Jack are walking off the football field and it’s dark already and Jack is getting progressively more and more nervous as they near Alex’s house and he can see his roof from here, and he knows they’re gonna go up there and look at the world in the sky and he’s scared. He’s jealous, too. He’s jealous that Alex can look up there and feel safe when Jack is sitting next to him, green in the face and hands clenched around the edge of the roof because he just wants to stay where he is. So they’re climbing out the window and onto the roof and Alex is setting up the telescope, ranting on about nebula's and galaxies and how cool it’s gonna be if we ever figure out how to do long distance space travel, and Jack feels like his head is about to fall right off his shoulders and roll down into the rain spout. He doesn't say anything at first and let’s Alex look through and smile the smile that keeps Jack sane. It isn't until he turns to his best friend to insist he have a turn that he notices the look on Jack’s face and the fear in his eyes and he knows what’s wrong. He knows how much pressure his dad puts on him to succeed and how much pressure he puts on him to look through the telescope and see things he doesn't want to see and it isn't fair because dying doesn't feel like football like it feels like being in space.
Alex assures him that he doesn't have to look, and that he’s sorry for always taking him up here, and Jack says that his dad has cancer and he just really wants to get into football and he’s a senior this year and What if I don’t make it? And Alex doesn't really know what to say to that. Jack’s looking at him like he’s the man with the answers and he doesn't have any because what if he really doesn't make it? His dad could be and he could not make the football team or he could break his leg playing, or he could get an even worse injury or be paralyzed because that’s one of those sports that takes you down with it. Alex doesn't know what to say because any of those things could happen, but Jack is his best friend and he wants to be there for him like Jack is for him every night on his brown shingled roof.
So he says:
“You’re a star, Jack. To really appreciate something, you have to understand it. I’ll never understand space, not really, but I understand you. I understand that you can do whatever you want, and I understand that your dad will love you no matter what.”
It didn't feel huge or important and Alex felt a little silly, even, after saying it. But Jack looked at him like he gave him just the very exact answer that he had wanted, and he wasn't very afraid of the world up there after that. It isn't what you do that defines you, and it isn't who you are that defines what you do. It’s all about the way that you do it. Jack and Alex didn't know what they were doing, but they liked sitting in the dark together and passing the football, and they liked each other. And that’s all that matters, right? Right.