You and Jack's shoulders were touching. It was midnight, or at least close to it, and you were sat on the roof of his house — having migrated there during the restless sleepover you were having together.

The stars were bright, glittering and glimmering. A streak of light flashed in the endless void above; Jack's breath faltered in reaction.

“Quick,” he urged, nudging you with his elbow, despite not being too superstitious. “Make a wish.”

You did. He did too.

Curious, you asked what he'd wished for.

Jack inhaled. His chest puffed and he seemed to have a surge of confidence — though the red of his ears unveiled his true fluster.

“Nothing. You're already here, aren't you?”