The calendar on Mik's wall glowed faintly in the darkness, its digital display casting a soft blue light across their room. April 15th. Alex's birthday. Mik's fingers traced the familiar smooth metal surface of their telescope, remembering the summer that had changed everything.

Two years ago, their parents had scraped together enough money to send Mik to the Ohio State Astronomy Youth Camp. It had meant no family vacation that year, but Mik's passion for the stars had been impossible to ignore. They'd spent months beforehand doing extra chores, babysitting for neighbors, anything to help cover the cost.

The memory of that first night at camp washed over them. The crisp mountain air had smelled of pine needles and possibility. Dr. Sarah Chen (no relation, though they'd joked about it) had guided Mik's hands on the observatory's massive telescope, teaching them how to find the faintest deep-sky objects. "You have a natural eye for this," she'd said, her voice warm with approval as Mik located the Whirlpool Galaxy on their first try.

Now, as Mik adjusted their own telescope – the Celestron NexStar 8SE that represented so many saved allowances and birthday gifts combined – those lessons came back automatically. Their fingers moved with practiced precision across the familiar controls. The worn spots on the focus knob felt like old friends under their touch.

"The trick," Dr. Chen had taught them, "is to let your eyes adjust fully to the darkness. Give it twenty minutes minimum. The night sky will reveal its secrets if you're patient enough to wait."

Mik couldn't help but smile at the memory of their final night at camp. They'd won the "Future Astronomer" award for spotting a previously uncatalogued variable star. The certificate still hung proudly on their wall, though the metallic ink had faded slightly over time.

The telescope had been a welcome-home surprise, their parents' way of nurturing this newfound passion. Mik remembered the way their hands had trembled as they'd unboxed it, how the smooth black surface had gleamed in the afternoon sun. That first night, they'd stayed up until dawn, mapping the summer constellations with Alex curled up beside them, both of them wrapped in their mom's old quilts.

"You see that bright star there?" Mik would tell Alex, guiding his eye to the eyepiece. "That's Vega. It's only twenty-five light-years away – practically our neighbor in cosmic terms." Alex would listen, eyes wide with wonder, asking questions that Mik was increasingly able to answer.

Standing in their bedroom, Mik's heart felt heavy as they ran their fingers over their telescope's sleek surface. Alex was too weak these days for late-night stargazing sessions. The quilt they'd shared during countless observation nights lay folded in the corner, unused for months. The sight of it seemed to mock their current reality - Alex confined to his bed while expensive medical bills piled up.

A soft meow drew their attention. Nebula padded silently across the carpet, her black fur seeming to absorb what little light there was. She butted her head against Mik's leg, golden eyes reflecting starlight. Mik reached down to scratch behind her ears, finding comfort in her warm presence.

"What do you think, Neb?" Mik whispered. "Are we really alone out here?"

The cat just purred, a sound that seemed to harmonize with the quiet hum of crickets starting their nightly chorus.

Gathering their telescope and journal, Mik headed downstairs as quietly as possible. The back door creaked slightly as they pushed it open, making them wince. But no sounds came from their parents' room – they'd grown used to Mik's nocturnal habits long ago.

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The night air wrapped around them like a cool blanket as they stepped onto the dewy grass. Nebula slipped out through her cat door, padding silently behind Mik as they made their way to their usual observation spot. The old wooden picnic table, weathered by countless nights of stargazing, stood waiting in the backyard.

Mik turned to the telescope, ready to begin their usual systematic survey of the night sky. They'd documented hundreds of observations in their astronomy journal, each entry meticulously dated and detailed. Dr. Chen would be proud of their scientific rigor.

The familiar rhythm of stargazing helped calm their churning thoughts about Alex's condition, about their parents' whispered conversations, about the strange feeling that something big was about to change. For now, at least, they could lose themselves in the infinite expanse above, seeking patterns in the cosmic dance of light and shadow.

As they settled into their observation routine, Mik couldn't shake the feeling that tonight might be different. Maybe it was the unusual clarity of the air, or the way Nebula seemed more alert than usual, but something about this night felt charged with possibility. They adjusted the eyepiece one final time, ready to document whatever secrets the universe might choose to reveal.

As Mik maneuvered their telescope, their hands lingered on each component with extra care. This might be the last time they'd use it. Earlier that day, they'd looked up its resale value online, heart aching at the thought of parting with it. But what was a telescope compared to Alex's life? The heart transplant he needed seemed impossibly expensive, and every little bit would help.

Nebula jumped onto the table, curling up in her usual spot near Mik's astronomy journal. Her golden eyes reflected the starlight as she watched Mik work, as if she understood the weight of the moment.

"Last show, old friend," Mik whispered, patting the telescope's familiar surface. They tried to swallow past the lump in their throat, focusing instead on aligning the scope to the North Star – just as Dr. Chen had taught them.

"I thought I might find you out here."

Mik startled at Shae's voice. Their martial arts instructor emerged from the shadows, her dark skin seeming to blend with the night. She moved as silently as Nebula, another skill she'd been trying to teach Mik.

"Shae? What are you doing here so late?"

"Your mom mentioned you were thinking about selling the telescope." Shae settled onto the bench beside Mik. "Want to tell me about it?"

Mik's fingers traced the cool metal of the telescope. "We need the money. For Alex. And it's just sitting here, being useless..."

"Is it?" Shae's voice was gentle. "From what I hear, your space art has been getting quite a bit of attention online. Those galaxy paintings you posted last week? Beautiful."

Mik shrugged. "Just some stuff I drew after observing the Whirlpool Galaxy."

"Exactly." Shae's hand covered Mik's where it rested on the telescope. "You've got a gift, kiddo. You see the stars differently than most people, and you can share that vision through your art. Instead of selling the telescope, why not sell your artwork? I bet there are plenty of people who'd love to own an original Mik Chen cosmic creation."

Mik blinked, considering. They'd never thought of their art as something people would want to buy. "You really think people would pay for my drawings?"

"I know they would. In fact..." Shae grinned. "I'd like to commission the first piece myself. Something inspired by tonight's observations."

As if in response to Shae's words, a shooting star streaked across the sky, its trail seeming to linger longer than usual. Nebula's ears perked up, her eyes following its path.

Mik felt something shift inside them – not quite hope, but perhaps its beginning. They reached for their sketchbook, already seeing how they might capture this moment in swirling colors and starlight.

Little did they know, as they began to sketch under the vast canopy of stars, that the universe was about to provide more inspiration than they could ever have imagined.