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Seeing Stars

by Reis Asher

Seeing Stars - Reis Asher
Editions:Kindle: $ 2.99Paperback: $ 13.99
Pages: 274
ePub: $ 2.99

An M/M Science Fiction Romance Disaster novel with a happy ending!

As children, Mick and Adrian forged a promise as they looked up at the stars. Time and money pulled them apart with harsh words and bitter regrets, and their wish was cast aside.

Now, space is a haven for the wealthy, who flaunt their riches aboard the opulent Empyrean Station, dining on crab with a spectacular view of Earth and enjoying a permanent vacation in one of Empyrean's many temperate biospheres. The stars are a long-forgotten dream to starship mechanic Mick, who lives in the Old New York shanty town swallowing his remorse as he struggles to meet his basic needs.

Until Adrian returns to him with heart-rending news—he's terminally ill with Miasma, a pollutant-driven, degenerative illness. With Adrian only having months to live, Mick realizes nothing matters except loving him and reaching for their dream together.

Stealing a spaceship, they launch into space to see the stars with their own eyes. Mick and Adrian end up embroiled in miracles and tragedies as they fathom Empyrean's true nature and face down those who would do anything to survive the coming apocalypse—except solve the problem.

Published:
Cover Artists:
Genres:
Tags:
Pairings: M-M
Heat Level: 3
Romantic Content: 4
Ending: Click here to reveal
Character Identities: Bisexual, Gay
Protagonist 1 Age: 26-35
Protagonist 2 Age: 26-35
Tropes: Adopted Child, Friends to Lovers, Reunited and it Feels So Good, Second Chances
Word Count: 55880
Setting: Empyrean Station
Languages Available: English
Excerpt:

Mick glanced at the clock. "Feels like I've been working on this piece of shit forever." He rubbed his greasy hands on his overalls, leaving stains on top of stains. "Look, if it's a new customer wantin' some rush job, the answer's no. I get that the Gala is in a week, and everybody who's anybody needs to be there, but I'm fully booked from here until Sunday."

"I don't think this guy is a customer," Ross said. "There's mud on his suit, and he looks kinda beat up. I think he might have pissed himself, too. Maybe he's homeless. If you want, I can send him packing—"

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"No." Mick took his tool belt off and thrust it at Ross. "Make yourself useful. Find my three-quarter-inch wrench, the one with the auto-detect-ratcheting. It's under there somewhere." He gestured vaguely, hoping it took Ross a while. He stalked out of the shop into a tiny little office. The whole garage was no more than a shack; rain leaked into a bucket from a hole in the tin roof.

He looked up and couldn't believe his eyes when he spied the man standing in the doorway, holding the rusty door open with one hand.

"Adrian?" He'd have known that face if he hadn't seen it in a thousand years, but he needed to know he wasn't a ghost. His second thought was a smart-lipped remark, but he nipped it in the bud. The third thought was embarrassment at the state he was in. Mick shoved his filthy hands in his pockets, wishing his hair wasn't growing into a greasy mullet. Play it cool, buddy, he thought. "What're you doing here?"

"I'm not sure. Perhaps I should go." Adrian looked about, ready to flee. He turned his back to leave. Mick closed the gap between them, realizing that if Adrian left, he'd never see him again. He reached out with one soiled hand and grasped Adrian's suit jacket, yanking him back by the sleeve like a lost child.

"Oh no. You don't get to show up here and then run off without a word." He hustled Adrian into the office and shut the door behind him, switching the sign to "Closed" as the bell rang overhead. Taya was going to be pissed if she showed up, but Mick didn't give a fuck about her right now. Adrian was here, and he looked positively heartbroken. "I haven't seen you for ten fucking years. Now sit down." He steered Adrian into a grimy seat with torn armrests and gum stuck underneath. Apart from the mud on his suit, wet stain on his crotch, dried blood matted on his lip, and mussed curls, Adrian was as perfect as he'd been the last time he'd seen him. Which, admittedly, was angry and crying, but Adrian had always been peerless in his eyes. He had a blind spot for the man—Adrian was attractive, even drowned in piss and tears.

There was something wrong, though, something terribly and unmistakably broken. He could feel it in every movement Adrian made—his shoulders slumped, his gait that of a drunken sailor. Adrian had been unsteady when he'd guided him to the chair, and he wondered if Adrian might have fallen if he hadn't taken care to ease him down onto the seat. He perched himself on the edge of the desk, too nervous to sit but too tired to pace.

"Now, what's the matter?" Mick asked.

"I've had a horrible day," Adrian muttered. "You were right, Mick. You said the corporates would fuck me over, and they have."​

"Hey, you're not the first to get shafted by the system." Part of Mick wanted to say, 'I told you so', but he knew Adrian would walk out if he did. He'd already gotten his bitterness quotient out on the Lipstick, and he felt a lot less bad about beating the steel under-plate before having this unexpected reunion.

Adrian glanced around the little office, admiring the pictures on the wall. "You seem like you're doing all right. Spaceship repair? It's a lucrative business."

"It ain't my business," Mick confessed, answering Adrian's unspoken question. "I work here as a senior mechanic for a wage that gives me a slightly better hut in the favela. That's about the long and short of it. I get to live on the upper level, so I don't get flooded every other week. The roof still leaks. The walls are rusting. And the mold, fuck—"

"In twenty-four hours, I won't have a home at all." Adrian laughed, a dry little huff. "I've been medically terminated from my job because I have Miasma, and roughly six months left to live."

Mick felt like a bombshell had gone off in his vicinity, the shock of it robbing him of his senses as he struggled to process the sudden and incomprehensible alteration of his world. His mouth opened and closed again, no words coming out. What could he say? I'm sorry, Adrian, but them's the breaks? Fuck that. Fuck all of it. Fuck this world where a decent person like Adrian got screwed and screwed and screwed again and yet still had the dignity and grace to sit upright and only look a little bit sad about it.

"Ade…" The old nickname slipped from his lips as if he'd never stopped using it. "What can I do to help you?"

COLLAPSE

About the Author

Reis Asher lives in a fast-growing cat colony in rural Pennsylvania with his husband. He is the author of the nonbinary thriller Killing Games, published by NineStar Press, and the Nick Fabian series of transgender detective novels. He is transgender and bisexual, and wants to bring queer and diverse stories out into the light.

Catch him on Twitter @landale where he's happy to interact.