Him.

They were both stars. But the pull of his gravity was so strong ...that, even from another universe...

She fell into his orbit.

And he welcomed her.

In the same way he welcomed the million others that gravitated across the same path, that blinded themselves with unlikely beauties.
No longer binary, already a system.

Forever close, never touching-- lest they die spectacular deaths, and leave the rest to wander aimlessly across oblivion, or join them in demise.

No longer at the center, she wondered to herself-- Had she fallen with direction? Unprecedented intention? A force not known that compelled something heavenly to meet heaven itself, to question its own luminosity, its own strength, its own value.
Not drawn like a moth to a flame, but as the imaginary lines that give constellations their names: purposeful, pattern-seeking, tracing emptiness to meet those that give off light.
In hopes, perhaps, that in memory it is seen- lingering and existent, painted somewhere longer-lasting than the sky. Praying to be sought out before the stars.