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When Kovu opened his eyes, Simba was not beside him.
Stars above, he was already used to that.
If he made a fuss and went tearing through the forest looking for Simba, his kitty would only get annoyed: Do you really have to keep an eye on me every second? Do you think I can’t take care of myself?
So Kovu lay back down, shifted until he found a comfortable hollow in the warm pile of leaves, closed his eyes, and waited.
He waited long enough for the moon to creep quietly past the treetops, yet Simba still hadn’t returned.
Now Kovu had good reason to worry that his kitty had gotten himself into trouble again.
The jungle at night was silent, but Kovu knew there were many eyes on him, tracking his every movement. Following the faint trace of Simba’s scent left on the bark, and the fresh disturbance in the soil, Kovu slipped out from the dense shadows and climbed a small rise.
With the night sky hanging low, starlight spilled over the canopy, and over Simba’s shoulders as well, laying a distant, silvery sheen across him.
The crimson mane was no longer dazzling—it had softened, blending quietly into the stillness of the night.
Simba sat perfectly still, frozen like a statue.
Kovu felt a small shiver run through him. It was much colder up here than in the trees. He moved slowly, but made no effort to soften his steps. When a branch snapped beneath his paw—by accident, of course—the crisp sound immediately stirred the golden-red lion from his rigid stillness.
Kovu saw him start to turn back, then stop himself, lifting a paw to swipe quickly across his face.
A few seconds later, Kovu came to his side.
“…I’m fine.”
Kovu lowered his gaze, taking in that slightly taut expression.
You got up in the middle of the night to sit out here in the cold—of course you were.
He thought for a moment, then asked softly, “Was it a nightmare?”
Simba kept his head lowered, his mane falling forward to hide most of his face. A bitter thought crossed his mind—why hadn’t he chosen somewhere harder to find? He didn’t want Kovu to think he was weak, that he could still be frightened awake by a dream after all this time…
Kovu’s voice came from above him, light and easy, as if he hadn’t noticed Simba’s low mood at all.
“I heard from your friends that whenever you had nightmares before, you’d go looking for them. And once they let you sleep over with them, you stopped having those bad dreams. So what happened tonight?”
He could feel Kovu gently rubbing at his forepaw.
“Was it because I didn’t hold you while we slept? Did it upset you—that I didn’t notice you waking up, didn’t get up to pat your back?”
Simba curled his claws slightly. Embarrassment crept up on him, and he ducked his head even lower. This time Kovu leaned in close, laughing softly by his ear.
“You could’ve woken me. Why did you come out here by yourself? You never minded waking your friends before, did you?”
Heat rushed to Simba’s face. Now he was even more flustered.
Timon and Pumbaa—why do they tell him everything? He wasn’t some cub that needed babysitting anymore!
“I thought you’d be grumpy if I woke you,” he muttered.
Kovu listened to that flat, awkward answer and found it irresistibly funny. For the stars’ sake—he never had a bad temper when he woke up. And besides, he was long used to being jolted awake in the middle of the night, only to be dragged off to do something secretive…
He flicked his ears sharply, shaking the stray thought loose, and brought his attention back to Simba.
“You still haven’t told me what’s wrong.”
Simba lifted his head a little, reluctant.
“…It was my father.”he said, “I dreamed about him again.”
Kovu’s claws dug hard into the grass beneath his feet. He caught himself almost at once, forcing the tension down, his voice dropping with it.
“…What happened?”
Simba blinked, his thoughts drifting far away, leaving his expression faintly distant. After a long while, he murmured——
“He was trying to save me…It was an accident. I didn’t know it would turn out like that…”
Even heard without context, the words were enough to hint at what lay beneath them. Faced with something that brutal, any comfort felt thin, almost useless. After a moment’s hesitation, Kovu decided not to say anything at all. He simply stayed where he was, quietly keeping Simba company.
The night breeze stirred the forest with a soft rustle, cool against their bodies. Kovu shifted closer, close enough for Simba to lean against his shoulder.
Moments like this—sitting together in silence, each lost in his own thoughts—never felt lonely. More often than not, it was Simba who broke the quiet. Just like now—he lifted his gaze to the vast night sky, eyes wandering among the stars. Then Kovu noticed that gaze slipping back to him, and turned just in time to meet that warm amber look.
“You never told me where you came from,” Simba said softly.“Where is your family?”
Kovu laughed and nudged him with a shoulder. “What’s this—are we choosing tonight to be honest?” He grinned. “Alright then. Let’s do it in turn——You say one thing, and I’ll say one. Fair enough, right?”
His heart betrayed him, picking up speed. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a small voice whispered that this might be it—the moment Kovu’d been waiting for. The chance to lay everything out in the open.
But Simba shook his head almost at once.
“Never mind.”
There was no time to regret it. The moment slipped away, replaced by the quiet relief of having gotten through another day undiscovered, by the secret, selfish comfort that Simba hadn’t pressed the question.
And yet—why, from where Kovu stood, did the young, almost childlike face looked oddly forlorn?
“I was raised by a passing pride,” he said. “I don’t know who my parents were.”
His gaze drifted toward the dense stretch of forest beyond them—every leaf different, yet layered so closely together they all seemed the same.
“There was a kind lioness who looked after me for a while. But it didn’t last. I didn’t belong there. Before long, I was on my own again.”
He paused.
“Wherever I could survive, that’s where I went.”
As he spoke of the kind lioness, Vitani’s resolute face rose unbidden in his mind. Quietly, Kovu reassured himself that this wasn’t a lie—not entirely.
The amber eyes watching him had lost their earlier warmth, the starlight sharpening them instead. When that cool gaze settled on him, all Kovu could feel was loneliness—and something like grief.
Kovu knew what Simba was thinking.
At least Simba still had the shape of his parents to remember. Kovu didn’t even have that.
He replayed the story he’d made up in his head, almost casually, and let out a silent, self-mocking thought—if it were true, it wouldn’t be so bad. If his origins really could be that pure, that innocent—untainted from the very beginning—perhaps it would be better.
He could endure hunger. He could live without a pride. He could face the perilous plain alone—instead of this…
Instead of the life he had been shaped into.
Kovu drew in a slow breath. It was the second time tonight that he’d caught himself thinking about something he shouldn’t. A hollow discomfort settled in his stomach.
Maybe it was the cold air biting into him.
Without drawing attention to it, Kovu shifted closer, pressing himself more firmly against Simba.
“Why come all the way out here?” Kovu asked. “Aren’t you cold?”
Simba nudged his chin with his muzzle, urging him to look up.
“Because you can see the stars from here.”
Kovu cast a sideways glance at the look of quiet wonder on Simba’s face and thought to himself—what was so special about stars, anyway?
“My father once told me,” Simba went on, “that all the great kings of the past are up there… watching over us.”
Kovu let out a vague hum, as though turning the words over in his mind. Then Simba stopped short, his gaze dropping abruptly to the ground.
If my father is up there too, Simba thought, does he see all this?
Would he approve of my choice?
Would father understand why he wanted to run—to forget—to spend his life avoiding the past?
And would father understand this as well—that he had chosen the lion beside him, and that in the distant future—farther than distant, almost beyond imagining—he hoped that this presence would still be there, at his side?
Thoughts rose from every corner of his mind at once. Simba felt heat flood his face; even the cold night air couldn’t cool his head.
Kovu, meanwhile, had no idea what his kitty was wrestling with.
He was thinking about something else.
Do you think Scar would be up there?
He wasn’t foolish enough to ask the question aloud. He still remembered the story he had made up—he knew of the Pride Lands’ king only by reputation. There was no reason, and no right, to bring that name into a moment like this.
And besides, it wasn’t a question worth entertaining.
Kovu ground his back teeth together in silence. Of all creatures, he was the one most certain that Scar would go to hell—falling into an endless descent with no redemption or afterlife.
And perhaps, if he ever reached that position himself—if such a day truly came—he would not be counted among the stars either.
Kovu lowered his gaze.
The stars were right there beside him.
Simba, half-tilted toward the sky, looked beautiful like this—his eyes catching the light as they shifted, outshining the entire sweep of constellations above. Kovu couldn’t help himself. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to those eyes.
He found that he didn’t care where his spirit might go after death, whether he would leave behind great deeds or lasting renown. From the past, through the present, and into whatever future he could foresee, every nameless longing he carried took shape in this moment—warm, nestled against him, melting into the depths of that radiant amber.
Simba always cracked his eyes open during a kiss, thinking Kovu wouldn’t notice. But how could he ignore a gaze that open, that unrestrained?
Kovu lost himself in the rapture of being looked at like that. He wanted every second to stretch on without end, for this fleeting instant to become eternity.
“Simba…”
He hesitated, forcing those reckless thoughts back down.
“Are you cold?” he asked at last. “Should we head back?”
Simba nipped lightly at the corner of his mouth, “By all means. Go back to sleep if you don’t feel like staying.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Kovu glanced around them. The clearing was wide open, exposed on all sides, and it made him uneasy.
He never lifted his head to the stars. Never lingered in places without cover.
But Simba wanted to stay here—for reasons Kovu still didn’t understand.
Pressed against the warmth of that embrace, Simba shifted restlessly, rubbing and turning where he lay. His ear pressed to Kovu’s chest. After a moment, he lifted his head and flashed a smile that was almost mischievous.
“Why is your heart beating so fast?”
Kovu leaned in and kissed his eyes again.
“What do you think?”
“Oh…”
Without warning, Simba pushed hard, sending that body tipping backward. The flicker of surprise that crossed Kovu’s face sent a quiet thrill through him.
“What…?”
Kovu looked confused, but he didn’t resist. He let Simba climb over him, amber eyes following every movement of his face.
“You want to…right here?” Kovu asked, uncertain. “Wait…what are you thinking?”
Simba didn’t answer. He lowered himself instead, broad paws pinning Kovu’s shoulders in place. His muzzle disappeared into the dark mane, searching, nosing through until he found the skin at the side of Kovu’s neck—and bit down without hesitation.
Kovu drew in a sharp breath at once, a quiet hiss between his teeth. Simba knew the sting wouldn’t hurt him. Not really.
If anything, the bite only excited him. The rapid pounding of his heart carried straight through their bodies, pressed tight together, his feelings laid bare.
“Simba?”
Simba let him go at last. He leaned close, his nose brushing Kovu’s ear, breath spilling deliberately over that soft, sensitive edge.
“If you want it,” he murmured, voice lowered to almost nothing, teeth grazing the tip of Kovu’s ear, “I can start with…” Then, softer still— “…and if you have any strength left, we can try something else, something like…”
His tongue swept lightly over the thin rim of Kovu’s ear, as if by accident. Kovu’s body tensed. His ears flicked sharply, and he turned his head away.
Oh—so he can be shy.
Simba narrowed his eyes, utterly amused. He slid the back of his paw beneath Kovu’s chin, tipping it up, forcing those misted green eyes to meet his own.
“Well?” he asked. “Interested?”
Kovu licked his lips quickly, as if he hadn’t noticed what he was doing.
Simba’s smile deepened.
That was answer enough.
“Only one question…”
“Mm?”
“Why here?”
“Oh, well…”
Simba straightened, bracing himself so that starlight spilled over his shoulders, washing Kovu’s face in silver.
“Because here,” he said, “I can see all of you.”
And if you can see, then watch carefully.
He knew Kovu wouldn’t understand the meaning layered beneath his words. But the excitement in those eyes was unmistakable all the same. Kovu’s mouth parted as he craned his neck, trying to rise, reaching for another kiss.
This made Simba chuckle softly. He shook his head, pressing a paw to Kovu’s chest, holding him down and making him stay. Simba let he claws trace slow, shallow lines through the dark fur, following the contours of Kovu’s face. He brushed aside the heavy fall of black mane—
and stopped at the edge of that jagged scar.
Kovu smiled, easy and a little puzzled, turning his face aside and baring his throat along with it, vulnerable beneath the night.
“Even this?”
Simba’s face lit up, open and unguarded desire shining in those amber eyes.
“Especially this.”