La nuit étoilée

Word count: 1559

11pm 

The sound of muffled conversations can be heard all throughout the city. Somewhere louder than others as some people party and renew friendship with those they don’t see very often anymore since life got them on a tight leash knotted to capitalism. The night is young for the man standing on his balcony, his arms folded on the bannister in front of him looking down the 12^th floor at the surprisingly busy street. It’s chilly outside for the bystanders walking down the street. It’s neither really hot nor cold even though it’s already mid-summer. However, for the lonely spectator the wind is a bit icy at such a height, explaining the blanket hanging loosely around his shoulders. The breeze is peacefully playing with his hair for the moment.

From his viewpoint he can see the thousand tiny lights shining all over, arising from the buildings, the street and the cars. The ones he likes the most are the ones above his head. Since the night is clear it’s one of the only opportunities of the summer to see the twinkling stars looking upon them. He doesn’t know the constellations or the name of the different stage of the moon, but that doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy the sight.

The man takes in the different noises and look around a last time before going in and closing the door to the magic world he seemed to be the only witness of.

1am

He is one hour into the new day. One hour into unknown.  Nothing feels very different except maybe his two days old beard that he has to shave. Nothing is settled yet. The day hasn’t started for most people. There’s something satisfying about living through the start of a new day.

 After his shower, he get rids of the stubble but doesn’t put much effort into styling his hair. It’s useless. The apartment is silent. The whole building is. It’s inert, like stuck into time. That’s what happens after midnight. The noisy families are asleep for some time. The teenagers trying to be quiet are slowly starting to close their phones. A forgotten television is playing in front of an old couple fast asleep. The party some are attending is slowly getting messier. Taxi drivers are driving home tipsy citizens.  

Each hour has its population. He isn’t sure which hour is his so he claims all of them. He lives through every hour, appreciates the unique beauty of each.

But something is missing to the beauty.

2am

It’s the hour where he wishes he had someone over to make up for the loneliness. Two in the morning is where people suddenly awake through the night to fall right back asleep or not for the most unlucky. The man is one of those who sits somewhere in the house, always a different spot at first but always the same now,  as a spot he became familiar with, and wait for something to happen. The book next to him is there since the first time he started being a night owl, he did read it once, twice and even a third time just to be sure he remembered how it ended. Now, it’s only there as an old friend accompanying him through the hours of solitude. When the end of the hour is slowly approaching, that’s when he starts playing with his phone, turning it around in his hands, and biting on his nails. He has nothing be anxious about, really. It’s more of anticipation than anxiety. He doesn’t hear drunk people yelling in the street, he can’t, they’re too far from him. He’s alone, isolated in his nocturne sanctuary.   

3am

That’s when guards are slowly falling asleep on the chair after making a last check round, when eight years old finally succumb to sleep after trying to pull a sleepless night. It’s also the hour where the waiting male gets a message which makes his reflections come to a halt. He slowly starts to move, cleans the place, and gets some more blankets even if it’s hot because we never know. He then heads for the kitchen, his feet quietly flapping against the floor. Once the food is heated up, he sets the table. There’s no use for it, He knows, but he still does. Just for convention.

3:30 am

Muted lonesome footsteps are breaking the silence of the 12^th floor deserted hallway. However, they are only audible for the one expecting them. Two people are walking at the same pace toward the same door. There’s no need for keys or knocking. The night visitor already knows the door will be unlocked. He also knows there will be someone waiting on the other side, with a warm smile and loving eyes. The guest joins the taller male in his odd schedule with tired bags under his eyes and a sleepy smile dancing on his lips. No words are exchanged between them as they quickly connect their lips no matter how worn-out they both are. They waited all day and all night for this moment. This is their hour. Their minutes. Their seconds.

“Did you watch the stars?” Is the first thing the shorter male asks.

“Only for a short moment, I didn’t want to look at all of them without you.”     

The first voiced words are husky and sleepy but nonetheless said with genuine interest.

“I missed you, Jongin.”

He doesn’t get an answer but that’s solely because they are kissing again. A bit more fervently this time. Their hands and lips all over each other, seeking the warmth they both bring out of each other. Tonight isn’t one of those night where making out leads further, they know it, but that doesn’t stop them from softly in each other’s mouth or neck and brushing their hips together.

4am

Some old people are slowly stirring up from sleep. Most parties are over. There are less people in the streets. Four am is the weird hour where some individuals go to bed and others start waking up. It’s the hour that separates two worlds, two categories of people yet somehow unites them.  Four in the morning is the last chance to see the stars reminding us of their presence before disappearing to let the sun shine too. The couple is huddled up into Jongin’s bed, staring out of the window, after eating in the bedroom as they usually do. It looks like some stars are winking at them to thank and gift them for their patience and attention. Efforts do pay off.

Each centimeters of Jongin’s skin is in contact with the gorgeous man is his bed. That’s how they make up for the lost hours. That’s why they don’t immediately go to bed even it’s getting harder and harder to fight exhaustion. Jongin wants his boyfriend to see the beauty of the night, the one he misses because of work. He’s willing to guide him through the beautiful journey he goes through every night, waiting for him. The shorter male gladly accepts, every time. Because he wants to please Jongin but also because he never gets tired of the small details that only become apparent when darkness falls over the city.

“The night was not perfect because it was missing you, Kyungsoo.”

The shorter male knows the sentence has two meanings. That’s why he claims four am as his.

5am

The night is shyly trying to leave without waking up the sleeping ones. Birds start chirping, their day is starting. The leash tied to worker's neck is choking them, forcing them to wake up. The students that have to take summer classes are in the shower before facing the knowledge thrown at them a second time.

Kyungsoo and Jongin are more than peaceful at this hour. They shortly fell asleep after living every moment offered to them.  Jongin’s arms tightly wrapped around Kyungsoo’s frame as they trade the dissonance surrounding them for the soothing effects of sleep.

The sound is back in the streets. Some sirens can be heard, more cars are making their way into or out the city, babies are crying, morning news is starting, and kids are slowly falling off sleep. Life is taking over again.

6am

As people start to hurry in the subway or getting their morning coffee as a weapon to survive the day, Kyungsoo happily snuggles closer to Jongin. No sound is affecting them, not even the neighbours making breakfast. They won’t witness the building waking up. But it’s fine since they witnessed it falling asleep.

Six is the shared hour between everybody. It’s when time becomes something stressful and makes people wish it didn’t exist. It’s when time is ruling the world and not flowing to disclose its secrets. It’s when time isn’t careless anymore and becomes an enemy.

That’s why for the couple, it’s better to sleep during that period. To let the negativity passes and only enjoy the positive side time has to offer. Their learnt how make it theirs.

Just like each second can be anybody’s.

And when they will have to part again, they will comfort themselves with the fact a day only has twenty-four hours and they still manage to see the stars and well as the sun.

And that, together, since the day is individually theirs,

While the night is exclusively in their possession.

                                                                                                                             -The End-

**

This is very short but I hope you enjoy it. It's still a draft so I might change some things later but I felt like sharing with you guys now :)

This was written in yellow on a black background so I guess not having this here might take off some of the vibe (?). Use your imagination ahaha^^

I'm posting it for my Glitch readers to take a break of the angst. I might have more getaways in store for you ;)

Let me know in the comments which hour you are or related to the most! (If it's not one mentionned in the story, feel free to let me know about yours!).

PS: Please leave comments. It doesnt matter if its just a single word or something >< I want to know what you think of it.  

 Thank you a lot for reading! Have a nice day/night/evening/morning <3