When Kyungsoo got home, the sun was beginning to set. The night slowly crept up on day, camouflaging it’s arrival with a watercolor sky. He didn’t realize how busy his day had been until he sat down. The weight of the day he had just lived hung off of him, keeping his slender body anchored to the scratchy fabric of the sofa. Pushing himself up he started making his way to his room, passing the kitchen on his way in. The brown box lay untouched, perched perfectly on the table. When he found it on his doorstep this morning, there was no sign of anyone having left it. The only thing written on the box was his name in thin black letters. Since it was addressed to him, he brought it inside, threw it in the kitchen, and left quickly for school.  

Now, Kyungsoo reached for the box. He wanted to take it and put it in his closet. He was tired and didn’t have the time to fool around with strange objects. The day’s heaviness still lingered on his arms as he tried to pick up the box. He couldn’t keep his arms up for longer than a second and the moment the wrapping paper came in contact with his fingertips, the package tumbled to the floor below. Sighing in annoyance with himself, Kyungsoo knelt down to gather it up again only to discover that the package had opened upon impact and all that lay inside was a black book. Taking it out of the box, he cradled it in his hands and took it inside his bedroom.

 On the outside, Kyungsoo was the epitome of perfect. His black hair was always pushed back neatly, his clothes were always ironed, and his skin always perfectly unflawed. But his room told the reality of who he was. Kyungsoo was always unsure. And with that uncertainty came the lack of committing to things. He never really finished moving into his apartment, because he wasn’t sure if he liked it. So his bedroom was normally a dull square of white and gray.  Today though, soft pinks, purples and blues filtered through his windows and transformed his monotonous bedroom into a dreamlike space. Shedding the weight of his day through peeling off his clothing, he climbed into bed and sat cross legged atop his crumpled gray sheets. He set the book down in front of him, and with his thumb he grazed the edges of the pages, lifting them just enough to reveal small shooting stars drawn on every corner. Filled with curiosity he slowly lifted the front cover and opened the book. There on the first page, written in the same thin black letters that were on the top of the package, were five words he recognized. Five words he soon realized he’d keep coming back to over and over again–

I wrote this for you.

-J

            All it took was the look of the letter for Kyungsoo to know who sent the package, who wrote the book. It was from Jongin. The Jongin that was slowly slipping through his fingers. The Jongin that he wasn’t even trying to catch. A tsunami of memories about the disappearing boy suddenly began in Kyungsoo’s head and he wanted to cut them out. He wanted to open a piece of his body and let the memories spill out onto the floor of his bedroom. The way Jongin always looked people in the eyes when he talked. The way Jongin always seemed comfortable. The way words always fit so perfectly on Jongin’s lips, like he was born just to put them together. Kyungsoo remembered it all. Even though he had only opened to the first page, Kyungsoo realized just how much this book embodied Jongin. From the black leather cover, down to the shooting star drawings on each corner. Jongin was exactly this, mysteriously beautiful.

            Kyungsoo traced his thumb over the shooting star drawing on the first page. The ink was raised ever so slightly and Kyungsoo was sure he could tell what the drawing was just by feeling it. He was sure he could tell what the drawing was just by knowing Jongin had drawn it. Because Jongin lived his life in shooting stars. On the day they met, Jongin told Kyungsoo the story of the stars. How they were made up of all the things people couldn’t hold. How people would collect their wishes in the stars, and when they fell from the sky they were intended for one person. So that person could know exactly how the other felt. Jongin was made up of everything Kyungsoo wished for, but they were always too far away from one another. Jongin hadn’t fallen from the sky yet. And Kyungsoo hoped he never would.

            Once the tide had settled in his head, Kyungsoo flipped passed the first page. With a pounding heart and another ocean storm threatening to commence, Kyungsoo pushed forward and began to read.