Ache

While in November, some people say that the stars are the most full. It’s a good season, a season of thankfulness.

 There were myths that if a person really wished for something, with so much longing and want. That the wish could be fulfilled if only whispered to the stars during the cold but soft November nights.

Every day, during the thankful seasons. Jongin would wish, upon the stars that’d whisper to him. 

He’d look out of the window and onto the stars shining their light onto the Capricorn Capital. He’d close his hands into a heart, like some sort of prayer. He’d tell the same things into the sky. He’d plead over and over again.

When days passed and there was no result. Little Jongin didn’t give up his hope, his dream. He couldn’t miss the nights that went by, every day, disobeying his curfew. 

And on the last day of November he whispered to the stars again.

“There’s only one thing I want. Please, little, big, stars make my dream come true. Please grant me constellations on my fingers, I want a destined too.”

But as Jongin grew, and every November passed by, and every time he’d wake up in the morning to see the tips of his fingers blank. He lost the shred of belief and hope that lingered in his image of the stars. 

So what became of “Sleep well little Jongin, we’ll watch over you.” turned into “I’m sorry but it can’t happen yet Jongin, sleep well.”

Blinking, Jongin snapped out of his thoughts. He took a last quick glance at his calendar and went back to dressing himself. 

He smiled bitterly. “I guess it’s November.”

He had forgotten his umbrella that day.

----

Upright.

Jongin told himself. The sweat was starting to gather in his forehead. He just pleaded that it wouldn’t go in the corner of his eyes and burn.

First verse. 

His limbs followed along to his memory. Trying to satisfy the oasis of perfection that always laughed in his face.

Concentrate.

    He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. His focus was remaining on the feeling of his muscles, the way they moved. He imagined the dark stage in front of him, and began.

    It started with a gentle walk. It talked smoothly with the floor. And left with a wisp of laughter toward his hair. 

    His hands felt the ocean waves. Touched the clouds, caressed their fine silk. And with a trot they held his face.

    The closure started with his gentle walk. His expression telling tales of morbid. Eyes were open. When the floor appeared, a reaction of whimpering became intact. The soft kisses of his hair left his face in bliss.

    For the grand finale, water overtook his emotions, heaving. His body retaining oxygen after plush softness took him near, close to the stars. His face coming close to one trying to be pushed back. 

    When he finally opened his eyes he didn’t think it’d be real. He thought he was crazy. He’d seen him. He could only think that he’d imagine him so much he was there. 

    But as the loud noise of applause permeated the air. And as the eyes he stared at didn’t disappear even as he blinked, he truly thought he’d run out of air.

    With a shaky inhale, Jongin swiftly bowed, and gave his crowd a charming smile.

---

    
    “Jongin you were great. The performance was magnificent!”, Suho exclaimed backstage, while patting Jongin’s back.

    Jongin nodded out of breath and shock. 

    “Hey, are you okay?” Suho, said gently. He noticed that his usual hyper wasn’t present.

    “I saw him Jun.” 

    “You mean-” 

    Both of their eyes were wide.

    “Yes-Yes Kyungsoo.”

    “Where was he?”

    “In the crowd, I made eye-contact for a few seconds. I didn’t even think I’d see him while I was back.” He took a harsh breath. “I don’t know-I-.”

    “Hey, it’s going to be okay. It’s been like what? Four years.” Junmyeon tried to reassure Jongin.

    “It’s not okay Junmyeon, it’s not. I still love him. I can’t face him like this.” Jongin said, frazzled. He kept running his hands through his hair.

    Junmyeon latched onto his arm and kept him steady before he could go.

    “No, you have to talk to him sooner or later.”

    Something snapped in him and his open walls began to barricade. 

Jongin laughed hollowly. “And what Jun? Find out he’s married happily to his destined partner? Meanwhile I tell him that I’ve run from him, distracted myself with tours outside the country. Just to escape him? To escape my feelings? Please.”

“Wait, what? You didn’t hear?” Suho said in confusion.

“Hear what?”

“Jongin…. Kyungsoo and Chanyeol broke up one year after the festival.”

The words circled in Jongin’s head. 

“No.”

“No? What do you mean no?”

“No, it’s not true. Destined couples they can’t- they-” he said with disbelief, his brows furrowed in confusion and anger.

“It’s real Jong, they clasped their hands again. The mark left, it disappeared.”

“That’s not possible. It can’t happen.” Jongin whispered.

“It can, if one of them doesn’t love the other truly. The mark disappears, and the constellations are back.”

Kyungsoo’s partner, his partner.

“His partner-”

“No.”

That’s not true. It’s not. It can’t be.

“Was it Kyungsoo?”, he asked hesitantly, afraid to hear the answer.

“It was, he didn’t love him.”

Jongin looked down, head bowed.

Junmyeon grabbed one of Jongin’s hands with both of his.

“It’s not too late.”

“It is Jun. It won’t happen either way, I wear gloves for a reason you know?” Jongin laughed sadly.

“It doesn’t matter. Have you even tried clasping his hand once? If it’s meant to happen, it’ll happen.”

If it’s meant to happen, it’ll happen.

Jongin smiled with resignation as he said farewell to Suho. He could see him hesitate before he walked out of the building. 

---
 

Jongin looked up to the blue and grey sky. Looking down, he saw the puddles and inside pitter-patters forming patterns.

He had stood there for a while. The sweat on his skin making it colder than it was. He wondered why he didn’t take his coat before leaving. 

As he started feeling shivers, he decided it was time to walk to his car. 

He heard light splashes of someone’s footsteps coming near him. 

Before he could look back he sneezed.

“Bless you.” A voice significantly closer spoke. It was one he was accustomed to hearing, many years back. He’d often yearn to hear it, but it was repulsed by his inner cowardice.

Jongin thought he’d avoided it today.

Jongin turned cautiously. Looking up at the umbrella shielding him from the rain. 

“Thank you.” His voice was calm, contrasting internal feelings.

“Aren’t you cold?” 

Jongin quickly glanced at the person in front of him.

“It is pretty cold.”

“But are you cold Jongin?”

“I think so Kyungsoo.”

He was just as beautiful as he had remembered. 

His full brows were still just as pretty.

His eyes were still just as gentle, full of captivated stars.

His lips were still just as rosy and plump.

He’d like to think that they stayed saccharine as they were before.

“Jongin-I, I missed y-”

Knowing what Kyungsoo was going to say, he interfered.

“Kyungsoo.”

They both looked at each other, both knowing what each had to say.

“Jongin, please.” Kyungsoo whispered.

Seeing as Jongin grew quiet he continued. “I missed you. You just ran, you didn’t even give me a chance, even when I called your name. After everything, I realized I had feelings for you. I tried looking for you but everyone had told me that you left.”

Jongin’s gaze closed off. He’d felt it unbelievable.

He leant forward, his face a few inches away from Kyungsoo’s.

“You don’t want this.” Jongin said flatly.

Kyungsoo looked at his eyes.

“I already know what I want.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“You’re wrong at the first part.”

“Am I?” Jongin hummed.

“You are.”

Jongin gently put his index finger under Kyungsoo’s chin and tilted his head to the right.

“Was I the cause of this?” 

He saw the unmarked skin on his left ear.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Kyungsoo said, not breaking eye-contact.

Jongin removed his finger from under his chin and took decisive steps toward him.

“I would.” 

Kyungsoo looked at Jongin’s lips. He could feel his legs touching his. His hands were on each side of his waist.

“Well, you were.”

Jongin slowly got closer to Kyungsoo’s lips.

 Before they could touch he whispered, “How unfortunate.” 

He quickly grasped the back of Kyungsoo’s head with one hand and took his soft, parted lips into his mouth.

His unoccupied hand reached out to cup the left side of his face. 

Kyungsoo’s hands clenched on Jongin’s shirt as he gave him fervent kisses. 

They both felt desperation as lips met lips. 

The smell of petrichor permanent in the air, Kyungsoo’s umbrella long forgotten. 

Kyungsoo gasped as Jongin pulled his hair, his tongue entering his mouth.

A whimper escaped his lips as he felt it swiftly touch the roof of his mouth. 

Urging, Kyungsoo’s head leant backwards, Jongin moving to kiss on his neck.

But something itched at his chest. The feeling of hope igniting in his heart. That maybe, maybe it could be true. That they could be together, his love to hold him during the night, to sleep next to him. 

He started to dream, getting lost. In a house that they could own, always hugged by the beautiful sunset. The sight of Kyungsoo making him breakfast, shooing him away from the kitchen because he’d make a mess. And in his ears there’d be whispers of how endearing and clumsy he was. His flaws could be given and Kyungsoo’s flaws could be received. 

But as he read the signs, there came doubt, his insecurities that’d become his shadow. It’d loom over his dream and he took a turn to a path where there’d be emptiness.

Because at the end of his dream, it always closed the same way. The curtains would begin to fall, and Kyungsoo would leave and laugh the cute little laugh of his, and he'd whisper sorry. But Jongin wouldn’t be mad because he was his everlasting love, too good to be true, so he’d let him go even if he lodged a knife in his heart. 

Jongin had it ingrained that he wasn’t good enough for Kyungsoo, heck, he wasn’t even good for himself. 

Jongin nodded internally. He breathed harshly on Kyungsoo’s neck and his hands came up to hold the cheeks of his face. 

“I’m sorry.” Jongin whispered, his voice cracking with tears as he tried to get away as fast as he could. 

With a soft swift kiss to the shorter male’s neck and cheek, Jongin stood upright and turned to leave.

Kyungsoo breathed out in shock, his back finally feeling cold from the rain. 

Jongin had already left.

------

---

    He gripped at his hair, sat on his bed. He’d kept recalling the moment earlier, like a lucid dream.

    “I need to snap out of this.” 

    “It won’t happen no matter how much I want it to happen.”

    “Why did I kiss him?”

    Jongin kept whispering to himself. The consequences of his actions crawling up his back.

    He’d wanted to forget, but everywhere he looked he was reminded. 

    The bookcase near his bedroom window.

    The cassette tapes in his drawers.

    The picture frames on his desk.

Like a madman, Jongin hurriedly grabbed his coat. He slapped himself in the face. He needed to get out or he wouldn’t be able to escape.

His footsteps echoed on the sidewalk, the cold breeze numbed his face. His breath turned into fog.

As he passed by strangers on the street, he realized he should've concealed himself a bit better.

They would whisper in confused excitement.

But he was so frantic, those whispers simply passed by him.

His feet finally pointed toward his destination, his posture ready, and his hand gripping the door. 

With a slight push, he could breathe easily again. 

It was his old practice room.

----

“Kyungsoo?” A voice hesitantly called out. 

The world was silent in those three seconds. 

The only picture seen in the frame was the short male, water cascading down upon him. He was looking above. 

“Kyungsoo?” The voice was a little closer now. 

Right as the man was about to shake the other from his reverie, the latter had finally turned to look at him. 

“Junmyeon?” 

“It's been a long time right?”

The conversation was slow and soft. It was reminiscent, nostalgic.

“Right.”

“How have you been?” 

Kyungsoo had started to notice the abrupt halt of the rain. Suho had picked up his umbrella. 

“Just there. You?”

“I've been well.”

Kyungsoo nodded. “I see. I suppose things are going great for Yixing and you.”

“Yeah….I heard about what happened with you know, Chanyeol, and- Kyungsoo do you perhaps still have feelings for-”

“Isn't that a bit personal?” Kyungsoo whispered, looking down at the dark cement.

“I'm sorry- I’m asking because of Jongin.”

“He rejected me. So I guess it doesn't really matter right?”

Junmyeon had an expression of surprise on his face. 

“What?”

Kyungsoo chuckled sadly. “I was rejected.”

“Jongin loves you.” 

“I want to believe it, I really do Junmyeon.”

“I'm telling the truth, he really loves you Kyungsoo.” Junmyeon persisted. 

“He doesn't want to be with me.”

“No, he's just scared. He's unsure, he doesn't know how to handle his feelings so he chooses to be selfish and hurts himself. Trust me on this Kyungsoo.”

“I guess it really is unfortunate for me isn’t it?” Kyungsoo said, heartbreaking laughter following cue in the air.

----

The music slowly faded away as the song neared to a close. Jongin walked to the stereo and turned it off. 

He debated dropping into a sitting position or getting himself a towel. The latter won as he felt his shirt cling onto his now damp skin.

“What are you doing?” Jongin whispered to himself as he finished drying his sweat with the towel. He lay down on the ground and stared at the ceiling in deep thought.

“I can’t bring him down with me.” 

With his hands running down his face he held onto his old decision. 

Jongin went home with no hands to hold onto.

——

The alarm clock rung next to him while he stared at the cool wall in front of him. The expectation of it ringing was on his mind for the past 20 minutes. It seems he has been beating the clock recently. 

The tips of his fingers felt cold, much like his face. All due to the fan, that’s what he’ll blame it on. He let the alarm clock ring for a few moments before standing up to go to the bathroom.

There he was, his reflection shone in the mirror. His name was Kim Jongin. His hair was a dark pink, colored due to his birth in the Capricorn capital, part of the few that were graced with it. He had tan skin, which he liked. 

The mirror also showed him his under eye bags, the way his eyes looked tired, his morning breath, and the empty space next to him. The fact that his hair could’ve been unruly, his lips that could’ve been happily swollen, and the image of flushed skin. 

Jongin sighed and retreated back to the bed. He would need more time to gather his sense of self. So that maybe when he woke up, the reflection in the mirror could change. And he’d be back to normal.

He woke up the next few weeks, thinking the same thing.