Four hundred and sixteen, four hundred and seventeen, four and hundred eighteen, and turn. Four hundred and eighteen steps and the twist of a knob: it takes twenty-five floors and eighteen steps to reach the roof. Sixteen if Jongin decides to jump the last two. He doesn’t even bother sneaking up anymore; it’s as if the creaky metal door is waiting for his return these days. In fact, it’s been waiting for him these past two years.

The soft wind blows against Jongin, seeping through his thin knitted sweater as he throws his backpack down and uses it as a pillow. The sky is enveloped in stars tonight, with the moon glowing bright beside it. Jongin smiles and sighs.

“Hi, Kyungsoo. I miss you.”

--

Jongin walks out of his apartment, room number 13, a smile plastered on his face. He passes by his floor mates (not forgetting to bow, because he’s a good kid) and walks to the elevator, torn black backpack hanging off his shoulder. Out through the door he goes, he heads towards the bus stop and makes his way to the university. It’s a beautiful day and Jongin looks as happy as ever.

But when Jongin steps into the bus, the residents start to talk. The elders shake their heads and mutter to themselves when they see that tattered black bag of his. Rumours say somebody bought it for him. His floor mates sometimes forget to react when Jongin happily greets them with a bow because they’re too busy questioning the extra hop in his step. Rumours say a special someone came into his life. But that was a long, long time ago.

Everybody watches him leave and acknowledge his bows, but rather than the humble young man everyone is familiar with, all they see is the crazy boy from room 13. The boy who talks to the moon.

Jongin scans the area, straining his neck to look over the people walking in front of him. The ends of his lips twitch upwards when he sees a group of boys sitting at one of the tables, waving and beckoning him over. Upon seeing that, he smiles and jogs towards them, sliding his backpack off of his shoulder.

“Hey guys,” he greets, sitting next to a boy with dark brown hair. The minute Jongin sits down, he’s already begun taking out his textbooks and. His stationary laid out on the table and eyes locked on the passage he’s supposed to take notes on.

The group welcomes Jongin warmly before continuing their own little conversations, browsing through their phones, clearly ignoring the untouched reading material before them.

“Hey Luhan,” a boy with an oblong face calls, running over to the table, lanky limbs and all.

Luhan looks up in confusion as he pushes his friend away by the face, glaring at the latter when he feels a tongue on his palm. “Chanyeol, you’re ing gross,” he hisses, wiping his hand on his friend’s shirt. “Sorry about that. What’s up, dude?”

“Oh hey Sehun,” another one grins, turning to face the visitor.

“Hello Minseok,” Sehun greets politely before shifting his attention to Luhan. “Sorry to ask, but do you still have the umbrella I lent you the other day? My mom’s been bugging me about it ever since.”

Luhan stares into blank space and snaps his fingers, averting his gaze to his backpack. “Yeah I do. Sorry,” he mutters, rummaging through his bag for the object.

“Hey who’s this?” the one named Chanyeol asks, staring at the newcomer intently.

“What’s your name, kid?” the boy beside him asks, despite looking younger than Sehun.

Sehun blinks and quickly bows to introduce himself. “Oh sorry, I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Sehun,” he smiles.

“I’m Chanyeol,” he says with a smile that never seems to fade.

“The name’s Baekhyun,” the one beside him informs, setting his coffee on the table to extend his arm for a handshake. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Sehun’s an underclassman from my department,” Minseok adds, ruffling his hair. “We’ve known each other for a while now.”

Baekhyun nods but jerks his finger at Jongin, raising a brow. “What about him?”

“You mean Jongin? I already kind of know him,” Sehun replies awkwardly, rubbing his hands together. “My place is right across from his apart—”

“Oh no,” Baekhyun exclaims as his coffee flows onto the table, threatening to ruin everyone’s belongings. Jongin widens his eyes and grabs his textbooks, watching the liquid stain his notes.

Baekhyun and Chanyeol scramble to push the others’ things off as the others take out old napkins to clean up the mess. Minseok sighs at the sight and shakes his head, before taking a quick glance at Jongin, noticing the disappointment present on his face.

“Were you always this into studying?” he asks curiously. He knows it’s been a while since he and Jongin last had a proper conversation, but he never recalled him being so diligent.

Jongin shakes his head and loosens his grip on the books. And as if he were reading Minseok’s mind, he sighs. “It’s weird, right? I’ve never been this studious,” he jokes.

Before Minseok can even ask, “why the change?” the boy had already beaten him to it. “It’s because I remembered something about Kyungsoo saying he liked smart guys the other day,” he laughs, returning to his work.

Minseok blinks in surprise and mostly out of concern, because frankly, he didn't think he'd ever hear him say that name again. Nevertheless, all he does is smile and nod in acknowledgement.

“I like people who work hard, you know?” Minseok recalls Kyungsoo saying at the library, with a young Jongin eavesdropping from the table over.

That was a long time ago.

--

The sky is enveloped in stars tonight but there is no moon. But it’s okay because the stars are shining just as bright. To Jongin, they’re like the moon’s little helpers. They’ll get his messages across just as well. At least, that’s what he’s believed all this time.

“Hi Kyungsoo,” he grins, staring at the star speckled sky. “I’ve been studying really hard lately. I bet you’re proud of me.”

The boy smiles and lies down on his back, resting his arms underneath his head. The comfort of his—no, their—jacket keeps him warm and he swears, if he could, he would stay up here all night.

--

“Junmyeon? Oh man, it’s been a long time since I’ve last seen you,” Jongin greets enthusiastically, taking a seat next to the dark haired man. “How are you?”

Junmyeon looks up from his phone and tenses a bit, trying his best to relax himself. It has been a very long time; he thinks to himself. Nearly a year’s worth.

“Hello Jongin. I’m fine, thank you,” he replies stiffly, moving his latte aside to make room for Jongin. It’s as if nothing happened; as if he never happened. Junmyeon fidgets a bit in his seat, keeping as minimum eye contact as he could. “It has been a while, hasn’t it?”

They fall into a silence, nothing but nervous smiles exchanged, the unease mostly from Junmyeon’s end. But for the most part, Junmyeon tries his best to keep his gaze locked on his phone, pretending to text someone with his brightness all the way down and the notes app running. As if his prayers have been answered, the two became a group of four.

“Guys,” Minseok calls from a distance, waving a hand in the air with Luhan trailing behind him.

“Hello Minseok,” Junmyeon greets, smiling graciously. A faint sigh of relief escapes Junmyeon’s mouth, albeit one that does not go unnoticed by the older.

Minseok grimaces slightly in response, not especially excited about the conversation to come. “Junmyeon can I talk to you for a second,” he asks, tapping the young man’s shoulder.

“Yeah sure, of course,” he agrees, standing up immediately. Luhan watches them leave and lets out a sigh, grabbing a seat next to the painfully oblivious Jongin.

This type of behaviour was expected from Jongin. An abundance of smiles, a burst of excitement in everything he did; it was all they could expect these days. What wasn’t expected was the eternally composed Kim Junmyeon being so restless. He was nothing but anxious smiles and sweaty palms. Similarly, he couldn’t blame him for his hostility towards Jongin.

Nobody could.

Junmyeon follows Minseok to the fountain submissively and fights the urge to defend himself, but the desire fades when the only emotion evident in the elder’s eyes was concern. “He’s better now,” he says, noticing how uncomfortable Junmyeon is watching Luhan and Jongin joke around. “He really is.”

The younger exhales sharply and stares at Minseok with a weary stare. “You know I believe that just as much as you and Luhan do,” he murmurs. “But you need to understand it’s difficult to be relaxed near somebody who went insane right in front of you.”

“I was there too,” Minseok asserts. “And he’s not crazy.”

“Yeah well, he’s not normal either,” Junmyeon scowls, refusing to entertain the topic any further. “I don’t want him around me. Not after that night.”

--

Today was a nice day, Jongin concludes as he walks the long way home, breathing in the soft summer air. He did fairly well in class and chatted up a storm with his friends. He even saw Junmyeon after what might’ve been a year. Although, he couldn’t deny that he was curious as to why he had to leave so quickly. Jongin puts off the thought for a little while and lets out a content sigh. Kyungsoo said Junmyeon was a great person, after all. He should believe him.

On his way home, he passes by the post office and he bows to the courier he found himself rather familiar with. The post office worker nods his head and shows off a small smile at the boy, apprehension visible on his face.

How could the old man forget him? Kim Jongin, the fool who trusts the moon with his words more than he could with any piece of paper. The fool living with the belief that the moon was the sky’s very own messenger.

He’s the fool with the fragile heart.

--

September 04, 2011

Do Kyungsoo

Letter number fifty-six, still no address—just “Do Kyungsoo” scribbled on the front of the envelope. It was the fifty-sixth letter to be returned to him, but he still had hope. The mailman looked at Jongin with apologetic eyes but they were soon dismissed, as he flashed a smile and jogged out of the premises.

Jongin returned to his apartment, and sat at his desk. Textbooks and binders stacked and pushed neatly aside, next to the messy pile of envelopes and lined paper, saturated in ink. Every single letter was sent back, but Jongin continued to write.

“I’m sorry, but we can’t take this,” the old man apologized, regretfully. Jongin had come in with number fifty-seven and a smile that was wavering.               

“What do you mean you can’t take this?” Jongin asked, almost irritably, clutching the envelope in his hand. “You can’t or you won’t?”

The post office worker sighed and placed a hand on his shoulder, attempting to calm the boy down. “Look, it’s the same thing every time. Save yourself the trouble or put an address on it,” he muttered.

“All I’m trying to do is send a letter to my boyfriend,” Jongin shouts, unintentionally crushing the envelope in his sudden fit of rage.

“But where?!”

Jongin pursed his lips and stormed out of the office, knowing very well he couldn’t answer that. And honestly, deep inside he really wished he knew the answer to that question. He wanted to know where the letter had to go too; where he had to go to find him and how far he had to travel to have Kyungsoo in his arms again.

That night, Jongin snuck up onto the roof top for the first time. He snuck up and he stood there for a long time, staring at the sky, their jacket hanging off of his shoulders. He envied the moon, for it probably knew where Kyungsoo was.

“Just where the hell are you?” Jongin whimpered, fighting the sobs at his throat, as he crouched down onto the ground.