The night was cold, a thick blanket fog hung low in the sky; the faint silhouettes of the surrounding buildings illuminated by the pale light of the courtyard lampposts. Jongin sat on the steps of the barracks, a small leather bound notebook – his farewell present from Kyungsoo – clutched tightly in his hand. From inside the barracks, the loud, gruff voices of his squadron carried through the thin wooden walls.

Running his thumb over the rough leather cover of the notebook, Jongin hesitated before digging his nails into the paper, opening it to a new page. Drawing in a sharp breath, Jongin frowned, casting his gaze up at the foggy night sky. There were a million and one different things he wanted to tell Kyungsoo, but he was not quite sure how to express them on paper.

Smoothing out the page of the notebook, Jongin tapped his chin with the end of his fountain pen, how brow furrowed with concentration.

Kyungsoo, Jongin wrote before shaking his head. With one swift movement, he tore the page from the notebook before dropping it at his side. Why start a letter with just a name when instead, it could begin with a symbol of their past, their future – their forever?

My love, Kyungsoo,

When you look upon a star, you are not the only one who can see it. For me, I wish it were you who could see; you who could find that one lone star. Because, if we both can see something hundreds of light years away, the distance between us doesn’t seem so far.

Love always,
Jongin

A small frown played across Jongin’s face as he leaned his head back against the wooden veneer of the barracks; allowing his shoulders to slump, a wistful sigh escaped his lips. Jongin would give almost anything to be by Kyungsoo’s side; to be with him forever. But even though he promised Kyungsoo that he would return, Jongin knew that war did not discriminate between sides; it did not pick who lived and who perished – war would consume any who crossed its path.

He only hoped that his promise to Kyungsoo was one he could keep. A strong arm wrapped around Jongin’s neck, pulling him into a playful headlock. With his eyes wide in shock, Jongin tilted his head backwards, a warm smile slowly spreading across his face.

“Hyung!”

“Jongin,” the older grinned, releasing his hold on Jongin only to tousle his hair. “Writing letters to him again, I see?”

Jongin nodded, holding up the small notebook. “Yes,” he said simply, the smile not once leaving his lips. The older soldier’s face twisted into a frown. Taking a step backwards, he leaned heavily against the wall of the barracks; the loud voices of his squadron had fallen quiet in the dark of night – asleep, Jongin had guessed.

“Has he responded to your first letter yet?” the other asked, his eyes not leaving the young solider. Jongin shook his head, choosing his words carefully.

“We are far from anywhere, Joonmyeon. Perhaps it has just not reached him yet.”

“The first, maybe,” Joonmyeon responded thoughtfully. “But the second? The third, too? What about the fourth?”

Allowing his shoulders to slump, Jongin got to his feet, his muscles stiff from having been in the same position for hours on end. “Kyungsoo will respond,” he replied firmly, placing a hand on Joonmyeon’s shoulder. “I know he will. Thank you for your concern, hyung, but there is really no need for it.”

Flashing Joonmyeon a wary smile, Jongin brushed past him, halting with his hand above the latch on the barracks door. “It’s late, I’m going to bed. You should get some rest too, hyung. You’ll need it.”

With a shake of his head, Joonmyeon followed Jongin into the barracks; it was his job to worry about the members of his squadron, to know when something was bothering them. Something was definitely bothering Jongin, but he had hoped it was just nerves.

War did strange things to people, so Joonmyeon hoped that Kyungsoo was the small glimmer of hope that Jongin could hold on to; a sole light in a dark place, when all other lights go out.

“Goodnight, Jongin.”

The night was dark – cold; the only light was a small candle, now a melted stub, which filled the room with a weak light. With his legs drawn up to his knees, Kyungsoo shivered in the evening chill. The thin woollen blanket had long since slipped from his shoulders, yet he made no move to catch it. Instead, his eyes were trained to the small hutch in the corner of the room, various pieces of finely painted china decorated the shelves.

 But it was not the beauty of the china saucers, so elegantly painted in a soft blue, their gilded edges twinkling in the candlelight that held Kyungsoo’s attention, nor was it any other daintily shaped piece of crockery. Instead, it was a small, black and white square, white around the edges – granulated.

A photo.

A photo of happiness, a photo of love. Of faithfulness, of sanctity, of trust. A photo of Jongin, in his mottled green and brown military uniform, his arm wrapped tightly around Kyungsoo’s waist – a proud smile on his face. A smile that said ‘Kyungsoo is mine.’  

But if Jongin had loved him so much, why had he not written? A simple ‘I miss you’, would have sufficed; a sign, anything for Kyungsoo to be reminded of the past, of what he had to look forward to – to assure him that Jongin was okay.

Heaving a heavy sigh, Kyungsoo rested his chin against his knees, his eyelids drooping with exhaustion.

“Jongin,” he whispered, tracing circles onto the woven couch with a fingertip. “Please let me know you’re okay.”

With his arms folded behind his back, Kyungsoo walked around the main street market, tiny tables displaying a vast range of wares lined the street on both sides, the stall owners watching for any potential sales with their hawk-like eyes. Both money and food was scarce and they were willing to do whatever it took to make a deal in order to survive.

Kyungsoo couldn’t remember the last time he had visited the market – this used to be the spot that he and Jongin would spend hours, perusing wares and enjoying each other’s company.  But now, the marketplace was deserted – Kyungsoo felt empty. He was alone.

Resting his hand atop his shoulder, Kyungsoo exhaled loudly, wishing it were Jongin’s hand, gentle but firm. He craved Jongin’s touch, wanted nothing more than to hear his voice; to hear him say “I love you.” But Kyungsoo knew that he might never hear those words – might never see Jongin - again.

Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his thick winter coat, Kyungsoo flinched when he felt a new hand placed upon his shoulder. With startled eyes wide, Kyungsoo wheeled around.

“Jongin!” he said breathlessly, his eyes searching the stranger for any sign of his fiancé. However, instead of being met with the dark eyes and warm smile of Jongin, Kyungsoo was met with another familiar face, one of which he had never thought he would see again.

“Sehun!” Kyungsoo  rasped, embracing his old friend. “What are you doing here?”

The two had grown up together, confided in one another; whenever Kyungsoo was upset, Sehun was always there to comfort him. Whenever Sehun would get into a fight with others his age, Kyungsoo was always the first one by his side to tend his wounds.

“Hi,” Sehun smiled warmly, returning Kyungsoo’s embrace. “I got relocated to an old paper mill in town a few days ago. When I heard that there was a market, I just had to come take a look, but I didn’t expect to see you here. It’s good to see you again.”

Watching his childhood friend carefully, Sehun’s brow knitted together in concern. “Is everything okay?”

Lifting his head, Kyungsoo forced a small smile. He was thankful to be able to see his best friend once more, even if Jongin was miles away. Kyungsoo knew that he would have loved Sehun.

“I’m fine,” Kyungsoo lied, his eyes downcast once more.

“Good,” Sehun smiled. “I’m glad.”

Tucking his notebook into the pocket of his uniform, Jongin sat with his squadron on the slope overlooking their base, watching them all laugh and joke. They had been relocated several hundred kilometers to the east and Jongin missed the simple comforts of what the old wooden barracks offered.

From below, the dull roar of a Hillier Raven, an aircraft filled with medical supplies and food rations reached Jongin’s ears. Turning his attention to the helicopter, he watched as the cluster of trees that surrounded the glade bend and quiver under the wind force from the propeller.

Further in the glade, soldiers hurried this way and that, transporting the provisions from the aircraft to the temporary bunker, made from sand bags, tediously placed atop one another and what little – useable – resources they could gather from the surrounding forest.

“Jongin,” Chanyeol called, drumming his fingers against his mottled green pants, his oversized helmet slipping to one side. “Relax a little.”

With a quiet sigh, Jongin turned back to the laughing soldiers, a small smile playing across his face. These men were fearless. It had been said to live every moment were it your last, and these men did exactly that.

“Okay,” Jongin said quietly, allowing his shoulders to relax. “Thanks, Hyung.”

Sitting by the windowsill, Kyungsoo rested his head against his knees, his eyes fixed on the stars that glittered overhead. He hadn’t moved from that position for at least an hour and, with Sehun sitting just a few meters away, Kyungsoo felt as though he were neglecting his friend entirely. After offering him to stay the night, Kyungsoo knew that he shouldn’t be ignoring his guest.

“Is everything alright?” Sehun called softly. Putting his book down onto the coffee table, he sat forward in the chair, his eyes searching Kyungsoo for answers. “You don’t look so good.”

Reluctantly, Kyungsoo shook his head. This was not a subject he wished to talk about, but he couldn’t turn his friend down. “It’s Jongin,” he muttered quietly. “My fiancé. He’s been enlisted in the military and – I don’t know. He’s been gone for over a month now. I would have thought he would have written at least once but – nothing.”

Getting to his feet, Sehun crossed the small living room quickly, placing a hand reassuringly on his best friends shoulder. A scowl was on his face as he comforted Kyungsoo.

“I’m sorry,” he soothed quietly. “But perhaps Jongin has more important things to do than send letters?”

“More important?” Kyungsoo sniffed. He didn’t want to think about the things that Jongin could be doing whilst away.

“It is war, after all. Letters would be the least of his concern.”

Jongin found it hard to sleep that night. Whilst the rest of his squadron slept on thin mats, spread out on the cold, hard floor of the makeshift bunker, he sat outside on a small sandbag retaining wall, his back leaning heavily against the bunker wall.

 The night sky was so clear here, undisturbed by the light of the city; it was absolutely breathtaking. Jongin’s lips twisted into a frown as he closed his eyes. Kyungsoo would have loved to see this. Opening his eyes once more, Jongin reached into the pocket of his shirt, withdrawing his small leather notebook.

The spine of the notebook bore the remains of torn pieces of paper – Jongin’s letters to his love – but, first and foremost, his notebook contained his thoughts and feelings. Tracing a fingertip over the last entry, Jongin could feel his heart clench.

Not a day goes by where I do not think of you. Kyungsoo, how are you coping by yourself? Are you eating enough? Even though I am here, hundreds of miles away, I still worry about you. If I was given the chance, I would gladly walk the entire way across the country to see you once more.

Never doubt that I love you. Not even for a second.

Jongin.

It took only five days of convincing before Kyungsoo finally understood. He was wrong to worry about Jongin and whether or not he would ever hear from him. Sehun was right; Jongin was at war – writing a simple letter to his fiancé was probably of the least concern to him.

Five days was all it took to understand. Five days was all it took before everything Jongin held dear came crumbling down around him. It was not the affection of his fiancé that Kyungsoo craved; he didn’t need Jongin’s touch or his kiss. Nor his love.

Anybody would do.

And Sehun. Sehun was perfect.

But perhaps the best part was that Jongin wouldn’t ever know.

Jongin’s face distorted in a mixture of confusion and fear as he listened to his lieutenant talk. Joonmyeon stood with his arms behind his back, watching his platoon carefully as he explained their orders. They were being relocated once more – high up into the countryside where they were to secure the mountainside.

“I’m not sure what will await us,” Joonmyeon said thickly, trying his hardest to stop his voice from quavering. “But we will secure the mountainside.” Casting his gaze to the muddy ground, he hesitated. “That is if we make it to the mountain at all.”

“When are we leaving?” Chanyeol asked, his face unreadable. Even standing next to him, Jongin could sense his unease. All eyes turned to Joonmyeon as the platoon waited in silence to know their fate. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Jongin drew in a sharp breath.

“Nine days from now.”

Pulling out his notebook, Jongin exhaled. His platoon didn’t laugh that evening. They barely spoke. With forlorn looks etched into each and every face, they stared at the sandbag walls of their temporary bunker. To Jongin, the silence was unnerving. He was not used to seeing them so … Helpless.

Distant shouting cut through the night and Jongin lifted his head. In the center of the glade stood a cluster of men, all doctors, their arms flailing about to signal a Hillier Raven that circled above, the roar of its blades hissing through the trees. Just behind them, a figure lay, completely still on the ground. Jongin leaned forward, squinting through the darkness to get a better look.

“That’s Jaehyun,” Joonmyeon said quietly, his voice making Jongin jump in surprise. Leaning heavily against the side of the bunker, Joonmyeon exhaled loudly, his gaze fixed on the cluster of doctors in the glade. “Both his legs were blown off – in an area quite close to where we’re headed. He’s going home.”

Jongin felt his stomach churn, the bile in his throat bubbling up his esophagus. “Is he … Alive?”

“No,” Joonmyeon replied after a moment of hesitation. He chose his words carefully. “Jaehyun lied about his age. He was only seventeen.”

Closing his eyes, Jongin focused on his breathing, his whole body felt numb. He had a million things he wanted to ask his lieutenant, but he just couldn’t seem to find the strength or will to speak. Instead, he opened his eyes and watched as the doctors lifted Jaehyun on a stretcher, placing him onto the aircraft.

“He was still a child,” Joonmyeon whispered, his fists clenching. “But he still wanted to fight for his country – to protect it.”

A long silence passed between the two as they watched the aircraft carrying Jaehyun rise into the sky before vanishing into the night. Placing a hand on Jongin’s shoulder, Joonmyeon sighed.

“You’re brave, Jongin,” he said, his voice low. “It’s only normal to be afraid – everyone else is.”

Jongin waited for his lieutenant to leave, disappearing back inside the tiny sandbag bunker before he placed his pen to paper.

“Brave,” he mused, thoughtfully, his fountain pen scratching into the surface of the paper.

I don’t consider myself brave. In fact, I’m quite the opposite.

“Kyungsoo,” Sehun murmured as he wrapped his arms around the others waist, his lips brushing along Kyungsoo’s exposed neckline. “Just relax, it’ll be okay.”

Tensing his body, Kyungsoo hesitated. “But Jongin-“

“What about him?” Sehun breathed, trailing kisses along his lover’s jaw. “This is the future. Realistically, he probably won’t survive. You know that, Kyungsoo. I know you do. He hasn’t even written to you.”

When Kyungsoo made no move to respond, Sehun sighed, resting his chin in the crook of his lover’s neck. “Look, I don’t know why you’re still worrying about him. Either you like him or you don’t. There is no in between. But I love you – I have for a long time. And I know that you love me, too.”

Allowing his shoulders to relax, Kyungsoo closed his eyes.

“You’re right, Sehun. You always are. I’m sorry.”

Jongin lay atop the small rubber mat on the floor of the bunker, his hands folded atop his chest, eyes fixed on the roof. It was another sleepless night for him – another night where he would be left alone with his thoughts.

Why had Kyungsoo not responded to any of his messages yet? Was everything okay? With his fiancé’s unexpected silence, Jongin could only assume the worst had happened. Had the town been attacked? Was he driven out of his home by the enemy? Was he dead?

Jongin’s heart ached at the thought of his fiancé’s cold body, lying motionless on a blanket of incarnadine snow.

“Please,” he whispered. “Let me know you’re okay.”

“Do it,” Sehun urged, passing the cassette cartridge to Kyungsoo. He gestured to the tape recorder that sat in the middle of the coffee table. When Kyungsoo made no move to put the cassette in the recorder, Sehun swiftly took it out of his hands once more. “You have to let him know how you really feel, Kyungsoo. You’re with me. We love each other. You have to let him know.”

Kyungsoo, face drained of colour, sat frozen on the couch. “I can’t,” he whispered. “It would break him. What if he dies out there, Sehun? What if this is the last thing he hears?”

“What if he doesn’t?” Sehun countered. “What if he comes back home and finds us together? That will break him.”

Offering Sehun a small nod, Kyungsoo took the cassette hesitantly, placing it into the recorder. Pressing the rewind button, Kyungsoo watched as the magnatised plastic tape wound itself around the spools, ready to begin recording. Drawing in a sharp breath, Kyungsoo waited, his hand positioned above the record button before finally, he summoned enough courage to press it.

“Jongin,” he said slowly, his tone strangled. “It’s time that I tell you how I really feel, and I pray that you accept what I have to say. The time I spent with you was magical, it was as though everything was a dream. Everything was beautiful – everything was perfect. But now, I’ve been brought back down to Earth. Do you remember me telling you about my childhood friend, Sehun? I met him in the marketplace and he showed me what it was like to not have my head in the clouds. I’m happy now, Jongin. It’s been a long time since I have felt happy, but with Sehun, I always am.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Kyungsoo’s hands began to shake, his eyes stung. “I’m sorry, Jongin. I truly am. But wherever you are, I wish you every happiness.”

Turning on his side, careful not to wake any of his platoon, Jongin opened his small notebook, the pages barely illuminated by the pale light of the moon.

Kyungsoo, the notebook read. Never doubt that I love you. Not even for a second.

Tracing a fingertip over the final few words of his entry, Jongin smiled and closed his eyes, welcoming sleep at last.