*****

As the lights go up, the roar of the crowd rivals the rising tide of music. Jaejoong can see the outpouring of energy from thousands of voices calling out in unison. It flows high, shimmering red with passion, until it becomes drawn to the stage; drawn to Yunho who shines brighter with each passing moment.

Jaejoong watches as the man before him absorbs the vibrant passion as his own. He is transformed. His body becomes the music, every movement fluid and flowing into the next. He is motion, graceful and unending. The screams only grow and he takes them all; every single voice is pulled into him, and he is nearly glowing with the intensity of it all.

He is beautiful.

Jaejoong's heart pounds as he watches the other man burning with all the brilliance of a star. He wants to join in the screams, but he must continue the song's melody. Without it, the magnificence before him will falter. But he never takes his eyes off the figure dancing before him.

The performance ebbs, but the tide of voices only continues its crescendo. As the music reaches its end, Yunho holds his position. He is endlessly captivating, even in his stillness.

The lights dim. Everything disappears but for the noise of the crowd.

Jaejoong lives for these moments. In the darkness, he can pretend. He lets himself remain trapped in the elation of the performance for as long as he can. He is enraptured. He imagines that Yunho might have watched him, too, and he dares to wonder what it would be like to be held in his embrace.

Despite the blackness, Yunho's light is burned into the back of his eyes. He wants to hold onto that radiance, that Earth-bound starlight. He doesn’t want to share it with anyone else.

A hand grasps his arm and leads him from the choir of voices in the dark.  He weaves through blackness until he emerges backstage and the light is returned abruptly, bringing with it stark, burning clarity.
 

Yunho turns to face him, and Jaejoong trembles in anticipation. This moment, he has waited for it, yearned for it.

He receives only a friendly smile, just the same as everyone else, before he is brushed aside.

He is unremarkable; lost in the swarm of colleagues and friends clamouring for a taste of his brilliance.

He is Icarus: ever flying higher to be but a hairsbreadth closer to the sun, and failing to realise it only gives him further to fall.

He is a fool.

Although he basks in the remains of his light, the darkness in his heart only grows.

Its name is love.

He calls it despair.

*****