Stars Beyond my Fingertips

When darkness blankets over the world every night, Wheein is never sure whether she likes it or otherwise. Amidst the city lights and unyielding bustle of the night, Wheein can still see the stars.

And it reminds her of someone.

An emotional limbo. A star so bright, she’s blinded to the jolts of hurt she receives. A star close enough (and definitely close to her heart) to almost touch and hold on to, yet always just beyond her fingertips.

“Wheein.”

And the star speaks.

“Hm?” Wheein breaths in and turns. “What’s up, Byul?”

Byulyi, the star just beyond her fingertips. One she couldn’t and wouldn’t dare to keep in her grasp. She’d rather continue this, to look, hurt and be contented with what she has. The cycle repeats and Wheein’s heart clenches.

Byulyi points to the ground, one eyebrow crinkled, eyes twinkling in what seems like a mix of confusion and amusement.

“That’s new. You’re ignoring your cat.”

Only then does Wheein realise that the Scottish Fold has been mewing and demanding attention from her. She scoops the kitten up and makes a cute face at it. “I’m sorry.”

For a moment, the apology seems more suitable for Byulyi, even herself and Wheein feels empty. Emptied out and hollow.

Her kitten raises a paw.

“High five, Kkomo?” Byulyi laughs at the cat’s antics.

On cue, the paw drops instantly.

“Kkomo,” Wheein coos and tickles the small kitten.

“I don’t think Kkomo likes me very much,” Byulyi muses. Kkomo hisses in response. “Yeah. That’s right, hypothesis confirmed.”

“Maybe Kkomo doesn’t like to share,” Wheein mumbles, unable to hold back. A certain part of her wants this. That part that can only feel gratified when she throws the obvious into Byulyi face because she feels so damn suffocated half the time.

Byulyi blinks and closes her eyes for a second too long. And Wheein thinks that this is it, that it is finally happening and she has finally pushed the wrong buttons to set the gears of disintegration moving. She quickly regrets her words.

“I’ll make Kkomo like me.” Byulyi grins way too gently.

Wheein is momentarily stunned. Byulyi has won, yet again.

Kkomo slips out of her grasp.

“You don’t have to.”

“It won’t be hard to.”

Wheein doesn’t know if Byulyi is kind or cruel.

The way she navigates and sidesteps, normalises everything even though Wheein has explicitly told her the feelings she harbours for the older girl years and years back. And they have been at this since then. Where Byulyi stays by her, close but never too close.

Byulyi doesn’t push her away, doesn’t say anything remotely close to “sorry, I don’t like you that way” and doesn’t make things awkward.

Byulyi doesn’t apologise.

Wheein should resent her for stringing her along for years but all she feels is a want for the person dishing out the pain and hurt.

So she relents, allowing the star in her life to remain at that distance. Gazing at Byulyi attempting to befriend Kkomo, Wheein doesn’t know what else she can say.

Except what her heart hums silently, all the time.

I love you.

And she wishes upon the stars that maybe, one day, in the future or in an alternate life she will hear the reply she craves.

I love you, too.