Black Star

He is truly happy. For him, because he deserves it, this chance to shine, to prove how much he worth it, how much the world is missing. And, for once, there is not a jealousy thorn prickling him, pinching his heart, making it bleed just a bit, but enough to linger on his memory; like a threatening, an insult never spoken but there anyway, a slap on his face that didn’t happened but hurt just the same. But for Jinwoo, he smiles happily, for Jinwoo he feels nothing but joy.

He has nothing to do but Jinwoo refuses to leave him alone and he lets him do with him whatever he wants, not really worrying about where are they going; if he is with him, he knows it will be alright.

Jinwoo looks nervous, biting lips and hands slightly shacking, looking at him ashamed but also determined. And then he starts to dance.

It’s entrancing watching him moves freely, harmoniously, with elegance and beauty, as if he has been meant to do it; all his body feeling it, transmitting in subtle ways all different emotions and sentiments. Like water and wind, he flows, traned into someone else, into the dance itself; hands that can express joy and feet that can make him cry. He doesn’t need music; he is it, the essence of it all. Like reading the book, Jinwoo’s body is communicating it all; like letters floating on the air, writing the story of a lonely prince looking for a real friend. And he will be there for him whenever he needs it, always and forever.

It’s now, while watching Jinwoo’s dance that he feels it again, that bite of envy for his ability to move like this, so effortlessly, as if in gravity zero, wafting on air like butterflies and flamingos and something he can’t describe, something beyond words and expressions but that it’s entirely lovely and that is only because of him. He dances as if the music lived in him, beating from his heart and reaching everything, everyone seeing him. As a casted spell, he has left him waiting, longing for more; captivated and enchanted, there is no way out of it.

He is not jealous because Jinwoo will perform with the National Ballet or for any other of his latest achievements; he is rather proud of them all; he has endured the same pain and the same suffering, and he has always been by his side, cheering him up when he most needed it, ensuring his smile even if it cost him his own one. He doesn’t envy Jinwoo, but how he moves, like flying, traces of freedom, of liberty, of a purity that he hasn’t; he envies his dancing skills, how fexible and lissome and lovely he seems while gliding up and down, like a swan, gracefully, willowy, without a flaw, how his body speaks in a language that everybody can understand. But it’s so beautiful to see, even with tears blurring him a bit, that overwhelmes all this feelings, leaving only the grace of him.

“Thanks for coming with me, Seunghoon-ah” he whispers and his voice is soft and clear, tickling his ear, like feathers falling, “I really appreciate it” and he feels it in his lips, Jinwoo tiptoeing to reach it, hands standing just there for a second, helping him to reach. It's just the corner of his mouth, slightly touched by him, who is staring into his soul with stars beaming in his eyes, like fireworks. He moves closer again, hands searching, looking for him, but this time Seunghoon is faster, enveloping his tiny frame with his arms, wrapping him warm and tight, his chin on his head, the perfect size, smelling the peachy essence that comes from his shining hair; a bright blond that feels like the caress of the sun; hands entangled, his long fingers brushing his tenderly, sweeping away all worries with little touches that feels like something great.

“It was beautiful, hyung. Thanks for showing me” he says, leaving small kisses on the air only for him to see. 

“You dance so much better… I was hoping for your help, actually” and his arms aren’t around his hips anymore, spinning Jinwoo to face him, to watch what he mean.

“You don’t need it. It was beyond perfection”. It’s not reassurance, this time it’s only the truth and Jinwoo notices it by how piercing is his glance on him.

“Do you – think so?” and in his voice lifes some sort of hope, as if coming from him it could only be true, as if believing blindly in Seunghoon’s sincerity. And his eyes are big and wide open, looking at him all, at everything he is in a way that makes him tremble.

“Yes, hyung. It was incredibly. I cried a bit” he confesses shyly and, in a bliss, Jinwoo is back at hugging him.

This moment feels so right, he wants to freeze it, keep it forever still, the warmth of his body, how good his smell is, how perfectly well they fit together, like pieces of a jigsaw. And it reaches him then, like a warhammer that overwhelms him with an emotion he well knows but that now has a name too, an emotion he has been drowning down and down until overflowing him and taking him all.

“I loved it. I also love you”

“Oh –“ and his mouth is just parted lovely “I was hoping for that, too”.

 This time, when Jinwoo tiptoes, all cutely, hands on his shoulder, clingging on his nape, impulsing him only so he can reach him, his lips just kiss his, matching just perfectly.