It was glittering. It really, truly was. Dongwoon span around and tried to find anyone who he could share this with. Alone, he leaned back over the balcony, searching the skies for the star. No, his star. He remembered searching for stars with his father, grabbing for the brilliant lights, so beautiful, so untouchable.

Star, star, star.

 He hitched his worn bag over his shoulder and slowly walked down the fire escape, still with his eyes toward the heavens, sifting through his memories of his father, of his childhood. His heart ached when he thought about his father, stationed somewhere overseas. Suddenly furious, Dongwoon threw a punch at one of the walls. Why did his father, his old and loving father, have to fight someone else’s war? It wasn’t his war, his reasons, his time to go. His eyes tickling, he turned his head upwards toward the skies, remembering his star, their connection and his father’s love for him.

Star, star, star.

Kikwang rubbed his eyes, quickly brushed aside his tears, and smiled brightly for his friends to see that he was fine, just fine. He picked up his chopsticks and worked on maintaining this image, this ‘fine, just fine’ image that he worked so hard to build, four years running.

“Ah, Kikwang-ah! Don’t just sit there with a glum face! Eat some more rice! More ddubokgi, at least! This party is for you!”

Yoseob, his friend, had great intentions, he was sure, but there were just some days when silence and solitude would have been nice, preferred even. What kind of son spent his evenings partying when he should be with his sick mother, tending to her, especially when he didn’t know…didn’t know…what might happen to their life together. Her sickness was getting worse, worse than the doctor predicted, and the future wasn’t clear. Her diagnosis four years ago came with a grim smile, a promise of antibiotics and surgery and success and a long life. Four years later, all that was left was a once beautiful woman, withered like a flower, who had lost her body, her mind, and the life that she used to have.

‘’Oh, Yoseob, you know how much I love your get-togethers,” Kikwang said with a smile. ‘’But I have to go home to finish my homework. Plus you know how much my mom would yell at me if she knew I was out drinking.’’

Nope. None of his friends knew about his mother, a lie that he told the world, a lie that he told himself, a lie that he intended on keeping. Kikwang waved at his friends again, accepting hugs and promising to call, skipped out of the restaurant. Walking under the broken streetlights, Kikwang blew out a sigh of relief. His façade was getting too hard to keep, to maintain. It was too painful smiling when all he wanted to do was run, run, run back home to his mother, to hold her cold hands, to look into those now unfamiliar eyes and pretend that everything was okay.

Shadows leaped at him as he walked down the cold streets of Seoul . Sirens whirred; street vendors shouted out their wares; a pack of stray dogs ran alongside him, hoping for scraps. Kikwang liked walking down the streets at night alone. He liked being away from the cold, dead feeling that his apartment had. He liked tucking away his mask, the mask that he showed the world, showing the world that he was fine, just fine. The silence enveloped him, his footsteps clicking on the pavement, the sounds magnified ten times against the tall and dark buildings. He turned the corner and stopped, staring up at his apartment building. Only one light shone throughout, three floors, two windows from the left. He wondered what she was thinking about at that moment. Was she thinking about him, the stranger who calls himself her son? The room she was in, that had shadows that clawed at her, demons that tugged her hair?

Tired of the tears, he walked to the park and sat on of the benches that faced his apartment building. Too many evenings were spent on this bench, crying for his mother, crying for his childhood, crying about the lack of justice in the world. Kikwang lay down on the bench and looked up at the sky. He saw a bright glittering in the sky, just close enough to tease, too far to grab. His mother used to tell him about the angels that lived on the stars, always telling him that if he prayed hard enough and believed, truly believed in them, they would grant him immortality and happiness.

Sitting up, he gave a bitter laugh. ‘’Where are your angels now, uhmma? Are they out granting wishes for someone else? Are they even real? Or are they as fake as your monsters? Your dreams? Your son?!

Star, star, star.

‘’Yah, shut up.’’ A voice called out. ‘’There are others trying to sleep, you know.’’ This voice stepped out of the shadows and into the bright spotlights from the neighborhood lights. This boy had a strong jaw, bright eyes and a lean, tall figure. He had long, messy hair just like the recent styles, however, Kikwang had a feeling that this boy’s hair was so due to circumstance and not vanity. He was holding a weather-beaten bag tightly in his left hand, tugging on his leather jacket with his right. Although he tried to put on a tough demeanor, standing up straight and letting a mask drop over your eyes doesn’t quite hide your youth and innocence. Kikwang sighed, already knowing that this kid was going to be a problem to him.

Star, star, star.