Stars light the dark skies like glow-in-the-dark décor that lulls us to sleep. Though millions of light years away, it offers us warmth in the chilling nights when the breeze decides to be cold. Sometimes winking and smiling and willingly becomes our company.

They are looked at during peaceful evenings and deafening silences.

Wu Yifan is a star. Or so they say.

Though his face looks blank most of the time, his smiles light up a room like a 100 watt bulb and his laughter serves as icebreakers and energizers in replacement of caffeine.

And somehow, even among the thousands of glow sticks that sway left and right and bobs up and down, the colored lights that dance around the stadium and the smoke that takes up most of the stage, Yifan still shines like a chandelier with dozens of light bulbs around him that illuminate his presence and makes him noticeable and be able to stand out.

Yifan is a star. Naturally.

Stars are wonderful. They are like shining, glittering jewels that were hung up on the sky to guide us and give us light. And though out of reach, we are still attracted by their presence in our lives as if we are put on a trance and can never escape.

Yifan is a star. Absolutely.

Yifan stands on a pedestal far above our heads. And it comes to the point where it gets too high for us to reach out our hands and try and for him to look down and fall. Fall, fall, fall. Basked in glory, the rays on sunlight always manages to strike right and his features are emphasized and his crisp blonder hair looks majestic.

Yifan is a star. Obviously.

His mere presence turns heads towards him. So effortless. Long strides and an aura full of confidence, Yifan walks normally yet it still looks like he’s running on a runway.

But we fail to realize that the stars that we might be looking at, are dying. Though at the door of Death, they still manage to spread happiness even if Oblivion itself is eating them away from the inside.

We fail to see what is underneath the façade.

Yifan is a star. In all aspects.

But Yifan is dying. Grip loosening on the hands of Life, fingers slowly slipping away, tight grasps become forgotten and unknown.

Smiles and laughter are nothing more but shields as defense. To hide the stress of problems that continues to conquer him. To bury the skeletons in his closet and keep it away from the people who are in bliss. To not cloud their lives with his own misery.

Wu Yifan is every inch of a star. Kind and warm.

A star he is. But a star he must not be. If he want what  his heart yearns for greatly. Freedom calls out to him and he is tempted, tempted to take the hand of Freedom itself and leave the skies that used to be his home. That used to be his life.

Inches become centimeters. Centimeters become nothing more. Distance has increased. Everything is out of reach.

Freedom embraces the blonde haired man as he lets go of the life he’s grown accustomed too. Fingers too tired to hold on to reality have lost hold on Life. He feels himself move, one foot and then the other. Forward and forward, Freedom leading him away to the paradise he’s seen only in his dreams. He looks back one last time, and he sees them.

The stars.

The stars that have surrounded him for years. The stars that stuck by him and kept him company. The ones who understood him. The ones who loved him dearly enough to accept his flaws and imperfections.

Stars die eventually. Nature says so. Undebatable. Unchangeable.

Wu Yifan is a star. And it was his time.