The stars have been watching you your whole life, as you laughed and cried, loved and suffered. Today, you’re finally going to do something that none of them can bear to watch. They blink out, the whole night sky turning dark, just as you’re about to do it
When I was younger, I liked to think that at night, there were creatures that came from the stars to walk around on earth, watching over the people while they slept. You suddenly awake and find one standing in your garden.
It’s 3 am. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says “do not look at the moon.” You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending “it’s a beautiful night tonight. Look outside.”
Word Count: 15.5K+
Chapter 1: Ego
Next Part
The garden was empty. The starboy stood alone, waiting….
The night’s presence was unpredictable. Some were scared of the suspicious dark whilst others anticipated night to fall in order to leave their homes and bask in the nightlife. Yoongi was the latter, always preferring night to day, always staying up past dusk into the late hours just before dawn. To him, night meant quiet. Night was peace. Night held the stars and the stars held him.
The first time Yoongi met the boy was when he was young, about nine-years-old at the time. Yoongi had a nightmare that spurred his body to automatically wake up and set his mind into a frenzy. He couldn’t go back to sleep no matter how hard he tried. His entire being was now awake. Young Yoongi chose to glance out his window, deciding the best way to lull himself back to sleep was through his favorite pastime activity: stargazing.
His mother always said Yoongi was born amongst the stars and that’s why he had such a desire for night. Yoongi always went along with it, teasing that that was the reason why his skin was so pale and alight — because he was a star meant to be in the nighttime sky. His mother would always smile and joke back that the sun was his mortal enemy.
Yoongi felt connected to the night, the stars, the moon. He wished for people to be awake at night instead of the day because it was so much more beautiful and serene. His bedroom window overlooked their garden, a pond located in the center that always acted as a mirror to the sky that held the abundance of stars in its reflection. However, that night was different from before. Instead of the serene sight Yoongi was used to seeing, there was a boy reflected in the pond’s depth. Yoongi was awestruck as he watched on, the boy’s ringed fingers gliding over the top of the water, barely creating ripples as he seemed to admire the glass-like reflection as well. Finally, the boy’s eyes snapped up and Yoongi felt all the air leave his chest in one breath, accidentally fogging his windowpane and therefore his line of vision. By the time he smudged away the remnants, the boy was long gone, a single ripple in the pond echoing to the edge of the bank was the only indicator that Yoongi wasn’t hallucinating the whole ordeal.
The boy would return though, every night thereafter to be exact. And Yoongi would always wait for him, despite the boy insisting that it was breaking rules and shouldn’t be allowed (although every time Yoongi asked exactly what rules were they breaking, the other boy never knew the definitive answer). After about a week of stargazing in silence with one another, the boy offered one simple word: “Jeongguk”. That was enough for Yoongi to accept.
After that, Yoongi began sneaking Jeongguk food from whatever he could find in his pantry without waking his mother up. Jeongguk always nodded in thanks and the two boys ate in silence while watching the nighttime sky. More weeks went by before Jeongguk started pointing out constellations that Yoongi had already studied and was well-versed in, but regardless, he still listened diligently to the young boy with his brown-and-blue-hued hair and his slightly protruding front teeth. When Yoongi finally worked up the courage to ask the boy where he came from, the latter appeared to shut down and only measly pointed to the starry sky. Yoongi was confused but didn’t question him any further; something in his gut told him that Jeongguk was being honest in some way.
Eventually, the boys began talking more once they grew comfortable with each other’s presence, they even began playing games during their late hours spent together: tag, hide-and-seek, even UNO. Jeongguk was always better at the games and despite Yoongi’s constant complaints, he always enjoyed the way the other boy’s eyes would fiercely light up; it reminded him of the stars he liked to look at so much.
~
“Yoongi, where do you think you’re going with a slice of bread?”
“I… I’m gonna go feed the ducks in the garden?” Yoongi stuttered. His heart was racing, not expecting to be caught dead in his tracks by his mother at midnight. Is Jeongguk going to think I bailed on him? What if he leaves?
“Is that so? What about the missing chocolate animal crackers that have been disappearing for the past couple days? Are you feeding the ducks that?” His mother questions, an eyebrow raised, arms crossed.
“No, no! Of course not! Sometimes I get hungry myself! I need a snack for myself! It’s a win-win, Mom! The ducks get fed and I get fed. Who doesn’t like that?” Yoongi expresses, the piece of bread in his hand going soggy from how sweaty and clammy his palms are. Jeongguk is waiting for me. He’s probably hungry….
“Min Yoongi, come here,” she beckons and waits for Yoongi to oblige before continuing, “Honey, is this the reason why you’ve been sleeping in school? I’m getting really concerned about you. It’s starting to affect your grades, Yoon.”
Oh no, not the guilt. Anything but the guilt. Yoongi can’t stand the look on his mother’s face. It leaves him completely devastated.
“Yoongi, baby, look at me,” she tilts Yoongi’s face up to look at her. Tears are already swelling in Yoongi’s eyes. He can’t handle his mother’s disappointment. “Now, why are you crying?”
Yoongi can’t explain himself, the tears coming down in puddles and rivers. He can’t stop himself no matter how tight his mother hugs him or how rapidly she wipes them away, they just keep coming like a dam that’s been burst. He’s full-on sobbing within a few moments and his mother picks him up and cradles him, shushing him and gently scratching his back. A light melody brushes past her lips as she whispers a song that Yoongi is all too familiar with. It’s their favorite and they both know every single lyric. It instantly eases and silences Yoongi. His mother begins strolling to her room, Yoongi still in her arms, and soft lyrics still on her tongue. That night, Yoongi falls asleep in his mom’s bed, listening to her gentle voice, and a piece of soggy bread still clutched in his small fingers.
~
“Jeongguk, I’m really sorry for last night.” Yoongi apologizes, eyes averted down to where Jeongguk is circling his finger in the water of the pond.
“S’kay.” He curtly replies, still focused on his minuscule movements.
“Are you mad at me?”
“No,” Jeongguk replies, finally glancing at the other boy. “I can’t expect you to meet me every night. That’s asking for too much. You need your sleep, Yoongi.”
“You sound like my mother.”
Jeongguk smiles. Yoongi takes the opportunity to pass him a slice of bread (a new and fresh piece, not the one from last night) to which Jeongguk smiles even further, bunny teeth making a brief entrance. The boys spend the rest of the night in quiet bliss, just simply enjoying being around the other.
~
As Yoongi grows older, he begins to enjoy the night for different reasons. He discovers places that glow like a personalized rainbow, filled with people similar to him, that play music that Yoongi can sway his body too. It’s intense and fun and Yoongi feels intoxicated every time he steps through the nightclub’s doors, addicted to the way his heart leaps out of his chest and his eardrums pop with the rippling bass that he feels all the way down to his toes. He loves the atmosphere. He loves the people that always stare and he loves it even more when they approach, their rosy lips desperate to formulate and enunciate the syllables of just his name, and their fingertips that ghost over every part of his body in just the right way to make goosebumps form along the base of his neck. He loves it when they’re confident and arrogant and hungry to get his attention because the best way to get his attention is through his liquor intake. When Yoongi gets his free drink and sits back, thighs spread to invite this stranger — who, of course, may have potentially sore feet or legs (Yoongi is doing them a favor) — to have a seat, he receives even more attention. Yoongi discovers things about himself whilst tucked away in the dark corner of the nightclub. Yoongi can’t get enough of it all. The night is one of pleasure, fun, secrets, attention.
Yoongi always begs Jeongguk to come along. But the other boy always declines, opting to sit by the pond and eat snacks in silence. He’s taller and more fit than Yoongi now; however, he still acts the same as when they were nine. Yoongi isn’t sure how he feels about the development.
Some nights, all Yoongi wants is the harmonious peace that Jeongguk offers. Other nights, he just wants an escape; he craves something loud and energetic, a fun distraction that’s away from rules and feelings. Nights that are away from Jeongguk.
~
Yoongi realized earlier on that he had developed feelings for the quiet boy who held the galaxy in his eyes and an appetite that could put an entire animal farm to shame. Yoongi fell helplessly into his cute antics, competitive nature, his peace, his calm, his serene. Jeongguk was everything that Yoongi wasn’t. Jeongguk was warm and safe. Yoongi was cold and gaudy. Jeongguk was the quiet ripple of a pond and Yoongi was the blaring bass of the nightclub. Jeongguk was the soft pastel that filled your home and Yoongi was the striking chrome that blinded you.
It was only a matter of time before things spiraled.
His grades and sleep went to shit. He lost connection with himself. He destroyed himself, shattered every bone that supported him, burst every vein that led to his heart, and crushed the skull that kept his mind afloat. Yoongi lost himself within the maze of his own and he couldn’t find the way out.
How do you fall for a temporary person?
Yoongi needed permanent, stable, steady. He began believing that temporary was the only thing he deserved so he found a way to make it permanent. People come and go, temporary, but the attention always remained on him, permanent. If he was nothing then at least for a few moments to someone he was something worth seeking. He was someone worth approaching and getting involved with. He had potential for permanent despite the circumstances of temporary. And eventually, when the first one left with not only their presence but their attention, temporary, the next one would come and offer up their services to him, permanent.
Yoongi lost touch with not only the world around him but the universe within himself.
“Yoongi, we need to talk.” His mother’s tone was soft, gentle, kind. It made Yoongi feel absolutely sick.
Yoongi didn’t want anything to do with the sickly sweet that spilled into his bloodstream and threatened to poison him. “I can’t right now, I gotta—“
“Now.” His mother’s voice had an edge to it now, the paper clutch between her fingers getting crushed slightly from her tight grasp. Yoongi knew exactly what that paper was-- the school’s attempt to inform his mother how much of an academic failure he was.
There was no fighting, no arguing. It was straight to the point and Yoongi found himself actually desperate for a command. It meant he didn’t have to think for himself. It meant he didn’t have to think at all.
“Yoongi, what’s going on? Your grades are in the gutter. You look like a walking corpse. What’s going on?” Her voice was wavering throughout her questions, eyes trained solely on her son who twitched under her stare.
“Mom, it’s nothing—“ he started.
“Bullshit! Don’t you dare try to lie to me now, Min Yoongi. What do you need?”
What do I need? I need to go away.
“Mom, seriously, it’s nothing. You know how it is, typical teenager things. We’re emotional. It’s nothing I can’t handle on my own.” Yoongi’s composure was cool, stiff, as if he’d rehearsed this a million times.
“Yoongi,” his mother kneeled in front of his sitting form now, head on his lap and tears running down her face. Yoongi was stuck to his place, eyes glued to the precious being in front of him that was in pain because of him. She was in pain because he was in pain. Yoongi’s hands shook as he attempted to lift her back up, to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness for making the person he loved the most upset.
She refused and remained in her position. She repeated herself, “Yoongi…. Yoongi, my baby, what’s happening? You're not the person I know you are. What happened to my Yoon? Where’s my precious starboy? The boy who had excitement in his eyes and enjoyed the world around him, where is he? Why is there a hollow shell sitting in front of me? What's going on, Yoon? I’m here to help and guide you but I can’t even find you anymore.” By the end, his mother was sobbing and his jeans were soaked and his hands and pupils shook from shock.
“Mama…. mama, I’m so sorry.”
~
Yoongi stopped visiting Jeongguk for a while. His mother always consoled him during the night, making sure to keep an eye on her son so he didn’t leave the house in the darkest hours. He was finally able to catch up on sleep, he began caring about school again; however, none of that really mattered to Yoongi. There was still something missing. A part of him was gone and he felt confined, trapped, suffocated. He was still a walking shell, as his mother described. He was yet to be Min Yoongi — whatever the hell that meant.
Yoongi missed the drunk and the high, missed the nightclub and the attention, missed the serene and Jeongguk. Yoongi missed who he was. No matter how badly he wished to go back, he couldn’t. That Yoongi was just a naive child who didn’t know any better. Yoongi is old enough now to understand pain and loneliness. He feels tainted.
It wasn’t long before his night escapades began again. It was the only thing that made him feel alive throughout his stages of numb. Some nights he would go out to the town and find temporary fun, other times he would lay side-by-side with the boy who’s plagued him every night, whether physically or mentally in his dreams. Jeongguk’s eyes gave away his concern but he never prodded Yoongi to open up, always waiting until Yoongi was willing to admit what was happening in his life. Jeongguk would listen with his full attention and Yoongi soaked up every minute that Jeongguk’s focus was solely on him.
Yoongi’s feelings for the other boy kept expanding and he found himself going out less and less and becoming more accustomed to meeting Jeongguk every night, much like how he used to when they were younger. Back then, Yoongi was able to stay awake much longer but now he’s constantly tired and has to physically force himself to keep his eyes open with the younger-looking boy. He eventually fails though, every single time, with his eyes and mind drifting in the quiet serenity that Jeongguk always brings with him.
His mother wakes him up every morning from the garden, eyes no longer filled with concern but with humor and delight.
“You look happier now.” She comments soon after it becomes a regular occurrence.
Yoongi can only smile as he shoves another spoonful of cereal into his mouth.
“I don’t know what changed and I’m not going to persist if you don’t wanna talk about it but,” she trails off, deliberately being considerate of her choice of words. “I’m happy to see that shine in your eyes again. I know it’s not entirely the same but it’s a start. I’m really happy.”
“I’m getting happy again too, Mom.”
“I know I said I’m not gonna pry but—“
“Mom! No!”
“Is it a special someone?”
Yoongi almost chokes on his cereal. He considers it for a brief moment, wondering if it’ll get him out of this embarrassingly awkward situation.
“Maybe.”
“Oh! I just knew it! Tell me about it!” She squeals in delight.
“He...I don’t know, Mom. He’s a star.” Yoongi blunty states, recalling what Jeongguk once told him when they were children.
“He’s an idol?”
“No! No he’s literally a star!”
“Wow, you must think really highly of this boy to compare him to a star.” She comments, eyes wide as a smile slowly creeps on the corners of her lips.
“No! Ugh!” Yoongi groans, feigning frustration at his mom obviously not taking him seriously. He isn’t actually upset though, a hidden smile crossing his face as well before he bursts into chuckles that soon turn into a fit. His mother joins in alongside him and when they’ve both settled down, they can’t stop sharing warm grins.
A few months later and Yoongi’s mother casually drops she was surprised that he was so open to admit to her that he was crushing on a boy.
“Why were you surprised?” He questions.
“I know it’s not a common sight or idea present at your school. Plus we’ve never really discussed anything regarding ‘sexuality’ so I know you don’t have a lot of exposure to it. To me, that means I did a pretty damn good job at making you feel safe enough to tell me right away without any hesitation. It’s a hard feeling to express, Yoon, but I’m glad it seemingly came easy to open up to me.” She admits openly, getting a little tongue-twisted in explaining her exact thoughts.
But Yoongi understands. He understands that it’s not always easy for kids to admit their attraction when it goes against the heteronormative standards that everyone is raised in. Yoongi doesn’t recall feeling scared or ashamed to tell his mom about his feelings but he’s not sure he’d feel comfortable admitting to it to some people at his school.
“You know, mom, I’m not gay,” Yoongi starts. “That label doesn’t feel quite right to me. I’m still figuring me out but thank you for being so understanding and loving… I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You’re thanking me for being a decent parent who loves her child regardless of their sexual preferences…. there’s no need for that, you silly boy.” She breathily laughs, arms opening wide to encase Yoongi in a warm hug. “My sweet Yoon, I’ll love you regardless.”
Yoongi’s eyes get wet of their own accord and it isn’t long before he leaves dark spots on his mother’s sweater from his tears. Yoongi is lucky, he knows. There isn’t an adequate way to describe his feelings as anything other than warm, safe, loved.
Permanent.
“So… do you still have a crush on this boy?”
“Mom!”
-
That night, Yoongi is waiting out in the garden for Jeongguk. He wants to see the boy descend from wherever he comes from. He wonders if the whole “star” thing is bullshit but deep down he knows the answer already. An hour soon passes with Yoongi distracting himself by playing with the ripple of the pond. It’s only when he sees Jeongguk’s reflection in the water that he realizes he missed the boy’s grand entrance.
“Fuck!” He curses, agitated that he missed the ordeal.
Jeongguk smiles, probably confused about why Yoongi is already cursing. “You beat me here today. What’s the occasion?”
Yoongi feels heat flush his cheeks. “Does there need to be one? Maybe I just wanted to see you.”
Now it’s Jeongguk’s turn to blush, his mouth coming together in a small pout and his eyes expanding and dilating to the point Yoongi could mistake it for the clear pond. Jeongguk quickly sits down, hiding his face from Yoongi by turning his head to the ground and feigning interest in the grass.
They sit there for a while, both silent but content in being next to one another. Yoongi finds himself staring at the other boy in awe, always taken aback by how naturally pretty Jeongguk looks.
“You know, I came out to my mom today,” Yoongi starts. “She took it really well. I’m— I’m really happy right now.”
Jeongguk smiles. “I’m happy you’re happy. She seems wonderful.”
“She is.” Yoongi is cheesing right now, “You’d really like her, I think.”
“If she’s anything like you then I have no doubt I will.” Jeongguk admits, facing Yoongi before tucking his head back down.
Yoongi feels the heat spread to his cheeks once again but his grin only gets wider. He stares at the boy still, his hands shaking in his lap as he contemplates his next move. Finally, he decides to be bold. His hand snaps up to gently grab hold of Jeongguk’s face, wordlessly tilting it up so he’s forced to look directly at Yoongi.
Yoongi had to scoot closer in order to reach the other boy so now they sit in front of each other, legs touching, Yoongi’s hand gripping Jeongguk’s chin, and eyes never leaving the other’s. Yoongi’s pupils are moving as fast as they can to scan every inch of Jeongguk’s face while he’s this close. He counts every star in his eyes, keeps track of all the little moles sprinkled on his face, delicately rubs the scar on Jeongguk’s cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. He wants to remember every little detail about the boy he became so enamored with, the one he can’t get out of his head, the one he anticipates and expects every single night. Yoongi is used to bottling his feelings up or tucking them away into the dark recesses of his mind so he doesn’t have to deal with it; however, tonight is when the cork has been pulled, the glass bottle shattering, and with it, all his ignored feelings towards the boy from the stars.
Yoongi can’t look away, is scared too. He’s scared by his own emotions. Jeongguk doesn’t realize just how much power he holds over him, unknowingly has Yoongi wrapped around his pretty little finger. Yoongi can’t breathe.
He wants to let go, to run away, but he’s frozen to his spot. He wants to climb in Jeongguk’s lap, throw his arms around his neck and mold himself to the boy, but once again, he’s frozen in place.
Letting go feels too hard, too much, too burdensome, too final. Yoongi is sick of suppressing his emotions. He wants to feel it all, no matter how much it hurts. It’s why he doesn’t back down from Jeongguk’s stare.
Jeongguk keeps his stare, albeit his pupils wide in shock. “Yoongi….”
And that’s all it takes before Yoongi is pulling Jeongguk in closer to himself by his chin. He tugs him until their lips barely brush, waiting for the star to express his consent. A few beats pass, their breaths both ragged in anticipation as their mouths still don’t quite touch. Their eyes are both half-lidded but retain their eye contact. Yoongi is unsure how much time passes — could be seconds or an hour — but he loves seeing Jeongguk in this dazed state. He traces every curve of the younger boy with his eyes, keeps his fingers gently enclosed around his chin as he feels barely-there stubble, becomes intoxicated on the warm and shallow breath that leaves Jeongguk’s parted lips that are so damn close to meeting his own.
Finally, Jeongguk releases a low whine, long eyelashes meeting the plump swell of his soft cheeks as he closes his eyes and his arms clumsily wrap around Yoongi’s neck to pull him forward to finally finally finally connect their lips.
Yoongi groans, the anticipation leading to adrenaline rushing through his veins straight to his heart. His eyes close, his hearing filled with only that of his heartbeat which soon becomes white noise as he focuses so intently on the boy who’s been his safe haven for years now. The boy who held stars in his eyes and who was a direct descendant from the nighttime sky that protected Yoongi through his worst times. Yoongi’s lips are rougher than Jeongguk’s but the other doesn’t seem to mind as he presses even more into the older, just as desperate for this touch, this connection, this kiss.
It starts with just a harsh press of mouths against one another, both boys just hopelessly wanting to feel the other. Jeongguk’s hands seek refuge in the raven strands of Yoongi’s hair, blunt fingernails scraping against his scalp. Yoongi groans, hot breath fanning Jeongguk’s mouth as he presses the younger down into the plush grass of the garden. His slim fingers grip onto Jeongguk’s hip bones, thumb slowly pressing circles into the upheaval of his body. Yoongi watches Jeongguk’s reactions, watches as the younger’s eyelids barely open and his lips pout, desperate and anticipating Yoongi.
Yoongi doesn’t give in right away, just continues admiring the boy beneath him. Jeongguk’s fingers are now entangled in Yoongi’s hair as he whines and begs. “Yoongi… Yoongi please. Please.”
The noise that rises from Yoongi’s throat is inhuman, as he listens to the pretty boy’s pleas. He can’t resist any longer.
His body bends forward, pressing warm open-mouthed kisses against Jeongguk’s throat, his teeth delicately hovering over his bobbing Adam’s apple. He finds his way to the spot just below his jaw, teeth finally digging into flesh as he bites and marks what is his. Jeongguk’s cries are pretty and addictive and Yoongi wants to hear more as he licks the wound and trails his pink tongue up to Jeongguk’s earlobe. There, his bites are gentler with more kisses intertwined in the mix. Jeongguk is moaning now, the gentle noise reverberates and echoes throughout Yoongi’s body as he presses their chests even closer together.
“Yoongi—Yoongi. I—“ Jeongguk can’t even form sentences, just breathlessly begging Yoongi to kiss the spot he really wants. Yoongi smirks, wanting to tease him more but deciding against it as he’s also waited so long for this moment. His parted lips seek Jeongguk’s own, his upper lip now encased between Jeongguk’s soft and plush ones. They only stay like that for a few moments before Yoongi is turning his head in order to deepen their kiss, deepen their connection. His tongue gently traces Jeongguk’s bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth, teeth grazing it as he snaps it back in place. Jeongguk groans once more, his grip on Yoongi’s hair almost painful as he tugs the older boy impossibly closer to him. His legs have now opened to fit Yoongi comfortably between them and Yoongi can’t help but feel as if they were the perfect mold together.
Their kiss continues, slick noises and gasps filling the space as their tongues intertwine and teeth occasionally clash as lips are tugged and sucked on. Yoongi feels eternal, permanent. He wishes this moment would never seize.
However, the night sky watches on as the two boys continue displaying their love in the company of the bright moon and twinkling stars.
Stars and mortals were not meant to fall in love.
—
The next night rolls around and Yoongi is desperate to see Jeongguk again, wanting nothing more than to reaffirm their feelings for one another as words escaped them the previous night. However, Jeongguk does not show up that night. Or the nights that follow. And neither the moon or stars make an appearance during that time as well.
—
Months have gone by since that fateful encounter where Yoongi and Jeongguk expressed their desire for one another in the inky depths of the night. The world has changed permanently after that night, the moon and stars ceased existing — as well as Jeongguk. He never came back. And Yoongi fell apart.
Everything he confided in, everything he trusted and loved was ripped away from him with no explanation. Everything he believed to be permanent was nothing more than temporary and his spirit broke when the golden beams that accompanied the night darkened. The serenity that Jeongguk brought disappeared indefinitely and Yoongi has long forgotten the feeling of peace. He can no longer quite remember how many stars were in Jeongguk’s eyes or how the scar on his cheekbone felt under the pad of his thumb. He can’t remember the warmth of Jeongguk’s mouth or how blue his hair was. Yoongi has forgotten, much like how he was forgotten.
He becomes numb once more and now his mother’s pleas no longer move his heart. He doesn’t feel guilt or sorrow at her dejected gaze as he continues cruising through the motions that is his temporary existence.
He crawls back to the sanctuary of the nightclubs as they are the only lights in the dark night sky. There, he meets Jimin who comes closest to making any sort of spark ignite within Yoongi but it’s not enough to reclaim Yoongi’s broken heart. But, Jimin feels good pressed against him. He’s so warm and pretty that Yoongi can’t help but to keep his eyes fixated on him throughout the night. It doesn’t help that Jimin seems to be just as frequent of an attender as Yoongi. They both seem to find refuge in the dark corners of the nightclub, desperately seeking any sort of comfort throughout the unknown. As the world flips over twice due to the literal disappearance of the moon and all the stars that accompanied her, Jimin and Yoongi’s mouths mold together in order to find normalcy.
It becomes a common routine for the two of them to meet tucked away from the bright lights and chaos of the night, clinging to any form of warmth they can find within another body. They don’t speak much, only seeking physical intimacy as they escape each of their own heartbreak and ignore the outside world that seems to also be breaking. Yoongi can feel Jimin’s hurt through his kisses just as he’s sure the other can feel his own pain. They openly use each other and neither seem to mind as they each picture someone else standing in their place. Yoongi wishes it was Jeongguk’s collarbones he’s marked while Jimin imagines a man named ‘Taehyung’ that he’s sitting in the lap of; however, they both know their wishes are for naught.
So they continue to kiss. And it was easier to stay like that. It was easier to hide the lonely in a mask of affection. It was easier to kiss someone else than to crave it from the one their hearts desired. It was easier to pretend that their hearts didn’t belong elsewhere together than it was to face the truth of their abandoned love alone.
Perhaps that is the true definition of heartbreak.
~
It’s been eight months since the moon vanished from the sky and on this particular night, Yoongi doesn’t feel like going out. Instead, he curls onto the window ledge as he looks out into the garden. The sky is entirely black, its inky depths looking endless and sending slight goosebumps down Yoongi’s body. He wonders if Jeongguk is somewhere out there in its vast expanse, wonders if he’s looking down upon Yoongi.
The television plays in the background, the news channel the last thing that was on. It’s become redundant and Yoongi can’t even be surprised by the stories as he listens to the reporters who have been covering similar cases throughout these eight months of empty night skies.
Once people discovered that the moon and its twinkling stars had disappeared, it wasn’t long before mayhem spread throughout civilization. Some places were overrun by the people and anarchy spread. Regardless, chaos was evident anywhere you went as no one could explain the sudden change. Cults grew in size and took control in certain areas as they spread the idea of sacrifices to appease the supposed Moon God. What once started as a mere conspiracy theory to be ridiculed quickly spread to the masses the longer the moon failed to reveal itself. Yoongi’s area hadn’t been taken control of by these people but it didn’t mean there weren't people with this ideology present throughout his city. It was dangerous as they were willing to slaughter anyone in order to make the moon reappear — it’s why his mom was so against Yoongi going out anywhere at night and is what caused him to always sneak out in order to find solstice in Jimin at the nightclubs.
The reporters are discussing another murder that took place but Yoongi zones out, continuing his silent stare at the dim world. Gentle and familiar hands wrap around his shoulders as his mother sits beside him on the window ledge. She keeps her embrace around Yoongi tight, kissing the side of his head as he continues looking out.
“Hi baby.”
“Hi mom.”
“Thinking?” She asks, her head now falling onto Yoongi’s shoulder.
“Yeah,” he breathes out as his mother’s presence comforts and soothes his wandering mind.
“Bet it’s just as dark in there,” she lightly pokes him in the forehead, “as it is out there.” She jokes as she now motions to the black sky.
“Maybe just a bit,” Yoongi sadly smiles, his head now falling upon his mother’s as they sit in silence looking out into the abyss of the night.
His mother is the first to break the stillness. “It’s late, you know. Why don’t we go to bed? I’ll even allow you the privilege of sleeping with me like you did when you were younger.”
Yoongi chuckles, nodding slowly in agreement as he remembers the night he slept with his mother after getting caught sneaking Jeongguk a piece of bread. Jeongguk. The memory feels painful when Yoongi remembers that specific aspect of it. He misses Jeongguk. He wonders if Jeongguk misses him.
Yoongi shakes his head. He wouldn’t have disappeared without a trace if he truly missed him. No, instead Jeongguk gave the mere impression of being permanent until Yoongi was used to him before he ran away into temporary. With him, he took everything Yoongi once loved: the night, the moon, the stars. Yoongi hates him. He wonders if maybe he made Jeongguk up as a way to cope with his loneliness. He wonders if all things in his life are only temporary and if it will continue being that way.
His mother nudges him, waiting for him to get off the windowsill so they can go to sleep together in her room. She jostles him out of his reverie — Yoongi is quite thankful for that, not wanting to further spiral into the thoughts that’s consumed him for the last eight months — and follows her to her bedroom.
He feels young again as he lays down on the opposite side of his mom. Such a trivial act felt so comforting to him when he was a child, but now, he can’t seem to feel permanent in any facet of his life. He craves so desperately for things to go back to the way they were but he knows that is just him being wistful and naive. Maybe he was thinking like a child.
He imagines what will happen when the moon and stars return. Maybe they won’t ever. Maybe he won’t survive long enough to witness their return. Maybe he’ll be the next sacrificial lamb in that damned cult’s crazy plan—
“Yoon.” His mother’s word is stern as it is light. “You’re thinking a lot. You look like you’re gonna shit yourself when you think so intently and I swear to God if you shit on my clean bed I’ll—“
He smiles, tilting his head up to look at his mother as she is already beaming at him. He can only shake his head, playing with his fingers to distract himself. “We’re dealing with the apocalypse and you’re concerned about if your bed sheets are clean or not? Talk about not having your priorities in check.”
She snorts, pushing his head to the side as a gentle way to reprimand him. “Shut it. The world isn’t ending.”
Yoongi attempts to remove her palm from his cheek, except she is much stronger than she appears as he fails at his plan. “How are you so sure of that? Has this ever happened in your lifetime?”
Instead of the immediate ‘no’ that Yoongi was anticipating, his mom remains quiet. A few moments pass before she finally speaks, “Once. It wasn’t quite like this though.”
With her sudden change of thoughts, Yoongi is able to easily remove her grip from his face and he sits up, still holding onto her wrist as he waits for her to continue.
“Yoon… I haven’t ever really told you about my parents, did I?”
Yoongi shakes his head, his fingers subconsciously squeezing his mother’s wrist a bit tighter.
“Hm,” she hums, collecting her bearings as she thinks. “Well, it’s quite similar to our own living situation except instead of a single mom, I grew up with just my dad.”
“What happened with your mom?” Yoongi’s voice is quiet, curious about the answer.
“She had to leave.”
Yoongi is confused but doesn’t pry, just waits.
His mom continues, “She left shortly after giving birth to me. My dad always talked about that night as I grew up. The night she left was when the moon and the stars disappeared. But that time, it only happened for a night or two. Never eight months. But we survived then, so we’ll survive now.”
A few beats pass. Yoongi thinks. “Are you implying it disappears when someone important leaves us?”
“I didn’t say that. Did someone important leave you, Yoongi?”
His eyes widen, realizing his mistake, realizing he never mentioned that Jeongguk disappeared or that he even really existed to his mom before. But he’s been found out. So he comes clean. “Yeah. Yeah, he did…. Did you ever see your mom again?”
She shakes her head as a ‘no’. Yoongi feels his heart break just a little further.
It is when Yoongi is about to turn over to his side and let unconsciousness consume him when he hears her whisper. “The reason I know the world isn’t ending is because the stars are made to watch and guide us. Even if we can’t see them they haven’t abandoned us. They’re still watching over us.”
—
Two more months have passed since the moon and stars have disappeared. The country is filled with cultists and Yoongi can’t even bring himself to care in the slightest, still desiring the warmth of another human being to hopefully bring him back down to reality.
He hasn’t thought about Jeongguk recently, only focusing on living day by day. He tries avoiding the news as well as getting killed in the streets. He doesn’t like being alone in his room at home so he escapes whenever he gets the chance to. Jimin is always quick to welcome him into his home, into his bed, into himself. Jimin is warmth and distraction and Yoongi craves him more and more.
-
He wakes up to his phone vibrating underneath the pillow. He groans, untangling his legs from Jimin’s and rolling out his stiff shoulder as he unlocks his phone to check who would be texting him so late at night. Jimin sleepily mutters, rolling over to face the window but continues dozing soundly. Yoongi grins at the sight of his puckered lips and squished cheeks before averting his attention back to his phone.
It’s littered with dozens upon dozens of messages — some from text, some from missing calls, others from news sites. Yoongi is confused as he quickly tries scanning the text from his too-bright screen. A headline instantly sticks out to him: “The Moon is Back!”
Yoongi feels his stomach drop.
He opens his Messages app, instantly flooded with texts from random numbers all telling him that the moon is back and he should look at it right away. He feels queasy as the messages continue coming in before he rapidly texts an old friend from school.
Yoongi: Hoseok, have you heard about the news? Is it true? Is the moon really back? What’s going on?
He decides to read some of the articles while he waits.
The Moon is Back! We’ve all been desperately waiting for this day to arrive but is it as joyous a reunion as we all hoped?
...
Reports coming in from our field agents are all indicating that the sight of the blood moon is incredibly dangerous! We here at the station have been told to tell you all that you should NOT look at the moon. We repeat, do NOT look at the moon. It is imperative that you do not go outside; instead, close your blinds and stay far away from the windows until sunrise.
Yoongi gulps, his fingers visibly shaking as he continues holding his phone. He wants to know if it’s true. If the moon is really back. If the stars followed suit and are also glistening in the depths of the black sky he once loved. If Jeongguk has also returned.
It’s a subconscious plea, a masked question that Yoongi is desperate to figure out. Is he finally back?
But from the news reports, the moon doesn’t seem quite like it was before it disappeared. A blood moon? Yoongi feels hollow. He knows that his moon, his stars, his Jeongguk, have not returned, else this uneasy feeling wouldn’t be so prominent in his entire being. He was silly to have hope in the first place.
Hoseok doesn’t reply to his texts and Yoongi can’t shake the gut-feeling that’s telling him there’s something wrong. He quickly dresses, trying to remain as silent as possible so as not to disturb the peacefully ignorant Jimin. As he approaches the younger’s open blinds, he makes sure to avert his eyes to the ground so he doesn’t see the apparently dangerous moon. But even as he closes the blinds shut, Yoongi notices the reflection in the window pane. There, he sees it. Sees the blood-like red moon that is perfectly full as it sits comfortably in the jet sky. Sees not a single star or cloud beside it.
What’s going on? Where’s the stars? Where’s my star?
It looks menacing and Yoongi shudders the more he thinks about it. Something is definitely wrong.
Yoongi leaves Jimin’s place, popping the hood of his hoodie over his head and tilting his head down to focus on the ground and avoid the temptation of looking at the sky as he rushes back to his own home. Shortly into his departure, he hears it. Hears the hysteria and the mania and the panic and the bloodshed.
First, the sirens alert him. They start far into the distance and make Yoongi believe it is merely the ringing of his own ears but the sound cuts the distance quickly as if to mock him. They blare everywhere and all around him yet nowhere near him all at once. Yoongi can’t keep his bearings about him. Can’t distinguish the different tones of the sirens as there are too many each encasing on him. Is that a cop? Is it a fire? Is it the tornado or hurricane siren? What disaster is it trying to alert him of? They all pound at his eardrums in blaring rhythms that leave the boy all types of discombobulated. It is when the screams and the laughs and the shouts begin is when Yoongi forces himself to sprint.
Next, Yoongi can smell the fire, the smoke, the flesh. It penetrates his nose, forcing him to smack his hands to his face to try to shoo it away but it is too late. It has already burrowed far into his nostrils and made a home deep within the pits of Yoongi’s mind. He can't get rid of the stench as it consumes him fully and burns away at his nose until he is choking and gagging trying to rid him of the sense. He falls victim to it, especially as he passes a burning building. He can smell the brick as it burns, the thick coarse smoke as it suffocates him and seeks refuge within his lungs, desperately clawing at his lungs to make them as black as it is. But the smell of flesh burning is something that Yoongi can’t handle. He drops to his knees on the hard cement as he hurls and gags and vomits everything he had inside his stomach and then some. It’s too much. Especially paired with the screams of those that fall victim to the unrelenting flame. He hears them. He smells them. Yoongi is so fucking scared.
Every muscle within his body is screaming, aching, crying. He shakes with tremors that could be mistaken for an earthquake and the noises he produces as he tries getting everything that went inside him out: the smoke, the burning flesh, the sirens, the screams, the wails, the hysteria, the fear. He wants it all out, gone. Instead it has him in a chokehold and is easily dominating him. Yoongi can’t win. It hurts. He’s scared. He’s crying. And vomiting. It’s not stopping. What’s going on. Whatwhywhywhywhy.
His vision is clouded by his tears as they cling and clump to his eyelashes and blind him. His nose is slick with tears and mucus and snot. It burns from the foul odors wafting all around him and it won’t dissipate no matter how hard Yoongi blows and covers it with his hoodie sleeves. His mouth is strewn with his spit, his vomit, his own blood. He doesn’t know how the copper ended up there but he’s sure he bit himself hard to bring him back to his senses. He feels so utterly helpless. Then, he hears them.
He hears the people he’s heard about on the news for the last ten months.
The cultists who demand and seek out innocent blood in order to appease a fake god to falsely bring the moon back. But Yoongi knows that they are much much much worse now since the moon has returned. The moon that is soaked with all their spilt blood.
He hears their deranged laughs, their sickly chuckles. Can practically imagine their heads coiling back and their tongues darting out of their slack jaws as they find joy in killing for sport. Monsters. He realizes that all the burning buildings, all the dead bodies laying in the street, all the sirens and the screams before him all stemmed from these fucking lunatics. Their wails echo around him. They’re so close. Yoongi is their next target. He needs to run. He needs to go.
Yoongi’s body moves on his own accord. He doesn’t feel in control of his own limbs, instead, the adrenaline acts as his trusty guide and his brain only focuses on the gruesome carnage that rests all around him. He steps on corpses and motionless blobs that were once living, breathing people. He wants to vomit again. He wants to hunch over and just scream and cry and puke and sob and blame this damned moon and stars for cursing him, cursing him into such damnation. Instead, he continues running as fast as he can to put as much distance between him and the wreckage. Despite not looking at the moon, Yoongi knows that the entirety of the sky is now red too.
His legs don’t quit no matter how much they ache and burn. Yoongi runs as fast as he can away from the city and into the hopeful shelter of his more isolated home. But as he approaches the quaint building, his heart plummets and the safety he so desperately sought is cruelly ripped away from him. In front of him, his home lays raw and bare and broken. The windows are all busted, leaving a glittering mound of broken glass everywhere. The front door is completely horizontal as it was ripped away from its hinges. There are missing chunks of bricks scattered about and Yoongi dreads approaching even closer to the scene. But there in the open doorway, he sees his worst nightmare come to fruition.
Yoongi no longer hesitates as he glides over the broken glass, too consumed with the sickly sight of deathly crimson staining the entryway of his beloved home to care about getting pricked by the sharp edges. He follows the trail of blood further into his house and his knees wobble and bend and shake and he quickly drops to them, having to forcibly crawl his way to the ending of the bloodied path.
His mother. His beautiful mother who was Yoongi’s only family, his only home, his only permanent now lays at the end of the trail and Yoongi is crying as he grabs hold of her barely-moving form.
“Yoon?” Her voice is weak and gravely and it takes her eyes too long to focus on Yoongi’s.
“Mama… mama what happened…? Please. Please, you'll be okay. You’ll be okay, okay? Don’t worry, mama, I’m here. I’m gonna fix you, okay? Please. Please, you’ll be okay.” Yoongi is a hysterical mantra, desperately attempting to console himself, probably more so than his mom.
She smiles. Yoongi hates the sight.
“Yoongi, I’m so glad you weren’t here.” Her hand cups his cheek and he feels ill at the sight of her azule veins. They shouldn’t be so prominent. Her skin is too pale.
He’s hiccuping, rocking their bodies together as the sobs continue to rack through his body in immense and violent waves.
“Hey, Yoon. Let me tell you a secret,” Yoongi is shaking his head, not wanting to hear anything. He doesn’t want to hear things that sound like a goodbye. He can’t. Nonetheless, his mother’s soft voice persists. “Way back when, when you told me about your crush, I knew what you meant. I know he’s a star. Wanna know why I know? Wanna know why I knew that the stars are meant to protect us?”
Yoongi’s all-types of muddled but he distinctly remembers the conversation his mother is referencing from a few years prior:
“Is it a special someone?”
“Maybe.”
“Oh! I just knew it! Tell me about it!” She squeals in delight.
“He...I don’t know, Mom. He’s a star.” Yoongi blunty states, recalling what Jeongguk once told him when they were children.
“He’s an idol?”
“No! No, he’s literally a star!”
“Wow, you must think really highly of this boy to compare him to a star.” She comments, eyes wide as a smile slowly creeps on the corners of her lips.
“No! Ugh!”
He’s so confused. She knew that Jeongguk was an actual star? How?
Her smile only grows bigger. “Yoon… my sweet starboy, I didn’t tell you everything about my childhood but—“ she coughs, blood staining her lips and Yoongi is about to pick her up to take her to the first aid kit in the bathroom but his mother stops him. “My mother, too, was a star. She fell in love with my dad and that’s when I was born. She had to leave to go back to where she came from because apparently it’s forbidden for stars and humans to fall in love. That was when the moon and stars disappeared, sorta like how they’re doing now.”
He’s blank. He doesn’t know how to process her words. He’s stuttering and tripping over anything that attempts to form a coherent thought. A soft yet firm grip on his shoulder snaps him out of his reverie, his body tensing at the sudden contact.
His head swivels to look at the intruder but his mouth instantly dries and drops at the sight before him. Jeongguk stands before him, slightly crouched over to peer at his dying mother. The sight of the boy brings back every moment that Yoongi shared with him, playing like a slideshow before his very eyes: the night he first saw Jeongguk out his window when they were boys, sharing bread with Jeongguk, playing tag and Uno with Jeongguk, sleeping beside Jeongguk, opening up to Jeongguk, kissing Jeongguk. It all slaps Yoongi in the face and he feels the biting sting as all the memories come to the forefront of his mind after forgetting about Jeongguk.
“Is this the star you fell in love with?” His mother’s voice is much more frail, yet somehow sounds blissfully light and relaxed. Yoongi looks back down at her in his arms and his tears pool out even more. “It’s gonna be hard, Yoongi. I know baby, shhh, it’s going to be okay in the end. I know.” The smile never leaves her face, even as the light in her eyes fades out and her hand falls limp beside her body.
Yoongi wails and screams and sobs as he clutches her. The one person who remained permanent despite all his stupid bullshit. The one person who loved him unconditionally and provided for him in every way imaginable. She was home. Now she is gone. He squeezes her body tight, falsely hoping that just maybe if he squeezes hard enough she’ll come back together again. He knows his efforts are futile but he can’t help the attempt. She looks so peaceful and beautiful despite the bloodied marks littering her body and still dripping blood. His own hands are filled with the crimson liquid but he still clutches tightly to her limp body as he screams his sorrows into the maroon of the night. Jeongguk lingers behind him, allowing Yoongi to yell his throat raw as he wraps his own arms around Yoongi’s shoulders to consolidate and ground him.
So, Yoongi continues his wails well into the night, letting his body tire to the point he collapses on the spot.
He was never actually a starboy. It was his mother who was interconnected with the nighttime sky and it’s beautiful mirage of stars that decorated it. She was a product of an ill-fated love between those that are supposed to overlook and protect and those that admired them from a safe distance away on Earth. She was the first and only byproduct of star and mortal; the original stargirl. Her DNA was littered and interwoven with the galaxy and it was only right that her untimely death brought back the return of the night sky’s occupants. However, they were angry. They were angry at what they witnessed from their positions up above. Stars and mortals were not supposed to fall in love but the stargirl shared their same blood and genetic code. One of their own was murdered by the ones they were supposed to watch over.
Those reckless and inhumane humans that were so adamant for the moon to return that they were willing to cross an unthinkable boundary of spilling innocent blood were now the ones being killed for sport by the moon and all its stars. They sought revenge for the murder of the stargirl, sought the mortals’ blood that dared spill the blood of one of their own. The humans’ sacrifices to the moon were for naught because now the moon was punishing them by making them the sacrifices and using the stainage of their blood to color her red.
The blood moon was an act of revenge. It was to make the mortals mad with lunatacy in a salvageable attempt to have them atone for their crimes. Those that witnessed the moon in all its crimson glory were filled with the inexplicable urge to commit self destruction and thus paint her a deeper hue of vermilion.
The stargirl has died. One of their own has died. The first and only mortal star has died. And now Yoongi is the only one left with a mere fraction of stardust littering his veins.
~
Yoongi awakens groggily. Everything hurts and he just wants to roll over and go back to sleep. His eyes are swollen, his throat is raw, his legs ache from the soreness that spreads throughout the entirety of his body. His hand naturally reaches up to bristle the hair out of his face but the sight of scarlet has Yoongi halting his ministrations. That’s when the events of last night hit him at full force.
He jolts awake then, physically flinching at the sight of his hands covered in his mother’s dried blood. He chokes and spittles but there’s no tears left in his system to release. His body shakes and it takes him a few minutes to be steady enough to stand from his bed. When did he get into his bed?
He stumbles but eventually makes it to the living area where the stain of blood still lingers but the body that caused it is nowhere to be found. He’s surely lost his mind. He wanders the empty and barren house, checking every room for Jeongguk or his mother. However, he finds neither.
He calls and shouts for them, albeit reopening the wounds in his raw throat and causing a cascade of coppery liquid to flow in its wake. No one responds. The house is empty. He’s all alone. Yoongi feels so fucking lonely. Every step he takes around the beaten house echoes and creaks and it reminds him of how hollow he feels inside. He was hoping that last night had been nothing more than a nightmare or a fever dream or a cruel figment of his imagination but he knows that the emptiness he feels within is too real to be caused from a dream and the blood that still lingers on the floor is too prominent to be a hallucination.
There is no more blood moon, no more Jeongguk, no more of his mother, no more of his home. Yoongi is officially left all by himself.
What now?
~
Eventually Yoongi calls Jimin, hoping for his safety after the night of the deadly blood moon. Fortunately, the younger one picks up and thanks Yoongi for closing his blinds but still scolds him for even daring to step foot outside.
“You’re lucky to be alive, you know?!”
Yoongi doesn’t feel lucky. He kinda wishes he wasn’t alive. Regardless, he doesn’t want to upset Jimin. “Yeah, I know.”
“I’m serious, Yoongi! Apparently if anyone looked at the moon they went all crazy — even more so than usual — and would just kill themselves. All Bird Box-esque. So many buildings burnt down because people just lit themselves on fire after they looked at it. It’s fucking crazy!”
“You’re lucky your own building didn’t burn down. God knows you would’ve probably just slept through it.”
Jimin laughs. Yoongi always did love the sound of the melody. He likes Jimin’s voice. Thinks it’s unique and special.
“You’re probably right. I was knocked out until dawn. Didn’t wake up for anything!” Jimin laughs once more.
Yoongi’s voice is very even compared to Jimin’s. He doesn’t feel well enough to express varying degrees of emotion despite the crazy circumstances. “Have you talked to Taehyung? Is he all good?”
Jimin’s end goes silent for a few moments. “Yeah, he’s all good. How about you?”
“What?”
“You know, Min Yoongi, there’s a lot of things you don’t actually know about me—“ it reminds Yoongi of his mother’s last words. It hurts more. “But I’m an excellent people-reader. I can tell something happened. Is it Jeongguk? Or is it something else?”
Yoongi doesn’t answer. His breath hitches and he can already feel the onslaught of sobs about to wrack through his body again.
Jimin’s voice is hushed, comforting, warm. It is a voice that can be a home in itself. “Come, Yoongi. Please come over.” Despite the appearance of begging, Yoongi knows that the added ‘please’ is more for his own sake rather than Jimin’s. It is to make Yoongi feel like he is doing Jimin the favor instead of the other way around. Regardless, Yoongi accepts right away. He’s desperate to leave this cursed and empty household. He craves the warmth of another human being to empty his sorrows into.
~
A week passes by with no sighting of Jeongguk or his mother. Yoongi also hasn’t returned home since initially going to Jimin’s and luckily, the latter has yet to kick him out. There’s also been no more sightings of any moon or stars — the one night being it’s only appearance as it demanded retributions. According to the news that Yoongi has watched, it is exactly as Jimin explained in the phone call: looking at the moon made you lose your mind and kill yourself. Many people died throughout that night and a bunch of destruction also occurred. The government has been working on cleaning it all up but there is still the stain of blood covering the streets. Yoongi shudders.
Despite the single night of the deadly moon, the cultists are still present — though their numbers have dwindled significantly. Yoongi figured it was them that killed his mother that night before probably ‘offering’ themselves to their sacred and fake moon god.
A nudge on his head snaps Yoongi out of his thoughts. He looks up to see Jimin already staring at him. Jimin. They’ve definitely grown closer over the course of these months and despite their constant cuddling and affection and kisses shared, Yoongi knows that there’s no romantic feelings that linger. Since the week he’s lived here, they both verbally agreed they were probably platonic soulmates who gave their hearts to another. Jimin loves Taehyung and Yoongi loves Jeongguk. They both are aware and agree. Yoongi loves having Jimin. He’s scared to lose him. Scared to lose something he’s beginning to see as permanent.
“Yoongi, don’t you think you should visit your home?” Jimin asks, gently stroking Yoongi’s hair.
“Aw, are you tired of me already? Kicking me out? Is this because Taehyung has been stopping by?” Yoongi pokes fun at the younger, pouting his lips in the cutest way he can muster.
Jimin chuckles, gently pressing a peck to his jotted out lips. “You know I don’t mind you here. Hell, you do the dishes and my laundry so I can’t complain but— but maybe you should try to find some closure. And the only way you can really do that is be there. I don’t want you there that long, it’s still too dangerous especially since your windows got smashed in and you would need to put the door back on the hinges and—“
“Jiminie,” Yoongi cuts off his rambling, interlocking their fingers. “I know. I know I need to. I’m just… really really terrified. I don’t wanna be alone.”
Jimin’s smile is small and sad. “Taehyung and I can come with you. Can probably help you clean the place up a bit but—“ he stops himself. His eyebrows are creased and his next words are uttered gently. “We would probably leave at night to give you your time and space.”
Yoongi doesn’t want that. He doesn’t wanna be alone at any point, let alone inside that wretched place. But he knows Jimin’s intentions are pure and he doesn’t want to intrude any further than he already has. He’s positive Jimin wants a night alone with Taehyung and doesn’t want a guest to bother them. It’s normal. Yoongi is rational. He knows. He also knows this would probably help him cope.
So despite all his doubts and fears, he nods his head along anyway. Thus the next day, he sits in the backseat of Taehyung’s car as they drive to Yoongi’s (destroyed) childhood home.
Taehyung and Jimin take the initiative to clean the carpet of the blood and they task Yoongi with sitting outside until he’s personally ready to step inside. Yoongi knows he will never be fully ready so he forces himself to at least work on reattaching the door to its original position on its hinges. Afterwards, he takes to boarding up the windows so no psychopaths can come inside. He easily loses himself in the work, wanting nothing more than to distract himself from his real purpose at being here. By doing so, the time goes by quickly and before he realizes it, the sun has set. In its wake is the familiarly empty black sky that Yoongi has grown accustomed to over the course of these ten long months.
Jimin and Taehyung give him lots of smiles and warm hugs and reassuring words and gentle forehead kisses before they get ready to depart. Yoongi isn’t ready to be alone. He’s scared. He doesn’t wanna be here. He hates this place. He hates the world. Why must he suffer through this—
“Hey! Look!” Taehyung, ever the observant one, points at the sky.
Jimin follows his lover’s gaze and his mouth drops open before transforming into the biggest grin Yoongi has ever seen on him. It makes his eyes crease shut. “Yoongi, look at the sky!”
Yoongi does. He doesn’t see anything.
His confusion must be evident as Taehyung delicately takes hold of his cheeks, tenderly forcing his gaze to face a certain direction. Yoongi’s breath hitches. He sees why Jimin is so love-struck over the other boy. Taehyung is easily the prettiest boy Yoongi has ever seen. He’s wondrous, analytical, observant, yet so incredibly expressive and in tune with his emotions. When he speaks, his voice is naturally deep and alluring, forcing you to listen to his every word. His hair falls in dark golden tufts and is so fluffy that Yoongi just wants to rub his cheeks against it. Taehyung also has such large and delicate hands that they make everything he holds appear small. He’s beautiful. And when he stands next to the shorter Jimin who’s pink hair stands out in the crowd and who has a voice that is higher-pitched and who also has such smaller and chubbier hands, they somehow look perfect together.
“Do you see it, Yoongi?” Taehyung’s rich voice sends a ghosting breath over the shell of Yoongi’s ear. Yoongi, who was obviously focused on the boy and not the conversation, can only blink. Taehyung chuckles and Jimin vibrates in excitement as he waits for Yoongi to understand.
Taehyung cups his jaw a little rougher now, more determined to get Yoongi to see whatever the hell it is they’re so adamant about. He points up, some distance away. “Squint. It’s pretty far in the distance, but you need to squint.”
Yoongi does as he’s told and then he’s finally hit with the realization of why they’re so excited. He rubs his eyes. There’s no way—
“Are those…? Are those stars?”
Taehyung and Jimin nod excitedly at him, like little puppies.
“Only a small handful.” Taehyung answers.
“But it’s enough! This is a good sign!” Jimin chirps.
“I don’t know. Last time we saw space activity, it killed thousands of people.” Yoongi, ever the pessimist, sighs.
Jimin smacks the back of his head as Taehyung gives him a light noogie. “Ah! Yoongi! You need to have more positivity. Maybe they’re beginning to return!”
He shakes them off, still staring at the barely-there twinkling of the stars. He wonders….
Shortly thereafter, the couple leave him alone at his still-broken house. Yoongi stares at the home. He remembers once finding such joy in being home. He would run home from school, always excited for night to come so he could rush to the garden to meet Jeongguk—
The garden.
Yoongi almost forgot about the garden. He makes his way around the back to where his place of sanctuary used to lay, mostly using it as an excuse to avoid going inside the house of his mother’s murder for as long as he possibly could.
The garden lay untouched, preserved in the exact manner that Yoongi recognized throughout the entirety of his life. The only noticeable difference is that the water of the pond held no reflection of the nighttime sky. Nevertheless, Yoongi found comfort in its rippling tide as he stared at his own reflection. He looked tired. He suspects that’s what growing up does to someone. No longer was he that naive young boy who didn’t understand mayhem and believed love was made up of nothing more than sweetness. He ruffles his hand in the water, thus botching and temporarily erasing his judgemental reflection. He stays like that for a while, tucked away in the quiet of the garden whilst hunched over in the serenity of the pond. He almost wonders if it’s an oasis, hidden from the harrowing and apocalyptic world of anarchy and violence.
Yoongi’s eyes drift slightly in the pond’s reflection, noticing an enticing gleam. He can’t comprehend what it is he’s looking at until his earlier interaction with Taehyung and Jimin surfaces in his mind.
A star.
Yoongi is looking at the reflection of a single, lone star swimming in a sea of empty darkness. He can’t believe it, yet he refuses to blink in fear of it disappearing. He doesn’t even turn around to truly look at it in the sky, opting to watch its reflection in the water.
However, a familiar face soon comes into the pond’s surface. A face that Yoongi has forgotten in all the ten months it’s been away. A face Yoongi only merely glanced at a week ago behind a veil of his own tears.
“Jeongguk.” His voice is hoarse as it croaks the name out.
The boy sits beside him, reminiscent of their childhood antics. Except now, both boys have grown up and experienced a gruesome war. They’ve both changed. Neither can go back to who they once were.
The two sit in silence for a long time, only looking at one another through their watery reflection of the pond’s surface in exchange for words. The quiet that once brought Yoongi peace, comfort, and warmth seems nothing more than a cruel and bitter visage now.
The laugh that escapes him is hollow, dry, and forced. “What the fuck are you doing back here? Here to take more shit from me?”
Jeongguk’s eyebrow twitches. “I didn’t--”
“Bullshit! Fucking bullshit! Why would you do that? How could you do that to me?” Yoongi is crying again, his voice breaking every so often through his frustration.
Jeongguk grabs hold of him, gently shaking his shoulders to force Yoongi to look at him. But Yoongi is hurt and he can’t reason anymore.
“Why did you leave me?” He all but whispers, his soft tone needing to be carried by the wind in order to reach the other.
“Let me explain.” Jeongguk’s voice is calm, even, undisturbed. And it pisses Yoongi off to no end.
“Explain?! What the fuck is there to explain? You fucking left! You vanish off the face of the earth with no explanation for months!”
“Yoongi--”
“You took everything from me!” His shout is sudden as it reverberates into the ever abysmal night. He stands now, desperately wanting to look down at the boy who has caused him so much pain, so much heartache. He wants to at least once be the one on top, standing above his sorrows.
Jeongguk stares, his eyes widening slightly. Yoongi hates how small Jeongguk’s reaction is. He still feels small, still feels incapable. Why is he the only one upset?
“As soon as I trust and confide in you with my truth, you fucking left! And you took the moon and stars with you. You took the only thing I considered stable and permanent and had it all disappear right alongside you. And if that isn’t bad enough,” Yoongi sucks in a gasp, desperately trying to stop his tears of frustration from falling. “You come back after ten months, not for me, but to take my dead mom away from me? What the fuck is that? Star, deity, otherwordly being, grim reaper -- whatever the fuck you are -- you had no right to take her away from me. You have no right to even be here now. You’re a fucking--”
Throughout Yoongi’s rant, Jeongguk had stood up with a fire in his eyes, his fists clenching in anger and finding refuge in the collar of Yoongi’s shirt. He balls the fabric tight between his inked fingers.
“Shut the fuck up!” Jeongguk’s teeth were bared, forehead muscles taut as he stared down at the shorter boy. He had inadvertently lifted Yoongi up off the ground in his anger. “Not everything is about you, Min Yoongi! I know you’ve gone through shit but you think I wanted to leave you? You think I wanted any of this? That last night before all this shit happened, did I ever once give you the impression I wanted to leave you? You don’t know jack shit of what happened to me and what I’ve been through because you’re so fucking blinded by your own damn sorrows. If you want to throw a fucking pity party for yourself then be my guest.”
Yoongi’s nostrils flare. Jeongguk’s once midnight blue hair seems red in his tinted vision. “And how am I supposed to know anything about you when you don’t tell me?! When you leave for months on end?! What am I supposed to think?”
“I was asking you to hear me out--”
“Why should I now? Why should I care what you went through? You left--”
“I didn’t want to!” Jeongguk, ever the stronger of the two, had now forced Yoongi to his knees. Yoongi felt like a damned ragdoll. His fingers tried prying Jeongguk’s own hands off his shirt to no avail. Why was he so weak?
“Let go of me!” Yoongi knows he looks like a pathetic little kid. Sobbing and in hysterics as he resigns himself to his demeaning position on the ground at Jeongguk’s feet, the latter gazing down at his crippled and withered state. It’s always been like this, hasn’t it? Yoongi can’t remember much of the time when he was the stronger of the two. Can’t remember when exactly their roles reversed and he became so damn pathetic and weak.
“You humans are all the same! You are all so fucking focused on yourselves and refuse to see anything else. ‘Oh boohoo~ Oh woe is me~’ that’s all you can fucking say! You don’t know shit about anything that isn’t yourselves. Selfish! That’s what you all are. You’re entitled! You don’t know half of what the world around you consists of. You don’t know about struggles or beings that aren’t immediately in front of you. You’re selfish and short-sighted. You want everyone to stop what they’re doing for you to cry about your own problems but can’t even acknowledge the bigger picture.”
“Shut up! Shut up! Let go already!” Yoongi is flailing, one hand meekly trying to unclasp Jeongguk’s vise-like grip on his shirt and the other attempting to push his body away.
Yoongi has never seen Jeongguk look so angry. He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like this new Jeongguk who now knows rage and anger. He feels a sense of fear climbing up his nervous system as it leaves a trail of raised bumps all along his arms.
Yoongi recounts the time in their youth when this garden was one of tranquility for each of them. When they could sit in silence and be happy in each other’s presence. When did they become so enraged at each other? Are they mad at one another? Or are they mad at the world around them? The world that put them in this position and brought nothing but sorrows into their lives.
Jeongguk’s rant eventually seizes and Yoongi belatedly realizes that the other boy also has tears streaming down his face. His grip on Yoongi loosens and his legs wobble until he also slowly descends to the ground in resignation.
Selfish. Entitled.
You are selfish and short-sighted.
You can’t see anyone but yourselves.
Yoongi stares at Jeongguk. He looks upon the fellow broken boy sitting in front of him and wonders why he didn’t see him before. Yoongi spots the dark eye bags that hang underneath Jeongguk’s once starry eyes that have now lost their spark, sees the dried maroon pearls that glide up his now-pale arms and are accompanied by varying spots of sickly yellow or blue and black. Where did he get so many cuts and bruises from? When did he become so tired and worn down?
Perhaps Yoongi is selfish. He only now looks upon Jeongguk after being forced to. A sinking feeling falls into the pit of his stomach and closes around his throat. He realizes how much he didn’t pay attention to the one person who gave him everything. Realizes how gray his own mother’s under-eyes looked or the few white strands that were beginning to take over her roots. How much she tried to get him to open up and how much he was away. He didn’t even care enough about the one person who was his home. He only cared about himself and his own problems. Yoongi is selfish.
Yoongi is selfish and he hates this revelation about himself. He doesn’t want this part of himself. He’s angry at Jeongguk for bringing it to light and he wants to grab the navy-haired boy and yell in his face, yet at the same time wants to fall into his arms and find escape and refuge like he used to as a child.
But Yoongi knows that things aren’t the same as they were when he was younger. Expecting Jeongguk to be his refuge is asking for too much. So he ends up opting for doing neither of his desired actions, instead keeping the distance between them present.
They’re both hiccuping from their wails, both droopy-eyed and flushed cheeks. He’s never seen Jeongguk look so old and tired. He knows it is the same for him.
They both grew up. They both endured shit no one could dream of. They are no longer children who can mindlessly play tag and eat slightly soggy bread beside the pond. Yoongi knows pain and hurt and loss and heartbreak. He knows that love is no longer just a senseless parade of rainbows and gumdrops and all things good. Love is an everwinding battle that can take every fibre of your very core being and still manage to tie the knot of the rope draped around your neck if you weren’t careful. Younger Yoongi lost himself in a maze and expected those around him to rescue him. But this was real life. Jeongguk was not a prince. Yoongi is not a damsel.
But he was selfish.
So, he wipes the tears from Jeongguk’s face without saying a word more.
~~~
There is a bright light. It is blinding and it hurts Yoongi’s still-closed eyes. No matter how much he twists and turns, the light doesn’t dim. He dejectedly awakens, not truly ready to leave the comfort of unconsciousness. His head hurts along with every muscle and joint scattered throughout his body. Yoongi looks around. Sees the pond, sees the sun slowly ascending into its home in the sky, sees his battered house. He doesn’t see Jeongguk.
He sighs. This is nothing new.
As much as Yoongi would like to stay outside, his dry throat and insistent bladder tell him otherwise, thus Yoongi enters the one place he firmly considers hell-on-earth.
The floorboards continue to creak under his weight. Yoongi has never noticed just how old the house is, probably because there was always someone else there to create noise. Now, it is barren and empty and every sound Yoongi makes echoes off the walls as if to mock him.
Despite the bright rays of light streaming inside, it is still so cold. Yoongi has a trail of goosebumps creeping along his arm, licking just underneath the nape of his neck. A chill drapes over him like a cloak and he thinks he feels a sickly hand closing around his throat. He swallows. Moves deeper into the building.
The boards on the broken windows don’t do much to ease Yoongi’s anxiety, merely serving to reaffirm his suspicions that he wound up inside a horror movie. He wonders if this is the part where the killer strikes. Yoongi looks down at the floor. Jimin and Taehyung did a good job at removing the bloodied stain, but the memory of the sight will forever be ingrained inside Yoongi’s mind, branded onto his memory, and seared in his retinas. He realizes that the killer already did.
Another chill claws at the back of his arms and he can’t stop the shudder that ripples throughout his body in waves. He realizes that there is a draft and the prime suspect is his shitty job at fixing the windows. The multiple gaps in the board are now obvious as the light of day shines through them and he sighs in dejection. He runs his fingers over it, feels the bumps in the wood and allows the edge of his fingernail to get stuck in the darkened knots that are scattered on the surface.
Yoongi takes a look around the beaten place. The boarded windows, the broken banister, the furniture still in a disarray, and dust still lingering in the air from the week the house was abandoned. It feels like a still from a horror movie that Yoongi never signed up for. He hates it. It reminds him of his mother. He can almost see the scene of her murder play right before his eyes, no matter how much he shuts them close.
He wonders how she felt when she heard the door break open. Did she think it was him coming home? Or maybe the shitheads broke the window first. Was she standing in the kitchen sipping her nightly tea like she always did? The one that she claimed made her fall asleep faster? The tea held a hint of a citrusy tangerine smell that also encapsulated her. No wonder he always liked tangerines -- they smelt like the late nights he used to spend with his mother. Or maybe she was already asleep, having already given up on Yoongi returning at all for that night. Did she run out to greet the attackers empty-handed? Or perhaps she held a TV remote -- Yoongi remembers how she would sometimes act like she would throw it at him when he got into trouble as a kid. Did she fight back at all? Did she at least fuck them up in the process and make them regret ever stepping foot inside his house? He looks around at the furniture scattered all over. Yeah. There’s no way she didn’t fuck them up at least a little bit. Yoongi smirks. The change of his mouth’s position allows for the salt to graze his lips. He realizes he is crying once again. How long was she in pain? Did she call out for him?
“Yoongi, I’m so glad you weren’t here.”
Yoongi’s face scrunches.
“Selfish.”
Yoongi is selfish because he’s glad he wasn’t here either.
He wonders if he could have even prevented anything. If he could have stopped them. He doesn’t think he could have. He thinks he would’ve died right alongside her. He he--
Yoongi is scared of dying. He really is selfish.
His legs feel weak, his torso feels too vulnerable, and despite no one being around, he feels too exposed. So Yoongi sinks to the floor, curling in on himself like a little ball and sobs into his knees until he has nothing left to give.
“Yoongi, I’m so glad you weren’t here.”
Selfish.
“Come try this tea! I know you’ve been having trouble sleeping too!” Tangerines. Selfish.
I’m glad I wasn’t here either. Selfish selfish selfishselfishselfish.
Yoongi is so goddamned selfish.
-
Yoongi cries himself to sleep. He wakes up eventually when the sun is a little higher in the sky and is just about to start its descent back to the ground to rest. He doesn’t feel like existing at the moment. He’s so tired.
Nonetheless, he stretches out his limbs to lay flat on his back as he stares up at the ceiling. His thoughts wander of their own accord. To himself, to Jimin and Taehyung, to his mother, to Jeongguk.
Jeongguk. Jeon fucking Jeongguk. The boy who walks amongst the stars yet still would touch down on earth to meet Yoongi every night.
He wonders if he ever really loved Jeongguk as much as he thought. Does he still love him? Or was it that naive childhood love that consumes his entire small head and blinds him in believing in such a thing as ‘soulmates’? Did that same puppy love transfer over the course of years because it was all Yoongi had known? Yoongi doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what love really is. He loves his mom. He loves Jimin and Taehyung. He loves Jeongguk. What differentiates all of those? He really isn’t sure. He kisses Jimin. He kissed Jeongguk. What’s the difference? Is Jeongguk just a close friend? Is the only thing that defines romantic relationships physicality? Love is confusing.
He wonders if he loved the thought of Jeongguk. The version of Jeongguk that only existed inside Yoongi’s head. The version that retained his childhood innocence and never expressed anger. The version that knew only good and thus was a figure of peace for Yoongi. Was Jeongguk ever really that? Or did Yoongi just assume he always was?
‘Selfish. Entitled. You don’t know jack shit.’
Yoongi wanted a safe haven so desperately that he projected those feelings onto the first person that never caused conflict or confrontation. It is why he became so frightened during Jeongguk’s outburst the previous night. Yoongi’s version of the starboy never had a morsel of rage built inside him. How foolish of him to think. He wanted a prince or a knight in shining armor to come and rescue him from his overarching emotions and responsibilities and worries without ever expecting that knight to have problems of his own. Yoongi realizes he really doesn’t know jack shit about Jeon Jeongguk, the boy that he was supposedly in love with. But if this wasn’t love, why did it hurt so badly when he left without a word?
He takes another look around the desolate house, smiles -- more like grimaces -- just a little bit.
Yoongi thinks that this state of the house represents him. It represents all of his inner thoughts and turmoil. No matter how much he tried boarding up the windows of his mind, it wasn’t good enough. Despite his best efforts to keep a lid on all of his emotions, it still seeps through the cracks that were masked by the night. When the sun rises, everything comes to light. And Yoongi is still left alone.
He sighs again. Looks around the house. Thinks. Recalls.
He feels nostalgic, seeing the photos on the wall. Of him, of his smiling mother. He misses his childhood self. In childhood, there were no worries or concerns. He was naive and allowed to be an idiot sometimes. He remembers how much more confident and curious and selfless he was.
Selfless.
That’s right. At one point, Yoongi was selfless. He was curious about the boy in the garden and made the effort to visit him every night, food in hand to share. He remembers letting Jeongguk win games because of how wide his smile would be. Yoongi didn’t have worthless pride at that time, he just liked smiling with other people.
Where did that version of himself go? When did it disappear?
He’s disgusted with his current self and how much he allowed a gap to form between him and those he deemed his closest allies. Perhaps he did want a pity party.
Jeongguk is right. He is human. He is selfish and entitled. And he does need an explanation from him.
~~~
With the sun’s kiss upon the earth, an inky screen fills its place within the sky. But it is not always as dim as one makes it out to be. The good thing about darkness is that it is more noticeable when light breaches and permeates its surface; it shines through more clearly. With night, the fluorescent glow of the moon and stars against the midnight backdrop can still guide weary travelers to their destinations.
“Oh how the tables have turned. You’re actually waiting for me?” Jeongguk’s smile is very small and hesitant, the starboy clearly not wanting to disturb the rising tide.
Tonight, it is Yoongi waiting for Jeongguk in the garden in order to greet him first.
Yoongi’s mouth upturns slightly. “It seems only fair.”
Jeongguk’s steps are light as he wanders a little bit closer to the sitting Yoongi, intentionally keeping a bit of distance between them. Once Yoongi has made no intention of reprimanding Jeongguk does he inch just a few more steps closer. They remain in silence.
Finally, Jeongguk plops down just a little ways away from Yoongi on the ground. When he fails to say anything, Yoongi groans and punches his arm.
“Stop being weird.”
Jeongguk rubs his arm. “‘m not being weird.”
“Yes you are. We fought. That’s what people do.”
Jeongguk pauses for a few beats too many. Yoongi looks at him. Sees Jeongguk mouth the word ‘people’ in silence before settling on: “I don’t like fighting.”
“Yeah, well…”
The conversation reaches a null, neither knowing exactly what to say or how to break this weird tension. So they sit in silence, much like they did in their youth. Except now the silence feels overbearing and heavy on Yoongi’s shoulders.
Yoongi looks over at Jeongguk. He is looking down at the pond while he fidgets with a rock in between his slender fingers.
“I don’t like fighting either but,” Yoongi is whispering, his voice quiet and delicate, “the best part of fighting is being able to make up afterwards.”
“Is that what we’re doing? Making up?” Jeongguk asks.
“Is it not? You don’t wanna make up with me? Why not?” Yoongi pouts, opening his eyes widely, exaggerating his emotions once he sees the small smile dotting Jeongguk’s features.
“I don’t wanna fight. It hurts.”
Yoongi ponders over this for a few moments. “Jeongguk, I won’t promise we’ll never fight again. But I promise that the reason we’ll ever fight in the future is because we both just care about the other.”
Jeongguk glances at him, mulling over his words. “You’re saying people fight because they like each other?”
Yoongi’s eyes widen in horror. He’s not good with words. “No! No, that isn’t what I mean! People fight and argue and disagree on things. That’s all normal. Sometimes people fight because they genuinely don’t like each other but -- what I’m trying to say is -- that isn’t us! That won’t be us! Nevermind, I don’t know.” Yoongi sighs in frustration. “Sometimes we won’t agree on stuff, but I want you to know that I’m trying to think more about how other people feel and not just about myself. So know that I care for you, even when we fight.”
Jeongguk nods, his smile widening a bit. “Okay.”
And like that, both boys silently apologize to the other. Jeongguk knows that Yoongi is trying to get better and more aware after what he said during their fight. They weren’t actually mad at one another persay, they were mad at everything. The world, their situations, their problems, themselves. It’s all they can do but to adapt, overcome, and grow. Yoongi thinks he’s finally doing as much.
So the two boys sit in each other’s presence like they did in their youth. They don’t always have to speak to feel comfortable; however, as Yoongi looks up at the very few stars that litter the once hollow sky, he has to ask about his mother.
Jeongguk lets out a shaky breath as he pushes the hair from his face. It takes him a few moments to gather his thoughts to answer.
“What she told you that night was true. Long ago there was a star who fell in love with a human. Once they had a child, the star had to go back to the sky. Your mother was that child. She is a star -- well technically only half but I guess that’s not important but -- yeah. It’s customary for stars to live amongst their own, even in death.” Jeongguk is twiddling with his fingers, the hem of his shirt, the split ends of his hair, everything. Yoongi realizes he is bad at words too. “She is a star who belongs with the other stars -- that’s just how it all works. It’s home. Except...well, it’s not really much of a home anymore.” That last sentence is quiet as Jeongguk mutters.
“What do you mean?”
Jeongguk laughs bitterly, flopping to lay on his back so he can look at the sky. He nods his head up in the same direction. “Up there, it’s anarchy.”
“Anarchy?”
Jeongguk looks back down to Yoongi, grabs hold of his hand to play with his fingers now. The smile on his face feels fabricated, as if holding immense guilt or self-deprecation. “What would you do if I told you that you and I may have accidentally started a war?”
just wanted to give anyone an update who may be interested in my work that tomorrow (tuesday) i will finally finally be uploading a new YOONGI X JUNGKOOK fanfiction :) its been so long so please look forward to it :D thank u
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