hands curled around the railing, eyes fixed on a stray tropical fish. part of his brain admired the fish. it reminded him of fall leaves: vibrant and thin. beneath the scales of impossibly bright yellow were guts, a heart, muscles... yet looking at it head on, it almost disappeared except the bulging eyes. another part of his mind was on the glass itself, the tank. water is heavy; how these sheets held together with glue strong enough, he thought. his finger trailed downward leaving a rainbow sheen under the dimmed lights of the hallway. without visible effort, the fish moved from plain sight. it averts his attention. back to nayeon, who gleamed against water contained within walls, he looked. he smiled.
he's seen it on tv before. it was always the medium that gave him a sense of a future, though it seemed unattainable in his condition. it was perfect. it was supernatural. super natural that it was superficial. but superficial was good. superficial meant safe, for him. it made him feel as if he was part of this world, that there was no invisible wall between him and everyone else. everyone normal. he was getting used to it, perhaps a bit much. he reveled in it despite everything.
he's heard it’s in the name of god. he's heard his pastor speak for god too, quoting scripture from his book. words like abomination popped off jooheon's skin like hot grease as the pastor went on to describe a lake of fire that god wanted him in. he's heard on the news that the aftermath of a hate crime left piles of bodies on a dance floor. he's heard the gunman feigned dead among all the people he killed. he's heard the news say he was one of us. it could be him pined for it. anything could link back to him. anything that doesn't involve him to begin with.
it's why he didn't exist. but he was okay with this. this moment with nayeon, where it was quiet and loud. heavy and calm, all the same. she was a star, but the most normal he could ever have for as long as she allowed it.
