Chapter Text
“Orion, Ursa Major, Perseus, Leo, Ara— all these constellations have names that people know. But what about the little stars? I’m sure there’s a lot of stars that people don’t know. Maybe because not all of them last for a day or a night. Does anyone else wonder about the individual stars?” Changbin reads aloud from his mother’s journal. His mom always had a special affinity for the stars. She could talk about them for hours on end and he would never complain. Although he won’t admit it, he too thinks there’s something fascinating about the specks of glitter above. Too bad he never got to tell his mom about it. If she knew her son felt the same joy when looking at the night sky, she’d be over the moon for sure.
Every night, Changbin sees thousands of stars. He doesn’t know what their names are, nor if they even have any in the first place. What he does know, is that even though they may be nameless, they are always there. Whether it be day or night, a star is always present. When his friends—Jisung and Minho—aren’t home or available to listen, Changbin has a star to rely on.
That’s what Changbin loves the most about stars.
They don’t judge, or interrupt, or shut you out. They listen from afar. They hold your grief, your pain, your happiness. But they also don’t talk back. In fact, they don’t speak at all.
And that’s what Changbin hates the most about stars.
“We’re home!” Jisung announces, making a grand entrance through the rooftop door. Minho trails behind him, convenience store bags hanging all across his arms. He drops the bags onto the wooden platform where Changbin was lying down and enjoying serene silence.
“We would’ve been home earlier but someone left his phone at the studio,” Minho huffs, collapsing onto the platform. “The sky looks nice tonight.”
“Yeah, it does,” Changbin easily agrees. Despite it being the middle of winter, it’s surprisingly not cold at all on the rooftop. It hasn’t snowed for as long as any of them can recall, and the sky is so clear that one could think it was summer. It’s supposed to be the warmest night of the season, Changbin’s favourite day of the season. When there are no clouds to block his view, he can observe each star in its individual glory. Most people wouldn’t take the time to even glance at every single star, but like Changbin’s mom always said, stars are like people. No two are ever exactly the same.
Curious as to what is so “nice”, Jisung also lies down on the platform. He shifts his position an annoying amount of times, and even slides right next to Minho to try and see what he sees.
“I don’t get what’s so pretty,” he criticises. Then he turns to Minho and says, “oh, now I see it.”
Minho rolls his eyes. “If I kiss you will you get up and start grilling the meat?”
Jisung doesn’t hesitate to close his eyes and pucker his lips. Cute, Minho thinks, before giving him a peck on the lips. Jisung immediately jumps up, energy renewed, as if Minho’s lips are an instant battery charger.
“Have you decided on any plans for break yet?” Minho asks Changbin.
“Not yet. I’ll probably just stay home and go to the studio.”
“You’re going to work during your holiday? Why don’t you just come home with me and Jisung? You haven’t seen your sister in a while either.”
“I’ll pass,” Changbin replies flatly. He needs to go to the studio. It’s been weeks since he’s really accomplished anything in there. Unlike Jisung, he’ll spend hours in his studio, only to leave the room with nothing but crumpled paper and post-it notes. Almost every song he started still remains unfinished, gradually forming an endless mountain of disappointment in his mind.
Changbin is a lot like his songs. He’s full of holes that can’t be filled, solely because he doesn’t know what to fill them with.
When Jisung returns with the platter of meat, Minho plants another kiss on his cheek. Changbin scowls. Minho and Jisung have been together for over a year, but he still can’t help but grimace at their mushiness. Though he strongly prefers that over the time the couple had a petty, week long argument. There truly wasn’t any peace in their apartment that week.
Even though they all grew up together, Changbin can’t help but envy the duo sometimes. Not because he has a crush on either of them, but because they have each other. Of course, Changbin can depend on them, but he can’t depend on them. He wants someone that he can call his, who he can lean on and also be a pillar to. He wants someone like a star, but one that will actually respond to him.
Though he hates to admit it, he needs someone to love.
Two cans of alcohol later, Jisung passes out soundly with his head on Minho’s shoulder.
“He’s going to regret that in the morning,” Minho predicts, drinking the last drop of his third can. “We should probably call it a night, too.”
As Changbin tosses the last empty can into a plastic bag, a glimpse of gold passes by his eyes. A shooting star. He instinctively closes his eyes and quickly makes a wish. He might not be sober enough in the morning to remember what he wished for, but he knows the stars will definitely remember. They always do.
—
“Are you sure you don’t want to come home with us?” Jisung whines as he lugs his carry-on to the door.
“I’m sure,” Changbin firmly answers.
Once the couple finally leave, Changbin flops down onto the couch. The apartment suddenly feels too quiet and lifeless. Each time both Jisung and Minho aren’t home, Changbin can’t help but notice the thick silence that envelops him.
There is one thing, however, that interrupts the stillness. When Changbin looks down at the floor, winter jasmine petals are scattered across the floor. It’s strange, because it’s too early for winter jasmines to be in full bloom. He would know, because winter jasmines were his mom’s favourite flower. After the stars, that flower was another part of nature that she had an affinity for. When one would wilt she’d get upset, but the next day it’d be back to its perky self. That made Changbin believe his mom had healing powers for a good few years, which wasn’t completely false—each time Changbin was upset or ill, his mom always knew the right things to do and the right words to say. She knew what kind of food Changbin couldn’t resist, and the slightest ways to make him smile.
Curious as to where the petals came from, Changbin collects all the petals and eventually finds himself outside of the bathroom door. Clasping the petals in his left hand, he opens the bathroom door with his right. Expecting more petals or some stems, Changbin doesn’t know how to react when he sees what awaits him in the bathroom.
A boy.
There is a boy sleeping in his bathtub.
Changbin should be scared, but he can’t help but get distracted by the stranger’s freckles that seem to glow against the ugly linoleum tiles.