Chapter Text
the new moon (n.)
1. the phase of the moon when it is in conjunction with the sun and invisible from earth, or shortly thereafter when it appears as a slender crescent.
2. symbolizes new beginnings
solar eclipse (n.)
when the moon and sun align.
“So you are together now, huh?” Hyunjin’s words are light with teasing, wide grin on his face as he stares at two people with reddening cheeks and ears; both looking away from each other.
“I think they are,” Felix says, laughing with his head leaning on Hyunjin’s shoulder. “They’re so obvious yet I can’t help but still feeling so happy for my ship to finally sail.”
“Aren’t we all,” Hyunjin laughs, chewing on his strawberry. He holds the strawberry in front of Jisung’s face, giggling at the blushing mess before adding, “You’re as red as this strawberry, Sungie.”
Jisung can only whines, pulling the hood of his sweater around his face as he buries his head in knees. This is embarrassing. They weren’t planning to let them know yet both of them can’t stop themselves from blushing from the intense stare the others land on them.
And now here they are, sitting next to each other on the mat atop the soft grass near the field of dandelions along with two people who don’t seem to know how to keep their mouth shut for their own good.
“Oh God,” Minho groans, shifting on his place before glaring dagger at the others, although the ridiculous redness of his ears betrays him completely. He lets out a loud exhale as the others are laughing again, and he glances at Jisung, takes his hand in his grasp before saying, “Yeah. I’m dating him now, happy?”
Jisung almost chokes on his own spit. Minho’s fingers are short, but they wrap perfectly around his wrist; gentle as to not hurting him but also steady enough for no one to breaks apart.
A shy smile blooms on his face along the dust of embarrassment, as he finally faces the other boys—wide eyes and mouths agape—and lifting their hands even higher; “Yep! We’re dating now!” he says with a hearty smile.
“Oh my God, really?” Felix is the first one to move from the sudden froze, inching himself closer to Jisung and holding his face in hands. “Are you serious?? You guys are together now??”
“Yeah,” Minho shrugs, his grip around Jisung’s wrist relaxing. “We’re not planning to tell you guys yet but none of us are good at keeping secrets anyway.”
“Why would you keep this as a secret? I’m so happy for you two to figure out your feelings!” Felix’s smile is so wide, shining so brightly under the blue tinted sky.
“It’s just—” Jisung starts, opening his mouth before closing it again, unsure. “I’m actually scared of, you know? It’ll be a little awkward if you know we’re together. Not that I don’t want you to know but more like, I don’t know? It just feels weird.”
“That’s a part of the process, then!” Jisung wonders how Felix always manages to keep such a happy and soft expression on his face. It’s always comforting, he feels safe around him. “You two love each other a lot. We all know that. And you already have such a strong bond so I’m sure everything will be okay.”
“I’ll hate to imagine Sungie dating other guy than Minho-hyung,” Hyunjin says, chewing more strawberries. “You just fit together, you know? Like two fragments of star that are meant to find each other.”
“Whoa,” Jisung’s eyes widens from Hyunjin’s words. “Damn, since when do you learn about using words that prettily, huh? I thought you’re not in a good term with Minho-hyung?”
Hyunjin only laughs, shoving a handful of strawberries—still not yet separated from the core— into Jisung’s mouth before winking playfully at Minho. “We’re partner in crime in some occasions, right hyung?”
Their laughter echoes against the tall trees, mat growing damp from the morning dew and scent of blooming flowers fills their nostrils. It was their original intentions to go there: watching flowers around the field and having a good time.
Hyunjin is quick to takes his place under the teak tree; with Felix braiding wild rose into his hair while he busily sketches the view. Glowing amber of sunshine seeping through the clouds: sphere of warmth engulfs them securely.
“Whatcha thinking?” Minho suddenly asks, the way his tone shifts completely from the one he used towards Hyunjin draws out an adoring giggle from Jisung.
“Why are you laughing?” he asks again, apout spreads across his face.
“It’s just,” Jisung tries to say, wiping his eyes—growing damp from his laughter’s force—before leaning his head subconsciously towards Minho’s shoulder. “You’re cute, you know?”
Minho is the one who laughs this time. His shoulders vibrate along with soft chuckles. “What do you mean cute? That’s not me.”
“You are,” Jisung snorts.
A butterfly passes through them just a few seconds after Jisung uttered the words, making him jumps instantly in maximum level of excitement. “Butterfly!” he yells, the tone of his voice climbing high.
Cute, Minho thinks as he watches Jisung walks towards a bush of milkweed with careful and quiet steps, eyes fixed to the monarch butterfly. He observes the butterfly so intensely he doesn’t even blink.
He loves to see the smile etched prettily on Jisung’s face. Loves to see Jisung runs around the field with excitement; words about things he likes spilling without any filter. Loves to see the way his round eyes shining like stars, balls of sunshine filled with happiness.
He loves to see his sun with happiness laced in his shine.
“Hyung, you have to see this!” Jisung whisper-yells, as he waves his hand towards the older.
Minho happily complies, of course. Who is he to not grant Jisung’s wish?
“Look,” Jisung says, pointing carefully at the butterfly. Too careful and slow, if Minho can be honest. But he doesn’t mind. Jisung looks so adorable.
“Do you think it’s a female or male?” he asks, curious.
“It’s female,” Minho says, giggling softly when Jisung put his pointer finger to silence Minho.
“Don’t be too loud,” he whispers. “What if it runs away because of your voice?”
“It’s a butterfly, Sungie. It can’t run.”
Jisung juts his bottom lip out in an adoring pout. His gaze averts back to the butterfly, eyelashes flutter against the spring’s gentle breeze. For a brief second Minho finds himself lost in the younger’s features: a pair of round eyes twinkling with excitement and lips now slightly parted from amusement.
He doesn’t take his eyes away from the butterfly when he asks again, “How did you know it’s a female?” His feet shift a little for him to crouch comfortably.
“If you see the bottom wings,” Minho explains as he inches closer to Jisung and pointing forward before continuing, “they don’t have black dots. Male monarchs have black dots on their bottom wings. So, it’s a female.”
Another butterfly flashes upon their eyes: the same orange hue tinting the wings, gracefully rippling through the air like petals of a bursting star.
“That’s a male,” Minho says, taking a look at Jisung’s face again. “See the black dots on the bottom wings?”
“Mhm,” Jisung nods vigorously, excitement manages to wrap the entirety of his demeanor within the short word. “They’re pretty,” he adds, mesmerized.
“Yeah.” Jisung is pretty. He traces his fingertip on the younger’s shoulders—skin hidden under the thin yellow sweater—, feeling the way his cheeks stretch from the lifting edges of his lips.
It’s pretty.
They move to sit under the tree, parted bush to the dandelion field opens like a doorway in front of their eyes. It’s still early spring, flowers slowly peeking from the cold: some are earlier than others, blooming under the title of the bravest while the last bloomers being honored as the wisest.
It doesn’t matter, really. First or last bloomers are still pretty flowers.
“Have you ever thought about it?” Jisung asked him back then, in the same spot but three years younger than today. “Late bloomers make the spring last longer! And the first bloomers end the winter. I think both of them deserve to be cherished equally.”
He loves it: to see Jisung talks about life. To take a peek of how the world is through his lenses, how colorful and fascinating their surrounding is from the dazzling irises of his sun.
The tree leaves—freshly unfolded from the ghost of winter cold—offer a canopy of shade to both of them, lights of the sun that made it to get through scatter on Jisung’s face as golden dots. He looks ethereal like this, hands of nature mold him meticulously to divine.
“Is there something on my face?” Jisung asks, both palms on his cheeks.
Minho laughs at the growing pink of his face. He pinches Jisung softly on his nose, watching the younger’s face scrunches up from the action. “Nothing,” he says, leaning to the tree behind them.
“What are you writing?” he sees Jisung puts down his pen on the grass, staring at Minho with a look he has been seeing too often every time he’s too lost inside his thoughts and isn’t paying attention to what Minho was asking.
So he nudges his chin towards the notebook on Jisung’s lap, before he repeats: “What are you writing?”
“Oh,” Jisung’s fingers skim along the pages of the book before he stops in one page. He clears his throat with hesitation before spinning the pen in between his fingers, soft notes rolling out of his tongue.
“Crashing and falling down, I’m an alien on this earth. All alone, I don’t seem to belong anywhere by myself,” his breath hitches visibly, swallowing a bile before continuing, “No matter how hard I smile, I feel so lonely. A strange creature trying to blend within the earthlings. No matter how hard I scream, no one hear my voice.”
His voice is calm. Quiet, soft, but the emotions are so thick Minho doesn’t even dare to breath. He sees Jisung relaxes as he closes the book with a thud, leaning back to the tree with a sigh.
“You love alien,” Minho says, sharply. “I remember you talked about it on the rooftop.”
A sly smile makes itself known on Jisung’s face. “I do.”
“A strange creature trying to blend within the earthlings, huh…” he trails off, followed by a long hum. “You should find the earthlings that are weird enough so it feels home,” he giggles upon his own words.
Jisung laughs along, the ring floats as light as a feather greeting the sun. “Does that mean you are a weird one?” he teases, leaning his head to the older’s shoulder with a wide smile.
“I can be a weird one if that makes you feel less lonely.”
“You are already weird.”
“Because you’ve always been lonely. Ever since you were sitting on the basement and crying just because I need to call Ma for you.”
“You’ve always been weird since you were standing there with face full of marker ink and a kitten in your arms.”
They laugh again. Joy brightly shines under the sun.
“Does that mean,” Minho starts, his voice is gentler now. He takes Jisung’s hand, intertwining their fingers carefully before he continues, “we’re meant to be together since the very beginning?”
Jisung groans, although he is already too transparent for Minho to see through. He can no longer fooled the elder; each dust of his demeanor had been written in a book of poetry of Minho’s mind, mapped perfectly as constellation of stars.
“You’re so cheesy.”
“Said the one who keeps calling me baby.”
“You called me cry baby before.”
“It’s different, baby,” Minho giggles at a new wave of pink blush on Jisung’s face. “Oh, you like that, baby? You like being called baby?” he taunts playfully, face inching closer and closer: taking a clearer look of the blush tints on the honey skin.
“Shut up,” Jisung’s face is fully red now, and he looks adorable.
“Kiss to shut me up?” he jokes, lips jutted out.
He did not expect Jisung to actually kiss him.
Their lips land clumsily on each other; soft and warm and barely there. The act lasts for merely seconds, but Minho’s eyes manage to bulging out in surprise before they flutter close, relaxing onto the kiss as their noses brush against each other.
Jisung pulls out first, folding eyelids reveal his brown irises which gleam under the golden light.
Minho feels his pulse jumps as he opens his eyes, for no reason he can name. Those pair of dark orbs have looked at him for countless times, but there is something different in the glint his gaze holds at this very moment: an intensity he doesn’t know.
He can hear the sound of his throat as he swallows; loud and dry.
“I think,” Jisung lets out a stiff laugh, hand scratching on the back of his neck as he looks away. “I think I accidentally shut both of us up.”
“I,” Minho clears his throat, he feels the heat starts creeping on both his ears before saying, “I think you did,” glaring—or trying to—at the laugh that escapes Jisung’s lips.
“Was that okay for you?” he asks then, noticing the pattern of Jisung’s fingertips tapping against his knees. “I mean, we never talked about kiss before, so I was surprised.”
“I started it.” Jisung’s reply comes barely above a whisper, almost sounding like it’s the thoughts inside his mind that are talking and not his own mouth. “I’m okay with it, though.”
“Jisung,” he calls him softly, smiling when the younger’s eyes shoot up to him from where they were fixed on the ground. “You are shaking.”
“It’s really okay, hyung,” Jisung leans back to the tree again, hands crossed upon his chest for a few seconds before they beat down on his lap: letting his guard down finally. “I’m just, that’s new to me so I’m a little, how do I say this, thrilled? Like I’m excited but also scared of what you would think about me.”
He pauses, and Minho can see the hesitation of those words to fly away from the tip of his tongue. “Say it,” he mutters, and it’s enough for Jisung to finally continues.
“We never talked about kiss,” his words are carefully placed together, the look plastered on his face as he says it is enough to give it away. “I mean, we talked about setting the boundaries and I said I’m only okay with forehead kiss but nothing too intimate… but I suddenly, I don’t know? Suddenly I want to try it…”
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” he quickly assures, looking at Jisung with fond gaze; prompting him to keep going.
Jisung visibly swallows hard, his eyes tremble before he starts again, in an even smaller voice than before: “It feels nice. I used to not like the idea of kissing someone—not as bad as the thought of having sex—but that feels okay. Maybe because it’s soft and just, light, you know? I just feel comfort and nothing else.”
“Whatever you are comfy, Jisungie,” he pats Jisung’s head gently, a small smile on his face.
“I know that,” the smile on Jisung’s face is clearer now, not as clear as it should but it’s enough. “I was just afraid you’ll get annoyed with me being indecisive, I guess. Like, I said I’m only okay with forehead and cheeks kiss but suddenly I go for a real kiss…” he trails off again, voice growing quiet as if he is talking with himself.
“We’re all always figuring ourselves all the time. It’s okay to not knowing what you like, it’s okay to have something you used to not feeling comfortable to do suddenly feels okay. Things change. It’s a part of the process.”
Jisung nods then, the small “okay” he mutters out as he looks at the elder in the eyes sounds timid. They hold their gaze on each other for mere seconds, smile growing wide as the clouds pass along the sky.
“Thank you,” he whispers as he lets himself fall into Minho’s embrace: head landing on the crook of his shoulder. “You’re always being too considerate to me.”
“I’m not,” Minho nudges his head from his shoulder once, unsuccessfully trying to stop Jisung from clinging onto him. “I’m a meanie.”
“You’re not.”
“I am.”
“Not a meanie… You’re a weirdo.”
“You’re an alien then.”
“Alien and a weird earthling.”
He smiles, taking a comfort from how Jisung won’t be able to see his expression. “Your evolution is so funny. From a baby to a stupid octopus and an alien.”
“You are also a stupid octopus,” Jisung mumbles, his words being muffled with the fabric of Minho’s sweater. “Stupid, idiot and reckless.”
“Hey that’s you.”
“I’m only stupid. Not reckless.”
Minho laughs now, the vibration of his skin drawing out giggles from the younger. “Do you even realize how weird our conversation is?”
“I mean,” Jisung takes his face from Minho’s shoulders, face blushed faintly but still visible; for Minho who had been seeing his honey skin for such long time he could tell even the slightest difference on it.
“It’s us, you know?” he continues, shrugging lightly. “It’s not us if it’s not weird.”
“Don’t drag me into your weird agenda, you little alien.”
Jisung shrugs again, more playfully this time; hints of uneasiness had left his entire demeanor completely as he leaps onto Minho’s lap, tackling the older boy onto the grass. “You have no idea how deep you already are, baby.” A smirk spreads across his face, his gaze pierces onto Minho’s intensely.
Minho feels the heat on his ears creeping onto his face immediately, tinting blush onto both his cheeks and nose the closer Jisung’s face gets over his own.
“Look at you,” Jisung laughs again, his gentle smile completely unmatching with the playful glint shooting from his eyes. “You can’t even talk, huh, baby? Lose your words every time you’re with me?”
Their foreheads pressed on each other’s, and he feels his face burning. Forest fire lighting up from his neck up to the skin flushed against Jisung’s, scalp prickling in a weird sensation that somehow triggers his stomach to do a backflip and his heart to hammer and lodges against his throat.
“I love you,” he blurts out, clasping his hands above his mouth immediately.
Jisung’s gaze softens, eyes slightly widening but quickly retreats to one that could only be described as tenderness. He feels like he is seeing salamander’s eyes: a pair of eyes which store flames within the cold, comforting waves of gentle ocean.
“I love you too,” Jisung whispers as he inches closer, planting a soft kiss on his cheeks. His dry lips are weirdly so gentle, not enough to leave mark saves for the warmth that lingers still: like dancing stars hopping across his skin.
And when he sees the pair of eyes he had been staring onto for countless of times in the past sixteen years; he is well decided.
He will never leave Jisung. It will be this, always, for as long as Jisung lets him. The salamander’s eyes squint adorably under the spilling golden urns of light, the ring of Jisung’s laugh sounds exactly the same as he remembers.
He wants them to laugh like this forever, the thought passes across his mind—he keeps it close into the deepest cave; stored and guarded in the safest spot he will never forget. The rain falls around them, the deep voices overlapped calling both their names yet no one move an inch.
Beads of water drench their hair, sticking them into their foreheads as their smiles grow wide. Bits of grass and falling leaves stick on their feet; hands of nature creeping around their collided bodies again; just like that day.
“I think I understand why you like the rain,” Jisung whispers into his ears, not letting Minho go just yet, not minding the continuous vibrations shooting from the device stored in the pocket of his jeans.
“It’s nice, right?” Minho is sure his cheeks are starting to hurt from the continuous stretch now. But he doesn’t care. Why would he?
“It is,” Jisung says, palms out to collect the downpour into his hands. “It’s warm.”
And all Minho could manage to give is a gentle smile: for he is too blinded by the shining sun he doesn’t know how to react. He runs his fingers through the damp locks of Jisung’s hair again, endearing giggles passing through his hearty lips.
They are happy, he smiles again.
He wants to be with Jisung forever.
fin.