Chapter Text
Wishful thinking is what could describe Renjun’s predictions about today.
There had been meticulous planning and weeks of saving every cent he could get his hands on for everything to go right. But things don’t always do.
The day starts early for Renjun. Through the curtains of his bedroom, the lightened skies awaken him, just past dawn and readily awaiting the sun to push through the horizon. He rises from his slumber, still heavily laden with fatigue. The prospect of a warm bed and sweet dreams to ward away the crisp morning air and all of life’s responsibilities tempts him, but he would not be deterred. Although, any other day he would have rolled right back into the coaxing hands of sleep only to be roused by the incessant ringing of his alarm.
He rolls out of bed and cringes at the contrasting cold of the wood floors to his bare feet. Tiptoeing, he hops into the tepid waters of his shower to wake himself up fully.
Once he’s been blasted awake by a showerhead and dressed for the weather, he stumbles out of his house and into the grasp of the wintery cold. It immediately bites at his nose and the tips of his ears, forcing them into a red glow within minutes of exposure. Although he much prefers the summers where the sun is cast tenderly on the Earth and the days are molasses, he remembers that the cold brings along with it events that his heart holds dearly.
Bracing the winter winds, he’s taken back to just a year prior. How different it all seemed now. How he was suddenly placed into a relationship he didn’t know he wanted. How all 364 days from then to now have all been different, but happy.
Renjun’s shivering legs carry him to the nearest bus stop where the seats are frosted over and the humble shelter does little to shield him from the harsh December gales. So he pulls his scarf up a little higher and shoves his unoccupied hand into his coat pocket, mostly to protect his fingers from freezing off, but also feeling for the small velvet box occupying it as he waits.
The bus ride is slow and rickety. The snow chains on the wheels clang relentlessly and Renjun nearly dozes off at the monotonous sound. The excitement bubbling up in his chest is almost enough to ward away his exhaustion. Though, sometime within the two hour bus ride, he drifts off anyway.
Dreams don’t come very often to Renjun. Used to pitch black slumber, he wakes with a start after a dream flashes through the unconscious spaces in his brain, crowding it with vivid images he can’t quite piece together.
It’s not quite a nightmare, it’s more tame than that. There are no beasts that threaten his safety or glimpses of his darkest fears. His heart still races and his hands still sweat all the same.
The first thing he remembers is eyes. They are not his, but they are like his. The striking emerald green of Renjun’s left and the honey gold of his right are mirrored beneath waves of long, black eyelashes and they take his breath away. Their unwavering gaze holds onto his own with ferocity—even the thought of it bringing a chill up his spine. There is nothing more than the eyes. An image fleeting and then nothing at all.
As he awakens, there is one word on his lips and it is a word he’s only heard in retold stories and read in desolate online blogs.
Soulmate.
Goosebumps have risen on his arms despite the warmth blowing out of the vents above him and he distracts himself with watching the window instead, a futile attempt at getting his mind off the no-longer-impossible. He stubbornly ignores the gnawing feeling he feels in the pit of his chest after the dream, feigning ignorance to such a vivid and strange occurrence. Deep down, he knew this had meaning.
Renjun is far from being a skeptic when it comes to things like ghosts or aliens, things of the supernatural sort. However, the idea of soulmates leaves him with much to be desired. The concept of having one person in a world of billions that he is destined to be with is rather odd to him. The question of who’s the one who actually gets to decide his fate comes up often in his train of thought—that is only whenever he is forced to ponder these things. He’s usually only compelled to recall the soulmate concept when he’s looking into the eyes of his beloved, the constant reminder that whatever powers above them do not wish for them to be together. Renjun likes to believe he’s made peace with it. After all, his own fate and emotions should be in his own hands.
The overhead speakers on the bus alert him of his upcoming stop and he eagerly peers out the area of the fogged up window he’s wiped the condensation away from. Leaning against the rapidly approaching red sign is a figure clad in a puffy black jacket, hood up and obscuring the view of their face. It doesn’t matter though; Renjun knows exactly who it is. Their mismatched eyes meet through the glass of the window and Renjun leaps out of his seat and then into the awaiting arms of Na Jaemin.
Burying his face in the other boy’s chest, he lets out a muffled, “I missed you.”
Jaemin laughs warmly and Renjun feels it throughout his entire body. He leans back in the taller boy’s arms to take in as much of him as he can, saves a snapshot of this exact moment in his memories.
The hood of his coat is lined faux fur and frames his chocolate colored hair. His eyelashes bat at his cheeks as he gazes down at Renjun. The tip of his nose is tinged with red, likely from waiting out in the cold for him and Renjun will definitely scold him for it later. They’re both smiling so hard their cheeks hurt.
“It’s only been four days since break started,” he points out despite feeling the same way. “I missed you too, starlight.”
The nickname had arisen over their first date. The word takes him back to that cold December night, air just as chilly as now and just as biting, but they hadn’t minded then either.
Jaemin had snuck him into his house after a day of tucking into every coffee shop they could find to escape brumal gales. Taken by the hand, he had lead Renjun to his backyard and onto a swinging bench they had been familiar with when they were still just friends. It had felt different as lovers. Everything had.
Very few stars had come out to play. Children of the night all twinkling in the universe. The wintry air forced hands to find one another’s and bodies huddled close to preserve warmth. Despite Jaemin speaking animatedly about the constellations they couldn’t see, he kept his gaze trained on Renjun’s face, how his pale skin reflected the barely-there light of the midnight sky. Muttering something about the Ursa Major, he noticed how the moonlight laid thin over Renjun’s eyes and through to his eyelashes which cast their shadows over the slope of his cheekbones. Things had gotten quiet after Cassiopeia. Or more, Jaemin had run out of things to say that sounded composed.
“It’s a shame the moon seems so small tonight. The sky’s so dark without it,” Renjun had voiced over the whistling wind in the space of unoccupied air. Jaemin hadn’t noticed the size of the moon, much less realized how dim the world was. Everything was bright with Renjun. Thanks to a lack of filter, he said as much and received a loving shove from the other boy.
“You’re like my own little star. Like starlight—or something,” he had admitted in an embarrassing daze.
It stuck.
Renjun couldn’t be quite sure if he understood the weight of the pet name as much as Jaemin felt, but he appreciated it. If he was Jaemin’s starlight, Jaemin was an entire constellation, mapped out along his heart.
“Are you ready?” Jaemin asks, bringing Renjun barrelling back to the present where he is still wrapped up in the taller boy’s arms. He nods and Jaemin releases his hold, opting to intertwine their fingers instead.
They had agreed to split their plans into morning and evening, Jaemin planning the first half and Renjun ending their date off sweetly. Jaemin’s agenda brings them to Renjun’s favorite cafe, one they had discovered on their first date and have gone to regularly ever since. He makes a few futile attempts to feed him bites of their shared slice of lemon pound cake. Renjun, red faced and flustered to the point of annoyance, refuses every effort but one to which Jaemin laughs and wraps his hands around his on top of the table in triumph. The waiter, a close friend, only every stops by once to inform them of how gross they were being.
Jaemin then drags him along for a chilly stroll in a nearby community garden under the winter sun. Their hands are intertwined then too, and in one of Jaemin’s coat pockets for extra protection from the cold. The air surrounding them is sweet and floral, reminiscent of springtime. All along their path are bushes freckled with winter flowers, their blooming colors against the otherwise dreary background of the cold world make it a little brighter. The grass beneath their soles gives a frozen crunch with every step down the trail.
They walk leisurely for hours, pointing out different species of flowers together and talking about anything and everything. Neither of them had a care in the world.
When the sun finally begins to dip into the horizon, the couple is found seated on a little wooden bench along the trail leaning against one another and imagining their shared futures. Renjun rambles on about an art studio under their house so he would never have to leave home and Jaemin offers his idea of a little house on a hill on the outskirts of a small town. Both ideas are ideal, as long as they are together.
“It’s seven already?” Renjun cries out once the skies are smeared with orange and pink. He stands suddenly and Jaemin, who had been leaning on him for support, flops onto the bench.
“What’s the plan, starlight?”
“Dinner, and then a surprise.”
Jaemin’s favorite holiday is Christmas. Although neither of them are religious, they’ve fallen for the festivities and the warmth. It could have to do with the time they first got together, but they enjoy Christmas for everything it brings with it.
For part of Renjun’s surprise, he drags Jaemin to the town square. He knows it won't be much of a surprise once they get within a three block radius of the square, so he lets Jaemin just figure it out on his own.
They arrive just on time, stomachs full of warm soup from Jaemin’s favorite family restaurant, and shove their way through a crowd to get to the center of the square.
It is at least 30 feet and stands completely straight, a vibrant forest green against the darkened and dreary gray skies. Renjun has to crane his head to see the top. From the very crown, down to the bottom, it is wrapped in simmering tinsel in shades of red, yellow, green and silver and adorned with ornaments in all swirling shapes and sizes. Along with the decor, the tree is dressed in bulbs all the way through. A grand crystal star is placed at the highest point, glittering despite the lack of light. Just the sight of the tree is romantic and has Jaemin’s eyes twinkling in delight.
“Let’s get closer, they should be lighting it soon,” he suggests softly, pulling Jaemin out of his thoughts. From just the twinkle in his eyes, Renjun can tell Jaemin is more than excited. He had mentioned once he had never seen the first lighting of the tree despite living in the city all his life.
Renjun winds an arm around Jaemin’s and pulls him towards the tree. They find their own spot amongst a small, bustling crowd.
As they both tilt their heads back, they are awed with the sight of the first snowflakes of the season making their slow descent down. Renjun’s eyes are fond as they watch Jaemin stick his tongue out, the white snowflakes landing on it disappearing instantly.
Jaemin’s signature smile creeps its way onto his face and Renjun commits it to memory.
Renjun’s brain screams to him that it had to be now. The second part of his surprise needed to be revealed with the lighting of the tree.
Despite not weighing a thing, the box in his pocket burns a hole there.
Renjun’s hand is almost tentative as it comes up to grasp Jaemin’s shoulder lightly. It’s just enough for Jaemin to stop catching snowflakes and shift, turning his body to face the shorter boy.
His heart races. He feels his pulse even down in the tips of his fingers, which are now anxiously turning the box over in his pocket repeatedly. His hands are starting to get clammy, even in the freezing temperatures.
He almost feels silly being so nervous.
Jaemin watches him with those eyes that he loves, the left one the wispy color of pink fairy floss, the other a muted hue of jade. Those eyes do not belong to him and as long as they are together, they will remain those shades. But as Renjun gazes into them, he feels that it will be okay. It’s okay that their eyes will never shift as they bore into one another’s. It’s okay that their other halves remain out in the world without them. It’s okay because right now, the boy he is certain he loves, the boy who loves him with all he has stands before him, glinting snowflakes flurrying around them, and his own hand is wrapped around a box containing an awaiting promise between them both. And knowing this, he finds the courage to finally speak.
“Jaemin—” Renjun starts. He doesn’t finish though, words getting jumbled together with a sudden commotion around them. The people surrounding them multiply in seconds. Jaemin lays a hand on Renjun’s back to protect him from any unwanted jostling.
“They’re lighting the tree!” a man’s voice calls out to the crowd, pulling their collective attention—as well as Jaemin’s—towards the tree. The taller boy’s head turns towards the spectacle. The words die on Renjun’s tongue. The perfect moment is lost.
Renjun doesn’t watch as Jaemin gasps. Renjun doesn’t see the eruption of lights running up the tree as each bulb is lit one by one. Renjun doesn’t notice the way the star at the top reflects all the colors of the illuminated bulbs.
No—his eyes have been fixated on something else, but something similar. There is a gasp, an eruption, and even a reflection of colors that happens in an instant, but to Renjun it feels like it could have taken years. Standing there felt like an eternity.
Over Jaemin’s shoulder standing just yards away is a boy. There is nothing particularly outstanding about his outward appearance. His chestnut colored hair peeks out from underneath a red beanie. He is engulfed in a scarf of the same shade and the way his mouth gapes like a fish is barely visible underneath the wool. The tip of his tall nose is reddened from the cold, nearly blending in with his accessories. His eyes are two brilliant shades of gold and emerald and achingly familiar. They stare back at him in both awe and, what could possibly be, longing.
Renjun’s racing heart stutters and in his ribcage, he feels a sudden ache. His hands start to shake. His grip on the box loosens until it drops to the bottom of his coat pocket. His vision goes hazy for a split second, but he can still see him standing there, looking back at Renjun, like a marble sculpture against a wax painting backdrop. The only thing attributing his belief to this moment being real is the snow floating to the ground between them.
Renjun looks at the boy and his eyes, the gleaming emerald and gold. Ever so gradually he watches the gold creep over to the green on the right side like ink seeping into paper, and in his frozen state Renjun lets a small gasp escape his open mouth. The sound is hardly out of place amid the oohing and ahhing of the crowd.
In a span of time that takes forever and nothing at all, all that stares back at him are a pair of golden eyes. Like the green was never there at all. Renjun knows better. Although the color has seeped from the stranger’s eyes, he knows exactly where it is located now.
He knows this story, he must have heard it told and retold a thousand times. He never once thought someday it would be his story, not when he had Jaemin who defied all the odds with him. Not when he knew his heart could only contain one person.
His mother is rather fond of her and his father’s Exchange. She often narrates the story through warm, orangey eyes and sweet words over family outings and during long car rides across the country. His father is more brief about the encounter, but just as fond. The few peers he has that have experienced their own Exchange recount their own tales in a lovestruck daze that Renjun more than often scoffs at.
Renjun already knows he is different, that he will only ever recall his Exchange in a panic, the same panic he currently feels during it. How he wishes he wouldn’t have an Exchange to recall at all.
He shatters the moment shared with the stranger and flits his eyes towards Jaemin, eyebrows furrowed and heart pumping furiously in his chest with a rush of adrenaline. He couldn’t let him see. Not today. Maybe not ever.
Jaemin’s attention still lies on the twinkling Christmas tree, mouth parted just slightly in awe. His eyes begin flicker towards him and his heartbeat quickens to an impossible rate.
“Jaemin!” he blurts as he squeezes his eyes shut. Jaemin makes a noise of acknowledgement and confusion. Renjun is sure he’s looking at him now.
“Jaemin I—I have to go.”
“Go? Go where? Is something wrong?” Renjun’s heart clenches from Jaemin’s tone of worry. He just shakes his head.
“I just have to go, okay? Get home safe!” he exclaims. He makes sure he is turned completely 180° degrees away from Jaemin before he scurries off. Luckily, the crowds make it much easier for a small boy like himself to shove through.
Renjun runs for a dozen blocks, nearly slipping on patches of frozen puddles on the sidewalk one too many times before he stops. He stays on the side of the road, hands braced on his knees as he forces frosty air into his burning lungs and tries with all his residual might to fight back the tears beginning to prick in the corners of his eyes. The adrenaline pumping through his veins only helped in focusing on running. Now that he was far from the crowds, the noise, and Jaemin, he was alone with his thoughts.
Renjun pulls out his phone and swipes along the screen until his camera opens. He switches to the front camera and holds his breath while it loads. He knows what to expect, he just isn’t sure if he wants to come to terms with it.
The image that greets him is exactly as he pictured. His eyes— both eyes—are a bright and unforgiving green, the usual gold of his left iris completely erased. Despite seeing the proof, he can’t believe his eyes. He can’t believe his eyes .
He runs the rest of the way home. Once he’s there, he digs around inside his backpack until he finds what he’s looking for. Renjun slaps his laptop onto his desk and flips it open. His hands fly over his keyboard hurriedly and after two incorrect attempts at his password, he finally gets his web browser open. His search bar reads “gold colored contacts near me” and he bounds out the door just as fast as when he came in.
The guy working the cash register is either not in a great mood, or is currently in some sort of a life crisis. Renjun doesn’t even mind as the cashier takes a million and a half years to check him out. He can understand being in a crisis. Although he feels the guy’s eyes boring into him as he scans the contacts. It is certainly a look of judgement. There’s really only one reason a person would be buying colored contacts and that was soulmate related deception. Renjun tries not to let his gaze eat him alive, but the blatant staring has goosebumps prickling his skin. He walks home as fast as he can, his purchase clutched tightly to his chest.
Renjun has never put in contacts before. His eyes sustain a decent amount of poking, prodding and redness but soon enough, his eyes are restored to their green and golden glory. Picking the color had been a game of chance, but the gold matched so well that he couldn’t even tell there was any green lurking beneath it to begin with. He regards his reflection with a relieved sigh.
He wasn’t a bad person. Didn’t wanting to protect the feelings of his loved one make him a good person?
Renjun takes out the contacts and leaves them on his bathroom counter before going to bed. His slumber is dreamless.