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“Kim Namjoon! How does it feel to be the Moon’s Chosen?”
“I’ve never heard of the Moon’s Chosen being this young–do you have any comment on–”
“–High Priestess of the Moon has said she doesn’t understand why you were–”
“When are you leaving?”
Namjoon ignores the barrage of comments and questions, quickly slamming the door to his family’s bookshop shut. He locks the door, lips pressed together in displeasure as the crowd outside the shop peers in through the windows. He glares at them as he violently pulls down the blinds, slumping against the wall once they’re out of sight. A soft shuffling noise makes him look up, a broken sound escaping his lips.
“Eomma–”
She gives him a watery smile, a steaming cup of tea in hand. She stops in front of him, slowly getting down on the floor; she hands him the tea, gesturing for him to drink it. Sighing, he takes a small sip, barely feeling the scalding liquid.
“Namjoon-ah,” she says quietly, reaching out to smooth down his hair.
“Eomma, I don’t understand–”
“I know, Namjoon-ah, I know. You were Chosen.”
He stares at her, expression lost.
“What does that even mean? Being the Moon’s Chosen? I feel like…like I have no idea, and I’m scared–”
Shushing him, Kim Hyunyoung cups his face in her hands; she presses a gentle kiss to his forehead, tone remorseful.
“You are my most precious gift,” she says, “given to me by the Moon when I needed it most. And now the Moon has come to take you back.”
Namjoon stares at her, eyes watering. She gives him a small, broken smile; she rubs her thumb over his cheek, wiping a tear away.
“Eomma…what happened?” he whispers, voice shaking slightly.
Kim Hyunyoung sighs, letting go of Namjoon’s face. She curls in on herself as she remembers, a wry twist to her mouth.
“I was a priestess for the Moon,” she begins, looking at Namjoon briefly, “I was never meant to be a mother. But I wanted–so badly, Namjoon-ah–to have you. So I prayed to the Moon. And the Moon gave me you. But the Moon told me, they said ‘You who are most faithful, I will grant you your wish. But when your son is of age, I will take back what is mine.’”
She lets a soft sob out, suddenly bowing to her son. Bewildered, he tries to get her up, her body stiff and reluctant.
“I’m sorry, Namjoon-ah, my little star,” she sobs out, “I love you so much, I’m so sorry I’ve done this.”
“Eomma, please get up,” he says, voice tinged with desperation, “I–it’s okay, I f-forgive you.”
She shakes her head, still bowing to her son. He pets her hair as she sobs, his own tears escaping. A few minutes later, she slowly rises, face tacky with tears; Namjoon wipes at them, trying to smile. It’s brittle and small, but Kim Hyunyoung smiles back.
“When the Moon grants a wish,” she says quietly, “one of two things can happen: the High Priestess receives a vision of the gift’s purpose, or–like with you–the gift bear’s the Moon’s mark.”
Namjoon thumbs the luminescent star-and-moon on his wrist, lips pursing. Namjoon rubs a hand across his face, hanging on to her every word. He feels guilt settle heavily in his stomach–all those times when he was young, when the High Priestess would sneer at him, the others throwing things at him…
“What happens now?” he asks after a bit, tea forgotten by his side.
Kim Hyunyoung sighs, rubbing a gentle hand through his hair.
“The Moon gives, and the Moon takes. I made an agreement, and now we must honor it, however much I wish we couldn’t.”
“What do I do?”
“You must go to the mountain,” his mother says, “and let the Moon take you.”
Namjoon glances around the mountain’s ledge, nervous and unsteady; his mother had told him of an abandoned altar on the mountain, one that had been used long before the settlement of their village. She said it was where the Moon had given him to her, and that Namjoon must return from where he came. It made him angry–his mother, the Moon, everything. But he would do it–he was bound to it.
Finding the altar wasn’t as hard as he thought; it wasn’t hidden away, or inaccessible–it was just abandoned in favor of a different location. Kicking a stray rock, Namjoon sits on the steps of the altar, looking around. There were carvings in the stone pillars, mostly of a being descending from the sky–the Moon, if he had to guess. The pillars were tall, taller than anything in the village, extending high into the sky, like they were reaching for the Moon. The corners of Namjoon’s mouth flicker up for a moment, the irony not lost on him.
He stands, venturing into the abandoned altar. There’s two rooms: a main hall featuring a statue of the Moon figure; and a side room, likely for offerings or materials to venerate the Moon. He can see the remnants of a basket with a worn, moth-eaten blanket. He picks it up, rubbing his fingers over the silken material; it’s a dark blue, little flecks of shimmery white woven throughout. It’s familiar, tugging at the edges of his memory; disturbed, he puts it down–he doesn’t want to know, not really. Namjoon makes his way out of the altar, settling back down on the stairs.
“Not the worst place to die, I guess,” he muses darkly, leaning back to stare into the vacant altar.
“Who said you have to die?”
Namjoon scrambles up from his seat, staring wildly at the man in front of him.
He’s tall, with broad shoulders–his hair is dark like the night’s sky, falling into his eyes. He has a small, kind smile on his face, cheeks bunching up slightly. He has no shoes.
“Who are you?” Namjoon says, tone weary.
The man’s smile grows, shrugging.
“Just a passerby.”
“A passerby up here, where no one comes anymore? I doubt it,” Namjoon snorts, scowling, “who are you?”
The man takes a step forward, holding his hands out as Namjoon shifts.
“Sorry, sorry–I didn’t mean to startle you,” he says, a frown tugging at his lips.
Namjoon can feel an apology bubbling in his throat unbidden, like it’s being forced out of him just by being in the other’s presence; he swallows it down, nostrils flaring in realization.
“You’re the Moon,” he spits out, staring the man down.
The Moon gives him a grin, lowering his hands.
“I have to say, I’m surprised you figured it out so quickly, little star,” he says, rocking back on his heels.
Namjoon looks him over again, taking in the little details he’d missed before–his clothing looks normal at first glance, though Namjoon can see shimmering flecks of silver woven through them like the blanket; his eyes are abnormally bright, shining like star shards; his hands are slender and long, the nails glittering.
“You’re going to kill me,” Namjoon guesses, sweat trickling down his face.
The Moon frowns at him, pouting. It’s distracting–Namjoon can feel his attention wavering, almost missing what the Moon says.
“Why would I kill you when I just got you back, little star?”
“You don’t get to call me that–only my mother,” Namjoon snarls.
“Okay, okay, Kim Namjoon,” the Moon placates, expression smoothing out.
Namjoon lets a deep breath out through his nose, body relaxing slightly; he sits back down, head in his hands. The Moon takes a small step forward, waiting for the other to snap; when he doesn’t, he continues until he can sit next to Namjoon on the steps, eyes focused on the sky.
“Are you sure you want to sit here? Don’t want to get your fancy sky-pants dirty,” Namjoon mutters, eyes clenched shut.
The Moon lets out a squeaky laugh, shaking slightly; Namjoon glances up at him, the corners of his mouth briefly tilting up. It’s a contagious laugh, soothing and warm–Namjoon can feel his smile grow sour at the thought.
“I don’t care about those things, Namjoon-ah. I’m rather more relaxed than everyone thinks I am.”
“You’re the Moon–kind of hard not to think of you as anything other than an idol.”
“I’m not much for idolatry these days,” the Moon says casually, crossing his ankles, “I’ve had my share of it.”
Namjoon snorts, lifting his head fully.
“Tell that to the priestesses that still worship you daily. And my mother.”
“How is Hyunyoung-ssi?” the Moon asks softly, turning to look at Namjoon, “you look just like her, you know.”
“You would know–you gave me to her,” Namjoon sighs, closing his eyes.
“…I suppose I did,” the Moon says quietly, shifting slightly, “though not in the way you’re thinking.”
“So you’re not my dad?” Namjoon says drily, causing the other to bark out a laugh.
“Ha ha, could you imagine–that’s more of the Sun’s thing, not mine. No, I just plucked you from the stars and brought you down.”
Namjoon looks up at the sky, eyes searching; hesitantly, the Moon touches his head, hands cool and gentle against Namjoon’s skin. He turns and tilts until Namjoon is facing a particular patch of night’s sky; taking one hand off the other’s face, the Moon points towards a star that blinks brightly. A longing, aching pit opens in Namjoon’s chest–he can feel tears running down his face, the Moon wiping them carefully.
“That’s–that was–”
“Yes,” the Moon says, soothing, “you came from that star right there. Do you feel it?”
“There’s an ache in my chest,” Namjoon says, grabbing his shirt, “like I’m missing something, but I don’t know what.”
The Moon nods, looking at the star; it blinks a few more times, pulling a wet laugh from Namjoon.
“So I have to go back,” Namjoon murmurs, looking at the ground.
“If that’s what you want.”
“What I want matters?”
“Of course it matters! Why would it not matter?”
“I thought–Eomma said you’d take me back, when I turned eighteen.”
The Moon sighs, crossing his arms.
“Well, that was before we became friends.”
Namjoon snorts a laugh, eyebrow raised.
“We’re friends now?”
“Yes, Namjoon-ah! Great friends!”
They lapse into silence, the Moon rubbing his feet into the ground. Namjoon glances up at the sky, eyes straying to his star every so often.
“I could go back home?”
“Yes,” the Moon says softly, “though I must admit, I’d be sad to see you go. You’re very entertaining, Namjoon-ah.”
“And you’d just let me go, no consequence?”
The Moon sighs, giving the other a sad smile.
“Yeah. I’m not…the way I was eighteen years ago…”
Namjoon hesitantly reaches out for the Moon’s hand, giving it a small squeeze of encouragement.
“I’ve learned a lot from you and your mother. I’d thought I knew everything I needed to, any yet–you surprised me, Kim Namjoon. So. For you, Namjoon-ah, I’d give you anything you asked for.”