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Donghyuck and Renjun laid on the roof of his house. The night was dark; street lamps and illuminated windows, imitations of the star spotted sky above them.
“How long do you think it’ll be?”
“I can’t say for sure,” Renjun reached out his hand, tangling his fingers with the sun-kissed boy’s. They were cold—a startling contrast to the way Donghyuck always ran hot, but it was nothing the younger boy wasn’t used to. “I have to check in with my parents and the council. There’s no telling how long that’ll be.”
Donghyuck bit his cheek in thought. “What do you talk about? When you’re with the council?” He asked hesitantly, unsure if that was information Renjun was allowed to disclose.
Renjun ran his thumb along the boy’s bitten fingernails— a bad habit he had told Donghyuck to work on while he was gone. “Boring things. History, observations, theories, the usual.”
“Ah yes, our Junnie’s a scholar.”
Renjun smacked the back of his hand. “Well, I have to contribute something. Otherwise, there’d be no reason for me to travel.”
Donghyuck nodded in understanding before turning to look at the smaller boy laying beside him; the shingles of the roof dug into the crown of his head. “Does it hurt when you travel?”
Renjun let out a quiet laugh, trying not to wake up the younger boy’s sleeping parents. His eyes flickered a glowing yellow-orange—his happy colors—then back to brown. “Not at all.”
Like a light bulb illuminating in his mind, Donghyuck pushed himself up on his palms, an excited sparkle in his eye. “Do you think I could come with you? Some other time?”
A frown pulled on the corners of Renjun’s mouth. “They’re not really fond of outsiders where I’m from.” As quickly as it appeared, it was gone. “But I’ll definitely ask Hyuck, don’t worry.”
He settled himself back in his laying position, satisfied with the answer. “It doesn’t have to be soon. Maybe when we’re older.”
“Maybe when we’re older,” Renjun confirmed.
“Does it take you a long time to get back home?” Donghyuck spoke to the open air above him. On the roof, curiosities and secrets shared were whispers to the night. For no one else but the boy he often shared the space with.
“It’s longer than it feels.” His brow furrowed, trying to put words to his thoughts. “I do the routine procedures, then the ship kind of takes care of the rest. I sleep most of the way.” He turned to the boy that was hanging off his every word. “But you know, our technology is always advancing. Every time I’ve traveled back and forth it’s been shorter.”
Donghyuck looked reassured, a smile lighting up his face. “Maybe one day you’ll be able to go back and forth in an instant.”
“I’d like that.”
Both boys had their eyes on the sky. The stillness of night holding them in this moment that they’d both remember as long as they could.
Donghyuck let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Will you look the same,” he continued quietly, “the next time I see you?”
“Probably not.” Renjun shook his head, his lips upturned slightly. “But you’ll know that it’s me.”
The younger boy felt panicked, not ready to change from the way things were right now. “How?”
Renjun rolled over, his slender finger tapping on the thick cotton material of Donghyuck’s hoodie, right over his rapidly beating heart. “Right here. You’ll know right here.”
Donghyuck still looked unsure. Worries ran through his head like a race with no end.
“Do you remember the first time you saw me when I looked like this?”
There was a small skinny boy, awkwardly standing on the edge of the school courtyard. He looked excitedly at everything around him; blended in with the other students, but somehow still out of place. Everything moved around him but the boy stayed still, almost frozen in that spot.
Donghyuck had been the only person to go up to him. Drawn like a magnet, he had described to Renjun once they were closer friends.
“You told me it felt like we’d known each other our whole lives.”
The younger boy gasped, shooting upright. “You mean,”
“No, no.” Renjun’s small frame shook with laughter. “We haven’t met before this trip. I’m just saying it’ll feel like that next time. But stronger, more intense.” He turned to look at the taller boy in the eye. “And you’ll just know.”
Donghyuck nodded, pulling his knees up to his chest. Renjun sat up next to him, a perfect display of the way the two boys mirrored each other. Always in sync.
A light jingle of metal trailed its way to Hyuck’s ears, making his head turn to find the source. Renjun was unclasping the silver chain bracelet he’d never been seen without. He reached over, fastening it around the other boy’s wider wrist. The rectangular plate situated in the center of the chain had engravings of foreign symbols Donghyuck had never seen in his world cultures class.
“This is my real name,” Renjun had said as they were sitting on the curb eating ice cream in the warm summer sun. Donghyuck was wiping off the ice cream that had dripped down the smaller boy’s arm and onto his accessory— while grumbling complaints that he still had to take care of him despite how old they were.
The sticky residue rubbed away to reveal the plate, beaming in the rays of sunlight reflecting off of it. “I chose Huang Renjun as my earth name a few trips ago.”
Since the first time he’d seen it, he’d memorized all the lines and curves of the foreign symbols. He scratched it in the corners of his notebooks; fingers absentmindedly tracing it through condensation on various surfaces; envisioning it on his darkened bedroom walls when he couldn’t sleep.
What may have looked like incoherent scribbles to someone else, was perfect to him.
“But—But you need this, your identifier,” Donghyuck said, broken out of his fond memories. “I can’t take this.”
Renjun shook his head; his fluffy brown hair bouncing around. “They know who I am without my identifier. It’s my promise that I’ll be back,” he paused, rubbing his thumb along the silver chain and tan skin. “And that I’ll be able to find you.”
Donghyuck hurriedly reached for his right wrist, loosening the black string through the sliding knot. He reached over, slipping it onto Renjun’s thin wrist. Shaky hands adjusted the chord until the little yellow sun charm was centered on the boy’s pale skin.
“So I’ll be able to find you,” he said, barely loud enough for Renjun to hear. “So you won’t forget me.”
Renjun scooted closer to rest his head on the taller boy’s shoulder; pink eyes returning to brown. Donghyuck felt firm and warm beneath his head. “I could never,” he whispered back.
The sky began to shift to a lighter blue. A familiar occurrence, but with different implications this time.
“I have to leave before the sun rises,” Renjun said, finally breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them. “And you have school soon, you should go to sleep.”
Donghyuck scoffed, appalled by the thought of having to go to school after this. Eventually, he nodded solemnly, understanding that their time was finally up.
Dirty sneakers scraped on the roof shingles as Donghyuck climbed back through the window.
He turned, hands resting on the white painted wood below him as he took a good look at the boy crouched outside. “Did you at least have fun this time around?”
Renjun’s shoulders shook in a quiet laugh. “More than you know.”
“So what I’m hearing is, this is your favorite planet?” Donghyuck reverted back to his teasing, the only way he could cope with the aching feeling in his heart.
Renjun playfully pushed his shoulder, careful not to lose his balance. He took a deep breath, looking so deeply into Donghyuck’s eyes that he felt like he was being studied.
“I’ve seen everything there is to see in countless galaxies,” the small boy lifted a hand, brushing back a piece of Donghyuck’s wavy hair. “I can honestly say that no sun or star shines as bright as you.”
His vision blurred as a tear fell from his eye. They wrapped each other in a final tight embrace—heat transferring and scents mingling; one a lively smell of forests and rushing waters, the other, something celestial.
It was ironic, Donghyuck thought. In this moment they were so close, but still in two different places. The windowsill separating the boys would soon represent the worlds between them.
“I’ll miss you,” he said, muffled by the slick material of the other boy’s jacket. Renjun quickly reciprocated his sentiment.
They separated, eyes red and cheeks blotchy. Renjun’s irises mirrored the sad blue of the sky behind him.
“See you later, Hyuck.”
Almost like he was never there, the small boy disappeared out of sight.
“See you later, Junnie,” he whispered into the darkness.
Donghyuck buried himself in bed, falling fast asleep, eager to rush the days by. Movie-like scenes played out in his head as he lay, tucked tightly under a fluffy duvet. Everything in his dreams felt vivid and fresh.
“If I tell you something, do you promise not to be scared of me?”
Donghyuck laughed loudly, his eyes twinkling with mirth. “I could never be scared of you, Junnie.”
Despite the small smile on his face, there was still a sense of hesitation. “I’m not from this planet, Donghyuck.”
“You know, when people tell you that you’re ‘out of this world’, they don’t actually mean it, Renjun.” The end of his sentence was punctuated with a swift slap of his bicep.
The smaller boy’s chocolate brown eyes faded to a dull gray for a second before returning. Donghyuck froze unsure if he’d imagined it. “Here I am, trying to have a serious conversation with you, and you turn it into an opportunity to tease me.”
“I believe you,” Donghyuck said, holding onto his arm. The small stinging red handprint was shielded from sight. “I knew no one as cool as you could be from Earth.”
A pause.
Both boys broke into laughter, falling back into sync the way they always did.
Donghyuck sat on his roof, the way he often did when he couldn’t sleep. The darkness of night seemed to envelop him; though right now it was suffocating rather than comforting.
Tonight he felt lonelier than usual. He ached for someone else to be here with him. But who?
He could envision a flash of eyes, porcelain skin, pink lips. Things that felt so familiar to him, but couldn’t be pieced together. He tried to grasp the memories and feelings but they were always out of reach like the second-place runner with their hand outstretched for the finish line ribbon.
His fingers brushed over the silver bracelet on his wrist, etched with the symbols he seemed to find everywhere. “I’ll find you,” he spoke into the dark void.
The brightest star in that night’s sky seemed to shine a little brighter, just for him.