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“It was tender, that moment; ready to break. Like a coral that would lose all its vibrancy once the waters it lived in got too warm…
…Two boys in love, brought together by the same fate that was now tearing them apart- as painful as it would be if they were being disassembled limb by limb.”
Renjun sighed to himself, closing his laptop perhaps a bit harsher than he should have, given its price and relative fragility.
He brought a hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose while he took deep breaths, focusing hard on the feeling of his chest inflating and deflating in order to distract himself from the mounting pain in his heart.
He couldn’t count on both hands the number of times he’d tried to write this scene. Too many, he figured.
This was the unfortunate end to his story- the part of the sequel where everything that seemed so perfect inevitably falls apart.
Regretfully, his loyal readers would never get a happy ending. Renjun finds it hard to feel bad for them, knowing that he’s dealt with much worse: The real thing.
That feeling of being metaphorically disassembled limb by limb, of kissing the boy you love one last time- knowing that it really will be the last time. Of looking back on it all, generations later, knowing that they never found each other again.
He groaned, spinning around in his office chair so he could face his calendar- and he could swear he had never felt swifter regret.
The deadline his publisher had given him for this book was 2 days away. It needed to be done- or, at least as done as it could be before the editors got their hands on it- and it unfortunately needed to be done fast.
Mentally cursing out his publisher (and his past self for even thinking to write about so sensitive a topic), Renjun pried open his computer again, glaring at his cursor as it blinked where he had to type.
‘Just a little bit more…’ He told himself, and so, begrudgingly, he wrote.
“‘You know as well as I do,” The boy said, “That I love you more than anything in this world; not the bluest sky nor the greenest fields could compare to the beauty I see in you.”
And yet… the words that remained unspoken hung heavy in the air.
‘But our love means nothing to anyone but us, and we cannot stay together.’...
…Tears brimmed in both boys’ eyes, the weight of their relationship ending crashing down on them all at once.
A breaking up not due to falling out of love, or argument, or incompatibility; but due to the ill-starred nature of two boys being in love…
…”Even after we say goodbye, please never forget the love I hold for you.”
“I won’t. I couldn’t.”
Their hands intertwined, they stared at each other through their tears, fond, in love, shattered.
“I promise you,” The boy said, sucking in a breath, “I’ll find you again. In another life. And when that day comes, There will be no obstacles in our way; We will be able to love each other in a way that knows no bounds.”...
…”I love you.”
A sad smile.
“I love you, too.”...
…And so they shared a kiss, destined to be their last, under the cover of the same stars that painted the sky when they fell in love. The Cassiopeia constellation, home to the Heart Nebula, hanging forlorn overhead.”
Renjun submitted his draft to his editor, teary-eyed, and with an oncoming headache.
The gut-wrenching unhappy ending seemed to deter absolutely nobody from loving Renjun's book. People raved about it online, and Renjun saw his official account get tagged in quite a few "Books that will make you cry" threads on Twitter.
A week after its release, Renjun was sat on stage in a bookstore bustling with life as fans of his work lined up for him to sign their copies of his latest novel.
He wondered fleetingly if they'd look so excited if they knew the true origin of the story they so loved.
He greeted hundreds of them; admired the doodles and messages people left on the pages he wanted them to sign. It was arguably his favorite part, reading how much his books meant to them, feeling bad for those whose own lives were somehow reflected in his work.
As the hours passed, the once-long line dwindled down to the last few fans. They went one by one, until the last person approached Renjun’s table.
Tired, but grateful, Renjun put on a smile.
“Sorry you had to wait so long,” He said sympathetically, taking the boy’s book, “your legs must be killing you.”
He waved him off, a bright smile on his face.
“It’s fine. This was well worth the wait.”
Renjun smiled, thanking him as he flipped open the front cover, where he was greeted by a small ink scrawling.
‘Another message…’ He thought.
It was written in the middle of the page- where his own signature would normally go.
He gave it a glance, as he had done to every other message today, but the contents of this one were unlike any of the others.
Not a note of admiration, or a personal anecdote.
Just:
“My dear fairy,
I’m sorry I took so long.”
As soon as he read those words, Renjun’s mouth went dry.
An odd familiarity washed over his body. It was uncomfortable; like pinpricks or the static sensation that occurs when your foot falls asleep. Like this was something that shouldn't be happening. Highly improbable.
Looking back feverishly through his mental catalog, Renjun tried desperately to recall if he'd ever included that nickname when writing his books. My dear fairy.
Renjun laid there, back pressed against the grass, the sun shining down like it was made for him- highlighting the hues in his eyes and the slight curl of his hair.
His lover smiled.
“Laying there, you look like those creatures from the old folktales.” He said.
Renjun quirked an eyebrow, eyes squinting from the sunlight.
“Which creatures? The ones that live in the swamps?”
The other boy laughed and shook his head, swatting at Renjun as if to silently communicate the words ‘of course not.’
“I mean the ones that live in the forest; The pretty ones,” He said, before making a flapping gesture with his hands, “the ones with the wings.”
Renjun laughed at him.
“You mean fairies?” He asked, delighting in the way his lover’s face lit up in recognition.
“Yes! Those! You’re like a fairy. My dear fairy.”
Renjun smiled, putting his head back down into the grass.
A silent moment stretched between them, before Renjun coyly muttered:
“Maybe you’re one of those creatures that lives in the swamps.”
It took less than a second for him to receive a faceful of freshly plucked grass.
Coming back to himself, he realized that his catalog came up blank, that he'd omitted that particular petname from his books. So how…?
He looked up again at the boy, whose features he had never seen before. And yet- a part of his brain nagged- there was a strange sense of familiarity in him. Something about the way he held himself.
Before Renjun could even process the short message, the other boy spoke once more, tone calm, but eyes filled with a sense of urgency.
“I know this is really weird, but do you think you could give me a moment to explain myself?”
Renjun looked back to his security guard, who was eyeing the visitor suspiciously. He contemplated having the boy taken away- but he thought about it only for a second, before a small voice somewhere in his brain told him he would regret doing that.
So, still questioning if it was against his better judgment, he turned back around, and said, “Yes?”
A toothy smile lit up the other man’s face before he spoke.
“Well, I read your first book by chance, after a friend of mine had left it at my house. I loved it from the first paragraph– was immediately drawn in by the way you set the scene, the way you used your words.
But it was really strange. The whole time I was reading it, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it felt incredibly familiar; that I had lived it myself, just not from the written perspective.”
Renjun looked perplexed. A part of him was getting nervous; heart rate increasing and fingers anxiously tapping on the table. Another part of him was wondering one thing: Just what exactly was this guy on about?
The boy sighed.
“I get the feeling I’m probably just making this even more confusing,” he said, shaking his head, “I’ll just cut to the chase, then. I really hope you’ll forgive me for failing to make this the poetic reunion I wanted it to be.”
Clearing his throat, he extended a hand to Renjun.
“My name is Na Jaemin. But I believe you once knew me as Na Myeonggyu.”
All at once, Renjun experienced the sensations of his eyes blowing wide, his heart pausing in its motion, and his once-tapping hands beginning to shake.
“What?” He asked, incredulous.
There was simply no way-
“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” Came Jaemin’s voice again, “It’s a lot, I know it’s a lot, and I’m sorry to have dumped this on you at a book-signing but I didn't have another idea of how to meet you face-to-face.”
Renjun felt feverish- and suddenly the hot, bright white lights that surrounded him felt suffocating. A public space was anything but the right place for this to be happening.
Turning to his security guard, Renjun motioned to Jaemin.
“Let him come back with me. He’s an old friend.”
The ride back to Renjun’s apartment was tense, with Renjun riding shotgun while Jaemin twiddled his thumbs in the back seat. It would have been silent, if not for the chauffeur’s control of the aux cord, which flooded the car with the quiet hum of mellow pop music.
Both boys’ minds were thinking at 10,000 miles an hour; Jaemin’s head filled with admonishments for how poorly he executed his “Aha! I am your long lost boyfriend, here to love you once more!” confession, and Renjun’s head filled with the phrase “What the fuck.” repeating itself several times over.
The silence followed them out of the car, into Renjun’s building, and in the elevator that took them 4 storeys high.
As they approached Renjun’s front door, Renjun held out his hand, mumbling “Stay here for a moment, please.” before unlocking his door and softly shutting it behind him.
Jaemin wondered why, but in mere seconds he heard the familiar sounds of someone rapidly cleaning up- the symphony of unexpected guests.
It took a few minutes for Renjun to open the door again, and when he did, he motioned for Jaemin to come in and sit.
“Tea?” He asked, and Jaemin just shook his head.
How Renjun was maintaining formalities at a time like this, Jaemin hadn’t a clue.
“Are you sure? I can-”
“Renjun… Please. Just sit down. We both know we need to talk.”
Renjun’s lips drew into a tight line.
He took a seat next to Jaemin, and laid his hands firmly in his lap.
Jaemin spoke first, tone solemn and regretful.
“I uh… I want to apologize again for the way I came to you about all of this. I know it was sudden, and that a public space when you’re on the job was not a good spot to have our reunion.” He paused, then, before a playful smile lit up his face, “I really hope you’ll understand, though, that once I found out little farmer Yongwon had become a very famous author in this life, I knew it wouldn’t be so easy to just run into you.”
Renjun’s face and ears went red from the impromptu praise.
“I’m not very famous.” He replied, to which Jaemin dramatically rolled his eyes.
“Stop being humble, I had to ask like 60 different people to go ahead of me to ensure I was the last person in that line, and when I got to the bookstore there were already people wrapping around the block.”
He said it with no malice- tone sweet. Renjun managed a smile.
“Okay, maybe I’m a little famous.” He conceded, and now it was Jaemin’s turn to smile.
“Definitely more famous than you were when you were selling citruses in the village square.”
Renjun rolled his eyes blithely.
“Oh please, everyone in the village bought from me.”
“Well, yes, but your books have like, 1,000 times more sales than our village had people. You operate on a totally different scale now.”
“And yet somehow, in both lives, you’ve managed to be one of my customers.”
Jaemin’s smile widened.
“Speaking of,” Renjun said, turning his body slightly towards Jaemin, “since you’ve read my books, and they’re the reason you found me again, I have a question for you.”
Jaemin turned in too, comforted by how normal it felt to be in Renjun’s presence again- natural.
“Shoot.”
“When you started reading my first book, when did you realize that it was about… us?”
He made a vague gesture between the two of them, a slight blush rising to his cheeks. Jaemin smiled fondly.
“It was the very beginning of the book- the part about that moment in the square,” He replied, “The moment we met. When I read it, I experienced the strongest deja vu of my life. I knew there was no way anybody could have made that moment up exactly the way I remembered it.”
It was odd, walking into a town that wasn’t the one he hailed from. One filled with unfamiliar faces, sounds, and scenery.
Jaemin passed through the square with his mother at his side, taking in the new environment.
Little children playing tag, young women sitting in a circle and gossipping, two old men with fishing rods headed to the lake…
… and a boy, about Jaemin’s age, pushing a wheelbarrow filled with oranges.
Well, it was filled with oranges, but he’d just dropped one of the handles and spilled dozens of the fruits all over the cobbled stone ground.
Jaemin rushed over without a second thought, alarming his mother who called out for him to come back. He ignored her. He would find his way back home somehow.
He knelt to pick up the stray oranges as he approached, placing them carefully back into the wheelbarrow so they wouldn’t fall out again. The boy was doing the same, and eyeing Jaemin inquisitively.
Jaemin fetched the last one off the ground, placing it on top.
The boy was still looking at him.
“Thank you.” He murmured quietly. A blush was visible on his face, likely flustered from embarrassing himself in so public a space.
If you were to ask him, he’d add that he was also flustered that such a cute boy had come to his aid.
Jaemin smiled.
“You’re welcome,” he said, before watching the boy pick the wheelbarrow back up with some difficulty, “do you need a hand?”
The boy’s eyes widened as his blush deepened.
“N-no, don’t worry about that.” He said, shaking his head.
Jaemin hummed to himself, before going over and taking the wheelbarrow’s handles in his hands, moving the other boy out of the way.
The boy looked bewildered.
Jaemin just smiled.
“It’s heavier than it looks,” He said, “just tell me where to go, and you can give your arms a little break.”
“I mean, seriously, a wheelbarrow full of oranges? A boy who was new into town? I knew you had to know something.”
Renjun’s cheeks flushed deeper at the memory. He remembered thinking he’d gone and embarrassed himself in front of the handsome boy who’d just moved in; remembered worrying that the boy would think he was weak; stupid.
His worries had all been for nothing.
As it turned out, Na Myeonggyu was one of the kindest people Huang Yongwon would ever meet, and his kindness was without exception. All of the townspeople utterly adored him, no matter their age, gender, or profession.
It goes without saying that Yongwon loved him too.
If you asked him, he’d say he loved him more than anyone else. But back then, he'd have (falsely) assured you he meant it platonically.
“I guess I made it kind of obvious…” Renjun mumbled shyly, “I basically treated my books like diaries. Retelling my days as I lived them. I hadn’t ever considered you were out there, let alone that you’d read my work, so I didn’t really worry about embarrassing myself.”
Jaemin made a repetitive, teasing ‘tsk’ sound.
“You didn’t believe I was out there even after I’d promised we’d see each other again? For shame, Huang Renjun.”
Renjun shoved Jaemin’s shoulder with his own.
“Pardon me for not thinking your promise would manifest our reincarnation.”
“You should have known I was handsome enough to even charm a higher power.”
Both boys snorted at the notion. What a ridiculous concept.
Renjun wanted to reply, but the words died on his tongue before he could voice them.
Fun as it was to joke like everything was normal- that they were really old friends like Renjun had told his security guard- that wasn’t quite true. And they'd been placed in a remarkable situation; one neither of them thought possible, brought about by the powers that be. (Or, as Jaemin had suggested, his own good looks?)
Renjun couldn't help but be nervous about all of it.
Nervous about reliving his past life in a way that wasn't his writing; That which was cautious and controlled. Where he was able to delete the parts that stung too badly, and drag out the parts that made him smile.
Nervous about having to learn everything about someone he once knew inside and out. Discovering novelties about a total stranger who once shared kisses with him under the cover of night.
Most of all, he was mind-numbingly nervous about whether or not Na Jaemin could love Huang Renjun the way Na Myeonggyu loved Huang Yongwon. If that was what Jaemin wanted at all.
Biting his lip, he stared down at his hands, fidgeting nervously with them in his lap.
“When um… When you came to the book signing today…” he began, preemptively embarrassed by his question, “Did you come with the intention to fulfill that old promise you made me?”
When he did not receive an immediate response, Renjun wished for a sinkhole to open beneath his apartment complex and conveniently swallow him (and only him, so he wouldn't feel guilty) up.
He shut his eyes tight, prepared to internally scold himself for being too presumptuous-
Until he felt Jaemin's cushion move, another leg touch his own, and warm, soft hands enveloping his shaking ones.
Renjun slowly opened his eyes, gaze landing on a serene looking Jaemin.
“I can assure you that I was, and still am, a man of my word,” He began, gently stroking Renjun’s jittery hands, coaxing them into stillness, “and that I know now, like I knew then, that a life without you isn’t one I want to live. And please forgive me if I’ve gotten the wrong impression, but after reading your books I think you feel the same way about me.”
Renjun nodded his head in confirmation, vaguely registering the feeling of tears welling in his eyes.
“So yes, my intention today was to fulfill my promise. I want to love you again, without obstacles, and in a way that knows no bounds.”
Renjun burst into happy tears, overcome with the exact opposite of what he felt all those years ago when he had to cut ties with Jaemin so they both could live societally normal lives.
"Thank God." Renjun whined through tears, throwing his arms around Jaemin and pulling him in for a tight embrace.
Jaemin's arms wound around Renjun's waist, securely holding the other man while he sobbed.
His own tears began to fall, and he tried very hard (and failed) to keep them from leaving little stains on Renjun’s shoulder.
It felt incredible, holding each other again.
Over a hundred year old, festering pain that had lived inside these men’s hearts had finally taken its rest. In its wake, a space reserved for each other- for the new lives they would build together, to honor and avenge the ones they once lived in vain.
“I’ve missed you so much.” Jaemin cried, tightening his grip around Renjun’s waist.
“I’ve missed you too.”
They removed their heads from the crooks of each other’s necks, looking at each other with eyes that twinkled both from tears and overwhelming love.
Renjun brought a cautious hand to Jaemin’s chin, searching the other boy’s face for any hint of hesitation. Faced with none, he leaned in until his lips met with Jaemin’s own.
What they felt wasn’t fireworks, nor butterflies, nor warm, tingly feelings in their stomachs. Instead it was a feeling of comfort; the feeling of coming home.
A kiss neither of them would have known when to leave, if not for a sudden loss of light.
“Shit…” Renjun mumbled, looking around.
“Power outage.” Jaemin concluded.
They both stood and went to the living room window, gazing out upon a sea of darkness beneath them. The outage was city-wide.
Renjun’s eyes drifted upwards, and he smiled, greeted by a view of the night sky he seldom experiences in the city- all of the stars, perfectly visible, uninhibited by light pollution.
“It’s gorgeous.” He said, leaning his head on Jaemin’s shoulder.
“And I think it’s for us.” Jaemin replied.
Renjun turned to him confused, but Jaemin just raised his arm to point out the window.
Following his finger, Renjun noticed Cassiopeia hanging overhead.
A week later, Renjun was sat across from a radio host, participating in an interview about his latest book. It was like other interviews, filled with Renjun lying about the inspiration for his writing; citing- rather than his own past life- famous stories of tragic loss, and talking in circles about the challenges of writing a mainstream gay love story.
He was thankful when the host pulled up fan questions, as those were normally more insightful than the recycled radio questions he’d been subjected to so many times.
“Here we have a reader who asks, “Is this really the end of your series? The existing ending is gut-wrenching and great, but is it the true end to the story?” What do you have to say to that?” Asked the radio host, looking very excited. Excited about getting a marketable answer, or to hear what Renjun had to say, the author wasn’t sure.
He hummed thoughtfully at the question, internally laughing at himself.
What a ridiculous situation. Had Jaemin not shown up at that book signing, he’d have shot that question down in a heartbeat.
But Jaemin did show up. And Renjun thought that if he was going to have his fairytale happy ending, he might as well give his fans one too.
“Well, I’ll say I do have somewhat of a continuation to the plotline envisioned in my mind.”
The radio host smiled widely.
“Do you, now? Can you give us any sort of sneak peek?”
Sensing Renjun’s hesitation, the radio host added: “Doesn’t have to be much; maybe just one word to describe it?”
Renjun chuckled.
“One word?” He said, putting a hand to his chin in thought.
He thought about Jaemin, about how he held him, kissed him, and promised to love him. Of the warmth that filled his heart, so stark in contrast to the bitter cold that covered his body the night he and Myeonggyu shared their last kiss.
Remembering having Jaemin in his arms again, one word came to mind.
“Resolution.”
Renjun’s third book was a hit, too. Even after altering the plot so it wasn’t so obviously about him, Renjun produced a magnificent story of two lovers finding each other again generations after they lost each other.
Curled up with Jaemin on his couch, the younger boy gently played with Renjun’s hair while the author chuckled at some of the critics’ reviews.
“Some of these are really funny to me- like, look, this one says: “An unpleasant divergence from his previous stories that could feasibly be rooted in reality. A fantastical, pretend story of reincarnation made to appease fans. I do not recommend it.”’
As Renjun laughed at the critic’s foolishness, Jaemin grabbed Renjun’s phone to take a closer look at the comment.
“Pretend story of reincarnation.” Jaemin said mockingly, making a talking motion with his free hand.
He began typing, and Renjun quickly got worried.
“Hey, what-”
Jaemin gave Renjun his phone back, having just written a reply to the critic that said simply: “No <3.”
Renjun’s jaw went slack.
“Jaemin! This is my official account!”