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Jungkook catches falling stars.
Didn't you know? Stars are all just the souls of people on earth, the burning remnants of their memories, whether they're still living, or long, long buried beneath the ground above which daisies grow and rivers flow, the stars watch over their happiness and tears, their sadness and fears--all of it, burning till they don't anymore.
But sometimes, stars wander too close to the edge of the sky, sometimes, stars slip, and stars fall, just like we do.
It's Jungkook's job to catch the falling stars, the stars who got too curious, edged too close to where the sky isn't sky anymore, the darkness beyond which is only darkness that we (we, we, we as humans, as creatures, as somethings and everythings and nothings) cannot understand.
Jungkook was human once, so he thinks--because that's all he does in his spare time. Believe it or not, countless stars as there are, not many are daring enough to wander beyond where they blink down at earth, watching it turn, watching their bodies, or maybe the bodies of their loved ones, searching through the dark for that maybe, that one in a billion chance of meeting the soul of someone they once knew, someone they once loved. Still love. Because stars love forever--Jungkook knows. And knows too well, because when he reaches out to catch the stars, he can feel their warmth burning through his palm and he has a million scars, tiny little burns from where he tried to hold on for too long, from when their souls had tugged at him, whispering and calling to him.
He calls them starscars.
Kiss me, they say, swallow me whole, they say, giggling as they go, let me live and love and taste the bittersweet tang of loss once more.
For the only thing that stars want, the only thing that anything ever wants is to be human again (everything other than humans--how foolish), to be able to feel as humans feel, to race against the wind and win, to taste the ocean on your lips and drink in the milk of the moon as it drips through your windows, to listen for the secrets of the trees, all their wishes and woes written so clearly along their leaves, waiting to be read. To create, to be infinitely finite in the way that only humans are able.
But Jungkook can't grant their wishes, because he knows that if he were ever to put a star to his lips, to kiss it as he so wants to sometimes, to let their heat burn down his throat, it'll be the last thing he ever does. That is how new starcatchers are born--it is inevitable, yes, eventually yes, he will bend. One day, Jungkook will meet his soulmate (they all do in the end, don't they?) and their first kiss will be their last for when a Starcatcher swallows a star, the star, the owner of that star will become the next Starcatcher, their soul burning right through Jungkook's body and it will be wonderful, and beautiful, and that night, a million stars will race across the sky to come greet the new Starcatcher.
And they, whoever they are, will be tasked with the duty of catching falling stars, wandering stars, for an eternity that is only as long as they dare it to be.
It's the epitome of the perfect romance--there is only ever love, at it's peak, no strife or downfall, no arguments and tears, just a moment, just one moment of contact, burning, scorching contact and then it's all over. Jungkook will cease to exist and the next Starcatcher will take over.
It's not a bad way to go, with the heat of the one of you love in your belly, the sky reaching around you to keep you warm one last time.
Jungkook dips his fingers in the night sky and swirls; it's warm and thick and soft, the stars blinking at him in greeting before they turn back to earth and the people who live below. Jungkook rests his chin on his palms and watches with them, the young and old, the rich and poor, and everyone in between. He wonders if they know what possibilities they hold inside their chests, if they only said the words they'd always meant to say, kissed without the fear of pulling back, smiled like the new dawn was hinged upon their lips--how the world change.
A flash in the corner of his eye catches his attention--a falling star. It's falling slow, creeping ever closer to the edge of the sky and by the time Jungkook reaches it, it's slowed down to a slow skim.
"Where were you wandering off to, hm?" he asks.
When Jungkook reaches out his hands to cup the falling star, it burns, just like all the rest, but as it rests in his palm and Jungkook prepares to guide it back to where it used to live, he hears not words, not beguiling whispers but laughter.
Laughter that rings along his entire body, along it and through it, sweet, tinkling laughter that makes him wonder if he's ever heard the laughter of stars and if they all sound this terribly enchanting.
Jungkook pauses, the heat in his palm flaring as he curls his fingers around the flickering star, and suddenly, he can see--not like he usually can, no--but really see. He can see a boy who laughs like tinkling stars and smiles like the new dawn is hinging on his lips. He feels the memories, and sometimes this happens, sometimes he catches glimpses of the stars' memories, their lives, past, present, and maybe even future, but this is nothing like that.
This is clarity and insanity--Jungkook can taste the emotions on Jimin's tongue. That's his name--this star, this soul.
Jungkook ignores the heat turning white hot in his palms as he closes his eyes and curls his fingers ever tighter around Jimin's star.
The last sip of bubble tea, the crunching of leaves, dancing with the rain beneath his feet, bare and marked with callouses from hours of long practice, kissing the sunset, greeting the moonrise with saved droplets of sunlight collected at dawn and dusk--
And then, Jungkook sees himself, the self that he used to be, grinning at Jimin, waving and running up from across the street. They hold hands. They kiss. They laugh like starlight, like starlight on the lips of the moon.
They live. They love.
And of course, they lose.
Or rather, Jimin loses.
He loses Jungkook.
Because Jungkook had been made into the Starcatcher, by whoever came before, and Jungkook has never spared his predecessor much thought, not till now. Not till now that he has a reason to, and a reason to hate whoever it was because he was still alive, he was still living and loving and being loved back and what a miracle that is in this wide expanse of sky that stretches towards what seems like endlessness but isn't. Jungkook knows. He wonders if the person before him hated whoever came before that, and then before that, and before that. He wonders if the person who comes after him will hate him like he hates right now.
Jungkook is sure that if he ever lets go of this star, there will be a starscar large enough to blot out the rest, to cover his entire palm. If he lets go--he squeezes his eyes shut even tighter and the star in his hands pulse with a steady, sizzling heat.
Summer light and nights spent alone, it's not supposed to be like this, watermelon doesn't taste the same, the sky is just as blue but what good does that do? Flowers bloom everywhere, everywhere, everywhere, but bouquets of roses don't feel the same as being in love.
Kiss me, the star says.
"Kiss me," Jimin says, with his eyes twinkling like stars (like stars).
Let me love, the star says and Jungkook swallows down his tears, tears that haven't been cried for a very long time. He wonders if Jimin is still alive; he doesn't remember the days or months or years. They're useless here, countless as the stars who keep silent, the stars who stay where they are, burning and burning till they burn out. Jungkook wonders if they know what it is to wander and wonder, know what it is to reach for something, for someone without knowing if you'll find them in the dark but trying anyways.
"Let me love you," Jimin says, pressing kisses up Jungkook's neck. Outside, the night sky watches in a knowing silence.
Kiss me, the star says and Jungkook can feel it's warmth against his lips as he raises his cupped palms. He shouldn't. What good would it do, even if Jimin were... gone (not dead he can't say it/can't think it/can't/can't/can't)? He might hate Jungkook as Jungkook hates the Starcatcher who came before, for stealing him away from whatever peace he might have found, his memories watching from high, high above.
The moment Jungkook's lips touch the hot of the star, the memories flood him and they're all he can feel, all he can see and smell and hear and taste. Jimin's palm in his, Jimin's lips on his, Jimin's smile against his cheeks, secrets by his ears, love pooling around the two of them, spilling over and out and bubbling upwards till the sky might get drunk on it.
"Where do you think falling stars go?" Jungkook asks, his head on top of Jimin's on his shoulder.
Jimin takes a breath, "Somewhere the sky can't see."
"Do you think they know where they're going?"
"Some of them."
"Why?"
Jimin smiles, leaning up to kiss Jungkook's cheeks, "I don't think all stars fall alone--I think some of them have another star with them, to help light up the way."
Jungkook blushes too hard and Jimin giggles when he gets hauled into Jungkook's lap so Jungkook can bury his face in Jimin's neck.
It wasn't easy to find you, the star says.
Jungkook opens his mouth. I know, it usually doesn't happen--no matter how hard some stars search for their loved ones.
One, the star rests on his tongue and burns, burns, burns. The hugeness of it all settling around them, solid as the earth below. They had found each other, one in a billion. One in a trillion. One in the incomprehensible infinity that is the sky, they had found each other.
The universe must have conspired, Jungkook closes his lips over the star, feels the scalding heat trailing down his throat.
It's not the most cooperative of conspirators, the star comes to a rest at the base of Jungkook's stomach and Jungkook is burning from the inside out.
Stay with me, the star says.
"I can't," Jungkook says, arms winding around his own middle as he feels his entire body grow hot. Memories flood through him in waves and storms and midnight calms--Jimin's room, the pale blue duvet he's had since childhood, his father's coffee shop, caramel macchiatos and soy lattes and vanilla rooibos tea. Fingers in fingers, scarves that wrapped around them both, breaths in front of their faces like the uncertain future that they might be able to catch if they reached out and snatched it back fast enough.
Let me love you, the stars says, echoes from those memories. Jimin's memories.
Jungkook smiles. "Dummy, what do you think I'm doing?" His entire body glows with the white heat, the star in his stomach simmering under his skin till he bursts at the seams, spilling out dreams in reams and streams and endless things, till he's nothing more than tiny, shimmering specs of dust, scattering into the wind below.
On earth, a boy with dark, hair and darker eyes stares up at the night sky, tugging on his mother's sleeve.
"Momma, look! That star looks like its moving!"
"It does, doesn't it?"
"Where do you think it's going? Do you think it's lost?"
"I don't know, honey, what do you think?" She crouches down next to her son.
The boy quirks his head up at the sky. "Maybe it's trying to find something!"
The boy's mother laughs and ruffles his hair, "Maybe, then let's hope it finds what it's looking for."
"Oh! It's gone..."
"C'mon Jungkookie, it's getting late."
"But... but momma, the star--"
"Kookie, you have school tomorrow."
"I know..."
"C'mon now, didn't you say you made a new friend today? What was his name again?" The boy's mother has already begun to walk away from the small play park, the last of the summer winds skimming by her skin.
Jungkook spares the sky one last glance, the stars winking down at him before he hurries to catch up with his mother, a giant smile on his face.
"Jiminie! His name is Jiminie!"