Dead Stars
Dead Stars
Hoya/Bomi, Hoya/Nana
Romance, angst | 1906 words
It is past midnight when he wakes up, or somewhere early in the morning just before daybreak, he’s not really sure. It’s dark in the room with the curtains down and lights off. He stares ahead at the ceiling as he continues to lie down in the bed underneath the warm blanket, except that he’s not really looking at the ceiling, but something past it, a memory far away from where he is right now (or is it a dream? he’s not that sure).
He feels something in the pit of his stomach. Could it be regret, or is it guilt? Again, he’s not really sure, although he does know that he’s not supposed to be thinking about what he is currently thinking. (It’s guilt then, isn’t it?)
Bomi stirs next to him, and seconds later, she opens her eyes and looks at him. He wonders how she could possibly sense him being awake as he didn’t make a single movement. “Can’t sleep?” she asks, still half-dazed.
He smiles a little and shakes his head. “It’s nothing,” he replies, brushing some strands of hair away from her face. “Go back to sleep. You had a long day yesterday.”
“You should get some more sleep too,” she tells him. Her hand finds his under the cover and gives it a slight squeeze. “We had a long day yesterday.”
Hoya smiles again but she has already closed her eyes. Then he feels it, the cold metal band on her fourth finger.
Hoya knows it’s wrong, wrong because not just that he’s now married to the girl he’s sworn to spend his lifetime with (till death do them apart, right?), but they’re only on their honeymoon period. He knows it’s wrong to be thinking about someone else when he’s holding hands with Bomi, the person who has given her heart to him way before he went on his knees and popped up the very question for the first time four years ago, and stayed by his side without a change of heart throughout the whole long period of their engagement, as they walk past the row of stalls together.
Bomi stops by some of the stalls, picking out some handmade bracelets and trying out cute animal ears headbands that she doesn’t actually need. He watches her as she stuffs the remnants of the snack he bought for her earlier into her small mouth, and wipes the tiny crumbles on her lips with his thumb. Always a messy eater, Yoon Bomi is. She smiles and mumbles a thanks before picking out a ring and sliding it on the fourth finger of her right hand. “Pretty?”
“Of course,” he says. He takes her left then and holds it up. “But you’ve already got this,” he adds, nodding at the silver band she’s wearing with a small sparkly diamond at the centre. Small like the person wearing it, he had joked.
She grins at him, eyes curving upwards into crescents. He stares into her eyes and she starts walking again, their hands still intertwined with their fingers clasped together. Bomi swings their hands every now and then in delight. He watches her still with a smile gracing his lips as she takes her every step lightly. There’s a voice in the back of his mind that continues to bother him and questions him, but the louder it gets, the tighter he grips her hand, as if to hold on to what he has right now instead of chasing after something that is not in his sight.
And he does hold on to her, the one who has been right by his side all these while, who wears pretty dresses for him every once in a while although he knows how much she prefers oversized t-shirts and baggy pants, who learns to cook his favourite meals despite her lack of skills in the kitchen, who takes his hand when he feels cold and takes a walk under the cherry blossom trees with him in spring because she knows how much he loves watching the flower petals sway to the rhythm of the wind, and provides him a warm home instead of an empty house, who he falls asleep and wakes up next to every single day ― he holds on to her until the very end.
She keeps a smile for him as she takes her last breath in their bed when the wind blows softly into their room. She looks as beautiful as ever even in her final moment, still young, and Hoya is thankful that she doesn’t need to suffer that much any longer despite not that ready to let her go because there’s still so much more that they wanted to do together. The sun is shining bright outside and he can hear the songs of the birds from a distance. He locks their grip and gaze and smiles at her because he knows that is what she wants to see.
“I love you,” he tells her, almost a whisper, and he truly means it.
And with that, Yoon Bomi is gone. The love of his life, he’s certain of it now, has closed her eyes forever and he can never gaze into them and see them curving into crescents again. He was not unhappy in his marriage; in fact she gave him more happiness that he could ever ask for. But then surely without a doubt, there were moments when he would sit alone and wonder what she might be doing at the moment and how her life turned out to be, or if she gets reminded of him as well from time to time.
It isn’t until nine months after Bomi’s death that he crosses path with her again, when spring has once again arrived and he finds himself missing his wife so he goes to take a walk at the park where they always spent their evenings together. Her, the one who has been clouding up his mind all those years, whose name the voice in the back of his mind keeps calling out, his what ifs and what could have beens. “Nana?” he gasps, half believing his own eyes.
“Oh gosh! Hoya? I can’t believe this!” she squeals and gushes at him in excitement, wrapping her slender arms around him while mumbling about how many years has it been and how time flies. She is still so beautiful, so stunning and nothing less than how he remembers her despite having aged since the last time they met.
It was early spring years and years ago when they last met, just like it is now. He was on his way to a convenience store to buy himself some refreshments, because god how much have we walked today? he muttered to himself, when he ran into her. Nana, not Bomi, because he left the latter at the bridal store with her best friend cum maid of honour while she tries on dresses after dresses (because it wasn’t as if he could see her wearing them).
“Hoya!” she had gushed at him and pulled him into an embrace in a similar way. “How long has it been?”
“You moved just before high school started,” he answered easily, smiling at the nostalgia. Nana was a friend of his in middle school, maybe more than a normal friend but they were still young so no rules and labels were made. But she was dear to him, always have been, perhaps will always be. Nana was almost the exact opposite of him, fearless and carefree and impulsive, always making abrupt decisions at the last minute. And she was beautiful, always have been, will always be.
Sparks flew between them just like the first time, and they kept in touch. He met her once every two or three days, for coffees or drinks, and at times for lunch. There was something about her that he could not walk away from even though he knew he should. She was a reminder of his youth, of the times when they were both young and a fool, of making abrupt decisions without really thinking about the consequences. But they were both adults now, weren’t they? They were supposed to making wise decisions now, not breaking society’s rules, and he was not supposed to ignore the ring on his finger.
So they parted ways. He convinced himself he was having his last spurt of hot blood, of youth, so he left Nana and married Bomi like how things were supposed to be. Nana was the girl of his dreams, but Bomi was the girl he was meant to be with. That was his fate and he did feel happy after all.
“How are you?” she asks, snapping Hoya out of his trance and bringing him swiftly back to the present. It’s how are you, not how long has it been because they both know how long it has been.
“I’m doing well. And you?”
“I’m good,” she smiles, and he smiles back.
They walk to a nearby coffee shop, and talk and talk. She asks about Bomi, and he tells her that she has passed on. She mutters a sorry but he shakes his head and says it’s alright. He asked if she has met someone, and she tells him she did, years ago but she didn’t think he was the right one. She asks him about hometown, about this and that. Hours pass by and they don’t even realize it. Their conversation is easy and casual, as if the years never existed.
They exchange contacts when they part ways later, promising to stay in touch. She pulls him into an embrace again, and he can smell her sweet fragrance. He watches her as she walks away, glancing back and flashing a smile after a few steps, and disappears into the crowd. He shoves his hands into his pocket and exhales. He doesn’t feel anything. No sparks, no chemistry, nothing. Of course, she is just as he remembers her to be, but the feeling isn’t there anymore.
He wonders about it, if his feeling for her was ever real, or if it was a mere daydream, and whether it was, like he phrased it, his last spurt of hot blood ― that she was something else, a reminder of what was once his dream, an escape from reality. She was something far away, so bright and splendid, so undeniably beautiful and perfect that it was painful because she was unattainable, and somehow the feeling of misery it gave him made him like it even more.
An immense sadness overcomes him all of a sudden. There’s this empty feeling inside of him, as if something had been taken away from him. He felt lost, as if he was suddenly informed that he has been lied to all along. His fantasy, the dream he had clung on so stubbornly wasn’t real. Was it even a dream? He isn’t sure anymore. All these while, it’s the light of dead stars he had been seeing, which had long extinguished, yet still visible and unmoved in their places in the abyss. Perhaps she is the dead star. And now that he is able to reach it, he realizes that it isn’t as bright and spending and beautiful and perfect as he always imagined it to be.
He turns around and as he walks away, he finds himself missing Bomi more than ever.