(for storyscribbler) Two Halves of a Star

[seulpeo]

For: storyscribbler

Title: Two Halves of a Star
Pairing: Jongin/D.O
Word Count: ~8,000 words
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: brief cigarette use, slight depression
Summary: Two halves don’t necessarily make a whole. Kyungsoo finds himself falling in love somewhere between the bindings of the album.
Author's Note: To my recipient: I hope you enjoy this! To N (not Vixx’s N whattttt): Thanks for reading over and correcting all the mistakes. (Jongdae, though.)


The only plus side to having Jongdae as your best friend was the free coffee, Kyungsoo mused as he perched on the counter, sipping the complementary drink.

"Get off the counter," Jongdae said, throwing a dirty rag in Kyungsoo’s direction. "You’re repulsing the customers."

Kyungsoo hopped off the counter and lightly kicked Jongdae. "I’m still mad at you, you know."

"Is the coffee not sweet enough?" When Kyungsoo didn’t answer, Jongdae sighed and walked over to Kyungsoo, pulling him into a hug. "I’m sorry for scaring him off." Even without him saying so, Kyungsoo knew Jongdae was referring to the failed double date the day before.

Against his will, Kyungsoo felt his lips move into a smile. It was impossible to pretend to stay mad at Jongdae for long. "It’s okay. I didn’t like him that much."

Jongdae’s only response was to bury his head into the side of Kyungsoo’s neck.

Suddenly, the door to the café swung open, and the two jumped apart. Jongdae cleared his throat awkwardly, fixing his uniform and trying to appear professional. It was only half an hour before the store closed, and most of the remaining customers were loitering around in the back of the café.

"Hello. Can I help you?"

Kyungsoo took in the new stranger with some interest. There was something about the guy that just screamed for attention, although he was dressed to blend in. Maybe it was the sadness that seemed to radiate off of him, a stark contrast with the bright orange interior of the café. His face was perfectly sculpted, but the eyes were out of place, filled with an unsettling emotion Kyungsoo knew but couldn’t quite identify.

"Medium black coffee, please."

Jongdae whistled softly as he began working. "No milk or sugar?"

"No." The guy started counting out his money.

Jongdae threw another rag at Kyungsoo. "Do something useful for a change and ring up his order."

"You should be honored to be in my presence," Kyungsoo countered, picking up the rag. When Jongdae turned around to mess with the coffee machine, Kyungsoo took the rag and slipped it down the back of Jongdae’s shirt.

Kyungsoo grinned triumphantly at Jongdae’s squawk of protest and twirled around to face the cash register. He looked up into the stranger’s face and was surprised to not find even a trace of amusement. There was only blank tiredness, a quiet acceptance that there was nothing new in the world.

"Three thousand won," he said, pressing random buttons on the machine.

Jongdae hit Kyungsoo lightly on the side of the head, pushing him out of the way to fix the cash register. "It’s five thousand won, sir," he said, sliding the cup of coffee across the table.

When the stranger turned to leave, Jongdae reached over and flicked Kyungsoo’s ear. "So rude."

Kyungsoo stuck his tongue out at Jongdae, but his eyes were fixed on the stranger sitting down by himself at a table. Kyungsoo’s mind was automatically taking in the contrast between the man’s mood and the café’s.

"Have you seen the man before?" Kyungsoo asked, his voice suddenly dropping its joking tone.

Jongdae paused in wiping the table. "No, I haven’t."

"I was thinking of taking a picture," Kyungsoo said slowly.

He could hear Jongdae’s sharp intake of breath. "Soo…"

Kyungsoo’s mind was already set on the camera he hadn’t touched in so long, buried in a box with all his other albums. "I’ll be fine."

Jongdae wrapped his arms around Kyungsoo tightly, and Kyungsoo relaxed into his touch. Jongdae had always been by his side, comforted him on rainy days, laughed with him on sunny ones. Jongdae was still an idiot, but there was much more to him than just his coffee.

Kyungsoo sat on the counter for a whole week, lazily drinking coffee and staring creepily at the still unnamed stranger. He interfered with Jongdae’s attempts to wipe the counter and bothered Jongdae throughout his night shift.

Eventually, Jongdae got fed up and threw a packet of sugar at Kyungsoo. "Just go ask him already. The worst he can do is say no."

"You make it sound like I’m asking him out," Kyungsoo teased, ripping the packet of sugar open and dumping it into his mouth.

"Nervous?" Jongdae wiggled his eyebrows creepily.

Kyungsoo’s gaze dropped down to his fingers, watching them clench and unclench. Jongdae seemed to read Kyungsoo’s thoughts, understand the reason for his hesitation.

"Soo, if you don’t want to…"

"I do," Kyungsoo interrupted. "It’s like something you can’t stay away from." To Kyungsoo, photography was an art. After years of studying and practicing, his mind would almost automatically think of the angles and lighting involved to produce a better picture. He hopped off the counter, suddenly energized and purposeful. "I’m going to ask him right now-I hope he won’t find it too weird-he doesn’t seem to do much anyway…" Still mumbling under his breath, Kyungsoo walked over to the table where the intriguing stranger was sitting.

Kyungsoo slid into the seat across from him, smiling when the guy looked up. "Hi, I’m Do Kyungsoo. What’s your name?"

The stranger looked surprised, but he replied readily. "Kim Jongin."

"Nice to meet you." Kyungsoo played with his fingers awkwardly. "I’m a photographer, and lately, I’ve been kind of running out of ideas…" That was a lie, because Kyungsoo had been trying to run away from the ideas, away from photography itself. "I was wondering if you’d let me take a few pictures of you?" When Jongin didn’t reply immediately, Kyungsoo added hurriedly, "I’m not a stalker or anything. Honest. I’ll delete all the pictures if you want me to. I’ll give you an album in the end…all the pictures will be PG…I can pay you…I’m really just out of inspiration right now and you seem like a great source of inspiration and-"

"Okay," Jongin said, cutting off Kyungsoo’s embarrassingly long blabbering.

Kyungsoo blinked slowly. "Seriously?"

Jongin nodded. "You don’t have to pay me. I wouldn’t mind."

Kyungsoo stared at Jongin, surprised by how quickly the latter had agreed. "Wow. Okay. Thanks." Considering that Jongin always walked into the café so late, usually half an hour before closing time, Kyungsoo hadn’t expected him to agree to the time so easily. But maybe he hadn’t expected anything different, because something about Jongin suggested that he fed off of attention, like he was born to be a star. "So…would you mind coming here a bit earlier next week? Say, six in the morning?"

The café didn’t open until seven, but Jongdae could probably talk the owner into letting them in a little earlier.

"Okay. I’ll see you then." Kyungsoo stood and bowed. "Thank you." He started walking towards Jongdae, who was leaning lazily against a counter. Jongdae raised an eyebrow, silently asking how the procedure went, and Kyungsoo offered two thumbs up in reply.

As he walked away, Kyungsoo could feel that familiar excitement running through his veins, leading him to believe that maybe this project would come out perfectly.

"How’d it go?" Jongdae asked as Kyungsoo once again claimed his spot on the counter.

"Really well," Kyungsoo said. And it had, surprisingly. Jongin was shockingly photogenic, and not all of Kyungsoo’s skill had disappeared. Over the allotted hour, Kyungsoo had taken about a dozen shots. Now he just had to find the one that he would use. Kyungsoo sat down in Jongdae’s chair and started his laptop.

Jongdae’s cheery voice, the hum of conversation blending in with the noises of the coffee machine, and the warm, rich smell of coffee provided the perfect work environment. Kyungsoo connected his camera’s USB drive to the computer and scrolled slowly through the pictures, examining each one closely.

It was a simple concept, really. Jongin was sitting in one of the café’s booths, lips on the rim of his coffee cup, wisps of steam highlighted by the dawn’s rays shining through the window. But something about the picture screamed for a second look. The background was bright and cheerful, but Jongin’s face was solemn, almost emotionless, despite his first youthful appearance. The escaping steam seemed to emphasize the melancholy mood, as did Jongin’s eyes, which were looking off into the distance.

It was beautiful, but at the same time bitterly sad for reasons Kyungsoo couldn’t describe. He didn’t even bother editing the picture, for fear of killing even the smallest detail hidden inside.

The next picture had a similar concept: the idea of loneliness in a cheerful environment. Taken in the earliest hours of the morning, the sun was peeking shyly through the morning clouds, and the grass and flowers were still wet with dew. Blurry figures were running across the tracks, loud upbeat music blasting in their ears. Far off, there was a playground where a few children, accompanied by their grandparents, were playing. Every so often, a young couple with a stroller or some close friends with breakfast would walk by, laughing happily.

This time, Jongin was sitting on a park bench facing a pond. A small bouquet of daisies was on the grass beside his feet, and he was holding one between his fingers. He was staring into the calm blue waters, and on the first look, it seemed like he was quietly appreciating the morning scenery.

The second look, however, brought to light the sad lines drawn by the gently rising sun and the veins that stood out on the back of his hand, suggesting that he was holding the flower with more force than necessary.

"Thank you," Kyungsoo said quietly, breaking the spell of the morning. He started packing up his supplies.

Jongin stood and dropped the daisy from his hand, breaking from the spell almost instantly. "Same time next week?"

His voice always managed to surprise Kyungsoo. It was soft but firm and confident. Sometimes, Kyungsoo wished that photographs could capture voices as well, because Jongin’s was one he wouldn’t mind keeping.

"Sure." They had fallen into a habit of setting times and dates for their next photography session. It was always six on a Saturday morning, but the places changed each week. Kyungsoo would write the location down on a scrap of paper and slide it across the counter to Jongin when he was ordering his nightly coffee.

"Then I’ll be leaving," Jongin said, and Kyungsoo returned his formal bow.

Kyungsoo watched Jongin walked away with steps that just screamed confidence, adding to his belief that there was so much more to Jongin behind his solemn outer layer. Kyungsoo looked down at the crumbled daisy, withered and sad compared to the bouquet of bright yellow flowers beside the bench. He sat in the grass and picked up the daisy, smoothing it out carefully. Bent but unbroken.

It was Jongin who suggested the concept of the next picture. His exact words had been, "What about cigarettes?"

It was Kyungsoo who suggested the change in time. He’d responded with, "How about later tonight?"

Jongin was now sitting on the steps of the café, the street lamps casting an eerie yellow glow. A lit cigarette dangled from between his fingers, the faint ember glowing brightly in the darkness. Every so often, a car or two zoomed by, but otherwise, the streets were empty, most of the city asleep in the dark hours after midnight.

The dim lights still managed to outline the smoke drifting off the end of the cigarette. They seemed to create a halo around Jongin, painting his face in soft, delicate strokes.

Kyungsoo snapped the picture with minimum flash, and took a moment to appreciate it. Jongin was staring off into the distance again, smoke drifting lazily from the cigarette. He’d managed to capture the appropriate mood in one shot.

Kyungsoo sat down on the steps beside Jongin, accepting the offered cigarette. He lit it with ease, breathing out smoke into the night.

"I didn’t know you smoked." Jongin ground his cigarette out with the heel of his foot.

"I used to." Kyungsoo stared at the stick, remembering late night adventures with his friends in college. Then, not long after, he’d met the person who’d changed so much of him, inside and out, influencing him to this day. He let the ashes fall to the ground. "You don’t?" Jongin hadn’t actually raised the cigarette to his lips, he’d noticed.

Jongin shook his head silently, and Kyungsoo raised an eyebrow in interest. "Why would you own cigarettes if you don’t smoke?"

"It’s just an image."

It’s just a concept, Kyungsoo remembered.

Jongin stood slowly. "Same time next week?"

"Probably not." An inkling of an idea was starting to form in Kyungsoo’s mind. This had started off as an impulsive project, a last attempt to find something he’d lost a long time ago. But somewhere along the way, he’d found a theme, a pattern, that had surfaced from beneath the photographs.

This time, Kyungsoo thought he could see a hint of a smile on Jongin’s lips. It may have been the dim lighting, a mere trick of light. Nevertheless, the smile stayed in his mind long after the last embers of his cigarette faded away.

This time, Kyungsoo realized, he wasn’t analyzing a flawless angel; rather, he was uncovering a buried star.

The next shot was made in the middle of the day, when the sun was shining relentlessly. The red paint of the car shone so brightly it nearly hurt. Kyungsoo stepped back, taking a moment to admire the convertible, which was parked near the back of a nearly-empty lot.

"Nice car," he said appreciatively, and Jongin nodded, clearly used to the admiration his car received.

When Jongin posed beside the car, he did it so naturally, the confidence so obvious, as though he’d done this many times before. Jongin’s eyes flickered briefly to meet Kyungsoo’s, and his gaze was so charismatic that Kyungsoo nearly dropped his camera. A split second later, however, Jongin was looking into the distance again.

Despite the natural settings and the lesser-quality camera, the picture looked like a photo-shoot. The simple black T-shirt and jeans Jongin was wearing stood out against the vibrant red car. Jongin leaned against the driver’s door in a natural slouch, a set of keys dangling from his right hand winking in the sunlight. Something had softened on Jongin’s face, the ghost of a smirk dancing on his lips. His head was still turned to the side, but the stare was undeniably captivating.

Kyungsoo took several shots, although he would only keep and print one. Soon, they were surrounded by groups of young girls, women, and even a few guys, crowding around and whispering about the model. When Kyungsoo finished, a few of the braver ones ventured forward and asked Jongin a few questions. Kyungsoo backed away, packing his camera as he watched Jongin talk with them.

The crowd started to grow around Jongin; it was lunchtime, and many students and workers had stopped, curious about the commotion. Soon, Kyungsoo had faded into the background. He received a few polite questions about photography, which wasn’t interesting to most people, and Jongin, who, he realized, he knew almost nothing about.

Jongin had taken a pen and was starting to give autographs, doing it so naturally that Kyungsoo believed he had done so many times before. Kyungsoo watched from a distance, admiring the broken but still-shining star. The star may have been shrouded by a dark cloud of sadness, but in the end, stars were still made to hang in the sky, a source of light and warmth. Stars were made to be admired, not touched.

A sad smile crossed Kyungsoo’s lips. Once again, he’d built an impossible dream. Stars were no more attainable than angels were.

He stared at Jongin, knowing that his initial impression had been accurate. Jongin seemed to flourish from the attention. There was a certain grace beneath the sadness that drew people in. Kyungsoo could only admire from afar. But that afternoon, in the presence of so many admirers, was the first time he had seen Jongin smile.

The next picture required a bit more work. It had rained the night before, so the trail was still muddy. Kyungsoo had walked in rain boots up to where the concrete began, leaving obvious footprints in the mud. Jongin arrived a few minutes later, dressed in a formal suit, complete with polished shoes and a tie.

"Just stay on the concrete!" Kyungsoo called, as he wiped his shoes off in the grass and positioned his camera.

It was already six in the morning, but the sky was still a gloomy gray color, and the only light was a dim lantern in the distance. Kyungsoo had written Jongin a long and detailed note the night before, so Jongin quickly got in position.

Kyungsoo made sure to step back far enough so the footprints would be visible, but not too much, since Jongin was the main focus of the photograph. The formal black suit seemed to fit perfectly on Jongin, who was standing with a casual slouch, half his face angled towards the camera. His hands were in his pockets, face tilted upwards so it seemed like his eyes were searching the night sky. The angle allowed the lights to dance across his face, accentuating his features. His bangs were slicked back, adding to the mature look.

Kyungsoo walked through the mud and took off his rain boots when he reached the concrete. He sat down on the bench beside Jongin, changing his shoes.

"Don’t rain boot footprints look different from normal shoe footprints? And your feet are so small." Jongin wasn’t smiling, but his tone was light and joking.

"That’s not the main focus of the picture." Kyungsoo tried to force a smile onto his lips, but it was strained, and seemed to be chewing at his facial muscles. He blamed it on the rainy day, but it had started long before. It seemed like the storm had returned again, the very same one he and Jongdae had fought so hard to overcome.

"Kyungsoo, are you alright?" Jongin reached over and laid his hand over Kyungsoo’s warmly.

Kyungsoo looked down, absently noting the difference in their hand size. This situation, this album, was so similar and yet so very different from the last one. Last time, he’d attempted to reach an angel, but he had jumped too hard and ruined them both. This time, he had been given the pieces of star dust, magical particles that remained of a glorious star.

But contrary to what schools taught, two halves didn’t make a whole.

The moon was still high in the sky, reflecting the light of their brightest star. "It’s okay," Kyungsoo said quietly, moving his hand away from Jongin’s. He already missed the warmth of the star. "I’ll be okay."

This time, Kyungsoo was the first to leave.

Kyungsoo didn’t go to the café often anymore, because Jongdae’s mood was far less joyful and much more concerned. He was probably making Jongdae even more concerned by staying away, but he couldn’t draw himself out of the dark cloud.

"Sugar?" Jongdae offered.

Kyungsoo shook his head, eyes watching the door. Any second now…the door swung open. Kyungsoo pushed himself off the counter. "I’ll see you around."

"Wait, Kyungsoo." Jongdae caught Kyungsoo’s wrist and stared into his eyes. "Be careful, okay? I don’t want to have to…"

"Piece me together again?" He could understand how hard it was to put anyone back together. It was both draining and delightful at the same time.

"No, I don’t want to see you broken again."

"Whose fault was it last time?" Kyungsoo asked softly, hesitantly.

The corners of Jongdae’s mouth came down in a frown, and he gripped Kyungsoo’s hands tighter. "It doesn’t matter, Soo."

"I think it does." Kyungsoo offered a faint smile as he stepped away. "Black coffee and iced coffee in like ten minutes." He walked over to Jongin’s table, sitting down in the seat across from him and quietly returning his greeting.

"Have you decided the concept yet?"

Kyungsoo sighed wearily, running a hand through his hair. He hadn’t slept for days, plagued by an idea that had refused to surface. "No. Should we skip this week?"

"Actually, I kind of have an idea." Jongin picked absently at a napkin near the corner of the table. "I haven’t been there in a long time, but I think it would be…" His voice trailed off as he pulled a pen out, scrawling an address on the napkin. He pushed it across the table, and Kyungsoo folded it carefully into his pocket. His hands were trembling slightly, and Kyungsoo knew that this photo would be an important part of Jongin’s past, a key to fixing this broken star.

"Coffee!" Jongdae announced cheerily, startling both of them out of their thoughts. "I don’t usually deliver, it’s only because there’s no other customers," he added.

Jongin started to reach for his wallet, but Kyungsoo caught his eye and shook his head. "It’s on the house."

Jongdae hit Kyungsoo lightly. "You’re going to eat me out of my paycheck."

Kyungsoo rolled his eyes. "Your boss has more than enough."

Jongdae laughed and ruffled Kyungsoo’s hair as he walked away.

"Was that your boyfriend?" Jongin asked casually, holding a coffee cup to his lips and blowing lightly at the steam.

Kyungsoo raised an eyebrow, but he shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, Jongin had witnessed their most intimate moments. "No, Jongdae’s a close friend."

Jongin nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. "Same time tomorrow, then?"

Kyungsoo took a sip of his own cup, nodding in agreement. The cold liquid slid down his throat easily, but the sugar suddenly tasted excessively bitter.

The dance studio still had posters advertising private dance lessons for children and teenagers, but for the most part, it had an abandoned look. The whole place looked like a shell, featuring remnants of a glorious past. Although it was Saturday morning, the offices were dark and locked as Kyungsoo followed Jongin into the building. Trophies lined the walls, but most of them were at least a decade old, and had accumulated dust over the years.

Jongin stopped near the end of the hallway, before a closed door. A trophy case was set up beside the door, crowded with many dance awards.

"They’re still here," Jongin said softly with a sad smile as he ran his fingers across the glass covering of the trophy case.

Kyungsoo saw the words engraved beneath the trophy case: In honor of our local star, Kai. He looked up in surprise, a question on his lips, but Jongin had already unlocked the door to the practice room.

Once he’d finished his stretches, Jongin turned on the music so it blasted from the speakers and began dancing. Kyungsoo watched, mesmerized, as he moved fluidly in time with the beat. It was obvious that he hadn’t danced for some time, and was probably out of shape, but the raw talent underneath shone through, even now.

Kyungsoo could make out another world, one obscured by time, and yet not much time had passed since then. Not long ago, the studio had been crowded with eager children, aspiring stars of the future. The rooms had been filled with bright smiles and words of encouragement. But time moved on, the beat picked up, and other dancers slowly faded away into the background. Eventually, only one was left, the center of the spotlight: Kai, Korea’s star, the shining hope of Asia.

The Kai of yesterday danced with breathtaking passion, stealing the eyes and hearts of millions of people across the world. He had hid his pain behind his graceful moves, had found the energy to grin and speak with fans even as he visited the hospital for days on the end. Kai had been the winner of countless awards, been dubbed Asia’s Dancing Star.

The Kai of today danced with the passion of someone who had lost too much, but couldn’t give up enough. He told a beautiful tale of pain and love, the product of the fan’s screams and too many hospital stays. Jongin, the remains of the shining star, still seeks for a light of his own.

There were countless high-resolution photographs of Kai onstage, of his addicting stares and brilliant smiles. Since his debut at the tender age of fifteen, Kai had been the center of attention. Even after his collapse onstage a few years ago, he was still remembered as the immortal star of Korea. There were countless shrines dedicated in memory of Kai.

Kyungsoo himself remembered the feats of this prodigy dancer. Like many other citizens, he had seen the cover pictures of Korean morning newspapers along the side of the road. Kai had been in front-page articles for years, and the news of his fall had caused a huge uproar nationwide.

But Kyungsoo did not take a picture of this former star in action. Rather, he snapped the picture when Jongin collapsed against the wall-to-wall mirrors, holding a water bottle in his hand. His eyes were half-closed, bangs sticking to his forehead with sweat. Yet beneath the shine of sweat, the half-defeated slouch, the faint glow of a star was still visible.

Kyungsoo turned his camera off and sat across from Jongin, watching quietly as Jongin downed half of his water bottle in a few gulps. Behind them, the music was still blasting at full volume.

"I haven’t done that in a long time," Jongin admitted, twisting the cap back onto his water bottle.

"I remember you," Kyungsoo said, unsure why he found it necessary to tell him.

Jongin nodded, leaning his head against the cool glass. "Most people do."

Kyungsoo realized that Jongin had opened an important part of his past. He was sitting in the room that had formed the star, Kai, and the room that had indirectly led to his fall. For some indescribable reason, Kyungsoo felt the need to apologize, although he had done nothing wrong. Instead, he reached out and took Jongin’s hand. It was soft and warm, and the back was coated with a thin sheet of sweat.

"I’ll tell you a story," he said, barely audible above the pounding beat of the music. Everyone knew of Jongin’s story, but few knew of his own. "It’s about angels and the promises of yesterday."

The sun rose higher in the sky, but no one entered the room dedicated to Kai. In that room, the site of so many dreams and memories, Kyungsoo unfolded his own story: the tale of a beautiful angel from a world beyond, the beauty that mortals had tried so hard to capture. But it was a foolish dream; in fact, to capture an angel, you had to cut off its wings, extinguish the golden glow bestowed upon it from above. In a sense, you had to kill the angel to keep it by your side. To find your happiness, you had to first sacrifice that happiness. Kyungsoo told Jongin of the love that had flown in on gentle butterfly wings with an angel’s bright smile, and of the love that had faded away in the faint summer breeze with an angel’s glistening tears. Meanwhile, the song played on repeat, a cycle of smiles and tears, speaking of a story that’s been heard of so many times and yet remains the same from generation to generation.

Their next location was at a small tea shop on the side of the road, where Kyungsoo used to stop for his breakfast before school every day. A lot had changed-the shop next door no longer sold toys and magazines, and even the owner of the tea shop was different-but the noodles were as delicious as ever. The shop was relatively empty so early in the morning, even after they finished the noodles about half an hour later.

"Wait." Kyungsoo signaled for the young woman behind the counter, and ordered a slice of cake. Their dishes were cleared away, and the cake was set on the table.

"Try it." Kyungsoo pushed the plate towards Jongin. "It was my favorite dessert back when I was in grade school."

Jongin looked surprised, but he picked up the fork. "I haven’t had sweets in a long time."

"I know." Maybe it was the strict dieting of a dancer that had carried into his later life. Kyungsoo had figured that out as well, noting the black coffee Jongin ordered every night.

The picture was relatively simple, a snapshot of Jongin chewing on a piece of cake. He gripped the fork loosely in one hand, and the cake sat on the table before him. There was some hesitance in his body language, but Kyungsoo could see the light of appreciation in Jongin’s eyes as he looked at the cake.

"Would you like to try some?" Jongin extended the fork in Kyungsoo’s direction, a portion of the chocolate cake resting on the tongs. Kyungsoo started to shake his head in polite refusal, but Jongin was leaning forward eagerly. And although he wasn’t exactly smiling, his eyes were crinkling in an inviting way.

So Kyungsoo accepted the cake, allowing the sweet taste to soak into his mouth as he swallowed it. It tasted almost exactly as he remembered. Some things never changed.

"How is it, Kyungsoo?"

It was the first time Jongin had used his name. It may have been the informal language or the bright, teasing tone that brought back the whispers of yesterday. Good morning, Kyungsoo. How are you, Kyungsoo?

"I like it." Kyungsoo forced his suddenly dry lips into a smile. He could feel the odd tightening in his chest again, the irregular beat pounding in his head. Oh, god. Not again. His hands were trembling, and the world was spinning in rainbow hues. A single picture flashed in his mind: the blur of an angel in motion, the departing wind blasting in his face.

He remembered the concerned looks when he shattered that day, as well as Jongdae’s warm hug, his comforting words slowly rebuilding Kyungsoo. But there was no Jongdae this time, no spring breeze that carried the butterflies away.

There was only the hum of the fan near the back of the store and Jongin across from him, eating the cake contentedly.

The town center was relatively crowded at eight in the evening. There were children running around with glowing light sticks, couples strolling lazily, and older residents dancing in the lots. Kyungsoo hadn’t been out like this in a long time; he usually stayed in the café during Jongdae’s shifts, which often lasted from six in the evening till midnight.

The whole idea had come from Jongin’s insistence. Kyungsoo looked over at Jongin, who was walking beside him. As though sensing his stare, Jongin turned to him and grabbed his hand.

"Come on, hyung. Let’s go ride the bumper cars."

Hyung. The word fell so naturally from Jongin’s lips. Kyungsoo wasn’t sure when Jongin had broken through his defenses, nor how he was able to do it so easily, but they had become so close that they could talk for hours in the café. "Jongin, the cars are meant for little kids…"

Jongin ignored him, paying for the allotted ten minutes and choosing a car. He pushed Kyungsoo inside excitedly. "I’ll drive."

Jongin’s idea of driving was flooring the gas pedal and trying to bump into every car he could find. By the time the car had come to a stop at the end of the ten minutes, Kyungsoo was gasping for breath, stumbling out of the car with shaky knees.

"It wasn’t that scary, was it?" Jongin held onto Kyungsoo’s arm, supporting him.

"You aren’t supposed to bump into the kids like that! You didn’t have to bump into everything." Kyungsoo looked into Jongin’s eyes, glowing in the light, and found himself melting into them and forgetting his next words.

They started walking again, and Jongin slipped his hand easily into Kyungsoo’s, intertwining their fingers and swinging their hands playfully.

"You still dance, right?" There was a speaker set up in a small lot, and a few high school and college kids had been showing off, spinning on their heels as their feet moved in mesmerizing patterns.

"Would you like me to?"

Kyungsoo nodded wordlessly.

Jongin let go of his hand, and Kyungsoo stood back, watching as Jongin talked to one of the boys. There was a brief exchange, and then another song started. Jongin moved with precision, body bending effortlessly as he matched the beat. And maybe that was talent: the ability to interest someone who knew nothing about the art.

That wasn’t even the extent of Jongin’s natural charm, Kyungsoo realized. Even the children seemed to gravitate naturally to him, watching Jongin with wide eyes and talking to him when he sat down for a break.

Kyungsoo snapped a shot then, capturing the moment of Jongin talking happily with a crowd of children.

That was the beauty of photographs: they had the power to capture a moment forever. Already, Kyungsoo could see the change in Jongin over the last two months.

"How was it?" Jongin asked, walking up to Kyungsoo. His tone was surprisingly shy, catching Kyungsoo off-guard. The confidence and charisma seemed to come and fade at random times. Kyungsoo shouldn’t have found it so endearing, but he couldn’t explain Jongin’s contradictory sides.

"Amazing," Kyungsoo answered truthfully, and the smile Jongin gave him seemed to light the darkness.

The outfit Jongin was wearing seemed to be a throwback to his first single years ago. The era, History of Kai, involved glittery shirts, skin-tight jeans, and excessive eyeliner. While the concept seemed odd, the look fit Jongin perfectly: the silver V-neck accentuated his collarbones, and the black jeans fit nicely over his legs. There was even silver lining his eyes, making them practically unavoidable.

"Is this good enough?" Jongin asked, running a hand through his bangs. Kyungsoo wondered how such a beautiful human being was still capable of acting so bashful. He could deal with the charismatic Kai everyone knew and liked, but this side of Jongin caused him to feel so close, stripped of the defenses he’d worked so hard to build.

Kyungsoo swallowed, since his throat felt dry. Maybe he should go to the café and grab a coffee afterwards. "Yeah. Just…pose against the wall."

Jongin leaned against the wall, hooking his thumbs through the pockets of his jeans, giving off a casual yet irresistible look. This time, he stared directly into the camera, eyes meeting the lenses in a direct stare. The long fringe that skimmed over his right eye accentuated his high cheekbones. His face was completely emotionless, but the eyes were so full of emotion, so captivating, that they seemed to make his entire face glow.

Kyungsoo took the picture, aware that he had unveiled-and captured-Kai in a picture. Although Jongin was a few years older now, he was still undeniably Kai, the undefeated, immortal dancer.

But then, Kyungsoo turned his camera off and Kai seemed to melt into an endearing Jongin.

Maybe stars didn’t die after all. They might fade away for millions of years, but eventually, the pieces of stardust, when pieced together, can form another star. Matter could neither be created nor destroyed; in the same way, stars can never be destroyed, no matter how broken, how scattered, the pieces of the star are.

Kyungsoo knew that he couldn’t allow himself to be drawn too close. It was dangerous to venture too close, for stars were so hot they unintentionally set all close objects up in flames. It was much safer to be a planet in orbit around the sun than a comet headed for destruction towards the sun.

But Jongin’s kind, almost playful nature drew Kyungsoo further in every time. There was something so warm and open in his nature, and Kyungsoo could see him blossoming with each passing day.

They started walking side-by-side towards the café, hands finding each other’s almost naturally, Jongin’s hand offering a source of warmth and comfort. Kyungsoo knew that they were too close, but when he was this close with Jongin, it didn’t seem to hurt so much.

The next picture was at the park again. Jongin was dressed in a white T-shirt and black shorts, shifting energetically from foot to foot.

"Do you want to go for a jog?"

Kyungsoo shook his head. "Picture first. I can’t run with a camera."

Jongin jogged a few meters away and leaned against a tree. "Is this good enough?" They’d already agreed on the concept the day before, and Jongin adapted to it quickly.

"Close your eyes," Kyungsoo suggested, walking closer for a better shot.

Jongin’s eyes were closed in the picture, giving his face a youthful and relaxed look. The sunlight danced across his skin, complementing the flawless expanse. The slowly strengthening rays created a golden halo around him, and the pond in the background sparkled brightly. Yet none of it came close to matching the innocence that shone from Jongin’s face. A flower from the tree was centimeters from Jongin, blossoming in the late summer air. The ghost of a smile could be seen dancing across Jongin’s lips, taking tiny, hesitant steps, slowly but surely blossoming into something beautiful.

"Do you want to jog now?" Jongin asked, almost as soon as Kyungsoo had finished.

"The camera…"

"I’ll hold it." Jongin took the camera. "Come on, let’s go!"

Kyungsoo nearly tripped not long after they started, but Jongin was quick to shift the camera to one hand and grab Kyungsoo’s arm with the other, steadying him.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his eyes concerned, caring.

Kyungsoo nodded, flicking his hair out of his eyes. "Yeah."

They built up a comfortable rhythm, feet falling in harmony as they continued around the path. Sometimes, Kyungsoo would stumble when there was a stray rock or tree root, but Jongin was always there to catch him.

They did four laps around the entire park, and Kyungsoo’s pace began to falter. Jongin seemed to sense it immediately, slowing down with him. They sat down on the bench together, and Kyungsoo took his camera back. He brushed his sweaty bangs from his face, feeling thoroughly refreshed. He jogged around the park often, but it was always nicer with company. It was comforting as well, knowing that Jongin was there, right beside him, ready to catch him if he fell.

All journeys had to end somewhere. Kyungsoo could look at Jongin and see that he’d changed a lot over the weeks. He was considerably happier, more energetic; he was even dancing again, and had told Kyungsoo that he was taking a job as a dance instructor in the following months. The star was pretty much reformed, shining and whole in the sky.

It was the last picture, Kyungsoo knew. Maybe it was selfish of him to want some memory of the star he’d come to know and admire, but he couldn’t resist the urge to touch the glowing star dust one last time.

He gave Jongin the address to his studio, a small place he’d rented for the production of his photographs. He’d printed some of the earlier pictures already.

Jongin was watching him as he scrolled through the pictures on his computer. "It’s almost done," Kyungsoo explained. "I just have to finish printing them out, and then glue them into one of the books."

Kyungsoo was explaining the printing of the photographs, the processes in the dark room. He turned his head from the computer to look at Jongin, who had been usually quiet the whole time. His next words died on his lips when he looked into Jongin’s eyes and saw his face mere centimeters from his own.

Jongin was the first to make the move, closing the distance and pressing his lips against Kyungsoo’s smoothly, as though he’d done it many times before. Perhaps he had, Kyungsoo thought.

Kyungsoo tilted his head, allowing easier access. Jongin cupped Kyungsoo’s cheek with one hand, while Kyungsoo’s hand was searching for something on his desk. He finally found it: his phone.

Jongin’s eyes were still closed as Kyungsoo raised the phone. He took a brief picture, hoping the angle was good enough, and then let it drop back onto the desk.

When Jongin had left, Kyungsoo sat down before his computer again, staring at the picture he’d transferred from his phone to his computer.

The picture had come out surprisingly well: Jongin’s face could be seen clearly, whereas Kyungsoo’s face was partially hidden. Jongin’s eyes were closed, and while many features weren’t obvious, it was clear that he was kissing someone. But from the angle Kyungsoo had taken the picture, it wasn’t obvious whether Kyungsoo was a boy or a girl.

Kyungsoo’s mouse hovered over the "delete" button on the screen, but in the end, he simply closed the picture preview, leaving it saved on his computer.

Kyungsoo had seen the album for a long time, been conscious of its presence. He’d been tempted to throw it away once and give up the memories, but it ended up in the bottom of the box with all of his photography equipment. Now that he had taken it all out again, only the album remained in the box.

Kyungsoo had finished gluing all the pictures into the album. There were actually twelve thick pages, not eleven, and the blank one at the very end stood out. He stared at the page, but eventually closed the newly finished album. After all, some stories were better left unfinished.

He had accomplished whatever crazy thing he’d set out to do. While processing the pictures, he had stared at each picture for a long time, reliving the past moments. He’d helped Jongin find his feelings and passion again, and he could see Jongin blossoming with each passing page in the album. But why did he only feel emptier now, although he’d accomplished his goal?

Kyungsoo set the newly finished album beside the other one and opened the album he hadn’t touched for years. A thin layer of dust rested over the pages, and he brushed his fingertips over the dust as he stared at the photos.

Four years had passed since the last photo, and yet he could still remember each one with surprising clarity. He couldn’t deny that the pictures weren’t beautiful, as each page displayed grinning faces in full color.

This photo album was considerably thicker, one page for every week they had been together, and there were over fifty pages for the year they had been together. On every page, Junmyeon’s smile was so bright, so flawless, as he directed it at the camera’s lenses. Kyungsoo paused near the last pages, searching for any sign of unhappiness in Junmyeon’s features. He’d done this many times before; he’d spent hours poring over each specific detail, but the same foolish hope was inside him that he could find some small difference in Junmyeon’s features. But he found none; every smile seemed to vibrate with pure happiness, portraying unrestrained joy that drew appreciative looks.

The second to last picture showed Junmyeon with a spoon dangling between two rows of white teeth, grinning at the camera with his eyes crinkling in a friendly manner. They had been sitting in an ice cream shop together, sharing a large cup of mint ice cream.

The last picture was of a shattered glass vase, flowers and water spilling over the ground, a pair of couple rings in the corner of the picture.

The flowers and rings had been Kyungsoo’s anniversary gift-an anniversary that never happened.

Junmyeon had ended their relationship the day before, suggesting in a gentle, reasonable tone, "Maybe we should stop."

It had been right after their classes, when they were supposed to walk back to the dorms together, laughing as they shared cheesy jokes And Kyungsoo hadn’t caught on at first, but when he did, he’d wanted to scream.

Junmyeon had been able to smile as he walked away, wishing Kyungsoo the "best of luck."

Junmyeon hadn’t been there when Kyungsoo shattered the vase he’d spent months saving up for. Junmyeon never saw Kyungsoo shatter and withdraw into a mere shell of his original being. It was only weeks later that Kyungsoo learned Junmyeon had left for Japan, hundreds of miles away.

It had taken weeks for him to recover, thanks to Jongdae and Chanyeol’s concerned pestering. But all that had been reversed in the past twelve weeks.

He remembered the glass shards, flying to the furthest corners of the room; he remembered the cuts that covered his hands from picking up each piece, one by one. He’d vacuumed stray pieces for months afterwards, but all that pain had been nothing compared to what he was feeling inside.

Jongdae’s pleas echoed in his head, mixed in with Junmyeon’s last words. The two albums really weren’t all that different, but that didn’t mean they had to end the same way.

Kyungsoo waved briefly to Jongdae as he walked into the café, ignoring Jongdae’s loud greeting and protests as he walked towards Jongin. Jongin was already sitting at their usual table, drinking cup of hot coffee, when Kyungsoo took a seat across from him. Kyungsoo set the album on the table, face up. The cover was intentionally blank, a pure white color.

"It’s finished."

Jongin gave him a small smile as he reached for the album. "Thank you." He turned the cover carefully, smoothing the pages as he looked as the first picture.

Kyungsoo turned away. He didn’t want to see Jongin’s face when he saw the last picture. Anything was possible: surprise, disgust, bashfulness… He stood up. "Thank you for allowing me to take the pictures." Kyungsoo took a step, ready to leave, but Jongin reached out and grabbed his wrist.

"Where are you going?"

"I said I would leave when I finished."

"Hyung, sit down. You don’t have to leave." Jongin paused, and then continued, "You know, I lied. I don’t want you to delete the pictures from your camera. I don’t want you to forget this. I don’t think you’re a stalker, because you’re so much more. I don’t want you to leave."

Kyungsoo looked up at the ceiling, hesitating. He wanted to stay, but a small part inside was screaming a warning, claiming that he would get hurt if he stayed. Jongin’s grip on his wrist didn’t loosen, though, and eventually, Kyungsoo gave up, sitting down across from him.

"I actually want to confess something." Jongin looked across the table at Kyungsoo, his eyes earnest and hopeful. "I like you, Kyungsoo." Jongin’s face betrayed his uncertainty, although his voice was unwaveringly confident. "And I know it’s kind of late, but will you go on a date with me?"

I like you. Kyungsoo stared at Jongin. All of his fears ran through his head. There were so many things that could go wrong.

But as he met Jongin’s eyes, he realized that he was never able to say no.

The very last picture in the album was taken under bright lighting, in full color. Jongin was dressed in a formal black suit, standing behind a large wedding cake. He was grinning brightly, seeming to glow with happiness. A ring glittered proudly around the fourth finger on his left hand. The picture was centered on Jongin, but many figures could be seen in the background, showing the same busy flutter of activity like many other weddings.

In the picture, Jongin was obviously many years older than he had been in the previous pages of the album. But he still had the youthful shine in his eyes. The years didn’t seem to weigh him down, even though there were lines around his eyes and mouth, suggesting the harsh years of life that had come and passed. He had an air of contentment, not regret. He had everything he could hope for, and was happy with what he had. Life wasn’t always easy, but Jongin had learned to triumph anyway.

Although Jongin was the only one in the picture, the trust and love he had for his partner was evident. They had both been broken, hesitant in staying together. Even marriage, with its glamour and expensive rings, wasn’t always permanent; it certainly didn’t mark the end of life’s struggles. But love can be learned, and trust can be regained.

Two halves didn’t necessarily make a whole, but it can still make something just as beautiful. And Jongin may have been broken once, yet his smile was brighter now than before he’d met his partner. It told a story of losing, but gaining more in the end.

This was Kim Jongin, Kyungsoo’s star, Kyungsoo’s husband, and Kyungsoo’s future.