stardust | park seonghwa - Chapter 3: Chapter 3

"I'M telling you, Kang Yeosang, I touched him!" I cry into my phone that night. "Or her, I don't know their gender but point is, we touched!"
It was already the night before Monday and I'm having one of my pre-Monday breakdowns and somehow, this had weaved its way into it and making it more stressful. As always, Kang Yeosang was on speed dial and was ready to answer my call with a "go get yourself some ice cream" before I could even say hello.
So here I am, with myself spread on my bed with a tub of ice cream next to me and lifting one spoon into my mouth before I continue my next sentence.
"There were lots of people this morning, bro, it could've been anyone!" I exclaim after another spoon, "I mean, it couldn't be the roastery lady, could it?"
Yeosang lets out a snort as if he's trying to hold back his laughter.
My lips pout when my best friend fail to contain his cackling, stabbing the spoon in my hand deep into the small tub of Neapolitan ice cream.
"Look, I'm not sure if I could head over to your apartment tonight because I have a shit ton to do," the boy over the phone line says after calming down, "but sometimes, Hyeshin, we don't even know who we share our stars with."
When Yeosang finishes his sentence, I suddenly remember what happened nearly three years ago, back when we were seventeen and fighting our way in order to survive high school. Yeosang and I were just finishing up school for the day and as per usual, I waited for Yeosang by the lockers. That day was nothing special at first, until we almost missed the bus for our route home. Yeosang had sprained his ankle during P.E. three
days before and so I was the one who had to chase the bus down so it would stop for us. The vehicle was crowded but it was our only choice as it was the last one for another hour and unless we wanted to only start heading home after dark, we somehow made it work.
The next day, Yeosang had come rushing to my door in such urgency and he slid the left side of the collar of his uniform down, showing me a mark on the back of his shoulder blade that I knew for sure wasn't there the day before. There was a faint shade of purple nebula clouds and a single blue star in the middle, a small yet delicate cursive writing at the bottom reading 'amare' decorating the masterpiece.
No doubt, it was one of the most beautiful thing I've seen engraved on someone before. My parents had one similar but of a different star in perhaps a completely different galaxy - but 'amare' all the same.
Yeosang's stern voice cuts me off from my thoughts, as if reading my mind, he tells me: "please don't think about what happened to me, I'm just saying that there are a lot of other people out there who aren't so lucky."
Amare - meaning 'love'.
How could someone like Yeosang let go of that so easily?
"Now, Hyeshin, this is about you and how you are going to find him," Yeosang tells me, "so finish your ice cream and forget about my mark, okay?"
"But Yeosang -"
"Yeah okay I'm hanging up..." he threatens and although I know that he wouldn't, I still cry in protest and I can literally hear him grin. Like, really.
"You do this every single time," I say, sighing in defeat.
"It's been years, Shin-ah," and I can almost see his face engraved with a small saddened smile, "it's really okay. But you, my dear friend, yours is fresh and literally the hot tea right now and not to mention that I haven't even seen it which means I have to go to your place as soon as I can get this done which could probably late tonight but you don't mind right? Oh and ..."
Yeosang gasps in the middle of his rambling.
"Have you told your parents?"
At that moment, I try to imagine my parents' reactions if I actually did tell them not too long ago. I mean, I was already close to their front steps and all I had to do was go 'rat-tat-tat-tat' on their door but the inner voice me chickened out when they opened it and said that I wanted some food instead.
"Please don't give me that disappointed look," I say, fidgeting with the covers underneath me in a sheepish tone.
"You can't even see me?"
"Come on, Yeosang, you and I have known each other since we jumped out of our mothers' uteruses," I continue to say as I twist my position to lie on my stomach.
Yeosang sighs on the other side of the line. "Why haven't you told your parents?" he asks, "this is a huge milestone of your life, Hyeshin!"
"Because they'll ask who it is and when I don't know it myself then it would worry them more than it would excite them," I answer honestly and before Yeosang could say anything to add on to it, I continue, "and I know that you told your parents anyways but still."
"Okay," the boy tells me calmly, "okay, it was your choice. But I'm coming over later so please put your keys where you usually put it because I know you'll fall asleep right after this."
"I need to continue on this for a bit so I'll see you later, yes?"
I know that I most definitely didn't sleep right away after ending the call with Yeosang because I remember flicking through my phone for a little but I most definitely remember waking up at one in the morning to the sound of my front door closing and the soft click of the lock afterwards.
Stumbling off my bed, I waddle to the living room to see Yeosang 'tsk'ing over my messy shoe rack by the door.
"And she seriously calls herself neat?" I could hear him mutter under his breath, shaking his head before placing his own pair of shoes in an empty space on the top of the rack.
When Yeosang diverts his attention from the rack and his eyes land on me, his lips tug into a smile and they got even wider when I mention that there were two more tubs of ice cream in the freezer ready for him whenever he wanted some.
We sit in my small living room, and even though the weather wasn't exactly cold enough, we are still accompanied by the soft whirring of the medium sized electric heater I have resting not too far from our feet. Yeosang sprawls himself over my couch, one leg across my lap and the other edging close to the heater as much as it could. My TV flickers on not too far from us and from the corners of my eyes, I could see Yeosang pressing buttons on the remote randomly and stops when it gets to Nickelodeon.
"So where were you this morning?" he asks, resting his head back onto the wall behind him.
"At the coffee place," I say simply as I watch old re-run episodes of Spongebob Squarepants on the TV, "where else would I be?"
Yeosang shrugs, "don't know, the library maybe? Playing Fireboy and Watergirl on their computers?"
Then he is met by the whack of a small cushion that I had thrown. "Five year old me, maybe, but seriously?"
"So I met these kids there," I tell him, feeling my eyes droop slowly, "Seonghwa and San. Do you know them?"
Yeosang tilts his head to the side. "No, I guess not."
I nod, trying to desperately keep my eyes open.
We sit together in silence, enjoying the way the heat from the heater coats the bottom of our feet in warmth. And I swear, I was only a second away from drifting off to dreamland if it wasn't for Yeosang to tap me lightly on the shoulder.
"Can I see it?" he asks quietly.
"See what?"
"The... you know," he continues, "the mark?"
Sighing, I turn around to face away from him and I let my head hang forward as his hand pulls away the back of my collar to reveal the swirls of colours underneath the fabric.
"Wow," I hear him mutter, "this is so pretty."
"Tell me what it looks like?"
"You haven't seen it?"
To that, I shake my head no.
So he goes on to tell me that it was pretty, really pretty to the point where it's beautiful. I almost smack him because of that. Yeosang tells me that the star was white and the colour swirls around it were turquoise and purple, and that at the bottom, it reads 'amare' just like his. He says that even if a tattooist were to recreate that, the level of artistry wouldn't even compare.
And he goes on to tell me that I should be proud to be the child of that star for it shines bright, brighter among its cosmic friends in the background.
That's what he tells me anyways, but I smile at that, glad to know that he thinks the mark I own is of something.
"What star is this?" he asks, "where is it from?"
I pause for a moment. "I don't know," I say, "but Yeosang?"
The boy behind me hums as he fixes back my shirt before patting my head, softly placing his hand under my chin to guide my head to lean on his shoulder.
"I felt the mark coming as I was leaving the roastery," I tell him, "and I can't help but wonder..."
"... if it's Seonghwa or San?"
Letting out a frustrated exhale, I give Yeosang a nod. "But what if it's the bartender?" I ask him, "his name is Yunho, I think?"
"You think too much."
"'You-Think-Too-Much' is my middle name," I say as I stifle a yawn.
Yeosang lets out a low chuckle before patting my head softly. "Sleep," he tells me, "it's Monday tomorrow."
And so, I snuggle in closer to him, finding some warmth in the cold room as he turns down the volume of the TV. As I find my eyes flutter itself to sleep, I could feel Yeosang reaching to his back pocket and pulling out his phone. I'm sure it's just my eyes playing tricks with my mind, but is it really just my imagination when I read the contact name to be saying the word 'Wooyoung'?
After all, I was already half asleep. Who knows, it could've been someone else.