You're My Starlight

You kick your feet against the bleachers petulantly, watching the soccer team practice without really seeing them. You really should stop staying after school to ‘study’ outside, but you can’t help it. Jaehwan’s always so happy that you came, chattering about did you see this and what did you think about that on the walk home… and maybe it’s the closest you’ll get to receiving his affection in a romantic way. And maybe you don’t want to let that go.

Today you’re not really watching them practice, though. Today you’re just… daydreaming, books abandoned on the seat next to you and chin propped in one hand. Your shoulders are curled in on themselves defensively as a shield between you and reality, and you’re so lost in dreams (Jaehwan scores the winning goal… you run into the field… the two of you kiss… the crowd cheers) that you miss the couple times that Jaehwan glances your way with a concerned frown.

It doesn’t matter. By the time practice is done and you meet Jaehwan for the walk home, you’re your usual cheerful, supportive, quiet self, and Jaehwan doesn’t ask why you looked so forlorn

(he never does).

  There are secret poems in the back of your math notebook and a couple doodles on the edges of the course outline for biology (Jaehwan’s eyes, occasionally his mouth – you’ve gotten really good at the shape of his nose, but that’s not really romantic), and it’s an open secret among your other friends that you love Jaehwan.

Of course you love him, you say to general amusement. He’s your closest friend. He lives three houses down the road. You were born in the same hospital, though he’s five hours older and likes to act as though it’s five years. The reasons why you love him are obvious, and mundane, and not at all heart-fluttering.

When it’s clear you’re not going to budge, your other friends get bored with that line of questioning and move on to more juicy topics. You don’t mention the other reasons you love Jaehwan: the fact that you used to each have one-half of a walkie-talkie set, and though you’ve moved on to cell phones you still talk to him late into the night. The fact that he’s always looked out for you, even though he’s only five hours older. How he always links your arm through his on the walk home. The one time you were watching a movie together and he fell asleep on your shoulder, soft and tired and warm. How one night he snuck you out of your bedroom window to go catch fireflies, and got you back in time before your parents noticed.

Oh, it’s easy to love Jaehwan. You wish he felt the same way about you.

  It’s been a terrible day already, and it’s only lunch break. You shoulder your backpack and push your way out of History, determined to get as far away from the crowds as you can. You just have to get your coat from your locker and you’ll escape to the bleachers; it’s getting too cool out now for anyone else to want to sit outside.

It’s been a terrible day already, and it’s only getting worse. You get to the hall where your locker is and discover, to your chagrin, that two of your classmates are kissing right in front of it. Kissing in the hallways is bad enough, you reflect bitterly, but did they have to do it in front of your locker? It felt like a personal affront.

As you stood there, trying to decide whether you should interrupt to get your coat, the two kissing figures break apart with a sudden jerk. One of them falls back against your locker with a wince, and looks up to meet your eyes. His lips are swollen from the kiss and his eyes are wild, and your mouth falls open in shock at the sight of him.

You don’t need your coat, you decide, turning away from Jaehwan before he can see the tears in your eyes. You just need to get away.

  Jaehwan finds you on the bleachers in your usual spot, arms wrapped around your knees (it’s too cold without your coat, but nothing could have convinced you to go back for it). You’ve run out of tears, but your cheeks are still damp and your eyes are red. The bell for class has already rung, so you’re surprised to see him climbing the bleachers with a determined expression. Your heart leaps – you can’t control it – but you remind yourself that you should know better, and you keep your eyes down so he can’t see that you’ve been crying.

He slides into place next to you, and you blink furiously to try to keep from crying more. There’s a pause, like he’s trying to figure out what to do, and then Jaehwan clears his throat and starts to talk.

“So,” he says, “Apparently the captain of the rugby team really likes me.” He nervously, and you frown into your knees. Is he really dense enough to come ask you for relationship advice? Jaehwan keeps talking. “And, um, they didn’t take rejection well, so I hope you’ll still love me even if my pretty face is bruised by the entire rugby team.”

“Of course I will,” you say by reflex, and then sit up as his words really sink in. “What?” you demand, and Jaehwan swallows nervously now that you’re looking him straight in the face. “Um,” he starts eloquently, “The captain of the rugby team kissed me and I told them I didn’t like them like that, but they were pretty upset so I think the rugby team may challenge me to a duel for their captain’s honour, and I can’t duel so I really need to confess to you before I die?” The last words come out rushed, but Jaehwan is still looking at you in a way that you’ve never seen him look at you before: gentle, tender, and somewhat nervous.

“You need to confess to me?” You repeat, and your voice squeaks on the last word. “But I thought…”

Jaehwan scoots closer, looking hopeful. “I could make you happy,” he says, and his voice is getting stronger and steadier at the expression on your face. He reaches out a hesitant hand to wipe at your cheek. “I promise this will be the last time I make you cry.” You lift your hand to cover his, and Jaehwan’s shoulders straighten. “What do you think?” he asks, and he gives you a beautiful smile. “You and me?”

When Hongbin shows up on your doorstep, you almost slam it in his face.

“No,” you tell him, though he’s wedged his foot in the door. “I don’t need sacrifices from the villages, I don’t need to be rescued, and if you stick around here you’re going to get eaten alive.”

This is (barely) a figure of speech. Your curse, one that has consumed you for centuries,  spreads to any human foolish enough to be ensnared. It makes you irresistible, but it also makes you deadly, and that’s why Hongbin cannot enter your home. It will be his doom.

Hongbin appears unmoved by this, and reaches out to touch your hand. You recoil, take a step back. “Please. You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

He lifts his chin at a stubborn angle, stares you right in the eyes. You hope it’s the curse that makes your cheeks flush in response, that brings warmth to your belly. “Isn’t this yours?” he says, finally, and extends a hand, tilting it so you can see the mark on his wrist. A tendril of otherworldly silver has wrapped around it, glistening like a spiderweb covered in dew. You frown at the sight – it’s never before happened to someone you haven’t met. Hongbin takes the frown as answer. “I’m supposed to be here,” he says simply, and reaches out again. You step back, but leave the door open.

“I wish you weren’t,” you tell him, and vanish into the depths of your home.

  Your divining, with bones, leaves or cards, doesn’t give you an answer to the mystery other than ‘wait’. You’ve been waiting for centuries, and frankly you’re not thrilled about this answer, but you have no other recourse. If you are hosting the unfortunate Hongbin, you will do it well: you will take care of him, cherish him, until his end. That is how it has been for a long, long time.

When you emerge from your workroom, you find Hongbin examining your bookshelves with interest, gaze flitting across the runes on the spines as if he can read them. You frown at the sight, and clear your throat, causing Hongbin to spin and smile sheepishly at the sight of you. Your heart flutters again.

“Why did you come?” you ask him simply, and shake your head when he holds up his wrist. “I don’t mean that. You’ve never met me before.”

“But I have,” says Hongbin, propping his chin on one hand. “I dreamed of you and a silvery road, and when I woke I belonged to you.” He shrugs, more nonchalant than he should have been, as though he knows something you don’t. “So here I am. Don’t look so distressed. This is meant to happen.”

“You can’t believe you’re meant to die by my curse,” you tell him. “There’s nothing heroic or marvelous about that. You will be consumed, and then you will only exist to haunt me for always.” You touch your chest, as if showing him the only place he’ll survive – in your heart.

Hongbin gives you a long, considering look, and shakes his head. “It’s going to be okay,” he tells you. You still don’t believe him.

  Time goes on as it always does, when a human shows up on your doorstep.

You try your best to resist him; you put in more effort than you ever had to keep distant. Sometimes it’s worked before, prolonged their lives if you pretend as though you don’t care for them (but you always do). The problem is, Hongbin doesn’t seem to care about his life. Unlike some of the others, he’s determined to be near you, helping you with your magic, researching your curse, even helping you in the kitchen. When you ask him why he’s so attentive, he simply tells you that he wants to be.

You hold back as long as you can until one day you experience backlash from a strong spell you’d been trying (to end your curse, as you always do) and get knocked out by a minor explosion from your cauldron. When you wake up, Hongbin’s tidied everything up, taken care of your bleeding forehead and even salvaged something from the experiment. And you’re lost, you’ve fallen for him - you know it from the moment you wake up, and your heart is broken for it.

The next morning, the silver tendrils on Hongbin’s wrist have grown, and you weep when you see it, crying into Hongbin’s shoulder. However, Hongbin’s expression as he looks down at what is surely certain death is simply fond.

  So you leave. It’s not the first time you’ve tried. Occasionally, over the years, when you’ve met someone you truly cherish you’ve tried to get away to spare them, and to spare yourself the heartbreak. So far, it’s never worked, but you always hope it will.

Your forehead is healing, but your heart is an open wound as you pack the essentials in a bag and slip out in the dead of night, when Hongbin is sleeping. You head back to the clearing where it all began, sure that he won’t be able to find you there. The web of magic (yours, ripped from you when the curse began) is too strong for most mortals, and you settle into the hollow knowing that Hongbin won’t be able to follow.

Of course, when has anything about Hongbin been normal? You wake from fitful sleep to find him standing in the middle of the clearing, silver tendrils stretching high as his elbows, looking at the remnants of your power with admiring eyes.

You sit up and run a hand through your hair, frowning at Hongbin even as you blink sleep from your eyes. “How-“

“I told you,” Hongbin says, and he kneels by your side. “I’m supposed to be here, with you.”