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“Till hyung.” Ivan smiles down at the older man, offering him a cup of coffee. “Iced, just like you like it!”
Till looks up at Ivan from where he’s seated, and he offers a small smile, dark under eyes and all. “Thanks, Ivan. The heat was killing me.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He reassures, nursing his own cup of iced lemonade.
“Are you done with your classes?”
“Yup! Just a group meeting for a project later this afternoon, but that’s it.”
“That’s good. But isn’t it midterms season?”
“Yup, but the prof made the project our midterms as well, so we’re kinda screwed if we don’t do well…”
“I see. Anybody giving you trouble in the group?”
“Haha, don’t worry, hyung! Everyone’s pretty spirited in helping. Guaranteed freeloader free.”
“That’s good,” Till smiles, dropping the faux murderous expression on his face. He glances up at Ivan, and frowns. “Hey, why don’t you sit down?”
Ivan looks sheepish, “But you said you were hot…”
“Bwahaha! So you’re trying to shade me? You dork!”
For the longest time, even before college, Ivan had adored Till. Still, if you asked him what the turning point for their friendship was, he would answer that it was during a specific day in summer break.
“Till hyung!” He cried from outside the gate of Till’s house, as he usually did until the boy would come out. They were two years apart, and Ivan was nine when they’d moved to the neighborhood, so there was an understandable gap in interests.
“What is it, brat?” Till, compared to Ivan, wasn’t as instantaneously affectionate with the other. That had taken a while to build up, and even then, he’d only view Ivan as a friend or, at most, a younger brother.
That worry didn’t cross younger Ivan’s mind, though, as he ran towards his hyung. He clings onto Till’s waist, “Let’s play! Please!”
Till resists the urge to throttle Ivan. “What will we even play? You’re a baby!”
“Am not!” Ivan pouts, red faced. “Till hyung is a bad hyung! He doesn’t play with me.”
“You’re the one bullying me!” Till retorts, trying to peel Ivan off of him.
“Am not.” Ivan protests, burying his face in Till’s stomach. “Bullies are worse than hyung. They throw stuff and push you.”
“Ha?” Till swears he can hear his vision go red. He pulls Ivan off of him, and before the younger could protest, he rolls the boy’s jeans up to his knees, confirming his worries when he sees scratches and bruises. “Is that how you got these?”
Ivan avoids his eyes, still pouting, hands clutching at his shirt.
“Where are they?” Till grits his teeth. He gets that Ivan can be an annoying, stuck-up, spoiled brat — even unnervingly silent and blank, sometimes — but that doesn’t excuse bullying. “The ones who did this.”
“Hyung…” Ivan whines instead. “I just wanna play!”
Till sighs, straightening Ivan’s clothes. Begrudgingly, “Argh, fine, fine! We’ll play after I deal with those brats.”
That’s how Till’s and Ivan’s fathers find them, Ivan hiding behind Till and Till with a few bruises and cuts on his face. Still, those things don’t outshine the brilliant grin that Ivan has, nor the triumphant smile that Till dons.
Ivan is seated beside Till now, a small pout on his lips.
“You grow a little taller than me and think you gotta take care of me now, huh?” Till laughs, sipping his iced coffee. He makes a face and Ivan immediately hands him packets of sugar and cream.
“Shut up,” Ivan sighs. Then, he grumbles, “It’s more than just a little...”
“Did you say something?”
“I said I already added sugar and cream to it, but you’re still not satisfied with that!”
“Liar. You know I do two cream and three sugar, and you purposefully put one less of each so that you can seem more caring and considerate when you hand me the extra that you brought.”
“I— I’m not that calculative!”
“Oh yeah? Then why did you only bring one of each?”
Ivan groans and Till laughs. Reaching up, he ruffles Ivan’s hair affectionately. “It’s okay. I wouldn’t have my hoobae any other way.”
“Hyung?” Ivan opens the door of their middle school’s guidance office. The counselor frowns at Till before sighing and looking towards Ivan.
“Ivan,” The counselor nods. “I understand that you’re a family friend, yes? Please, talk some sense into him while I call his mother.”
He doesn’t say much before leaving the room, and Ivan looks quizzically at the other boy. He’s battered up and bruised, and his hand curls around his torso in a weird way. Immediately, he walks up and pries Till’s hand away, probing at the ribs it was nursing, confirming his worries when Till winces.
“What happened?” He can’t quite control his expression as his lips purse into a harsh line.
“Geez, I already knocked them out,” Till hisses, pushing Ivan’s hand away. “I’ll knock you out too if you don’t fucking stop.”
“You said you wouldn’t fight anymore.” Ivan presses. Remembering the reason Till ever even made that promise to Ivan, he pipes up again, “Mizi noona wouldn’t like it.”
“Don’t bring Mizi into this!” Till hisses. “They were talking smack about a person I care about, okay? They shouldn’t throw around what they can’t even catch.”
Ivan frowns even more, “Noona can fight her own battles, hyung.”
He ignores the jealousy that curls around his stomach as he gazes at the protective glint in Till’s eyes. He shouldn’t be jealous. They’re still friends, even if Till’s friends with other people. Even if Till likes other people.
“I know she can,” Till complains, scratching his head. Ivan’s frown deepens as he catches sight of Till’s bruised knuckles. “We’re graduating, for god’s sake!”
“Then why?”
“Because they were talking smack about you, dumbo.” Till looks fond as he says that, shoving his hand onto Ivan’s carefully brushed hair. “A hyung can’t let you down, can he?”
“Hyung!” They both choose to ignore the way Ivan stutters that out, cheeks flushed. Instead, he protests, “I don’t need to be protected—!”
“Yeah, yeah, tell me that when you’re done going quiet when there’s other people around.”
“I talk to Mizi noona!”
“She’s your cousin’s friend, of course you’d talk. She doesn’t count!”
The two retreat into walking around campus, the bench under the tree having been unable to provide them enough shade from the harsh sunlight.
These days, the two have been unable to hang out this casually. It’s mostly either Ivan bringing Till some food, Till driving Ivan to campus, or the two studying in the library together nowadays. Actually being able to talk for longer than a few minutes at a time is difficult, when they’re both swamped with their individual coursework. It’s time like these that Ivan longs for the simpler days.
“How’s Mizi noona?” Ivan brings up, sipping on his own drink.
“Eh, she’s doing okay,” Till shrugs. From what Ivan can tell, Till’s moved on from his crush on her that started in highschool (although the younger would argue it started sooner than that). “She’s making a lot of clothes for their midterms… Said her prof thought it was a good idea to make it into a fashion show— Oh, which reminds me! She wants you to model her clothes again sometime.”
“I’ll text her then,” Ivan nods with a smile.
“And what’s up with your roommate? Luka?”
“He’s okay…” Ivan tries, but shakes his head when he remembers this morning. “Okay enough, I mean. But he’s a little insane. Actually, I think I’ve gone a little insane with how much he’s reciting articles and sections.”
Till laughs a little at that, “Do you wanna stay with me and Mizi for a while until midterms blow over? I’m sure she won’t mind.”
“Careful, hyung,” Ivan bumps his shoulder with Till’s. “You almost sounded like you wanna spend more time with me there.”
“Gag,” Till deadpans. “I changed my mind. Go get devoured by Luka’s monstrous attitude during midterms.”
Ivan laughs at that. “I’m kidding! Spare me! Hyuuung!”
If you ask Ivan when he’d realized his feelings for Till, he would answer that it was the same time Till had realized his feelings for Mizi.
He can’t name the day, the date, the hour, the place of his realization — only the fact that it wasn’t a wonderful, beautiful thing. It was heartbreaking, a realization of something that can’t be. The knowledge doesn’t come with the flowers of spring, but rather the wilted buds of winter.
“I like Mizi,” Till had frowned towards the horizon. Ivan can’t even remember the time and place, only that they were seated, in the haze of his hurt.
Ivan doesn’t say anything. Not that he doesn’t want to, but that he can’t. Till takes his silence as he usually does — in stride. He’d always known that Ivan was prone to silence, so it saves him from explaining this time.
Instead, Till speaks. “I think she likes Sua.”
Great. The two of them are suffering from unrequited love. Isn’t it just so romantic?
“Don’t you have class soon, hyung?” Ivan asks after looking at his watch. “It’s almost one!”
Till stares at him, as if waiting for the punchline of a joke. When he realizes that Ivan isn’t kidding, he pipes up, “Ivan, it’s still eleven. Don’t tell me your smart watch is broken? Unsha’s nice, but he wouldn’t spoil you enough to buy you a new one.”
“Oh—” Ivan laughs it off, but he places a hand over his left eye, before dropping it. “You’re right… I’ll need to adjust the timezone, I think.”
Till glances at the watch, but it’s already closed. “Or do you need to get your vision checked? You should take care of your eyes!”
“Nah, don’t worry, hyung! I think I just haven’t slept well tonight. I’ll have Luka lay off on reciting in his sleep if it’s affecting me this much…”
“Alright, you do that.” Till nods. “I noticed you weren’t walking straight either, like you wouldn’t watch where you’re looking. You should be more careful and sleep more, Ivan.”
“Yes, yes, hyung,” He shakes the older’s worries off with a wave of his hand. “Instead, let’s eat lunch first, hm?”
Till frowns suspiciously, but easily lets up. “Fine, I’ll pay.”
“Woohoo! Hyung must feel very good today if he’s treating me!”
Except, Till was quick to leave behind his feelings when he and Sua had graduated high school.
Ivan remembers the day clearly, this time more so because of his shock and disbelief rather than his hurt feelings. It was graduation, and Ivan and Mizi were holding bouquets in hand to offer their upperclassmen friends. Luka and Hyuna stood beside them with flowers of their own.
When the two exit the graduation venue, their diplomas in hand, Mizi is the first to approach them. She runs to tackle Sua in a hug, “Unnie!”
“Mizi, be careful!” Sua chastises, but she hugs Mizi back.
“Hehe, my unnie’s so sweet! Congratulations on graduating and entering your dream uni!” Mizi cheers. She shoves the bouquet towards Sua’s open hand — an arrangement of tulips, grape hyacinths, clematis, and baby’s breath — all of Sua’s favorites.
Sua laughs, gentle and kind, patting Mizi’s head. “These are all my favorites… Well, next year, you’ll graduate and I’ll give you your own flowers, hm?”
“Luka’s graduating next year, too!” Mizi points out.
“Who cares about him anyway?” Hyuna pipes in with a laugh.
Meanwhile, Ivan hands over his own bouquet to Till. He’d kept it as simple as he could — an arrangement of dahlia, scarlet sage, and even sprinkled in some white heliotrope not only for a break from the red, but also to hint at his longing, however secretly. “Congrats on graduating, hyung.”
“Thanks, man,” Till grins, ruffling Ivan’s head despite the fact that Ivan’s now quickly gaining height over the older. “In two year’s time, you’ll be joining us in college, so study well!”
“Don’t forget to send over the reviewers you made for the entrance exams,” Luka pipes into their conversation, handing over a simple bouquet of sunflowers.
“Yeah, yeah,” Till rolls his eyes, but he accepts Luka’s offer.
On the other hand, Hyuna yelps from where Sua pulls Mizi into a kiss.
The older is calm and collected as she does this, despite her ears turning pink. Mizi, on the other hand, knocks her glasses off her face in favor of pulling another clumsy kiss from the other.
At least they got to sort things out, Ivan thinks, as he peels his gaze from the two and worriedly glances at Till.
Unexpectedly, though, Till was already glancing at him with a melancholic smile. “What, worried about me again?”
“Hyung…” Ivan frowns.
“It’s okay.” Till reassures the younger. It had been a while since the older needed to stand up for Ivan, and while Ivan didn’t forget the other’s resilience, he sure did underestimate it. “I knew before either of them did, anyway. That they liked each other. Sometimes, you have to pick your battles, right? I knew from the start that I’d lose this one.”
Ivan wanted to cry for Till. And yet.
And yet, Till has the strength to cheer for the two and congratulate them. Has the strength to accept that love can be found in places that the other cannot see, and thus cannot return.
Later, Ivan cries.
“Ahhh…” Ivan stares down at the listless number of food on the menu, the small font, and the lack of pictures. He promptly gives up. “I’ll get whatever hyung gets!”
Till stares deadpan at Ivan, before sighing heavily and waving their waiter over. “I’ll have one pork rib rice with soda, and he’d like steamed salmon with iced tea. Oh, and can we have a salad to share? Thanks.”
“You know me the best, hyung!” Ivan’s quick to praise the other once the waiter leaves to give their order to the kitchen.
“Well, if not me, then who else?” He rolls his eyes as he says that, so offhandedly as if it doesn’t mean anything at all, as if he hadn’t tilted Ivan’s world on its axis with that comment, however slightly.
He then talks about a musical score that he can’t seem to get around to polishing, something about it feeling incomplete, as if nothing had happened. Ivan looks at the other as he talks away, hand gestures endearing and familiar.
If not him, then who else?
If not Till, then who else would know him so deeply, so wholeheartedly, that Ivan can stop talking for comfort, and he’d still be understood? If not Till, then who else would breathe life into the crevice that Ivan had known was existing within him where his heart should be? If not Till, then who else would hold his hand? If not Till, then who else would be his bravery?
If not Till, then who else?
Ivan smiles as he wipes at his eyes. “Hyung, I think I need to use the restroom. I’ll be back!”
“Ivan, wake the fuck up!” Till is shaking him awake from where they’re camping. “You’re the one that took me here for the damn meteor shower!”
It was the summer before Till officially started going to university. The air was humid and they only brought one tent. Flies swarmed around them despite the lit fire, and while the fireflies were beautiful, there was too much noise in the forest behind them for comfort. Regardless, the lake in front of their set-up camp reflected the full moon, and now, as Ivan stirs awake, reflects the flying stars.
“Mm…” Ivan mumbles, rubbing at his eyes. He must have fallen asleep at some point, while they were waiting. “M’sorry I fell ‘sleep, hyung…”
Till rolls his eyes, tugging Ivan out of the tent. “Well, s’what am I here for, right?”
They sit in front of the slowly dying campfire, and they look up at the stars. They don’t talk.
They hear the croaking of frogs, the buzzing of dragonflies, the occasional rustling of leaves, and the flying of birds overhead. On occasion, a comet would streak the galaxy that was seen above. Ivan would look at it and fervently wish for Till’s happiness. He couldn’t ask for anything better, after all.
“Halley’s comet,” Ivan pipes up a few minutes later. “It was last seen in 1986. It’ll appear again in 2061.”
“Pff, that isn’t until we’re old men, Ivan.”
“Yeah, but I’d like to see it with you. When we’re old and wrinkled and stuff.”
Ivan looks towards Till. However pretty the meteor shower was, it would always be instinct to look towards Till. He burns the image of him lit under the light of stars into his memory. Then, he closes his eyes, and utters another wish for his happiness.
“It’s a promise, then.” Till shrugs. Then, he declares to the stars, “Wait for us, Halley’s comet! We’ve got an appointment with you for—” He checks his wrist, as if looking at a watch. “—For when we’re old and wrinkled and stuff!”
The two laugh their fill, giggling and chuckling. And then, Ivan speaks up again, gazing at Till softly.
“They say that a large amount of phosphorus was found in the traces of Halley’s comet, you know. And phosphorus is sometimes considered by scientists to be the backbone of our DNA.” He smiles when Till turns to look at him. “We’re all just stardust and wonder. Born to light up like comets. Blaze a path through life. Light the path for others.”
You’re the brightest trace of stardust out of all of us, though.
Till turns to look at him, as if he can read Ivan’s thoughts simply by looking at his abyssal eyes. Then, he smiles at Ivan, “Stardust and wonder, huh? I think I can believe that.”
Ivan enters the restroom, thankful that the restaurant was somewhat fancy and has those private ones instead of a room full of cubicles. He locks the door behind him and immediately starts crying.
“Agh, fuck…” He murmurs to himself, clutching at his temples with one hand. He’s careful not to claw at his eyes or cheeks, lest it be obvious when he leaves the restroom.
He bites at his lip and turns the faucet on. The gems that looked like stars were already pushing out of his tear ducts, and he had to hold back a whimper. No matter how many times he goes through this, the pain of pushing out the star tears would forever be excruciating.
His vision goes white and then black, and he swears he hears a loud pop. His eyeballs feel like mush, like fried eggs, like the sun. And then, the star tears are on his hand, and it’s over.
This time, it’s much bigger, compared to back then. Its size was comparable to his pinkie finger’s nail, now, and it will only keep growing, both in size and quantity. He’s lucky that only four decided to push their way out today. He sighs, eyes still closed.
Cupping his hand under the running water, he puts it over his eyes, if only to cool it down, however slightly.
The stars are kept safely in Ivan’s pockets.
He remembers when he had accepted the fact that his love for Till was unrequited; when he realized that his feelings for his friend was shallow; when he contracted this painful disease.
He was with Mizi. It was lunch time, after all. Hyuna and Luka were off with Isaac and Dewey, which left the two to retreat to the windy rooftop. It was fall, so the cold had shooed away the other students. Only the two of them really opted for this place, now, when the others had their own hidden spots within the heated building.
Mizi was talking about Sua, as she does. Ivan’s picking the vegetables off his lunchbox and putting it to Mizi’s, as he does. It was all routine.
That was, until Mizi somehow managed to bring up how Till had confessed to her.
“Huh?” He asks dumbfoundedly. He’d thought that Till had gotten over Mizi. Had thought that he’d given up. Selfishly, he realized how much relief that had given him. If so, had Ivan really cried for Till, or was it really for the fact that he was relieved of that painful yearning for someone who yearns for another?
“Oh, but he said he was over it!” Mizi’s quick to bristle, as if she senses that he’d become distressed. Still, Ivan belatedly thinks, it was too late. “He just wanted to get it off his chest and— and— IVAN!”
It was too late.
The star tears, however small, had pushed itself out of his tear ducts. Blood and stars trace his cheeks.
“Hyuuung…” Ivan pouts as he sits down, having rushed out of the restroom. He didn’t want to stay in there for too long, lest he arouse suspicion. “I think the seasonal allergies are getting to me…”
“I can tell…” Till says, looking genuinely concerned. “Your eyes are so red! Do you want medicine? I can go to the pharma before the food comes—”
As he says that, the waiter comes with plates of their food on a tray, and starts placing it on their table. Just Till’s luck.
“Haha, it’s okay, hyung! Let’s eat before it gets cold. You shouldn’t go to class hungry.”
Till frowns with a sigh, but relents, “Only if you promise to drink your medication later, okay?”
Ivan wanted to laugh at the irony of it all — the cause of all this, asking him to cure himself.
But that’s cruel, isn’t it? To pin all the blame on Till. It’s only just that the older wouldn’t catch any feelings for him. It was dramatic justice, in a way. Ivan was never gentle with his love, after all — he was rough and selfish and he goes quiet most times and expects only understanding from Till. He can barely handle the stardust in his eyes, so how could he dare hope to handle the brilliance of Till in his arms?
“I will, hyung. You should eat now!”
“This is serious, Ivan…” Mizi bites at her nails. She’s tied her hair up in a messy bun, and her other hand cradles nine star tears. The blood still traces Ivan’s cheeks, continuously cascading down.
Thankfully, she had listened to his near hysterical pleading and hadn’t dragged him towards the nurse.
“You— you gotta do something!” There’s this near insane look in her eyes, as if she truly was worried sick.
“What, noona?” He tries not to sound harsh. This wasn’t her fault; never was, never will be. He never resented her. He never held Till’s feelings for her against her. In fact, he’d loved her with his whole heart. If Till were his sun, then Mizi was the clouds that provided him shade when he gets blinded.
The thought of being blinded sobers him up, though.
He laughs without humor, and he tries to look at her general direction. The star tears fucked up his eyesight, and it scares him; there’s splots of red and black and pink and he can’t see clearly through his own blood. “Surgery will blind me and get rid of my feelings.”
What he wanted to say wasn’t hard to decipher; if both options will end with him being blinded anyway, isn’t it fine to hold onto sight a bit longer?
Mizi chokes a sob, and then she, too, ends up crying. “Cruel… You’re too cruel, Ivan…”
And he supposes it’s true. He’d just subjected Mizi to a lifelong secret that only the two of them can know. She will be the only person to get worried about this. She won’t have anyone to share her concerns with besides Ivan himself. She’ll feel the guilt when he, inevitably, loses his sight.
“Nobody can know, Mizi.” Ivan closes his eyes. Another tear of blood escapes.
“I know…” She hiccups and sobs, “I— I know, and I’ll… I’ll keep you safe, Ivan…”
Ivan walks Till towards his next class, eyes only a little blurry. He holds Till’s bag and all, despite the other’s protests, if only to fulfill his own selfish desires and wishes.
“This is my stop.” Till says with a deadpan, looking at Ivan expectantly.
“Mhm.” He answers with a smile.
The other sighs dramatically, and offers out a hand, “My bag?”
“Haha, hyung is so quick to anger!” He laughs, handing over the bag.
“Anyone would be,” Till starts with an eye roll. “When you’re holding their compositions hostage.”
“Gasp! You hurt me, hyung! I wasn’t holding them hostage, I was simply carrying them for you in order to keep chivalry alive!”
“Are you sure you aren’t secretly a theater major?”
“I could be if you want me to be, hyung.”
“Use your sweet talk somewhere else and maybe you might finally get a girlfriend. Anyways, class’s starting. See ya.”
Till leaves quickly, bag in hand. Ivan looks at him helplessly, watching the door to the lecture close.
Was it that awful to hang out with him for longer than a few minutes at a time?
He sighs. He supposes he owes Mizi a call.
Mizi’s tried her best to make Ivan change his mind, time and time again. She won’t ever let him live down the severity of his illness, and unlike Till, doesn’t allow him the peace of going silent. She makes him know the weight of his decision, like any friend should. She forces him to acknowledge that there are more people than just Till who cares for him.
“I think you need more than just the surgery.” She would say, this awful emptiness in her eyes when she looks at him. “You don’t know the worth of your life, do you?”
He supposes she’s right, in some way. It’s just that his own life seems so inconsequential when in comparison to the millions of others in this world. He wouldn’t venture to say that he actively wishes to die, but there’s some peace in the thought of death. There’s some beauty in the quiet of an afterlife encased within moist soil. He wouldn’t be opposed to dying, just as he doesn’t quite oppose living.
Still, he’s thought about it, and he realizes that the only reason that living makes him feel so alive is simply because he does so with Till by his side. He may have lungs, but Till is the one that breathes into them; he may have a heart, but Till is the one that gives it the reason to beat; he may have a life, but Till is the one who makes it more than just simple existence.
Nothing in the world comes for free.
Not his life, not his happiness, not his love. So Ivan is fine with crying tears of blood and stardust, with hiding his pain, with suffering with this illness. He’s fine with paying the entrance fee for a place in Till’s life. He’s fine with paying with his life, with his sight, if it means that he gets to keep that place.
As long as he can be in the footnote of Till’s life, he will be okay with paying.
He only hopes Mizi can forgive him when something inevitably happens.
“Ivan!” He hasn’t even exited the building yet when Mizi answers the call. “How are you? Did something happen?”
“I’m good,” He answers, shouldering his phone. “You mentioned something about modeling to Till?”
“Ah, yeah!” She’s quick to go on a tangent about how he’d be a good model, considering how he likes to keep his body relatively fit and you promised me you owed me for life!
He lets her chatter away, relieved that they’ve finally reconciled enough to talk so casually. He shudders when he recalls the severe fight they had during her graduating year in high school, stemming from Mizi being pent up and weary with worry for him. She can be very terrifying when mad.
She’s talking about some complicated part in a design that she can’t seem to get the stitching right on when he comes out of the building. The sun shines down on him, all beautiful rays of liquid gold, and he squints at the brightness. His eyes sting, feeling quite dry. It’s been a regular occurrence, as the tears of blood dwindled down (or, really, tears in general). According to research, it’s because his tear ducts are becoming clogged with the gems. Blood only really came out when the gems were too sharp and had hit something on the way out.
He sighs, and squints. Dry eyes have been a common problem for a while now, but he’d forgotten to bring his eye drops. He guesses he’ll just have to deal with it until he gets back to his flat.
“What’s wrong?” Mizi asks, hearing his sigh.
“Ah, it’s nothing. I just forgot my eyedrops.”
The mention of his eyes must have done a number on Mizi, because she sombers up. “Ivan, you—”
“—Really need to take care of myself. I hear you, Mizi, I really do. We’ve talked about this, right?”
“…Right. Sorry, I think I must be on edge because of the finals.”
“Don’t apologize, Mizi. It’s okay, really. I understand.”
“You do promise that it’s just an honest mistake, right?”
“Yup. I was rushing because I had a morning class. I’ll bring an extra to put in my locker next time, okay?”
Mizi breathes a sigh of relief, and he can almost see her tense shoulders dropping at the reassurance. Go figure that a secret regarding your life would make one actively anxious.
She doesn’t let it get to her though, it seems, because she picks up on speaking animatedly about her coursework. He continues walking through campus, rounding the corner towards the street.
And in hindsight — since he’s currently, apparently, really lacking in the sight department right now — it’s not smart to cross roads when you have sight problems and are actively distracted. Because what’s more of a recipe for disaster than a yearning gay man listening to his lesbian friend on a call who also happens to have the star tear disease?
That is to say, he walks into a car.
“The star tear disease…” The private doctor he’d hired through his savings was currently studying Ivan’s jar of gems, or star tears, or tears, or… whatever. Nobody really decided it would be smart to agree on what to call them yet, so there’s multiple names to it. She turns to look at both Ivan and Mizi. “What do you two already know about this?”
It’s been four months since the fiasco at the rooftop. Mizi’s graduation is coming up, so she was pressuring Ivan to find a doctor already. In his defense, he had to slowly withdraw money from his account, or else his father would notice it. On top of that matter, finding a doctor that’s willing to consult Ivan without his parents or guardian was hard enough to find. At last, though, they’d landed in this office.
“It stems from unrequited love.” Ivan pipes up. “It’s unknown how this happens, but unrequited love is a common thing among cases of the star tear disease. The patient will cry tears of stars until their feelings are requited or forgotten. In many cases, it leads to blinding. Some lead to death because of the size of the star tears.”
“I also read somewhere that the size of the star tears have something to do with the victim’s feelings, right?” Mizi adds. She’d insisted that she had to come with Ivan to this check up.
The doctor nods, then speaks up. “In actuality, not just unrequited love is needed for one to contract the star disease. It can also come from perceived unrequited love. Many patients with star disease tend to have other disorders as well, such as depression or anxiety, because it’s through these that they’re fully convinced their love is not returned. The size of the tears are yet to be researched, although it is true that some have cried tears big enough to kill. Do you know anything about the surgery?”
“I know that it would still blind you in the process, at the very least. I don’t wish to get it.” Ivan answers.
“Yes, but the blinding will only be partial. It won’t be the same damage as if you decide to let this illness run its course. And anyways, even when the star tears inevitably do blind you, you will still be crying them if your love is still unrequited. You will lose both vision and the ability to cry. Your eyes will also be easier to irritate and will be in constant risk of eye infections. The blinding process is also multiple times more painful this way. Are you completely sure you don’t want the surgery while it’s still early?”
Ivan looks petulantly at the doctor, as if reiterating that he won’t be getting the surgery. She looks back at him, then sighs. “Young man, are these all of the tears that you cried for the past four months?”
“Yes,” He answers truthfully. Five large jars full of star tears twinkle back at the three people in the room, almost naively. “I’ve collected all of the tears, small or big.”
“I see.” She jots down something on her clipboard before looking back up. “Your case is growing at an exponential rate. Usually, patients four months in are only able to fill at least two of these jars.”
“What does that mean?” Mizi asks uneasily. Ivan reaches out to hold her hand, and she squeezes it hard enough to stop his blood circulation. He doesn’t pull away or ask her to ease her grip.
“Truthfully, I don’t know. As common as the star tear disease has been among individuals, research has yet to make significant progress to make this disease easier to understand.” She leans back on her chair. “Although if I were to make an educated guess, at the rate that you are going, Mr. Ivan, you might go blind sooner than the expectancy date. You’re also at a higher risk for larger star tears.”
“What—?!” Mizi tries to stand up from her chair, slamming her fist on the table. Ivan pulls her to sit back down, and he studies her face. She looks ready to explode, both anger and anguish marring her face.
The doctor allows Mizi to breathe before speaking back up again. “I understand your concern, Ms. Mizi. However, there are some preventative measures that we may take. Of course, these are all experimental. That is to say, nothing is confirmed to work yet. Still, it would be better to be able to do something than nothing, yes?”
Mizi looks at Ivan, her eyes slightly wide with worry. She swallows, then turns to the doctor, “I’d like to hear what your plan is, doctor.”
“Alright.” She raises her clipboard and starts to read outloud. “We’ll start with eye drops. Always carry one. I’ll give you a prescription for some medicine, drink those daily, once a day. As for your diet, we should try cutting back on consuming too much phosphorus and…”
Overall, while the consultation was left open ended because of the general uncertainty that comes from Ivan’s disease, he’s glad to say that it was productive. At least he has something to work with, a routine to grapple at, a tangible something to ease both his and Mizi’s growing concern, however much they try to avoid talking about it.
He expresses this to Mizi when they reach his house, medicine in hand.
He hadn’t expected her to blow up at him because of that, really. But she did. She cries and yells and he ends up raising his voice at her too. She leaves his house crying.
Unsha later finds him on the living room couch, all spacious and so empty.
Let Ivan rephrase that; he almost walks into a car.
Luckily, someone from the same class as him had pulled him back at the right time, and he’d only ended up with a sprained ankle. Unluckily, it caused a scene, and his phone was the one that was sacrificed, crushed under the weight of the car.
There were some yelling, a handful of panicked pedestrians, and a lot of sorrys from Ivan. Still, they got over themselves enough to land Ivan in the nearby clinic, just two blocks down the campus.
“Sorry to trouble you,” Ivan offers a smile to his classmate, laughing sheepishly. She laughs it off.
“It’s nothing. Still, your phone’s gone so… Do you need to call anyone?” She offers up her phone to him from where he sits.
“Yeah, I’d appreciate that…” He offers another apologetic smile before dialing Till’s number. As much as he’d prefer to call Mizi right away, he’s ashamed to say he doesn’t really memorize anybody’s number besides Till’s.
Till answers on the first ring.
“Hyung, it’s Ivan—” Ivan had started, but as soon as he got those words out, Till cut him off.
“IVAN!” He bellows into the phone. His classmate turns to look away at that, and Ivan suppresses the urge to groan, because it means he’d have to form some sort of explanation for Till’s yelling later. “Where the hell are you? What the fuck happened? Mizi’s hysterical right now!”
That’s what he’d feared. Mizi had always been on edge about Ivan’s life since the incident. It had peaked during their fight, and even after, there’s still tension regarding the constant risk Ivan lives with because of his disease.
“I’m at the clinic just near the campus, the same one we took you to after the sports festival?” Ivan tells him. “Can you tell Mizi I’m doing okay?”
“Yeah, I’m texting her right now. Sua’s going to kill you, you know that?”
“Hyuuuung, I just sprained my ankle!”
“Yeah, tell that to Mizi. She thinks you died for some reason. You better fix that up as soon as possible.”
“I would, but I don’t have my phone.”
“Well, she’s coming, she said. I’ll go there after class ends in a few minutes.”
“You’re still in class?”
“Idiot, I went to the restroom. You think I’d be yelling at my phone in the middle of a lecture?”
“Sorry, sorry.” Ivan laughs sheepishly. “I’ll see you later, hyung.”
“Yeah. Mizi’s on her way. She says it should only take fifteen minutes. See you, and don’t think I won’t be scolding you for your recklessness later!”
He hangs up.
However, contrary to what Till said, Mizi bursts through the door within just nine minutes.
She bounds inside with Sua in tow, and his classmate excuses herself. Sua thanked her, while Mizi busied herself with bounding towards Ivan.
“Do you have any idea,” Mizi starts, tear stains down her cheek. “Just how worried I was?!”
Ivan pulls her into a hug, and she sobs in his arms. He looks over Mizi’s shoulder, and meets eyes with Sua. The older gives him a glare, but exits the room and closes the door, as if a warning for the scolding to come, but allowing them some privacy for now.
“I thought you died,” She cries out. “I heard yelling and a car honking and then the line cut and—”
“I’m sorry, Mizi. I didn’t get hit, though! I just got a sprained ankle, but—”
“Just?” She whispers, voice sounding so broken that Ivan feels guilty. She pulls away from his arms. “Ivan, you don’t understand how much you’ve been risking your life? First, you get the star tear disease! Next, you refuse surgery, but you also vehemently deny trying to move on! And now, you’re walking down streets almost getting hit because of those damned stars?! Don’t you realize how selfish you’re being? Don’t you think, at the very least, of uncle Unsha? Of Hyuna and Dewey? Of me?”
She’s heaving for breath after she says that, and newfound tears stream down your face. She rips Ivan’s arms away from where they’re crossed in front of his chest, and digs her hand into his coat pockets.
She discovers the four star tears he’d cried earlier in the restaurant, and she scoffs. “Do you see the size of these, Ivan? And four. Four, really? Without the eyedrops?”
He only looks back at her, ashamed. This seems to trigger more tears, though, because the rage washes away from Mizi’s face, and in comes her sorrow.
“Ivan… I’ve always told you that you look handsome while wearing white.” She cries. “I want to at least be able to make you your wedding suit. I want to at least see you live until then. I want to be able to see you in white. But I can’t do that when you’re dying.”
Ivan bites at his lips. He would be crying now, if his tear ducts weren’t so damaged by the disease that had taken him for years of his life now. Really, since sixteen, he’s had this disease. Why is he still clinging onto it when he’s almost twenty-two?
“I’m sorry, Mizi.” He croaks out, throat thick with unshed tears.
“If you’re really sorry, then do something.” She whispers, desperate. “I don’t care if you think of me as selfish anymore. I just want you to be okay, Ivan.”
No, He wants to say. You’re not selfish. You’ve been holding this in for so long. I’m the selfish one, the one who drove you to feel like this. I’m sorry, Mizi. I’m sorry.
Instead, he says, “I’ll tell him. I promise, noona.”
Mizi sighs of relief then, and he opens his arms, an invitation for a hug. She rushes into his arms.
The star tears she was holding clatter to the floor, discarded.
“I’ve decided what I want to be!” Ivan says over the phone to Till. It’s his graduating year now, and after a while of deciding and mulling over what he wants, he finally settled on one thing.
“Oh yeah?” Till asks. It sounds like he’s cooking. He tries not to picture the other with an apron, moving around the kitchen with ease. “What’s it?”
“Photography!” Ivan cheers. After thinking it over, he decides he wants to be able to leave behind a legacy of the way he sees the world and the people in it, however small, before he goes blind. “Although I’m going to have to do a double degree, ‘cuz dad wants me to take business and finance too.”
“The heck?” Till exclaims. “Isn’t Unsha overworking you?”
Ivan wryly thinks that it’s better this way anyway. He can’t see photography being a lifelong career for him, especially since he’s going blind sooner than later. Taking over his dad’s business is better than being out in the streets.
“Nah,” He answers instead. “I think it’d be a fun challenge!”
“Of course ya do,” He can practically see the eye roll. “I forgot for a second there that you’re a prodigy child.”
“Don’t worry, hyung,” Ivan laughs. “I’ll always take you with me when I go take photos around the world and be a famous photographer!”
“I know. You wouldn’t be able to make it out there without me, hm?”
Ivan laughs at that. He allows himself to melt onto his bed, all big and spacious, and presses his phone close to his ear. He imagines that he’s back in that campsite all those years ago, with Till by his side, looking up at the meteor shower.
Stardust and wonder. He wonders if that would be enough to save him.
Till opens the door to him and Mizi still bundled up together. She’s significantly calmed down, but Ivan doesn’t let loose his arms around her.
“Hey,” Till asks wearily, obviously alarmed. “What’s up?”
Mizi looks up at Ivan before standing up. “Ivan has something to say to you.”
She looks at Ivan meaningfully, as if pleading with him to keep his promise, before turning to look at Till. He must’ve seen a sort of warning in her eyes, because he’s quick to turn serious. She exits the room.
“What’s up with that?” Till asks, looking at where Mizi closed the door. He turns to look at the floor, noticing the star tears. “And why’s there marbles on the clinic floor?”
Ivan wants to cry, even if realistically, he no longer can. There’s no turning back now. Only one way forward. Confessing to Till and being rejected, leading to an emergency surgery, or confessing to Till and being accepted, which should prompt any underlying star tears to burst out of his tear ducts. Both options don’t really feel appealing at this moment, regardless of the fact that the latter instance is not possible.
“Can you pick them up for me, hyung?”
Thankfully, Till is quick to do so, gingerly taking the four star tears scattered on the floor. He’s looking quizzically at Ivan after observing them. “Why are they shaped like stars?”
He pats the place beside him, gesturing for Till to sit down. When he does, Ivan speaks up, “Do you know anything about the star tear disease, hyung?”
“Yeah. They come from unrequited love. It usually affects people with mental health issues, widows, or severe cases of divorce or break ups. Ivan, why are you asking me this?”
Ivan breathes in. Now or never, he guesses. “I have the star tear disease.”
Till goes quiet. He clenches his fist around the star tears in his hand, and he’s looking at Ivan with an expression that he can only describe as weary. However, when he speaks, Ivan is quick to realize that he was actually seething with anger.
“For how long have you had this?” He asks, quiet.
Ivan feels the guilt burn hot in his stomach when he admits, “Since third year high school. Mizi’s the only one who knows.”
“You didn’t think to tell anyone else?”
I didn’t plan to tell anyone at all. She was just there when it happened, Ivan thinks bitterly.
“It was for the better.” He grits out instead.
Till sits silently then, still clutching onto the star tears.
Ivan hadn’t known what he had expected, really. Did he expect unfiltered outrage? For Till to punch and kick and thrash as he had when they were younger? Did he expect Till to want to stand up for him again? Did he expect to be hidden in his hyung’s shadow of protection again?
Did he want Till to overreact? To yell at Ivan to reveal who he was longing for so much to the point of this disease?
Until the end, did he still foolishly wish for reciprocation?
And he, himself — how could he feel disappointment at this moment?
Years of suffering, not only his but also Mizi’s, down the drain. He’s held his silence for so long, wary and terrified of breaking it, and yet. And yet, now that it’s broken, he’s shocked at how quiet it was. He’d been busy bracing himself for the uproar that this truth would bring forth, such that he hadn’t once thought that it wouldn’t elicit more than a few questions.
He must have grossly overestimated his place in Till’s life.
Did he not pay enough for it? Did he not give more than enough of himself to Till?
Ivan would cry, if he could.
He thinks that’s why he spoke when he did. The unshed tears and the piles of star tears stuck in jars and the buildup of bitterness at the fact that he doesn’t have any particularly special hold on Till — that must be why he spoke. Because he wouldn’t have if he wasn’t so vulnerable.
“It’s you.” He had said. The words tumbled out like the stars in his eyes before he could even realize what they mean. Still, once the dam was opened, it could no longer be closed. He distantly wonders if the stars had foretold this very moment — calendared, just like the appearance of a meteor shower. “I love you, hyung. You’re my stardust and wonder.”
He wants to say more, but he chokes up, realizing what he’s saying. He looks down at the floor, ashamed. Why had he offered up information that Till didn’t even want? Why had he burdened the other with this information?
Till wouldn’t like him back. He would know if the other did. The way Till was when he had liked Mizi — starry eyed, glistening and twinkling like the stars that Ivan loves so much, joyful and not at all able to hold back his utter adoration… That’s what Till looks like in love. He wears love like he wears his hoodies — comfortably and openly. He never hid it, never was ashamed of it. He wore it proudly.
He was never like that with Ivan. So, really, it was Ivan’s fault for persisting in his suffering under some sick sense of loyalty to both his pain and to Till. He’d been given many chances to have an out on this disease — the surgery can be fully paid by Unsha, with the best doctors in the world; his feelings could be overcome with the multiple dates Mizi had set up for him — and yet he still clung onto this childish naivety that Till would love him back if he just held on a little longer.
In the end, it was entirely selfish. Nobody benefited from his stubbornness. Till wouldn’t even want this. He’d never asked for it.
So he croaks out once he swallows through the thick emotion in his throat, “I’m sorry, hyung.”
Till hadn’t spoken. He’s quiet.
Is he mad? Is he disgusted with Ivan? Or, worse, is he hurt that he’d hurt Ivan?
“Why are you saying sorry?” Till finally speaks, voice raw. He sounds angry, but an undercurrent of sorrow sneaks its way into his words. “Ivan, what the actual fuck? These stars are my fault?”
He opens his palms, looking at the star tears. They glimmer like the gems that they are, still stained with blood from when Ivan had cried them out. Still, there’s more than usual…
Ivan realizes belatedly that the star tears cut into Till’s palms from how hard he had clutched onto them.
He swallows again when he speaks, “No, hyung, it’s mine.” He smiles helplessly at the floor. “I’m sorry that you had to be the victim of my shallow emotions.”
Till throws the star tears across the room, violently hitting the walls and bouncing off of them with a clatter. His hands were shaking.
“Ivan.” Till’s voice was quivering. “What in the world made you think I didn’t love you back?”
Ivan turns to look up at Till and finds the other already looking at him. He looks into Till’s eyes.
Till, loving him?
He thinks back to all those times he’d seen Till look at Mizi as if she was the only bright thing left in the world. As if she was the sun itself.
He thinks back to all those times he’d seen Till look at him fondly.
He fails to see what Till was trying to say. None of them matched up. None of them gave any indication at all about him feeling the same for Ivan.
Doesn’t that just mean that Till was trying to comfort him?
He smiles helplessly again, finally resurfacing from his contemplation. He feels a new wave of star tears coming, and he’d really rather not have a conversation while his eyes are busy not being gouged out by tears of unrequited love — literally. “You don’t have to comfort me, hyung. I understand.”
Till stands up at that, incredulous. “What do you mean you understand?! Clearly, you don’t! I’m telling you I love you, Ivan.”
“You don’t.” Ivan confidently corrects. He tries to recollect himself. Till didn’t have to double down this hard — it was only making the tears much more painful. “You don’t have to make me feel better about this, hyung. I knew what I was getting into, so stop.”
“How can you confidently say you know everything?” Till protests, angry now. “I love you, Ivan. That day in graduation, when you gave me those flowers to match my guitar because I said I wanted to try pressing flowers, I realized maybe what I felt for Mizi was more of an infatuation—”
Ivan starts to cry, a sob wrecking out of his throat. He’d been holding back for so long — doesn’t he deserve this?
“—and you’ve always been there for me. I loved you before I even knew what love was, so I couldn’t recognize it—”
Star tears force their way out of his eyes, and he cries out, his vision blacking out. He chokes out, barely a whisper, “Stop, please, stop.”
“—but you were always so patient with me, so I thought taking my time wouldn’t do any of us harm. I wanted to be sure. I wanted to make sure that my feelings were true, and I did, that time when we were under those meteor showers—”
A star tear drops from Ivan’s eyes, and then another. He clutches at his face, feeling warm blood flowing down his face. Till doesn’t stop.
“—but then, I was already too late. I didn’t want to confess yet. I was scared. I wanted to wait until we both graduated college, and then I would take you to another camping trip. We’d watch another meteor shower, and I’d ask you out. I would use my own money, and we’d be happy together—”
One more star tear drops out of his eyes. He feels like he’s in front of the sun, and he’s burning, burning, burning. The weak wax he’d used to glue himself together was melting faster than he could patch up, and maybe he was too arrogant, too confident in his abilities to keep his feelings hidden away. He was falling apart faster than he could try to mend himself together again.
“—but then you go and think I don’t love you? After all these years, you’re my one and only—”
“Stop!” Ivan yells, choked. “Please, stop! Stop it! You don’t love me, so stop it—!”
“You stop!” Till yells back, and he sounds like he’s crying too. Great, now Ivan’s done it. He’d hurt Till too. Just how much is he going to fuck up?
“We still have to see Halley’s comet, you idiot! I still have to pay you back for the thoughtful bouquet you gave me in high school graduation! You—” Till chokes up. “You still have to take me around the world to capture the way you see things! You still have a whole life to look forward to picturing…”
Ivan takes a breath.
He still remembers? All those small promises, things he was sure the other would forget, Till still remembers. He was sure that he was alone in holding onto those memories. He had been so sure that in the gallery that holds all of his memories with Till, he had been alone — when all this time, Till was just down the hall?
“I— I still have to pay you back for treating me all the time. I want to make it normal when I pay for us so that you wouldn’t have to cheer for it everytime I do so. I want to continue to drive for you: to classes, to work, to our wedding, to our children’s school. I want you to continue making my coffee just slightly wrong so that you can show off how much you know me.” Till is sobbing and wiping at his eyes, when Ivan looks up at him. His vision is blotchy, his eyes sting, his body still feels as if it’s burning up. But he looks at Till — really looks at him.
“You love me?” Ivan whispers, awed.
Till sobs, “I do, you fucking idiot! I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Why didn’t you see that?”
He waits for all the remaining star tears in his system to come out, as it would when his love is reciprocated. He waits for a beat, and then two, and then three, until he realizes that they’re not coming.
The words of the doctor come to mind: In actuality, not just unrequited love is needed for one to contract the star disease. It can also come from perceived unrequited love.
His love has been requited all this time. He just didn’t believe it was — still doesn’t, until now.
“…I’m sorry, hyung.” He whispers.
Till moves forward to wrap him in his arms. “Don’t say sorry. We’ll fix this. I’ll fix this.”
He finds it hard to believe that his suffering was for nothing. That his feelings were actually reciprocated. That the reason Ivan failed to notice Till’s love for him was because he didn’t truly love Mizi, or at least loved her in a way that was different from his love for Ivan.
He still doesn’t fully believe in the older’s feelings for him. It’s hard to, when he’s spent years of his life — both in adolescence and in adulthood — believing he wouldn’t be loved and seen the way he had loved and seen Till. But there’s time. They have time now.
Besides, Ivan has an inkling that it’ll be hard to deny Till’s love when he isn’t hiding it, with the way the other is holding him so gently yet fiercely.
“I love you. I love everything about you. I love you so much that I would—”
Till was whispering the sweetest words in his ears, too.
Ivan laughs, hugging Till back.
“You think this is funny? When we’re better, I’m beating your ass!”
“Go easy on me, hyung! Would you want your future wife to be a domestic abuse victim?”
Till flushes at that. “…I wouldn’t mind.”
“What?!” Ivan gawks.
“I—! I mean I wouldn’t mind you being my wife, NOT the domestic abuse part— Oh my god—”