Archive of Our Own

The first thing Beomgyu notices when he lands in Nuturn is how different the planet is from what he imagined — and from what he heard from the merchants on the ship he hitchhiked. During the trip of a few light years from Cilara to Nuturn, Beomgyu spent most of it hearing about the wonders of the planet, how beautiful the flowers are, how the place is so serene that you’ll never want to leave. Mentally, he’s laughing until tears are falling from the corner of his eyes. In Beomgyu’s opinion, not even the most beautiful, most serene planet would be able to make him stay for longer than months.

Ever since he can remember, his life has always been like this. Traveling from planet to planet, galaxies to galaxies, hitchhiking on ships and making friendships that won’t last more than a few moons, never spending more than a year in the same place. Beomgyu’s type is very known on the galaxy, a planet hopper they call the ones that live like him; someone who hitchhikes on merchant ships in exchange for a help in unloading or some stolen coins, sleeping near crates of strange foods and talking to people he doesn’t make an effort in knowing their names — people who doesn’t know his name either.

Some say it’s a lonely life, living with strangers but never letting them become a constant in his days, never allowing anyone closer to him, never having someone special. Beomgyu strongly disagrees with whoever says that. He never felt lonely, he never feels lonely. There’s always a bed, someone willing to give him attention for a few bucks and no promises or strings to be attached. Beomgyu never feels like staying for too long because there’s always something beyond waiting to be seen by him. If he stays, he’ll lose the things the universe has for him.

Beomgyu doesn’t belong to one place, he likes to live his days like this, he likes to be free.

The landing on Nuturn wasn’t one of the most pleasant, but Beomgyu cannot complain about a ride that cost him the small amount of qriqezal he still had with him before deciding to leave Cilara ahead of time — he wasn’t fool enough to offer help in unloading, those boxes looked too heavy for his taste. He bids farewell to the merchants and the young girl who kept him company with her stories about Nuturn, wishing them prosperity in business and a good life. The girl seems hopeful to spend more time with Beomgyu on the planet, but he cannot nurture such feelings within her, he’ll never reciprocate whatever she was feeling at that moment. He hands her one of his last qlefk and thanks her for the company, descending from the ship along with the unloading robots.

Beomgyu walks through silent streets, finding all the quietness strange. He’s used to busy centers full of stores, people pushing each other while walking, children stealing things out of pockets and animals running. The few people around him are walking so far apart that even a medium-sized ship can fit in the space between them, all wearing cloth garments that don’t seem to match Nuturn’s technological environment. Beomgyu walks the entire way looking suspicious to his sides, expecting royal guards to show up and corner him before he can reach a hostel willing to house him for seven qriqezal and two qlefk.

Nothing happens. Beomgyu arrives at the hostel quickly, feeling pathetic for the way he hurries his steps through the quiet streets. When he walks through the holographic doors, he sighs in relief, there’s at least a little commotion inside. Women with long, sharp fingernails chatting on red couches, men with bionic body parts drinking from metal mugs, music flowing through the room. If he hadn’t looked closely at the sign before entering, he’d have thought this was a tavern instead of a hostel.

His room isn’t one of the best — the receptionist who attended him was very clear about this detail — but it seems good enough for him for a few months. Beomgyu didn’t grow up in the midst of luxury and wealth, having a roof over his head and a bed to sleep in is enough for him. The room is small, a shoebox that someone has miraculously managed to fit a large bed and a closet; a transparent door on the side of the closet leads to an equally small bathroom. The room resembles a dollhouse, everything small and uncomfortable. Beomgyu almost feels like one of the dolls he sees little girls carrying around in the streets.

Beomgyu brought only a backpack, the last thing his mother gave him before she abandoned him and disappeared forever. He always carries with him only a few pieces of clothing, a stolen electronic telescope that he got on his eighteenth birthday from an old friend and some other stolen trinkets he uses to take to pawn stores and earn some coins of various kinds. Beomgyu is a simple person, he doesn’t need more than this with him.

He sets his backpack down near the entrance without any care, throwing himself tiredly onto the bed. He looks toward the window, looking at the sky, so crystal blue that it almost seems white — he can almost see the galaxy from there, he can almost see the place he likes so much. Beomgyu didn't expect Nuturn to be so clear like this, he expected a dark planet as the name already says — he takes great pride in knowing more languages than any other human traveling the universe. He looks at the ceiling then, a hologram staring back at him, a woman winking and blowing kisses. He should’ve expected something like this in the hostel, a beautiful holographic woman staring at you lying on your bed should be mildly arousing.

Beomgyu chuckles, closing his eyes. His body doesn’t take long to relax on the soft sheets, fatigue of the trip finally hitting his muscles. Even after years of traveling at the speed of light, his body still can’t get totally used to it, to the aftercome of the trip. Every trip always leaves a tiredness identical to the first time he traveled at the speed of light; like Beomgyu is eight again, squeezed between several unknown boys of all races in a pirate ship, vomiting after feeling the speed crushing his insides. Maybe it’s because he’s still only a human, and humans are naturally weak compared to the others.

With his eyes closed and his mind wandering, Beomgyu lets himself be lulled into a dreamless sleep, the holographic woman the last thing he sees, his childhood memories the last thing on his mind.

The days after his arrival were spent wandering around the city, walking the streets and alleys as if he knew the place with the back of his hand — getting lost is part of the process of being a hopped, Beomgyu keeps telling himself after turning the same corner for the second time, seeming to not get anywhere. Nuturn is basically a mix of exacerbated technology and large white fields as far as the eye can see. Every planet is different, unique, special in its own way; that’s something Beomgyu learned a long time ago. But Nuturn seems to have something that sets it apart from the others he has visited in recent years.

In daylight, Nuturn it’s almost uninhabited, few people walking the streets and almost all the establishments closed, resembling a ghost town everyone fears. During his walks while getting to know the center, Beomgyu gets a good look at the whitish fields far on the horizon, wondering if that’s where the famous Nuturn ice flowers are. From what he heard, the planet is well known for the flowers of all shapes and sizes made entirely of ice, covering Nuturn like a huge white blanket — at least, that was the first thing he thought when he saw it from above before landing.

As night falls, the city becomes completely different. As if Beomgyu had been transported to one of Andromeda’s famous futuristic planets, Nuturn looks like an entirely new place. There are holograms in front of establishments, inviting tourists into taverns and massage parlors that seem to offer more than just a massage judging from the women with full breasts and men with muscles not that appealing to the eyes. Fluorescent lights flash at every corner, immersing Beomgyu in vivid colors that makes him remember his adolescence trying to do his job on Andromeda. The streets are busy, people chatting in loud voices and having fun, walking so close that it’s almost impossible to not bump into someone.

As it seems, Nuturn is a box full of surprises.

Even after two weeks on the planet, Beomgyu still cannot fully get used to the inverted schedules in the planet, the calmness of the day and the chaotic environment of nighttime. Beomgyu feels overwhelmed some days, like he’s still traveling through the galaxy at the speed of light.

The only place that is always bustling with life regardless of the time, is the lobby of the hostel. There’s always people chatting, music playing, the bar open every hour for anyone who wants a drink of dubious nature for a few bucks — and if you pay a little more, you can get something from the green-skinned, blue-eyed bartender according to some chit-chat Beomgyu eavesdropped in the elevator. He doesn’t spend much time in the lobby, unlike the other guests who seem to enjoy themselves in the large space filled with purplish fluorescent lights. Beomgyu could spend some time in the bar, but his priority is exploring a little. Getting involved with someone so soon isn’t on the list of things to do in his first month in Nuturn.

Making friends with a local resident is also not on his list, but he ends up doing it anyway. In a totally accidental way, if Beomgyu may say.

Three times a week, a tall, muscular man comes to the hostel, carrying with him a wooden basket that appears to be handmade, filled with something white that resembles cotton balls. Beomgyu doesn’t want to admit that he watched this man for too long in the first two times he came, but it’s almost impossible not to notice him. He has short hair shaved in his nape, his clothes striking amidst the luxury of the tourists in the lobby. Today, he’s wearing a black long-sleeved t-shirt full of unnecessary holes and white pants that seem to be purposefully glued to his legs — hugging thighs that attract Beomgyu’s attention effortlessly.

Beomgyu is too busy to notice the stranger approaching one of the couches he’s sitting on. Beomgyu uses a random book he picked from the receptionist he talked to on the first day as a disguise, pretending he wasn’t shamelessly staring at the man’s body, desire to touch burning on his fingertips. The stranger is holding a lily, so white that it looks made of cotton, so delicate that it seems like a stronger hold on it will make the flower break apart in little shards. Beomgyu puts down the book, giving the man a polite smile. From this angle, he looks the same height as him, his face indeed breathtaking as Beomgyu had thought from seeing afar.

“Welcome to Nuturn,” the man says, pointing the lily in Beomgyu’s direction. A welcome gift, something he never received on any planet on his arrival — something he never gave importance to. Beomgyu is not famous, he doesn’t need a public waiting for him or applauses upon his feet landing on the ground.

He’s still stunned by the man’s looks, but he’s a professional in keeping things lowkey, in masking his true feelings. He glances at the stranger, a polite smile still on his lips, grasping the flower with a delicate touch. He feels the cold on his fingertips, realizing the flower is made of snow, like a large piece had fallen from the sky and morphed into the shape on his grasp.

“Do you offer flowers to all travelers who come here?” Beomgyu asks, placing the flower beside him, still looking at the man.

He stares without any shame — Beomgyu remembers that in some planets staring is rude, but it’s not like he cares about morals and ethics being the person he is. How could he not stare at the man in front of him who looks almost like the offspring of Lucifer himself, a face and body meticulously sculpted by the hands of some deity, a creature some planets would call a miracle and build shrines for him. Slightly thin eyebrows, full lips waiting to pour words over Beomgyu, multicolored eyes that shine in the purpleish lights around them, a mole under his right eye that seems to be begging to be kissed right on the spot. Mesmerizing from head to toe. Beomgyu can’t pinpoint what’s the actual colors in the man’s eyes, but just by staring at it he can’t look away, he’s trapped in a maze.

The man is indeed attractive, the kind that would be in one of the advertising holograms on the streets — the kind Beomgyu wouldn’t hesitate to spend his last qrinqezal for a single night with him.

A smile on the corner of his lips, tainting Beomgyu as the man crouches down to stand closer. “Only for those who watch my eyes.”

Beomgyu chortles. “You’ll need more than a flower to get anything from me, darling.”

“That’s not a simple flower, my dear traveler,” he says, pointing with his head to the lily Beomgyu left on the couch. He glanced at the flower then back at the man, uselessly trying to figure out the colors in his eyes. “They’re Nuturn lilies, the only flowers in the whole universe made of snowflakes.”

“I’ve heard quite a bit about Nuturn’s famous ice flowers,” Beomgyu says, crossing his legs and resting his chin on his hand. “I didn’t know there’s only lilies here.”

“There are a lot more than lilies, actually. If you someday wish to see the flowers, you can look for me.”

“How am I going to look for you if I don’t know your name?”

There’s something going on at the moment, something different in the air between them. Beomgyu can’t tell exactly what, but he feels it on his body. A game has started between them, a game Beomgyu is sure he’s going to be the winner when the end comes — he’s always the winner, his competitiveness wouldn’t settle for less than first. An ice chess, where Beomgyu thinks he has the upper hand, but the man is an unexpected player as it seems.

“Look for Yeonjun, the gardener,” he replies, flashing a bright smile and getting up, walking back to the reception desk without a glance back.

Later, when Beomgyu is lying on his bed staring at the ceiling free of any naked woman holograms, all he can think about is Yeonjun. A delight for the eyes, content for the mind, desire for the body, a new image Beomgyu can’t block or forget that easily. He thinks about how he hasn’t had the chance to say his own name, the chance to talk a little more with the man, the chance to score something more than just a small talk. He rolls over on his stomach, drowning his face in the fluffy pillows as he tries to stifle Yeonjun’s smile from his head before falling asleep.

After three weeks of Yeonjun’s almost frequent visits to the hostel, becoming acquaintances is almost inevitable. Beomgyu doesn’t call it a friendship, they’re not close enough yet, they know nothing about each other to reach this level — and besides, Beomgyu is not here to make friends, to create bonds, to attach to this place. The two spend the few minutes of Yeonjun’s visits sitting on one of the lobby couches, amidst vague conversations and blatant flirts that lead nowhere. It’s not like Beomgyu wants it to lead somewhere, it’s too soon for that, even if his body tells otherwise. Beomgyu strangely likes his presence, it’s the first time he wants to kill time next to a local resident and not roaming around without a destination.

Yeonjun is a little closed to himself at first, but friendly enough; slightly poetic too much for Beomgyu’s taste, everything that comes out of his pretty lips sound like some cheesy novel written years ago — but he won’t lie that his voice makes the words get stuck on Beomgyu’s mind like cherry bubblegum. Beomgyu learns things in their small talks, Yeonjun seems to like talking about bits and pieces of himself, small things that look meaningless. He’s not only a gardener full time, he also works in a flower shop a few blocks from the hostel. His visits to the place are basically to change the flowers displayed in the lobby, which Beomgyu started to pay more attention to after Yeonjun had commented. Indeed, the lobby is always full of flowers of all kinds, some white, some almost transparent, all dipped in the purple colors of the fluorescent lights. Just like Yeonjun, who looks handsome as always sitting on the leather couch, wearing only an open jean vest and laughing at a joke that wasn’t even that funny.

Beomgyu also offered meaningless pieces of himself, it wouldn’t be a fair trade if Yeonjun was the only one sharing. He talked about being a hitchhiker and his rule of never staying more than a year on the same planet, sometimes even less if he had money and a ride available. He tells about his journey in the cargo ship to Nuturn, about how all the locals are great in entering foreigners' minds and spreading the wonders of the planet. Yeonjun laughs, agreeing vehemently.

The conversations are never too deep, always shallow enough for neither of them to know too much; random subjects thrown over on the small area between them on the leather couch in the lobby and the table that usually holds Yeonjun’s sugary drinks. Beomgyu enjoys the gardener’s visits, it’s one of the things he, however much denies it, looks forward to on a weekly basis — the only reason he spends time in this lobby that reeks of alcohol and fake flower scent from the scent they use on the air conditioner. Yeonjun is becoming a routine, and for the first time in years, Beomgyu isn’t bothered by something like this happening.

“Don’t you think a year is too little?” Yeonjun asks, sipping his drink while Beomgyu fiddles with the petals of one of the ice chrysanthemums the man brought with him.

“Too little for what, exactly?” Beomgyu asks absentmindedly.

Yeonjun ponders for a little before saying, “To settle into a place, to be together with someone, to get to know a planet entirely.”

Beomgyu shrugs. “I don’t like feeling trapped. Doing all these things makes me feel trapped.”

“How does staying a little longer make you stuck in one place?”

“Spending too much time makes you take root. It’s hard to cut something by the root.”

“Flowers take root and yet they don’t stay in one place only,” Yeonjun says matter-of-factly.

Beomgyu rolls his eyes, dropping the chrysanthemum on the table. “I’m not a flower.”

Yeonjun smirks. “But you’re as pretty as one. You should spend enough time in one place to find someone who appreciates you. Someone who would change your mind, perhaps.”

“And you think you can be this person you’re talking ‘bout?” Beomgyu licks his lips, throwing a bait that he knows Yeonjun will get into effortlessly.

“Maybe,” Yeonjun says, scratching his chin. “With time.”

Beomgyu bends over the table, his face close to Yeonjun’s. So close he can almost see the real colors of his eyes over the light. The right one is a deep shade of blue, like the oceans he saw on Hithea; when he stares at it for too long, he can almost smell the salt of the ocean, feels the water embracing him, the ocean calling for him, making him dive deeper into this man’s eye. The left one is a soft shade of purple that turns darker under the lobby fluorescent lights, a color that seems to relax him, making him feel like he’s floating in one of the lilac clouds of Bruitune, embracing him in a deep and welcome slumber. Yeonjun’s eyes don’t match at all, each one brings a different sensation inside Beomgyu — he likes it, the fight calmness and restlessness are having inside of him from just one look at those eyes.

“I don’t have all the time in the world, Yeonjun.” He tastes the name on his mouth, savoring the letters slowly, blackberry jam being poured on his tongue.

“But I do.” Yeonjun takes the last sip from his glass. The time is ticking, their time is coming to an end.

“Tell me, do you like challenges?” Beomgyu blinks, changing the subject. The path their conversation was leading doesn’t seem like a safe walk anymore, he doesn’t wanna take risks at the moment — doesn’t want their last minutes to become their last time talking.

Yeonjun raises an eyebrow. “Depends, what type of challenge?”

“I can’t give you time, but I can challenge you to give me five reasons to stay. To take root or whatever bullshit you said before,” he moves his fingers nonchalantly, looking at something beyond Yeonjun, anything but the god-like face in front of him.

“Only five?” Beomgyu nods. Yeonjun has a smile unfurling at the corner of his lips, he’s already tasting victory before even knowing where he’s getting into. “That will be a piece of cake.”

He extends a hand toward Yeonjun, a smug smile on his own lips. “Are you gonna take the challenge then?”

“Of course,” Yeonjun shakes Beomgyu’s hand with overwhelming excitement. “In less than a year, you’ll have changed your mind, Choi Beomgyu.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, my darling,” Beomgyu hums, getting up from the couch, running his hand over Yeonjun’s exposed shoulders. The skin is warm to the touch, soft as feathers, deliciously pleasant, a sensation he can’t get enough yet. Beomgyu’s hand burns when he pulls away, fire licking his palm. “I’m not that easily persuaded.”

He winks in a totally provocative way, something he knows will get under Yeonjun’s skin. Beomgyu isn’t stupid, he knows Yeonjun thinks he’s attractive, that he likes the blatant flirts and shameless touches. Beomgyu walks away, moving calmly in the room’s direction, before hearing whatever Yeonjun’s final remark is. For this round, Beomgyu wants to have the final word, wants to feel like the prize will be his in the end.

His hand still burns, but not in an uncomfortable way; it burns in a way that makes a smile grow on his lips. Perhaps, choosing Nuturn was his best decision in years — it's what he thinks before closing his eyes and letting Yeonjun fill every corner of his mind and dreams.

Sundays are the days when Beomgyu feels most unwilling to leave his hostel room. As much as he has come to the planet to fuel his adventurous spirit, Nuturn is much more complicated to navigate and explore than it seems. There are dead ends on every corner, forests that lead nowhere, fields of ice flowers that act like mazes for the ones who don’t know the paths and ways, oceans with so many scary creatures that Beomgyu knows he’d be devoured before getting anywhere. Nuturn looks like a calm and peaceful planet, a place to go when you want to have restful vacations, but everyone doesn’t even imagine they’re coming to a planet as deadly as Polnerth — the planet full of giant carnivorous lizards that no one dares to land.

As tedious as staying in the hostel is, Beomgyu strangely doesn’t feel bored nowadays. At least three times a week he spends his afternoons chatting with Yeonjun, until the gardener leaves with words full of unnecessary poetics and embellishments — and a different ice flower left for Yeonjun’s only favorite traveler. Sometimes, before closing his eyes to sleep, Beomgyu wishes he had more time with Yeonjun; more time to admire him, more time to listen to the pretty words that come out in his alluring voice tone, more time to imagine scenarios where Yeonjun could be equally attracted to him. It’s a coexistence out of convenience, but Beomgyu really enjoys the gardener’s calm and quiet presence, a soft breeze in the middle of a hurricane.

Yeonjun doesn’t hold Beomgyu back, doesn’t make him feel trapped in the place, in their conversations, in the if’s. At the moment, that’s exactly what Beomgyu needs.

During his afternoons in the lobby, at least the ones without Yeonjun, Beomgyu often chats with the receptionist, a woman with a childish face and eyes as white as the flower fields he can see through his room window; her LED badge flashing a name Beomgyu has never seen before in his life. Ryujin, born in Pugriter but raised in Nuturn after entering a cargo ship and roaming the streets until some natives took her in — Beomgyu would laugh at her story, if he hadn't heard at least half of the absurdities of the universe. Ryujin talks about everything with great excitement, especially about her life and the things she likes, an unusual kindness and oversharing coming from a stranger. Beomgyu doesn’t even notice when he starts spending more time at the reception desk than one of the lobby couches. Most of the time he’s probably bothering her, but she never says anything.

“Isn’t it too early for you to be up on a Sunday?” Ryujin greets, holding a mug with several cat faces printed on it. She rarely greets Beomgyu in a conventional way, something that everyone in Nuturn seems to do.

“It’s past ten,” Beomgyu replies, leaning against the counter. He’s been awake since six in the morning, thinking about everything and nothing at the same time — thinking about Yeonjun, a thing Beomgyu is trying to fool himself into believing is not happening. Some things are better left unsaid anyways.

“Do you happen to see any soul in the lobby besides Changmin over there?” Ryujin holds Beomgyu’s chin with an awkward delicacy, turning his face toward the huge place. There’s really not a single soul except for some waiters cleaning the tables with empty martini glasses and Changmin behind the bar counter.

Beomgyu shrugs. “I don’t like being the same as everyone else.”

“I can see that perfectly well,” she checks him up and down. “You know, I’ve seen all kinds of creatures in this place. And when I say all kinds, I mean all kinds. From ugly aliens to bionic men, half lizards to creatures that can even communicate properly.”

“You talk as if half the employees here aren’t aliens. As if you aren’t an alien.”

“That’s beside the point,” Ryujin snorts. “What I mean is that I’ve never seen anyone like you.”

Beomgyu frowns. “A human?”

“No, it’s not that,” Ryujin laughs, taking a sip of her weird coffee. “Anyway, you wouldn’t understand.”

“If you don’t tell me, I really won’t,” he rolls his eyes, annoyed.

“Did you know there’s a street market downtown every Sunday?” Ryujin changes the topic, her mug still close to her lips.

Beomgyu shakes his head. “I’ve only been here a few weeks. And after almost falling inside a sewer, I decided to not explore around as much as I wanted in the beginning.”

Ryujin frowns. “You don’t strike me as an explorer.”

“It’s because I’m not,” Beomgyu says, looking at the mug. Ryujin has fingernails so long they seem to curl around the mug handle, dangerously close to touching her skin and accidentally cutting herself. “I’m a hitchhiker.”

“And what’s the difference?” She moves the hand that’s holding the mug, almost spilling it on the counter.

“It means I don’t get a dime from the intergalactic folks if I go to a planet and explore everything it has to offer.”

“Being an explorer sounds a lot more interesting than a hitniker,” she tries to say the word, eyebrows frowning while trying to get the correct pronunciation.

“Hitchhiker,” Beomgyu corrects, holding a smile. “It’s not that hard.”

“Whatever,” she gestures with her long fingernails.

“Are you going to talk about the market or do I need to go around looking for it?” Beomgyu says, putting his finger inside the mug to find out what it is. Coffee, but knowing the woman in front of him, there’s probably some alcoholic beverage mixed in the dark liquid.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” She exclaims, waving the mug in the air again, causing a few drops to fall onto the digital counter this time. Ryujin doesn’t seem to give a damn, as long as it’s not damaged and she has to pay for it, it’s not a problem.

“You always do,” Beomgyu mutters. Ryujin is a great company, he can’t complain because she always has topics to talk about and can entertain him, but she usually loses focus too quickly, changing topics without ever finishing what she was talking about before. It’s almost a challenge to keep up with her mind — but it’s okay, Beomgyu has always liked challenges.

She rolls her eyes, feigning annoyance. “Anyway, as I was saying, every Sunday there’s this market downtown. They sell everything, from fruits to objects, decorations and toys, a bait for tourists. There’s also food of all kinds!” Her eyes sparkle as she says it, tongue wetting her lips as if she’s tasting the foods. “It’s one of the most interesting things around here, take my word for granted.”

“Why are you telling me ‘bout this?”

“You keep complaining that the city is too empty during the day,” she says, repeating what Beomgyu says in almost every conversation they had since his arrival. “The Sunday market is full of people, just like the planets you keep talking about like a lovesick traveler. I thought it’d be a good idea to be in a place you know and are used to.”

“I don’t complain about it all the time,” he complains, proving almost immediately that maybe he’s a natural complainer.

Ryujin raises an eyebrow. “You literally said that to me the day before.”

Beomgyu snorts. “Maybe I did complained about it in the first few days, but—”

“You’ve been here almost a month, and you keep complaining about the same thing.”

“Can you let me finish?” He speaks, looking annoyed at the woman. Ryujin shrugs, gesturing for him to continue. “I was saying that even though I’ve complained about it in the past, I’m starting to get used to the quietness here.”

“You’re such a liar,” she laughs, making Beomgyu more annoyed. “You don’t even leave here during daylight, how can you get used to it?”

“Are you spending all day here using me as your personal source of laughter or are you going to tell me where downtown is?” He petulantly takes the woman’s mug, taking a long sip until there’s just a little left inside.

“Hey! Take it easy, it’s not meant for humans!” She takes the mug from Beomgyu’s hand, analyzing how much there’s left. She huffs as she notices that there’s under a half. “If you went out more often, or paid attention to something other than Yeonjun—”

“That’s not true,” he defends himself, feeling the tips of his ears burning from something he doesn’t know the reason for. Is Ryujin’s concoction that strong? He felt nothing as it went down his throat, it felt like just a simple gulp of coffee.

“Are all humans this bad at lying?” Ryujin ponders, looking at the ceiling instead of Beomgyu.

“Ryujin, focus,” Beomgyu snaps his fingers in the woman’s face, capturing her attention. “Tell me where downtown is.”

“You are in downtown, silly human,” she smiles, something that would seem very sweet if not for the pointed teeths and mockery look. “If you decide to go, bring me some Moiacos. I’ll pay you back when my shift is over.”

Beomgyu nods, bidding goodbye to Ryujin while walking away from the counter in small steps, out of the hostel that slowly is filling up with guests in the lobby, a view that is becoming daily for him with time. It’s only when he’s out of the hostel, walking in the bustling streets that he realizes he has no idea what Moiacos are and where to find them.

Five steps through the market makes Beomgyu wonder if he has casually teleported to some other planet without realizing it. The cobblestone streets of Nuturn, which are usually empty at this time, now seem to be filled with more people than the various planet-markets Beomgyu used to visit, more bustling than nighttime, and that means something since Nuturn is a place that works better at night. He’s so confused and surprised at the same time that he stands in the middle of the street, feeling people pushing and bumping into him, hearing complaints about the ‘stupid human in the way’.

Nuturn never ceases to surprise him.

This part of town really resembles a huge market, vendors of all kinds shouting their wares, trying to attract the locals and tourists, charging a higher price for outsiders for obvious reasons. Beomgyu feels a sense of familiarity filling his chest as he walks through the busy street, he had grown up in an environment exactly like this. He almost feels like he’s back in his homeland, a child doing its best to survive in such a dangerous place.

There’s so many things to see that he feels like a tourist traveling to another planet for the first time in his life. Food of all kinds, from familiar to unfamiliar, some with putrid smells and others with scents so sweet Beomgyu is almost drawn to them. Objects of various sizes and purposes, electronic gadgets that anyone can buy and things from ancient times only those with money can have — nothing Beomgyu hasn’t already gotten his hands on while working on city dumps and being a space pirate. Fruits in unusual colors he has never seen before, probably made just to attract impressed buyers. It’s exactly like Ryujin described.

People of all kinds surround Beomgyu as he walks, shoulders bumping without care, bodies too close for comfort. Beomgyu sees children in ragged and dirty clothes trying to steal something out of distracted tourists pockets, women buying food and putting it in huge baskets, men trying to negotiate lower prices with vendors, tourists taking pictures and enjoying their day. The chaotic environment that makes Beomgyu feel safe, home in the middle of an unknown place.

As expected, Nuturn’s famous ice flowers are everywhere the eyes land. It’d be weird if they weren’t there, Beomgyu thinks as he sees lilies made of snowflakes in one of the stalls. There’s at least five different places selling flowers, some like the ones Yeonjun gave him, others he has never seen. His eyes wander over the flowers, but they don’t seem so interesting as when Yeonjun brings them to him, a present he’s not sure why he still receives — but it’s not like he’s complaining, the shine in Yeonjun’s eyes everything he gives one of the flowers is too hypnotizing. Most of the locals are ignoring these stalls, filled only with impressed tourists, coins being given just for one of the flowers. Beomgyu doesn’t judge them, the flowers also impress him when he looks at them later in his room when sleep runs away from him.

And amidst all that Beomgyu's eyes could see, all the colors, the people, the shapes, they focus on the same figure he always sees in his mind, in his dreams.

Yeonjun.

Beomgyu’s feet don’t hesitate for a second, walking toward the man like something is pushing him in the direction, he bumps into people without paying attention or apologizing. Up close, Yeonjun is quietly standing in front of a stall, examining something round in his hand, while chatting absentmindedly with a woman so old her skin looks like a wrinkled cloth. There’s a basket on his arm, the same one he uses to carry the flowers when he goes to the hostel. This time there are no flowers, probably full of things Beomgyu cannot see.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Beomgyu greets, standing next to the man who didn’t seem to notice him yet.

Yeonjun turns around, not surprised at all to see him. “Beomgyu, fancy seeing you here.”

“I’m surprised to find you here.”

“I can say the same.”

Beomgyu snorts. “Doesn’t look like.”

“The market is one of the most visited places by tourists like you,” Yeonjun explains, his attention back on the thing in his hand. “At some point, I’d end up running into you here.”

Beomgyu ignores the tourist part, he doesn’t like being associated with that. He’s not a tourist, some stupid rich who doesn’t respect anyone who doesn’t have more than four zeros after a large number in their bank accounts. Beomgyu hates these types of people, riches in general actually. “What are you doing here? As far as I remember, you’re not new to this planet.”

“The market is the best place to do cheap shopping, but only if you’re a Nuturn resident,” Yeonjun winks, placing a multi-colored fruit that looks hand-painted with watercolor into his old basket, handing some coins to the old woman with a smile and a thank you.

“Are you telling me that you people steal money from tourists so brazenly?” Beomgyu pretends to be shocked.

Yeonjun smirks. “It’s not stealing if we give something in return for the money.”

The two walk side by side down the street, at least in the places where there seems to be room, but they remain close nonetheless. Walking a bit behind, Beomgyu notices that Yeonjun is tall compared to some people next to him, bronze skin and clothes reminiscent of one of the cowboys from a planet Beomgyu visited long ago. Yeonjun is wearing the same vest that haunts Beomgyu’s thoughts almost every single night. Yeonjun walks with confidence, moving through the sea of people without hesitation, knowing exactly where to go, almost like the crowd is opening for him to pass, a god between mortals. Beomgyu follows him blindly.

“I’m starting to doubt the ethics and morals of your people,” Beomgyu says as the two stop at a stall with greenish meats, the putrid smell making him twitch his nose.

Yeonjun raises an eyebrow. “Don’t act like it’s not like this on other planets too.”

“The others don’t admit as blatantly as you did.”

Yeonjun catches the vendor’s eye, pointing at a meat that doesn’t look appetizing at all. “Don’t you like it?” He asks, trying to disguise his laughter at the grimace in Beomgyu’s face.

He plugs his nose when the man hands the meat wrapped in a paper bag to Yeonjun. “I don’t even know what that is.”

“It’s Mesagun oxtail-beef,” Yeonjun says, stuffing the meat inside the basket. “One of the tastiest meats to roast.”

Beomgyu feels like throwing up at the thought of someone eating something that smells and looks so bad. “Are you really going to roast this and eat it?”

“Of course!” Yeonjun starts walking, checking to see if Beomgyu is still following him. “I can leave some for you, if you want. Or you could come to my house and dine with me.”

Beomgyu likes the idea of spending more time with Yeonjun, only the two, exactly like in some dreams he has. But the idea of having to eat this horrible thing just to have Yeonjun’s company isn’t worth it. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m going to decline this time. I still care about my organs.”

Yeonjun laughs, a sound that makes something in Beomgyu’s chest fill with warmth. “You humans are funny.”

“You talk like you’re not one,” Beomgyu bumps into someone’s shoulder, mumbling a sorry to a woman with purple horns. He’s still stunned by Yeonjun’s laugh — wants to hear it again, wants to be the reason the man by his side laughs.

“And I’m not,” Yeonjun replies with a slight frown. “I’m nuturnian.”

“I don’t see any difference between us, except your eye color,” Beomgyu says, staring at Yeonjun. He really seems human, could almost pass as one if he had brown eyes like people say humans look like. Yeonjun could be the most handsome human the whole galaxy has ever seen. From up close, Beomgyu sees only one difference between him and Yeonjun. Yeonjun is painfully hot, the type that would make people fall to their knees to have a chance — right now, Beomgyu is getting close to being one of these hypothetical people he keeps creating when talking about Yeonjun.

“You’re right about the eye color, but the difference isn’t in what you see,” Yeonjun says, a provocative tone in his voice, tempting Beomgyu to know more, to fall for what’s implicit in these words.

Beomgyu feels his ears burning, the redness soon spreading to his cheeks, little by little. “Don’t tell me you have tentacles hidden inside your pants.”

Yeonjun cackles so loudly he draws the attention of the people passing by. As endearing as Yeonjun’s laugh is, Beomgyu still lowers his head and hopes someone from the hostel doesn’t recognize him. He’s never been much of a fan of having all the eyes on him, remnant feelings of being a space pirate, a thief that needed to be invisible to everyone.

“I don’t have tentacles, Beomgyu,” Yeonjun says, reminiscent of a laugh still clinging to his words, a single tear on the corner of his eye.

“How can I guarantee it?”

“Believe me, I’d know if I had. And I’d let you know if I had,” he winks suggestively, making the blush in Beomgyu cheeks become more vivid, red on his skin looking like a brush had painted smoothly. He looks sideways, trying to not think about Yeonjun having tentacles. “Besides, the differences are others, as I said.”

Beomgyu coughs, trying to mask his embarrassment. “Care to explain?”

“My body and face are visually the same as you humans, except for the eye colors, sometimes pointed ears, sharp teeth or skin texture, but we’re still passable as humans,” Yeonjun says, wiggling his eyebrows. “But I’ll tell you more if you want.”

“Enlighten me with the wisdom about the people of Nuturn.”

“Our bodies can handle different climates without anything happening to us, without having to adapt to it. We can absorb languages just from touching a person, we also have an aptitude for technology, he can fix anything electronic that others say are lost cases. Overall, we’re smarter without having to try.”

“Humans are smart too,” Beomgyu defends, feeling slightly offended. Maybe he’s not smart enough to fix something people say is a lost cause, but he’s been doing very well along the years with his minimal acknowledgement in various things.

“Don’t get me wrong, Beomgyu. Your race is quite backward on several points, it’s almost funny how you guys are stuck with technology that Nuturn had years ago,” Yeonjun comments, stopping at another stall.

“I cannot agree or deny, I’ve never met any other human beside myself,” Beomgyu bites his tongue after the words flew, shutting his eyes at the unnecessary personal information he let out.

One of his main rules for traveling is to never share too much personal information, to remain neutral no matter how mesmerizing the person he spends time with are — to never give too much of him to someone he’s not going to see after he leaves, it’s too dangerous to have someone knowing too much about him. Telling people things about himself means slowly taking roots, and that’s what he tries to avoid at all costs.

“I’ve met many, and I can assure you that they’re all inferior,” Yeonjun says, grimacing afterwards. “But not you! You’re different from them! I mean… I don’t know you that well but I challenge you’re not like them. Not at all, pretty sure you’re as smart as a nuturnian.”

Beomgyu holds back a laugh. “I get it, Yeonjun. I’m not offended,” he sighs. “I’m not even sure what I am. I’ve never been to Earth, and I wasn’t raised by humans either. I just…”

Yeonjun is staring at him, his full attention on Beomgyu instead of the yellowish disc in his hand. It smells like caramel, but Beomgyu learned to never trust smells and looks when it comes to galaxy foods, they could be very deceiving. He shakes his head, smiling at Yeonjun and turning his face to the stall that’s selling candies. At least, that’s what he imagines, he can’t recognize nothing but the Royons spikes he used to eat in Cilara when his teeth craved for something sweet.

“Do you happen to know what Moiacos are?” Beomgyu asks, still looking at the variety of candies. They look way more delicious than the putrid meat he saw a few stalls ago, or some of the weird looking foods he saw briefly during their walk. Beomgyu almost feels his mouth water while looking at the candies, his sweet tooth slowly awakening.

Out of the corner of his eye, Beomgyu can see Yeonjun grimacing, scrunching his nose as if he had taken a big gulp of the Grapefruit Snake made at the hostel bar by Changmin’s skilled hands. “Why would you want something like that ?”

Beomgyu shrugs, smiling at the way Yeonjun spoke. “Ryujin asked me to buy some for her.”

Yeonjun doesn’t say nothing more, just points at a box full of fluorescent green jelly candies, the look of disgust in his face makes Beomgyu imagine if the taste is bad at the point of making the man by his side hate it — the same man who bought a horrible meat a few minutes ago. He imagines what this thing is made of, maybe snot? Bath water from household Leaphines? Kuter blood? Beomgyu takes one of the jellies in his hand, analyzing it to see if it’s not acidic enough to dissolve his fingers in seconds. As it seems, the human body wasn’t made for anything in the universe, boo human body! It looks harmless, just a sweet jelly, like the ones Beomgyu used to steal from the market when he was still a child.

He turns to Yeonjun, pointing the candy in his face. “What’s it made of?”

“Moiacos juice, and a few more ingredients to make it taste sweeter since the juice is it’s too sour.”

“And what exactly is a Moiacos?”

“Evusir eggs before they hatch, they’re pure sour liquid before an Evusir can develops inside,” Yeonjun says, turning his gaze away from the green candy betweenBeomgyu’s fingers with a displeased frown.

Beomgyu puts the candy back on the box, together with the other jellies again. “Do I want to know how they turn eggs into this?”

“They take the eggs from underwater nests, boil them until they’re soft enough to eat, mix them with some other ingredients. The planet that produces it came to Nuturn a long time ago for a lecture about the production when they wanted to open a branch here. I didn’t pay attention to a word they said and never saw the whole process. I don’t like Moiacos, they’re too disgusting and stinky for my taste,” Yeonjun twitches his nose, smelling something that Beomgyu’s nose can’t pick up. It smells like nothing to him, another industrial jelly gummy without smell.

“It’s impossible for anything to be stinkier than the meat that’s waiting inside your basket,” Beomgyu mocks, turning to the vendor and asking for a pound of the jellies. Ryujin would owe him seven qriqezals and a long conversation about eating dead Evusirs.

This time it’s Beomgyu who moves away from the stall first, walking a little further ahead. The market seems endless, he feels like he’s inside a wormhole, his feet walking and walking and not moving, staying in the same place, not getting anywhere. Yeonjun is at his side in a few steps, guiding the way once again — even if it looks like they’re walking without a destination, a path that Beomgyu wants to last for a long time. Beomgyu stuffs the small jelly bag into his pants pocket, while Yeonjun has two yellow discs inside his basket that seems to have infinite space.

“What you were talking before, ‘bout not knowing what you are,” Yeonjun begins, cautiously. Beomgyu turns his face in another direction, staring at a couple with gray skin and thorns all over their bodies. “You don’t need to put a label on yourself. You’re just you, you can be a human or a nuturnian, or you can be neither. That doesn’t change who you are. Haven’t you spent all this time being yourself? Isn’t being yourself good? Then keep it up.”

“You really weren’t lying when you said nuturnians are naturally smart,” Beomgyu mumbles, a thought escaping his mouth easily.

“You were doubting our intelligence?” Yeonjun says, sounding genuinely offended.

“No,” Beomgyu replies, gnawing on his lower lip. “But I also don’t know any other nuturnian besides you. I can’t judge a whole by a single person, right?”anyone else around town?”

“How do you not know any other?” Yeonjun slightly widens his eyes. “Haven’t you talked to 

“Look, I tend to avoid making friends during my travels,” Beomgyu explains, before Yeonjun starts thinking he’s an antisocial person who can’t make friends on his own. Beomgyu can’t make friends easily, he just doesn’t want to. It’s easy to leave when there’s no one else in the equation. “Let’s just say you are the first exception, and probably the last,” he whispers the last part, hoping Yeonjun hasn’t heard from all the noises around them.

“Well, nuturnians are all intelligent, my dear Beomgyu,” Yeonjun boasts, pretending not to have heard anything Beomgyu said. “We’re people who not only are good at technology, but at any other fields we deem necessary. You need builders? We have them. You need inventors? We have them. You don’t care about any of this and want to know only about the greatness of the arts? We have poets, painters, sculptors, you name it. There’s always a nuturnian for anything you need.” Yeonjun keeps bragging, with a snub nose that makes a smile grow at the corner of Beomgyu’s lips.

“What if I don’t need any of that?” Beomgyu teases, raising an eyebrow.

“If you care only for a companion and the warmth of a body in your bed, we’re quite well known for our qualities in this field as well.”

Beomgyu chortles. “Oh, I didn’t know you guys prided yourselves on that too.”

“We’re born lovers, Beomgyu. And we’re good at what we do. That is, if you’re willing to pay,” he winks, flashing a teasing smile afterwards.

“Well, how much do you guys usually charge for that?” Beomgyu asks, feigning interest — deep down, he’s genuinely interested. He’s not someone who drowns in denial, if he wants something, he looks for ways to achieve it. He wants Yeonjun, and an opportunity is being offered to him right now, a way to have the body and lips he’s been fantasizing about for a while. Even if it’s for a price, Beomgyu wouldn’t be a fool to let this chance slip, even if it’s for a price.

“It depends on the person you want. It’s not hard to find a lover around town, everyone’s willing to rip money off tourists,” Yeonjun chuckles, bumping his shoulder on Beomgyu’s.

It’s now or never. “And how much do you charge to be my lover?”

Beomgyu keeps walking, not noticing that Yeonjun isn’t following him anymore. He turns around, noticing that Yeonjun has stopped a little behind, almost motionless, multicolor orbs wide-eyed while looking at the silhouette further ahead of a man who just asked him if he’d be his lover; if he’d do things that he does to all the other strangers, but Beomgyu isn’t just a stranger, or is he? Yeonjun can’t tell yet. Beomgyu worries, he had never seen Yeonjun have a reaction like that in all the provocative talks they had in the hostel lobby, all the shameless flirting. Yeonjun looks like an ice sculpture in the middle of the venue, an ornament to be placed among the flowers he loves so much, a tribute to a worshiped god.

Yeonjun takes a while to get back to normal, his eyes blinking rapidly, his stroll so calm that it doesn’t even seem like he was acting all weird a few seconds ago. Beomgyu sighs in relief, he really wouldn’t know what to do if Yeonjun kept acting that way for longer — he could carry Yeonjun on his arms through the entire market if necessary, but he’s not sure if he’d be able to do it without meaning a little too much for comfort. Yeonjun walks over until he approaches Beomgyu, stopping closer than usual for two technically strangers walking through the market together.

“I wouldn’t charge anything, not to you,” he replies, too sincere to be considered a joke, too close for Beomgyu to not see the strange shine in his colorful eyes. Ask me, and I will do it. They keep repeating, a little part of him almost surrendering to the words, almost willing to fall for the shine in those eyes. There’s cotton on Beomgyu’s brain, blackberry jam on his tongue, wildflowers entering his nostrils, Yeonjun’s the only thing his eyes can see.

He swallows, breaking the spell before something more happens. “You know I was joking, right?”

“Of course,” Yeonjun replies, slowly returning to his normal self, all smiles and kindness — or at least that’s what Beomgyu considers as normal coming from the other, they’re still strangers crawling to be acquaintances. “But if you’re ever interested in the offer, I'll be always available for you.”

“Thanks for the heads up, I’ll keep that in mind,” Beomgyu nods, licking his lips that have gone dry with Yeonjun’s sudden approach and the moment that seemed to last an eternity to him. Yeonjun is too dangerous for his own good, the kind of danger that doesn’t know how dangerous they are. The worst kind, the kind that Beomgyu feels compelled to have.

“I’m sorry to say, but our walk has come to an end, my dear,” Yeonjun announces, stopping gracefully.

Finally reaching a destination is enough to get Beomgyu’s heart rate and mind back to normal, however not enough to ensure their time together will last longer like he wants. The hostel entrance next to them has never been more unwelcome, the cement stairs that Beomgyu already knows all too well, waiting to be stepped on and lead him away from Yeonjun. For a few minutes, Beomgyu wished these stairs could disappear.

“It was a… eccentric walk,” Beomgyu says, turning slowly to be face to face with Yeonjun.

“Is that the only compliment my distinguished presence deserves?” Yeonjun sounds crestfallen at Beomgyu’s lack of excitement in talking about the walk.

“Interesting appeals to you more?”

Yeonjun smirks. “Much better.”

Beomgyu rolls his eyes. “See you around, Yeonjun.”

“You talk like we’re not going to see each other again tomorrow,” Yeonjun jokes, licking his lips.

Beomgyu walks to the stairs, one foot stopping at the first step, the other not wanting to make the trek back to the building anytime soon. “Who knows? I might not be here tomorrow afternoon anymore. This might be the last time you’ll see my face.”

“If you were going to leave, you'd let me know beforehand, right?” Yeonjun says, sounding more serious than before.

Beomgyu turns his head in the man’s direction, a slightly worried face welcoming him with a crease in his forehead. Beomgyu feels strange seeing Yeonjun like this, but he can’t tell why. Yeonjun looks way more handsome when he’s smiling, when he’s happy, when he’s telling little pieces about himself to Beomgyu.

“Maybe,” Beomgyu replies, feigning nonchalance, looking up at the sky above them. It’s a deep blue, not the same shade of Yeonjun’s eye, but still nice to look at. It’s a type of blue that brings serenity inside him — such a contrast to the feeling Yeonjun brings inside him, a stormy sea about to swallow him. When he looks down, Yeonjun’s worried expression is gone, a more peaceful smile forming slowly on his pink lips. Beomgyu likes the way he smiles.

Yeonjun fiddles with something inside his basket, pulling an ice tulip from it. A new flower for Beomgyu’s collection that no one, not even Yeonjun, knows about; a collection that only Beomgyu has acknowledged about. The flower is flawless, as if it had just been picked, as if it hadn’t been near the things that Yeonjun shoved inside the basket while shopping today. It looks so delicate in his hand, a piece of ice carved into the shape of a tulip, a present that Beomgyu cherishes.

“I still haven’t forgotten our challenge, and I know you wouldn’t leave without giving your opponent a chance,” Yeonjun says, twirling the flower cautiously between his fingertips. “I was looking for the best time to give you my first reason. I think now is quite appropriate, don’t you think?”

“Tell me what will make me not hop in the first spaceship leaving tomorrow morning,” Beomgyu teases, an overbearing smile on his lips. He won’t get on any ship the next morning, won’t change his mind with whatever Yeonjun is about to say. But he will give Yeonjun his chance to change his mind, only to see him fail miserably.

“Here in Nuturn, there’s a singular beauty that you won’t find on any other planet,” he says while looking at Beomgyu, handing over the ice tulip, a silent plea. The brush of their fingers is short, simple, but Beomgyu has a burning heat in his hand while holding the tulip, the same burn he felt when he touched Yeonjun’s skin. A heat that he fears will melt such a beautiful flower, will melt all the flowers in Nuturn.

The reason isn’t convincing at all. If it was anyone else saying it to him, Beomgyu would laugh in their face and say they’d need more than that, more than a beauty for him to stay forever. but Yeonjun’s the one who said this, Yeonjun who took time for thinking such a weak reason, Yeonjun who put a little effort in something to say that would convince him. Beomgyu twirls the tulip in his fingertips, glancing at the man. In his eyes, there’s a small spark of hope, something that will become a fire at some point if Beomgyu keeps adding fuelwood. A fire that not even the stormy blue and calm purple of Yeonjun’s eyes will be able to contain, to stop, to cease.

Beomgyu hates that spark, hates to be the reason this spark is there in the first place.

“I don’t care about beauties, Yeonjun,” Beomgyu says, waiting for the spark to fade until it disappears. It’s still there, pestering him. “Whether they’re singular or plural, adored or hated, important or insignificant. The galaxy goes far beyond the beauties my eyes can find. My travels go far beyond the search for something like that.”

He turns around, climbing the small staircase steps quietly, looking at the tulip as if it was made of gold. He can feel Yeonjun’s eyes on him, the spark still burning, setting Beomgyu’s body on fire, the heat slowly becoming bearable. As much as it’s bearable, Beomgyu wants to be far away from Nuturn when the fire actually starts, when the flowers start to melt because of this spark. He knows very well that the biggest affected in this won’t be Yeonjun, or any other nuturnian, but only him.

“I’ll make you change your mind. That’s only my first try!” Yeonjun shouts as Beomgyu is about to enter the hostel.

Beomgyu turns to him, flashing a playful smile. “I’ll have fun watching you try.”

“Are we close?” Beomgyu asks for the nth time, walking carefully between large roots that stick out of the earth, ready to be the culprit of his fall.

Yeonjun is walking ahead, he turns his face slightly before answering with a smile. “Almost.”

“You said the same thing minutes ago,” Beomgyu snorts, ignoring Yeonjun’s chuckle. Oh, this nuturnian in front of him is lucky he’s charming and makes Beomgyu feel things; if it were anyone else making him walk this much without telling him where they’re going, Beomgyu would’ve blown up and walked away by now.

He looks up at the azure above, the trees in the forest so tall they almost seem to touch the skies, making him feel small compared to what’s beyond. There’s a reason Beomgyu hasn’t come to explore this place alone before, and it’s precisely because the forest is apparently more dangerous than all the other dangerous things this planet already has. If the forest is really dangerous, he has no idea, since he has heard this gossip from the tourists in the hostel — a large number of them complaining about not finding some native willing to lead a tour. Beomgyu wonders what the hell tourists would do in this forest when they could stroll through the huge fields of ice flowers.

Beomgyu also wonders why Yeonjun has dragged him to such a lugubrious place like this, a place that apparently most of the nuturnians tremble with fear just from hearing the name. What surprises him the most is how easily and willingly he accepted to spend his whole morning walking on freshly wet ground that makes strange noises when he steps on it, dodging branches with long leaves that scrape across his face, not having any sound around them other than his slightly labored breathing.

It was the charming smile and sweet words that convinced him, there’s no other reason or explanation. It’s almost shameful to admit that only a smile and some vague words coming from Yeonjun was able to put Beomgyu in this situation — able to make him stay, to walk without knowing their destination.

“You’re rather impatient, aren’t you?” Yeonjun comments, his head slightly turned back. Beomgyu can see raised eyebrows and a teasing smile on his lips.

He snorts again. “I’m not impatient. I’m just tired of walking around without ever getting anywhere. And I don’t like not knowing where I’m going.”

“Oh, and you’re a complainer too,” Yeonjun says with amusement.

“Is this by any chance a date where you’re going to analyze all my faults?” Beomgyu complains, crossing his arms.

Yeonjun turns around, but keeps walking backwards. Beomgyu feels like warning him to pay attention to where he’s going, but after he kept pointing out Beomgyu’s faults and teasing him, Beomgyu is in the mood for a few laughs at the expense of Yeonjun tripping over one of the large roots and falling on his butt. The basket resting in his arm moves with his steps, the very same basket Yeonjun carries with him every time they cross paths. It’s almost like a part of his body, something that is always with him.

“You think this is a date?” Yeonjun sounds playful, but Beomgyu can see a different gleam in his eyes. Hope, perhaps, that this could possibly be a date if Beomgyu thinks so.

“Well, you asked me to go out with you on your only day off. What else should I think of if?” Beomgyu teases, feigning ignorance.

If one were to analyze the situation from a certain point of view, this would look a lot like a date. A handsome man who seems to hit on you by picking you up in the place you’re staying to take you somewhere only the two of you will be together; and quote, on the only day off this man has on his full-time gardener job. Anyone would think this is a date, Ryujin even said so when Beomgyu went to tell her in the front desk that he was leaving. Besides, since they crossed paths that afternoon at the hostel, they’re always teasing each other, saying things that perhaps aren’t all that platonic friendly. Beomgyu can feel the tension in the air every time he teases Yeonjun, can feel the want inside of him growing stronger; he particularly likes these moments the most, likes this little game of push and pull they have going on. 

It’s a shame that things won’t get anywhere — even if he wants to get somewhere, at least for one night. Beomgyu knows when it’s time to cut ties before they tangle with each other, knows that once these ties get tangled up, it’s impossible to separate them without ruining something in the process.

Yeonjun turns around again, evading Beomgyu’s gaze. There’s faint pink in his cheeks, embarrassment painting its colors on Yeonjun. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.” His voice is so low it sounds like a whisper, carried away by the wind, something only for Beomgyu to hear.

“What if I want to go on a date with you?” Beomgyu says, one eyebrow raised even though Yeonjun can’t see.

He clearly hears the sigh that leaves Yeonjun’s lips. “I won’t believe you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re not the type to go on dates.”

“And how can you be so sure?”

“Dating means being interested in someone, wanting to meet someone fully, taking roots next to this person. And as far as I know, you don’t want any of that. You said it yourself.”

Beomgyu is silent, frowns deep on his face. He didn’t expect Yeonjun to remember this, something so vague he said in one of the several conversations they had along the days he’s been in Nuturn. Beomgyu doesn’t want to take roots, this is exactly why he rarely goes on dates in his travels. His love life is made up of quick, fleeting things, one-night stands, kisses that won’t be missed when he leaves, emotions that are nothing but desire to have a body on his hands, lips to kiss, warmness that disappear in the morning. That’s the way Beomgyu likes things to be, but he can’t shake off the feeling inside his chest when he hears the almost crestfallen tone in Yeonjun’s voice.

The rest of the walk is done in silence, Beomgyu doesn’t risk saying anything else nor does Yeonjun. His head is still pounding with Yeonjun’s words, words that seem to be slowly tattooed on his head. Things should be easy, quick, fleeting between them; flirts that lead to only one place and teasing that don’t last for long. On any other planet, with any other person, Beomgyu would’ve already kissed Yeonjun or taken him to his bed, then they’d never see each other again once morning came. Something about the gardener’s constant presence makes Beomgyu think more than he should — about him, about the things they would do, about what it’d be like to stay, what it’d be like to stay with Yeonjun.

He shakes his head so hard he almost feels dizzy. There’s no reason to think about this kind of thing, how whipped Beomgyu is to change his lifestyle of almost years for someone he barely knows, someone who’s charming and fills him with pretty words. Permanence means a boring life, a stable life in one place without any adventure or new things. Beomgyu isn’t made for this kind of thing. In a few years, Yeonjun will be just another memory he’ll forget with time, another brief flirt that resulted in a brief crush that led to nowhere — it happened before, and Beomgyu survived in perfect conditions.

“We’ve arrived,” Yeonjun says, drawing Beomgyu’s attention. His arms are open toward a wide open space, completely different from the almost claustrophobic path they were walking for endless minutes.

It’s a large clearing, with low greenish grass that looks fluffy, like pillows ready for someone to lie on; surrounded by small colorful flowers, quite different from the famous ice flowers. Beomgyu didn’t even know that any other kind of flower could grow on the crazy weather this planet has. When he looks up, he can see the whole sky, a clear blue with few purple and pink clouds, almost looking like it was painted with watercolor by some famous painter. It makes Beomgyu vaguely remember Yeonjun's eyes, mesmerizing, breathtaking, beautiful. At the end of the clearing, there’s a large stone statue in the shape of a woman, crystal clear water flowing out of her stone eyes into a river that runs between the clearing. The water is so clear that Beomgyu is sure he could perfectly see his hands if he put them under.

This place doesn’t look real, doesn’t feel real. Beomgyu pinches his arm slyly, hoping that this isn’t a simulation or a dream induced by the holographic landscapes that appear on the ceiling of his room. He breathes in relief when he realizes he’s wide awake, that this place really exists. That Beomgyu really is seeing such a wonder like this one.

More beautiful than the whole landscape, is the big smile on Yeonjun’s lips, the type of smile that makes his eyes close. This place seems ideal for him, ideal to find such a beautiful person, it’s like Yeonjun belongs among the flowers and the river, among the beauty and calmness. Beomgyu feels as if he landed on one of the magnificent planets inhabited by creatures he heard about when he was younger, so beautiful they don’t seem real. He wouldn’t be surprised if Yeonjun came from one of those planets.

“This place is…” Beomgyu pauses, searching for the best word — he’s brain is as speechless as his mouth. Magnificent, splendid, exorbitant, utopian, but none of these sound good enough to do justice to what he’s seeing.

“Breathtaking, isn’t it?” Yeonjun whistles, walking into the clearing and signaling for Beomgyu to follow him.

The grass really is as soft as Beomgyu imagined, fluffy when he finally sits on it. It’s been a while since he has sat in grass, has felt earth so close to his skin — even though he’s wearing pants and a long-sleeved shirt. The last planets Beomgyu visited were all industrial, commercial centers, full of technology; he could barely see greenery among the brightly lit streets full of buildings and stores. This clearing is like a breath of fresh air, a thing Beomgyu didn’t realize he missed until he could feel it again, have it again.

He closes his eyes calmly, taking a deep breath of the pure air around him. He can smell everything, from the wet earth to the flowers, he can hear the sound of water lapping against the stone before running quietly into the river. It’s almost deceiving that a place like this is near a busy city, hidden from everyone and known only by a few natives. Beomgyu feels like he’s in a dream, especially when he can feel Yeonjun sitting next to him. Too far away for his liking, he prefers when they’re close in his dreams, so close he almost can breath the woody and wildflower aroma Yeonjun carries with him.

He wouldn’t mind living forever in a dream, a dream similar to this place, a dream with Yeonjun by his side.

“this is one of my favorite places here,” Yeonjun says, his voice so soft that Beomgyu feels like a velvet blanket is being placed on top of his body — warm, comfortable, lulling him to stay in this dream.

Beomgyu opens his eyes, noticing that Yeonjun is taking some things out of his basket. There’s colorful jars with equally colorful fruits that he remembers seeing that day at the market. He doesn’t know any of them, they’re fruits grown only Nuturn fields, fruits that you can’t find in any market on the planet. He feels his mouth salivate with desire to try them, especially the round red fruit that seems to glow in the dim sunlight.

“How did you find this place?” Beomgyu asks, watching Yeonjun take everything out of the basket.

“Unlike most people in town, my family didn’t have much money when I was young,” Yeonjun says, taking a small greenish fruit delicately between his fingers, bringing to his mouth, Beomgyu’s eyes following the movement. “We lived in a small cottage near the forest. I accidentally found this place one afternoon while I was walking aimlessly. There’s not much a poor child can do living near a forest except explore.”

“So you’re the only one who knows this place?”

“No. This is actually a very important place to our people.”

Beomgyu frowns. “How come? I thought most people here were afraid of the forest.”

Yeonjun cackles, almost choking on the small fruit he was chewing. “Who told you that?”

“I heard from some tourists at the hostel,” Beomgyu shrugs. “They wanted to explore the forest, the people said it’s too dangerous to walk around. Some even fled when they talked about the forest.”

“It’s all pretending, they want you to think the forest is dangerous, that they fear it,” Yeonjun explains, his charming smile painted on his lips. “Actually, we just don’t want a bunch of tourists snooping and invading.”

Beomgyu clicks his tongue. “Your people like to toy with tourists, right? First, charging more for products that are cheap for natives, now lying about not showing magnificent places like this.”

“In our defense, this is a sacred place. There’s a reason we don’t bring outsiders here,” Yeonjun says, picking another fruit and putting it in his mouth.

“Sacred?” Beomgyu asks, hugging his knees.

“Yes. Do you see that big statue over there?” He points to the statue of the woman leaking water through her stone eyes. “That’s one of the goddesses some people on our planet still worship.”

“Only some?” Beomgyu frowns. On most of the planets he has visited, those who believe in some deity, believe in it completely and faithfully. It’s not something done by just one person, one portion, it’s done by all.

“New times call for greater skepticism,” Yeonjun shrugs, looking at the statue with nothing on his face, no devotion, no adoration. “Old gods are no longer as worshiped as they once were, some of the younger ones don’t even know who she is, or any other deity that our ancestors worshiped.”

“Do you believe it?”

Yeonjun seems to think for a few seconds. “I have my moments of skepticism too, some things require more explanation than a simple our goddess wanted it this way, and so it will be as she wished. But I grew up worshiping her and other deities, I still can’t let go as easily as others did.”

Beomgyu looks at the statue too, watching the carved features of the woman, he almost feels like he’s looking at the real goddess. Her face is sad, desolate even, the water falling from her eyes seems to add emphasis to the fact that she’s perpetually crying, always sad, always beautiful. Beomgyu wonders what kind of goddess she is — he can only think of her being the Goddess of Tears from what he’s seeing.

“Who is she?” Beomgyu asks, pointing with his chin at the statue.

“Yena, Goddess of Rain.” His voice is calm, a gentle breeze on Beomgyu’s face. Yeonjun is still looking at the statue, eyes lost on something in the stone, remembering a goddess he grew up worshiping — a goddess he prayed to, a goddess that never answered.

“Why is she crying?”

Yeonjun smiles. “That’s the first time anyone asks me this.”

“C’mon, I didn’t grow up knowing Nuturn’s stories,” Beomgyu says with a pout.

“Yena is a goddess who falls in love too easily with other creatures. Even though she’s a rain goddess, when she’s happy and cheerful, it rarely rains on our planet. The only problem is that all the creatures Yena falls in love with eventually leaves her, break her poor heart, she’s always left with shards that cut her hands. Every time her heart is broken, she cries for days, months, even years. In the past, before even our ancestors were born, in a time where only deities used to live here, Nuturn used to be a planet flooded by rains that lasted a hundred years.”

“How did Nuturn become what it is today?” Beomgyu catches himself asking, genuinely interested in the story.

“After one hundred years, Yena fell in love again. No one knows for sure how that person appeared in Nuturn, but there they were. Yena fell in love at first sight, as she always did. the rains stopped for years, the amount of time the person stayed on the planet with her. but eventually, they had to leave for their own reasons, breaking Yena’s heart at the same time. The rains came again, this time stronger and more relentless. The planet that was once slowly recovering, drowning in the tears of the rain goddess once more. It was painful all over again, sad, her heart shards cutting the land and killing the animals. But this time, Olios couldn’t let this happen again, couldn’t see the story repeating once again.”

“Olios?”

“The God of winter, of cold times that help our planet bear the flowers he created. He isn’t as worshiped as Yena, but he’s one of the reasons Nuturn is the planet it is nowadays, not a big lake with incessant rains. He was always in love with the rain goddess, but his cold heart couldn’t understand such feeling, such warmth coming from love. And since he couldn’t understand, he did the only thing he knew, he used his ice powers. Every tear Yena shed, Olios turned into a beautiful ice flower, a flower that would never melt as long as his heart kept beating for the love he had for her. He did this for a year, until he had enough flowers to deliver to Yena, a simple representation of the feelings inside him.”

“What happened?”

“Yena thought the flowers were beautiful, but she couldn’t believe in the love Olios claimed to feel for her. how could someone with a heart of ice, someone perpetually cold, would be able to love? Still, Olios kept making the flowers from the sweet tears that fell from Yena’s sad eyes. He had enough to make a large garden for her, who was eternally amazed by the flowers, but still didn’t believe in the winter god’s love. As time passed, Yena’s tears ceased, but the ice flowers remained intact in the garden Olios made for her in the open fields of Nuturn. They remained as intact as the love Olios carried on his heart. Yet, Yena still didn’t believe that Olios’ heart could beat for her, but she was no longer heartbroken like she was before.”

“Why do I feel like this is a sad story?”

“Because it is,” Yeonjun gives a weak smile. “No matter what Olios did, no matter how many flowers he made, Yena never believed in his love. Then, she fell in love with someone else, someone new on the planet, someone that broke her heart again. A vicious cycle, a cycle that never ends. But she never fell in love with the only one who wouldn’t break her heart, since for her, Olios stone ice heart wouldn’t be capable of feeling such a warm thing like love. Olios didn’t want the planet to be bathed in rains again every time the goddess had her heart broken, so he made flowers with every drop that fell from the sky. That’s why we have big fields with many flowers and not a single heavy rain. Olios remains in love with Yena for the sake of our planet, to protect us from the rains her sadness brings.”

“That was the saddest story I’ve ever heard,” Beomgyu says, sulking.

“Incredibly, that’s the least sad story we have involving our deities,” Yeonjun chuckles, looking back at Beomgyu.

“Why didn’t she give him a chance? Things could be so different for her, for him.”

Yeonjun sighs. “Because some things aren’t meant to happen, Beomgyu. Olios and Yena weren’t meant to be together, they were meant to meet and go their separate ways. Their stories are connected but they don’t need each other to exist, to be who they are.”

“What’s the fun in making flowers for someone who will never look at you? Who will never acknowledge your feelings?” Beomgyu says in an angry tone.

“Because of the flowers he makes, Olios can see other people falling in love and staying together. His heart isn’t broken, he loves the flowers he makes from the tears of the goddess, he loves to see part of his love becoming other’s love.”

“I didn’t think this way,” Beomgyu frowns, all the irritation inside him draining away. “Perhaps, there’s other ways to see this story.”

“You’re not the first one to see it from a bad point of view. I mean, it’s easy to hate Yena for not understanding Olios, for not loving him back. I admit I thought the same way before too,” Yeonjun comments, pulling out a piece of dark blue and turquoise fruit, taking it to his mouth and chewing slowly.

“Where did you learn all this?”

“My parents used to tell me about it since I was little. They were very connected to our religions, faithful devotees to be precise.”

Beomgyu bites his lip. “Oh, that’s cool.”

The only thing Beomgyu learned from his parents was how to survive alone at a young age and be sold to intergalactic pirates. Beomgyu doesn’t have vivid memories of them, only glimpses of places, his mother's voice, his father’s smile; but nothing solid, nothing he can miss or cry about. How could he miss and cry about people he never really knew, people who gave him away like he was nothing? It’s not like Beomgyu wanted to learn things from them or even be with them, after all, what good would his parents do in his life if at the first chance they had, they abandoned him?

Beomgyu has lived all this time perfectly fine without them, he intends to live the rest of his life in the same way.

“You’re not going to eat?” Yeonjun asks, changing the topic.

Beomgyu shakes his head, silently declining. He’s not that hungry like he was before — thinking about his past always makes his appetite disappear, something he pretends doesn't affect him when it’s quite the opposite. Yeonjun picks another greenish fruit, but doesn’t take it to his mouth like he was doing before. His hand leans closer to Beomgyu’s face, a silent plea in his eyes to put the small fruit in the other’s mouth. Beomgyu responds by opening his mouth slightly, letting the fruit touch his lips before he closes it. It’s juicy and sweet, almost melting on his tongue, strangely reminiscent of a fruit he used to eat when he was younger, but he can’t remember the name.

“What’s this?” Beomgyu asks right after swallowing the sweet fruit.

“Moaela,” Yeonjun replies, picking another one and bringing to his mouth, Beomgyu’s eyes following the movement, watching carefully. “They grow in this same forest. When I was younger, I used to eat a lot of them until I had a stomach ache. Sometimes, I still pick them in my backyard.”

Beomgyu bends down to pick another, he doesn’t dare to have Yeonjun’s fingers so close to his lips once again — especially if he wants to keep things the way they are, if he wants to have a little bit of sanity left. “Your backyard? But you said this only grows here in the forest.”

“Yeah, I still live in my parent’s cottage here,” Yeonjun admits, sounding a little shy over saying it. “Well, right now it’s more mine than theirs, but I don’t like to take credits for a thing they built.”

Beomgyu lets the fruit melt slowly on his tongue before chewing it again. “Did something happen for them to not live with you anymore?”

Yeonjun sighs, melancholic. “They left a while ago.”

“They went away and left you behind?” Beomgyu says, indignant, angry slowly coloring his tone. Just the thought of Yeonjun being abandoned by his parents makes his blood boil.

Yeonjun chuckles, nothing more than a breath coming out of his nose. “I’m sure they wouldn’t want to take me underground along with them. At least, not while I still have plenty to live for.”

“Oh. My condolences,” Beomgyu shrinks, biting his tongue and closing his eyes tightly. How could he have made such a big blunder like that? Perhaps his trauma is starting to show too much since he landed on Nuturn. “I’m sorry for acting like that, I thought they—”

“It’s chill,” Yeonjun interrupts, resting his hand on Beomgyu’s knee. A warm touch, a fire slowly devouring the wood on a bonfire. “We don’t treat death as a bad thing here in Nuturn. My parents are no longer among us, obviously, but at this moment they’re swimming in Yena’s river of tears and will be turned into one of the beautiful flowers Olios make. Death is a passage to something more beautiful, more free. There’s no need to apologize, it's a bad omen to mourn for someone dead.”

“That sounds… deep,” Beomgyu mumbles, thinking. He has never heard something like that, never heard no one acting as if death isn’t a bad thing. For Beomgyu, death has always been something negative. Death means loss, loneliness, cut roots that he’ll never be able to grow again. Death is one of the reasons he no longer has a life or permanence.

Yeonjun smiles. “I guess you’ve never heard anything like this, have you?”

“To be honest, no,” Beomgyu says, looking up at the sky. “Death always meant something bad. It’s the end of everything, shouldn't it be seen as a bad thing?”

“It doesn’t have to mean something bad,” Yeonjun pinpoints. “Death doesn’t need to mean loss, it’s just another of life’s passages. We’re born, we grow, we die. From earth we’re born, to earth we shall return.”

“But it’s something bad for me,” Beomgyu mutters, implicitly bringing the topic to an end. He doesn’t want to spend this fine time with Yeonjun talking about death, remembering things he tried so hard to forget.

They spend the entire afternoon in the clearing, eating fruits and talking about the gods worshiped in Nuturn. Beomgyu spends the whole conversation trying to divert him from being the main topic, running away from everything that becomes too personal. Yeonjun tells a little more about his childhood living near the forest, about the things he used to do and like when he was younger, about his parents. Sometime between conversations and memories, Yeonjun puts the almost empty pots away and moves closer to Beomgyu, lying down on the soft grass, eyes closed as he lets the warmth of the sun kiss his exposed skin.

Beomgyu can’t help but stare at the man by his side, lying on the grass with arms stretched out near his head, defined biceps saying hello to him. He hadn’t noticed until that moment that Yeonjun is wearing a short shirt, which pulls up a little when he’s like this, exposed belly clamoring for Beomgyu’s undivided attention — clamoring to be touched, kissed, adored in the way Beomgyu’s been craving for a while. His fingers tingle with the urge to give in to desire, to the clamor coming from Yeonjun’s body, to touch the skin until his fingertips are imprinted there. What Beomgyu does isn’t what he wants, for today, he turns his face in the opposite direction, pretending he wasn’t staring at the expanse of skin as if it were the first time he had ever seen a man’s body.

He doesn’t have time to dwell on how charming and dreamlike Yeonjun looks lying beside him, his attention being taken instantly by a fuzzy creature leaping towards him. It resembles a rabbit, a creature Beomgyu has seen on several planets that were more forest-like, his gray fur looking like forgotten ashes, burnt charcoal. The creature is so small that he’d be able to close the palm of his hand around it, so fragile a strong hold could probably hurt it, orange eyes glaring at Beomgyu before it moves closer, almost at arm's reach. Its leaps distracting enough for him to forget that Yeonjun is next to him.

“Oh, hello little one,” Beomgyu says when the rabbit is close, standing near some yellowish flowers, looking at him as if waiting for something.

Beomgyu leans towards, sitting on his knees in front of it. The rabbit seems smaller, its large eyes still staring at him, patiently waiting, silently challenging — for what, Beomgyu doesn’t know. He hears Yeonjun calling his name, but pays no attention, stretching out his hand cautiously in the direction of the furry little thing. Its fur looks so soft from this close, Beomgyu’s fingers about to touch it to see if it’s as soft as he imagines.

A gasp followed by a startled cry escaped his lips, hand moving away from the fuzzy animal as if it were a monster, as if he had just burned his hand. And as weird as it sounds, that’s exactly what happened, judging by the angry red marks in his fingers.

“What happened?” Yeonjun asks, sounding worried. He’s no longer lazily lying on the grass, his body closer than he should be.

Beomgyu takes a deep breath, shielding his burned hand. “What the hell is that?” He points to the furry creature that is standing in the same spot, watching Beomgyu’s pain. That was the challenge he saw in its eyes before, he should’ve imagined that everything on this planet would be a danger masked with something beautiful.

His fingers that briefly touched the gray fur are burned, like he had stuck his whole hand in boiling water. It’s not that bad, the pain isn’t that bothersome, but the burning sensation makes Beomgyu want to complain until the sensation goes away. Looking at the marks in his fingers, he wonders what the hell is that creature that seems so harmless, helpless, fragile. He doesn’t remember rabbits being able to burn people to the touch.

Yeonjun looks at the small creature, smiling sideways. “Oh, it’s an ash rabbit! There are several of them here around the forest, but no one knows where they came from, how they survive away from volcanoes. They usually don’t come so close to this clearing, this one is probably lost.”

Yeonjun reaches out to the small creature, taking it in his hand and stroking its fur carefully, a tender smile on his lips. There’s no pain in his face, he isn’t acting like his hands are being caught on fire, there’s nothing but the same calm and serenity that Yeonjun always shows in his features. Beomgyu can see the way Yeonjun is beaming, his smile growing when he sits back down next to him, the creature nestled in his hands.

“How come it’s not burning you?” Beomgyu asks, trying to ignore the ache in his own hand.

“Remember when I told you that nuturnian bodies can withstand any kind of climate?” Beomgyu nods, he always remembers every single word Yeonjun says. “It is burning my hand, but my skin doesn’t feel anything. This rabbit is not a climate, obviously, but I don’t feel cold or hot anytime. If there was a blizzard right now, I wouldn’t feel a thing.”

“Your planet doesn’t look tourist friendly at all,” Beomgyu snorts, inspecting his injured hand. His fingers are reddened and it aches just from the wind hitting his open palm, Beomgyu hisses at the brief pain. It’s nothing he can’t fix with an ointment bought on the way to the hostel, but the thought of the blisters that will come after makes him regret touching that damn creature.

“Let me see it,” Yeonjun says, bringing his hands closer to Beomgyu’s, the hesitation is visible before he gives in. Beomgyu doesn’t see the creature around anymore, Yeonjun probably must have sent it away after discovering that Beomgyu’s human skin is so fragile to the point of burning just from touching the ash rabbit.

“I had no idea rabbits could burn people,” Beomgyu blurts out, small talk to hide the whirlwind of thoughts going on in his head at Yeonjun’s gentle touch in his hand. This shouldn’t be a big deal, shouldn’t be the reason for Beomgyu to overthink, but something about the way Yeonjun is delicate while touching his hand even though he’s capable of breaking rocks is intriguing.

The way Yeonjun holds his hand is reminiscent of the way he holds ice flowers. Careful, gentle, confident and hesitant at the same time.

“Rabbits of other species don’t burn to the touch. In the old days, we also thought that ash rabbits didn’t burn. I mean, how would we know it burns if our skin doesn’t feel anything?” Yeonjun jokes, drawing a chuckle from Beomgyu’s lips.

Yeonjun touches his palm even more carefully, examining everything as if he were a professional. Beomgyu feels like laughing, it’s almost like the man in front of him is a handyman, from a gardener to a poet to someone experienced enough with ash rabbit burns to be able to help someone who’s injured. Yeonjun is as surprising as the planet he inhabits. Beomgyu feels more like exploring all the complexity of the nuturnian in front of him than the planet they are on. 

“It’s nothing serious,” Yeonjun says, his lips pursed in a thin line. “The burn will cause blisters, but no major sequelae.”

Even though he said it’s nothing serious, Yeonjun still doesn’t let go of Beomgyu’s hand, holding it in the same careful way. He frowns, watching as Yeonjun carefully turns his hand, slowly tilting his head until his face is close, his lips brushing against the skin. Nothing but a peck, the ghost of a touch, but it burns more than the little creature’s fur on his skin. Beomgyu pulls his hand close to his chest, surprised by the action.

It feels so intimate, something lovers do on a date, a display of affection that’s entwined with real feelings — not the kind of thing they have going on. It’s the type of touch only people in love do, not two barely acquaintances like them. They aren’t lovers, they have nothing going on, Yeonjun shouldn’t be kissing his hand in such an intimate way.

“If it’s nothing serious, why did you want to look?” Beomgyu questions, pressing his hand against his chest harder. It’s tingling, but not because of the burn.

Yeonjun's hands are still on his lap, probably waiting for the moment Beomgyu will let him hold his again. He’s looking at Beomgyu, a mix of confidence and confusion; there’s a flicker in his blue and purple orbs, a provocative smiling tugging in the corner of his lips. His voice is as sweet as the fruits Beomgyu eaten that afternoon when he says, “Would you believe me if I said I just wanted a reason to kiss your hand?”

“You shouldn’t play like this,” Beomgyu says with a roll of his eyes. “It’s a dangerous game, the one you’re getting yourself into.”

“What’s wrong with a simple kiss on the hand?” Yeonjun asks, feigning an innocence that strangely suits him, makes him look like someone you can easily fall in love with — a mask, like that of all the dangerous things on this planet, an illusion to catch you.

“You know very well that it’s too intimate, even for us.”

“I wouldn’t mind if we were even more intimate,” Yeonjun mutters, loud enough for Beomgyu to listen perfectly to his words.

Beomgyu refuses to stay behind in the game of push and pull they’re playing, his competitive side won’t let him lose even if he’s still overwhelmed by the feelings Yeonjun’s actions and words left inside him. “I’m still waiting for your price, lover. ”

He can see the change in Yeonjun’s expression, can see the way the flicker becomes a flame, spreading on his body. A dust of pink on his cheeks, Yeonjun looks like the sky above them, a paint made for Beomgyu’s eyes only. “I already said I won’t charge you.”

“As long as you don’t give me a price, we’ll stay the same way. Good things don’t come from free, Yeonjun,” Beomgyu hums, touching the tip of Yeonjun’s nose with his fingertip, savoring sweet victory when he notices that Yeonjun has no answer on the tip of his tongue like he usually does.

Beomgyu likes to be victorious, loves to savor victory like a champagne served by his competitive side, especially when it comes from this teasing game they have going on.

“Do you think now is a good time for me to give one of my reasons?” Yeonjun comments, looking away, trying uselessly to hide his defeat in this round.

“Right after I’ve taken the words out of your mouth and won another round of this fun game of ours?” Beomgyu winks, a big smug grin on his lips. “I think there’s no better time to see you lose one more time.”

“You’re so competitive,” Yeonjun complains, clicking his tongue. “Can’t wait to win this challenge and make you eat your words.”

“If you win,” Beomgyu teases, wiggling his eyebrows.

Yeonjun approaches Beomgyu, defiance in his eyes. Yeonjun is too close to his face, close enough that Beomgyu can see faint freckles on his cheeks, can see his long eyelashes casting small shadows on his still slight pink cheeks, can see how soft his lips look. Close enough he can almost drown mercilessly on the blue in one eye, while being soothed by the purple in the other. Oh, Beomgyu really wants to continue this whole teasing game if it means having someone as attractive as Yeonjun this close to him — close enough to make him want more, but far enough to not become something risky.

“What makes you think I won’t win?” Yeonjun says, his words almost an exhale in Beomgyu’s face.

“I already told you I’m not someone who’s easily persuaded,” Beomgyu replies, eyes wide open staring directly at Yeonjun’s.

Yeonjun chuckles. “I have my ways.”

“So far, they haven’t worked out as you expected,” Beomgyu scoffs.

Yeonjun turns away, for the sake of both their sanity, for the sake of being able to think without losing his words by the way Beomgyu is looking at him, for the desire to see Beomgyu losing the challenge they have. “I still have four chances left. I’m sure at least one of them will work sometime.”

“Actually, you only have three left. Since this one surely won’t work,” Beomgyu says full of certainty — he knows he won’t surrender so easily to what the other will say, even if they’re words coming out of Yeonjun’s mesmerizing lips.

Yeonjun rolls his eyes, but doesn’t look upset or down by Beomgyu’s denial. He looks past the man in front of him, perhaps looking at the goddess Yena’s statue, her weeping tears flowing into the stream, thinking about her sad story. Beomgyu keeps looking at the man, feeling his hand burning both in his palm and the place where he was kissed.

Yeonjun takes a deep breath, looking up at the colorful sky and closing his eyes. “Here in Nuturn, there are places with a calmness that warms and lightens the heart. This is one of those places, this is one of the reasons I brought you here today.”

Beomgyu looks around them, at the colorful small flowers splashed on earth and the fluffy greenish grass beneath their legs and feet; at the stream that is translucently beautiful, and the stone statues that even though it’s in honor of a sad goddess, still passes a certain calmness to his soul. He looks up at the sky, bluish and purple and pink, one of the seven moons of Nuturn slowly becoming visible in the expanse of colors, a lilac sphere in the painted sky. Beomgyu doesn’t know the name of that moon, but he likes to watch it almost every night, along with the other moons of various colors. This one in particular reminds him of Yeonjun’s eye, maybe that’s why he likes it so much, why he likes to watch this one compared to all the others.

He closes his eyes, feeling the warm wind kissing his cheeks, his nose, blowing tenderly on his hair like a caress. This place really is the first calm Beomgyu has seen and felt in years, it’s lovely the way it warms his heart and makes him feel like he’s floating, like he’s in a dream — the fact that Yeonjun is the one by his side in this place, makes these sensations amplify. But something that Yeonjun doesn’t know about him, is that Beomgyu isn’t a big fan of such calmness, a place that makes room for him to be alone with his thoughts, with his memories, with all the things he stifles to the back of his mind with the noise and movements. Beomgyu prefers the hustle and bustle of cities, planets full of people all around, the busy life that almost doesn’t leave moments to breathe properly.

Beomgyu takes one last deep breath before rising from the grass in a leap, tapping his pants to remove the remnants of grass that had stuck on the fabric. Yeonjun opens his eyes, a confused look in Beomgyu’s standing figure, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. Even in this angle, Yeonjun is still infuriatingly handsome, the type of beauty that one shouldn’t have for free, and this is starting to annoy Beomgyu. How is it possible for someone to be so handsome? A person shouldn’t have this much power only with just one look. But Yeonjun is no ordinary person, he’s a nuturnian. His beauty is something from another planet, literally.

“You know, it’s nice to have a calm and quiet moment, but it’s not really my style,” Beomgyu says while stretching his arms above his head, the false sense of being able to touch the sky. To capture one of Nuturn’s moon and give it to Yeonjun, the one that looks like his eye. “I like movement, the moments that go by so fast that you have to pay extra attention to see them. Calmness isn’t what I need at the moment, isn’t what I’m looking forward to right now.”

Beomgyu reaches out his good hand toward Yeonjun, who’s still sitting on the grass, watching him thoughtful, searching for some loophole that can help him convince this human who’s slowly capturing his full attention and his heart. In Beomgyu’s action there’s a silent request, a request for Yeonjun to abandon the calmness and live from quick and fleeting moments together with him, but this isn’t the gardener’s style of living. Yeonjun is still on the grass, still looking at Beomgyu, he can’t understand the silent request — Beomgyu didn’t expect him to understand, they’re on different spectrums anyways.

Maybe, Beomgyu and Yeonjun are tangent lines, made to meet once and go their separate ways forever.

Beomgyu has to admit that since his arrival, he hasn’t given due credits to one of the most beautiful things in Nuturn, the large gardens filled with ice flowers of all kinds and shapes. The truth is that he hasn’t visited the gardens until that moment, the flowers are beautiful indeed, but they’re not the type of thing that has Beomgyu’s full attention. They never looked that interesting from the view he has from his room in the hostel, and the only reason he’s in the gardens today is per Yeonjun’s request. Beomgyu’s past the denial stage, he knows that he’ll always fulfill Yeonjun’s every request for places to go in Nuturn.

The flowers are everywhere he looks, surrounding him to the point of almost swallowing his figure sitting on this almost imperceptible bench in the middle of one of the huge gardens. They’re so large that Beomgyu can’t even see the end, the horizon is made of more slightly blue-white translucent flowers made of ice. Since Yeonjun told the story of how they were created, it seems to make more sense that the flowers are like this, cold to the touch, perpetually a heap of unrequited feelings.

What surprises him is that, like any other flower, they require care. A care that comes in the shape of Yeonjun’s big hands tending the flowers with the caution that only he has.

Yeonjun is close to where Beomgyu is sitting, taking care of flowers in the shape of bouquets, a bunch of small flowers that look as if they will break if someone as much as breathes nearby. Yeonjun is wearing a blue jumpsuit and nothing else underneath, exposed muscles greeting Beomgyu as always — if he squints his eyes, he can almost see some of the skin in his chest. He still doesn’t understand how Yeonjun can dress like this in the middle of winter, but it’s not like the weather affects him the same way it does to Beomgyu. Yeonjun is concentrated on the task at hand, a crease between his eyebrows, the tip of his tongue peeking between his clenched lips as he fiddles with the flowers. Beomgyu can’t help but stare shamelessly, grateful that he’s too focused on his job to notice.

He uses a shovel to dig in the white earth where the flowers grow, planting little whitish seedlings that will become beautiful flowers in a while. When Beomgyu showed surprise that the flowers didn’t appear ready-made, Yeonjun just laughed and said, “They have to grow from somewhere, don’t they?”. Beomgyu still doesn’t understand how Olios delivered seeds to the natives, or how they’re no longer solely from Yena’s tears, but he also doesn’t want to ask these things and look like a fool. Yeonjun cuts the ones that are already fully blossomed, probably ones that will be delivered to his customers. He vaguely comments that people pay him good money for the flowers, since he’s supposedly the only one on this whole planet who can take care and pluck them without them dying quickly. Some say that he has kind of a gift, that Olios has blessed him to be the only one who can touch the flowers without making them die.

Yeonjun also plucks out dead flowers, creating a small pile near the wheelbarrow he brought with him. Beomgyu had no idea that ice flowers could die, withering to the point they’d turn yellowish, nothing but a ghost of what once was beautiful. Something about the way they appear to be forever because they’re made of ice makes Beomgyu think that everything in this life is always bound to end, a simple end. He stares at them, ignoring the breeze that passes by and makes the flowers around him move, causing his body to shiver when they touch his exposed arms.

“I didn’t know they wilt too,” Beomgyu comments, eyes fixed on the odd yellow hue of the flowers that once were white.

“Even though they’re made of ice, they’re still flowers like any other,” Yeonjun says, a little breathless from all the effort he’s making. His voice is quiet, a melody floating in the breeze; he glances at Beomgyu before dropping another wilted flower on the big pile.

“I thought they’d last longer,” Beomgyu mumbles, thoughtful.

He can hear Yeonjun’s soft laughter. “All things come to an end at some point, Beomgyu.”

“I know that better than anyone, Yeonjun.”

“Things wouldn’t have to come to an end for you if you gave them the chance to last longer,” Yeonjun retorts, turning his attention back to the flowers. “You only know endings because you look for them.”

Beomgyu snickers, trying to mask the fact that Yeonjun’s words may have hit deeper than necessary. “You’ll need more than a talk with analogy to wilted flowers and permanence to make me stay.”

“My philosophical analogies are starting to run out, I’m using them too much with you in every encounter we have,” Yeonjun jokes, rising from where he was crouched, slapping his glove-covered hands together to get rid of the soil.

“You wouldn’t run out if you just gave up all at once,” Beomgyu retorts, crossing his legs as he settles better on the wooden bench.

“And miss the chance to see your losing face every day when you finally stay in Nuturn? Not even if I get paid a thousand qrinqezals,” Yeonjun smirks, taking a large pair of metal scissors from inside the wheelbarrow.

“You’re too optimistic, you’ll be disappointed once I’m gone,” Beomgyu croons, fiddling with a flower that’s near him. Ice roses, the same ones that Yeonjun gave him some time ago — which he still keeps in one of the drawers in his room, with all the other flowers he gave him over the time they meet. He never realized that the ice roses have thorns, sharp shards of ice that Beomgyu can feel the cut on his finger just by looking at it. He wonders if Yeonjun has even been hurt by these thorns before, if the things he loves the most has ever hurted him in some way.

“I don’t understand what’s so great ‘bout traveling around the galaxy all the time,” Yeonjun complains, closing his scissors calmly but certain around the stem of a flower that resembles azaleas. The frost that forms in it looks soft seen from afar, a white, transparent velvet waiting to be touched. “I mean, there are so many things on a planet alone to be explored in just one year, that’s very little time to know everything a place has to offer you.”

“I don’t want to know everything nor see what it has to offer me. I’m not an explorer, Yeonjun.” Beomgyu sighs. Once again the same conversation, the same failed attempt to change his mind. “I don’t need to know everything, I only need to know what interests me.”

In this case, you. Beomgyu leaves this part unsaid, it’s not like Yeonjun needs to know about this strange affection he has developed over the nuturnian.

“But you sound like one, you act like one. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were.”

“You need to be paid by the government to be an explorer, and spend too much time on one planet. It doesn’t seem like a viable option for me, you know?”

“You seem to know a lot about it too,” Yeonjun ponders, glancing at Beomgyu before cutting another azalea.

Beomgyu blinks as he hears the sharp sound of scissors closing, remembering a fragment from his past that seems too blurry. “I wanted to be an explorer when I was younger, it was kind of a big dream.”

“Oh, that’s a cool dream!” Yeonjun says with excitement, eyes filled with curiosity staring at Beomgyu. “It suits you well.”

“It’s nothing but that, a dream,” Beomgyu sighs.

“And why can’t it be anything but a dream?” Yeonjun asks, confused.

Beomgyu looks at the flower in Yeonjun’s hand, wondering if he should tell the truth or not. Yeonjun is someone easy to talk to, someone who doesn’t seem like he’ll judge you even if you were the biggest criminal in the galaxy; something about Yeonjun’s kind and understanding nature, the way his voice always carry that worried tone when speaking, the shine in his eyes, makes Beomgyu feel like telling everything he carries with him. But at the same time, he fears that telling the truth, telling a little bit too much about himself, will make him have more reasons to stay. Beomgyu doesn’t want to stay, doesn’t want to be stuck in one place — even if with every day that passes by that seems to become a lie, a lie he tells his head, but his heart knows where the truth is.

“Someday I’ll tell you,” Beomgyu replies, looking at the flower beside him, cold on his shoulder. “For now, let’s just say that I like being free, to go wherever I want whatever time I want. Being an explorer won’t let me live the way I want to.”

“Why don’t you ever talk about yourself?” Yeonjun asks, his eyes on the scissors in his hand. There’s no bite or bitter in his words, only the same sweetness Beomgyu has grown used to. “I’m not complaining, but every time I ask you something you seem to deflect. And I know it’s not my place nor I want you to force you to talk, but I feel like you don’t want me to know you. At least, no more than the surface.”

If I tell you about myself, it’ll give me a reason to stay. It’ll give your heart a reason to take root around mine, and I don’t want to cut them off and see you get hurt. That’s what he wants to say, but it’s not a viable answer at the moment.

“I don’t like to talk about myself that much,” Beomgyu says, shrugging, trying to sound and look nonchalant.

“Y’know, you think you’re a very secretive person, but your eyes don’t hide anything. They tell me all your mouth doesn’t,” Yeonjun comments, pointing at one of the freshly cut flowers in Beomgyu’s direction. A sweet threat. “I can see you have another motive. I’m not going to press you, it’s not my place to make you talk when you don’t want to.”

“Thanks for not being a snoop,” Beomgyu jokes, but he doesn’t look into Yeonjun’s eyes — he doesn’t believe in this whole eyes telling things, but he doesn’t want to risk either. Yeonjun seems to see too much, understanding every word between the lines of what Beomgyu lets on.

“If you don’t want to tell me about yourself, that’s fine. I won’t force you, as I said, it’s not my place,” Yeonjun sighs. “But can you at least tell me a little more about your travels?”

“Oh, sounds like someone is curious ‘bout the world outside,” Beomgyu teases, wiggling his eyebrows.

Yeonjun rolls his eyes. “I’ve never left Nuturn, and contrary to what you may imagine, I don’t feel like doing so either. But there are so many things outside from here, so much to see and know, I can’t help but be curious about.”

“Well, what do you want to know?”

“Everything! Tell me everything and more!” Yeonjun replies with such excitement, sounding so similar to a child about to hear a magical story. He looks cute like this, the kind of cuteness Beomgyu doesn’t think he has seen anywhere else all these years. There’s no one like Yeonjun anywhere in the universe — only in Nuturn, only one Yeonjun, one man Beomgyu is trying his best to not destroy once he decides to leave.

Beomgyu scratches the back of his neck, slightly shy over Yeonjun’s eagerness in knowing. “If I tell you everything and more, we’ll spend days just talking non-stop.”

“I wouldn’t mind spending days listening to you talk,” Yeonjun whispers, a strange sincerity in his words that makes Beomgyu uneasy. Each day is getting more and more difficult to leave this place without shattering something, without leaving damage behind — without potentially hurting the man in front of him.

“But I would, it’s exhausting for me to talk so much,” Beomgyu feigned annoyance, snorting for emphasis; pretending once again, always pretending for the sake of something he himself doesn’t even know anymore. “Today, I can tell you about some of the planets I’ve visited and enjoyed the most, is that alright with you?”

“How many planets have you visited, Beomgyu?” Yeonjun asks, cutting another flower.

Beomgyu has no idea how to answer that question. Something Beomgyu stopped doing was counting the planets, especially when he sometimes traveled two times in a month. Counting planets makes no difference to him, it doesn’t matter how many he’s been to, it’s not a competition. What matters is the feeling of knowing something new, the fleeting sensation of being able to stay, until it passes and he starts the cycle all over again. Beomgyu’s travels are a never ending cycle, an addiction he knows very well the reason and meaning of. It’s easy to pretend that a nomad life is easier, he was raised only knowing this way of living.

“Several, I believe,” he replies, Yeonjun’s attentive eyes on him. “I’ve been traveling the galaxy since I was four, and I’m twenty-four now. It’s kinda impossible to know for sure how many I have left a little mark of mine on them.”

‘You leave marks on the planets you visit?”

“Before you think it’s something great, they’re all figurative marks,” Beomgyu remarks, resting his chin on his hands. “On my favorites, I always leave something for them to remind that I was there once. Some graffiti, a H carved on a tree, a person who was lucky enough to catch my eye.”

“Looks like you left a lot of marks around, doesn’t it?” Yeonjun jokes, but he isn’t looking at Beomgyu as he did before. If Beomgyu paid a little more attention, he’d see a mix of envy and disappointment on the two-coloured eyes. These feelings don't come over Beomgyu visiting so many planets, leaving his mark on so many places. It comes from the fact that he doesn’t let Yeonjun be one of the people who draws his attention, doesn’t leave a mark on him — hypothetically and literally.

“Not to break the Casanova imagine you must have of me, but only four people, out of all the many planet I’ve visited, have caught my eye,” Beomgyu comments, looking away, memories flooding his mind with sweet words, broken promises, scorching touches, warm kisses, sad tears. “Not enough to make me stay, but enough for me to not forget them with time.”

Beomgyu hasn’t forgotten, he could never forget these four people, no matter how many travels and quick hook-ups. There’s a reason Beomgyu brings them in his heart, letting memories chain him from time to time — he’s a masochist, but even that is not enough to make him come back to any of them. The first time Beomgyu fell in love was with his best friend, inside a big ship full of children being trained to become intergalactic thieves, such a heavy weight being dropped in the back of a small and almost blind boy from Nithea; Kai, who always apologized after stealing something and had a strange pet he trained to steal in his behalf. 

The second time he fell in love, he was fifteen and had long abandoned the intergalactic thieves together with some other boys, stealing wasn’t so funny — and Beomgyu knew no one would give a damn about him if he was ever caught. He found love on a planet so full of people that it was almost as if fate had brought the two together. He found love in the form of a boy with pink skin and two pairs of silver eyes, a voice so sweet singing a song that he didn’t know. Beomgyu was fifteen and spent all the money he stole in Angiea on one of the most famous cafeterias of the planet, only to see Heeseung every single day.

The third time he found love was fast as a spaceship cutting the race track at high speed. Sunwoo was the best pilot that night, everyone told him that once he was behind the wheel, no one could rival him. Beomgyu challenged all his money on that boy, almost all the cash he had stolen blindly challenged on a pilot he didn’t know, in a race so clandestine he was probably throwing it all away. In the end, it was all worth it. Sunwoo won the race as expected, Beomgyu won more money than he had challenge, and later when Sunwoo came to talk to him, sharp teeth and sweet talk, a charmer who was too sentimental, Beomgyu could only think that he had made a good choice in landing in Colnelia.

The last time was accidental. Beomgyu isn’t sure why he decided to land on Muigantu, there’s nothing on that planet but the annual gymnastics olympics and a blue sun that makes his skin itch every time the rays touch it. He sees Taehyun, with his purple skin and tentacles sticking out of his back, stretching out in one of the open squares with enviable flexibility, and all his mind can think is that he’s too beautiful — that he must have him, if only for one night. To his surprise, he had Taehyun for more than one night, but always for the same reasons. Taehyun had a sharp tongue since day one, but he showed his true feelings at times he thought Beomgyu wasn’t looking. Being slapped by a tentacle after saying he was leaving to never return is one of the things he can still feel when he remembers Muigantu.

And once he departs Nuturn, he’ll have a new addition — even if he keeps telling himself that this thing he feels for Yeonjun is nothing but desire. This time is something that happens so naturally that Beomgyu only realizes when things are more serious than he thought they were, his body tells him the truth before his mind does. One moment, Yeonjun is just a native who strangely arouses interest in Beomgyu, the next moment Yeonjun is more than a gardener who invents reasons to keep Beomgyu around. Yeonjun, the planet’s gardener with reddish skin, beautiful smiles and poetic analogies, a man who refuses to become his lover for money and has a gift with ice flowers. Eventually, this will be their fate, Beomgyu has come to terms with this for quite a while now.

There’s only one Yeonjun in the whole galaxy, but Beomgyu won’t stay to make him his. Yeonjun is not his in the first place for him to stay, to indulge in this challenge they have. Yeonjun will never win — in the end, both of them are losers.

Yeonjun clicks his tongue, mockingly. “And here I thought you were a charmer who never falls in love.”

“Everyone falls in love sometime,” Beomgyu says, trying to scare away the feeling in his chest. “Whether it’s with people or with a place.”

“Falling in love with both at the same time gives someone a reason to stay, don’t you think?”

“Just my luck that I’ve never fallen for both at the same time,” Beomgyu winks, cutting Yeonjun off before he can say anything more about staying. There’s already too many thoughts about this topic in his head, he’s not in the mood for another afternoon of Yeonjun and his mind fighting to see who will annoy Beomgyu first.

“Okay, okay. I won’t talk ‘bout staying today,” Yeonjun relents, raising both hands in defeat. “Today, we’re going far away from Nuturn. Tell me about what’s out there, I want to know everything and more.”

Beomgyu tells about some of his favorite planets while Yeonjun takes time to picture everything he’s talking about in his own mind, letting his imagination create images from the words that are spoken. He tells about Testrerilia, the planet that looks like a big clearing filled with fuzzy animals that fortunately don’t burn your hand when you try to pet it — Yeonjun laughs at that, Beomgyu feels the sound warming everything inside him. He tells about Chageria, the barren planet where there’s one of the most dangerous race tracks in the entire galaxy, and what it’s like to see someone almost die during one of the races. He tells about Vebethea, the planet where it happens the annual shower of reddish stars that leaves everyone breathless, and how this is known as the planet of love — Yeonjun laughs again at the prospect of a planet being known for this, since for him, every planet is the planet of love if you find the right person; Beomgyu only rolls his eyes. He tells about Zudreter, the industrial planet full of lights and tall buildings, flying cars passing by your head, people around you all the time.

During the whole time Beomgyu spends talking, Yeonjun listens to everything attentively, bright eyes shining like two stars made only for Beomgyu to see.

The afternoon passes in the blink of an eye amidst Beomgyu’s voice telling about planets in distant galaxies and Yeonjun’s brief animated comments. Beomgyu spends the whole time sitting on the wooden bench, the flowers brushing against his arms, the thought of long forgotten memories gleaming in his mind. Yeonjun keeps working with the flowers, listening attentively to every word that leaves Beomgyu’s mouth, a big smile on his lips while his mind recreates the planets from what he hears. It’s as peaceful as the afternoon they spent on the clearing. Beomgyu feels as if this is another dream, but this time much more realistic. He never thought reminiscing about his travels would be so interesting to someone, he never had a reason to talk about it back in the day.

“There’s so much beyond here,” Yeonjun comments, taking off his white stained gloves and putting them in the pocket of his jumpsuit. By the time he finishes everything, the day is almost over and there are flowers of various kinds in one part of the wheelbarrow, away from the dead ones that Beomgyu has no idea what their fate will be. There’s a smile on Yeonjun’s lips as he looks up at the sky, as pretty as the stars that slowly shine.

“You could see it all with your own eyes if you wanted to,” Beomgyu says, getting up from the bench, stretching until his muscles hurt. He has spent so much time sitting that his whole body is sore.

Yeonjun shakes his head. “I have no desire to see. Just listening is enough for me.”

Beomgyu tsks. “That sounds very boring, and actually sad.”

“Why?”

“Things must be seen to have a greater impact in our lives. That’s why I prefer to see everything with my own eyes. Where’s the fun in knowing things only from another person's eyes?”

“Not everything needs to be seen to have a big impact,” Yeonjun retorts, grabbing the wheelbarrow handle and signaling for Beomgyu to follow him.

Beomgyu walks carefully among the maze of ice flowers, looking at the ground so he doesn’t trip or step on something. “That’s a lie.”

“Tell me, do you see love?” Yeonjun asks, one eyebrow raised in amusement. “Or any other feeling we claim to feel?”

Beomgyu frowns, looking at Yeonjun between the gaps. “What kind of question is that?”

“The type to make you think a little deeper,” Yeonjun smirks. The only thing separating them is a large bed of snapdragons, tall enough that they only see each other’s faces through the gaps from one flower to the next.

“It depends,” Beomgyu replies after some time thinking, there’s thoughtfulness in his voice. He’s not sure what’s the meaning of Yeonjun’s question nor the meaning of his answer. “I mean, I see people in love and small displays of other feelings, but it’s impossible to see it exactly.”

“You’re right,” Yeonjun nods. “Now tell me, does love stop being impactful just because you can’t see it?”

There’s a tiny voice inside Beomgyu’s mind demanding him to jump among the flowers towards Yeonjun and beating him up — it’s probably his anger, from the fact that Yeonjun can get under his skin so easily. Sometimes, he hates that Yeonjun can easily go against him, can easily show him other sides from the same thing Beomgyu sees only one side, can easily change the little things that Beomgyu swore were final in his mind. He hates the idea that maybe Yeonjun is able to win the challenge between them if he keeps messing with Beomgyu’s head.

“You know, I’m starting to think I hate you,” Beomgyu bites, ignoring Yeonjun’s question.

“Why?” Yeonjun feigns confusion. Beomgyu doesn’t even have to look in his face to know — the fact that he already knows Yeonjun’s emotions just from his voice alone means something that he doesn’t want to acknowledge yet.

“Because you make me think too much about things that are definite in my head.”

“You’re lying.”

Beomgyu shrugs. “Maybe, who knows.”

“You actually find it easier to hate me than to admit that I have the possibility of changing your views and thoughts on certain subjects,” Yeonjun retorts, a mocking laugh escaping his lips.

“I really hate you,” Beomgyu snorts.

Yeonjun’s laugh floats through the large gardens, caressing the flowers like a light breeze, touching Beomgyu’s face like sunshine rays, warm and comforting. Beomgyu closes his eyes, thinking about how he can’t see Yeonjun’s laugh but can feel it — Yeonjun’s words ringing in his mind. They walk down the path that leads out of the gardens, in silence; it resembles a big maze made of ice, ready to make him freeze before he finds the exit. The flowers that grow pinch Beomgyu’s warm skin, not an unpleasant sensation, but it makes his skin burn, the flesh tender to the touch. He wonders if Yeonjun can feel anything when the flowers touch his skin, but the question never escapes his mouth. 

When they reach one of the openings leading out of the gardens, the blue sky begins to turn a mix of turquoise and orange, the late afternoon making way for the star-filled evening. Even though he has been in Nuturn for several months now, Beomgyu still can’t get used to the beauty that comes from the planet’s sky. In the mornings, is a light blue that seems fake, pink and purple clouds painting the skies, a few moons still visible — he heard that in summer the sun shines in a light blue shade the same color as the sky, when the heat touches your skin it’s like being wrapped in a soft comforter. In the late afternoon, it turns turquoise with orange clouds, getting darker and darker as night approaches, yellowish stars and the various coloured moons becoming more visible. At night, the sky is a dark purple that almost borders on black, Beomgyu’s favorite time. It’s when he can see the stars that twinkle like fireflies and the seven moons of Nuturn that he still doesn’t know their names, but this seems like a good time to cease his doubts.

“Hey, Yeonjun,” Beomgyu calls out, hurrying to keep up with the man.

“Yeah?”

“What’s the name of the moons in here?”

“Oh, someone seems curious about a planet he doesn’t want to stay on,” Yeonjun teases, raising an eyebrow and bumping his shoulder into Beomgyu’s.

Beomgyu rolls his eyes. “What’s wrong with wanting to know a little more about a place?”

“Nothing,” Yeonjun shrugs, but the teasing smile stays on his lips. “Who knows, maybe the moons will have the power to make you stay for longer.”

“I’ve seen planets with more moons than the ones here, and they weren’t able to make me stay,’ Beomgyu comments, dismissively. “What’s the difference this time?”

“But those planets don’t have moons as beautiful as ours,” Yeonjun boasts, pointing to the sky with one hand, like an artist showing off the masterpiece he’s more proud of.

“Are you going to tell me the names or keep playing the patriot?”

“Sometimes I forget how impatient you are,” Yeonjun clicks his tongue. “First of all, you need to know that our seven moons are tributes to the seven great gods of our culture. You already know two of them, and I—”

“Wait a minute, you guys have more than two gods?” Beomgyu interrupts, surprised. Polytheism is a common thing on some planets, he saw cities that worshiped more gods than he could count with his fingers; but the thing is that most people no longer worship as many gods as they used to in the past.

“We have a lot more than that, but the big seven are the ones our culture considers the most important. I mean, all of them are important in their own way, but we’re more grateful for these seven, they made Nuturn become the place it is today.”

“That’s crazy,” Beomgyu whistles. “Imagine remembering all these names.”

“It’s easy once you grow up learning and listening to that,” Yeonjun says with a shrug. “As I was talking, you already know the history of two of them. Tonight, I won’t get too deep into the other five, but if you’re so curious about our gods, that can be a conversation for another day,” he wiggles his eyebrows, a smug smile on his pretty lips.

“What makes you think I want to spend a whole day hearing about your gods?” Beomgyu says with false mockery.

“Because you’re curious, and dare I say that you like my voice a little more than you should.”

Beomgyu slaps Yeonjun’s arm lightly, the truth almost punching him in the guts. The skin is warm and leaves warmth on the palm of his hands, it’s as if Yeonjun had spent the entire day under the scorching sun. Beomgyu wonders if it’s always like this, if Yeonjun is always warm, a coming-to-life star that leaves trails of heat everywhere. He catches himself thinking about what it’d be like to wrap his arms around Yeonjun’s torso, if the heat will burn him completely until he’s nothing but ashes on Yeonjun’s feet.

Beomgyu shakes his head, trying to push that thought away. “Just tell me the names.”

“Okay, okay, Mr. Impatient,” Yeonjun huffs, pointing to a blue moon fat in the distance — Beomgyu even has to squint his eyes to be able to see it. Light blue just like the sky, a big ball that looks full of water, a small thing that looks like it’ll burst if someone comes too close. “That’s Yena, the third moon, in honor of the goddess of rain, whom you already know.”

“Let me guess, that one over there is in honor of Olios, right?” Beomgyu points to a moon that’s also far away from them, near Yena. Pure white, a snowball placed among the skies, it matches the god of winter perfectly.

“That’s right! It’s our seventh moon,” Yeonjun says excitedly. It’s endearing, the way he gets excited like a little kid over talking about things from his planet. “Now, let’s get to the ones you don’t know about. Can you see the little moon?” He points to a dark blue moon, so dark you can hardly see it, its color blending with the one in the night sky. Beomgyu almost feels like lying and saying he’s seeing it before he can actually see, just so he can hear Yeonjun talking about it. “It’s Thygtune, the second moon, in honor of the Goddess of Truth.”

“Are the seven gods by any chance brothers?” Beomgyu asks, looking at the moons that seem more visible now that he’s really looking at them.

“Only the twins, the rest are just deities that live together in peace on our planet,” Yeonjun explains, pointing to a moon near Thygtune, a little thing in an opaque shade of red. “That’s Tysreus, the fifth moon, after the God of Lies. He’s close to Thygtune not only because they’re twins. They’re two sides of a knife, two sides of a scale, they keep the balance in each other and the world.”

Beomgyu frowns, slightly confused. “Why is he the fifth moon instead of the third, then?”

“Because Thygtune ascended into the heavens first,” Yeonjun says, matter-of-factly. “You see, the sequence of the moons is according to how many times it took the gods to ascend, to become as powerful as they are today. Thygtune made it after two, while Tysreus didn’t make it until his five attempt.”

“What exactly does ascending mean?”

“It means they’ve become important and powerful deities, who protect and assist on our planet.” Yeonjun explains so patiently it makes Beomgyu wonder if he has ever explained this to other people, if telling about his gods is one of his favorite subjects. Before he can think about it further, Yeonjun catches his attention by pointing to a large orange moon, one of the ones that looks closest to the planet. “That’s Ryris, the first moon, in honor of the Goddess of Light.”

Beomgyu whistles. “She must be very powerful to be able to ascend in a single attempt.”

“She really is,” Yeonjun sighs, devotion shining in his eyes. “We regard her as the mother goddess of our planet, we wouldn’t have day and light if it weren’t for her. We would live in complete darkness, she’s a light that lives in everyone’s heart. She’s also the goddess who protects children from evil entities, using a sword of light that cuts evil creatures into several pieces.”

“She sounds badass.”

Yeonjun chuckles. “Never thought I’d see someone call one of our goddesses a badass.”

Beomgyu shrugs, pointing to a medium moon of a greenish hue, side by side with Ryris, so close it almost as if they’re about to hit each other, an explosion of colors that don’t match. It’s one of the moons Beomgyu sees the most along with the lilac one that is his favorite. “What about that one?”

Yeonjun follows Beomgyu’s finger with his gaze in the moon's direction. “Ah, that’s Ezarus, the fourth moon, in honor of the God of Chaos and Vengeance.”

“You have a god of vengeance?”

“We have gods of all kinds, Beomgyu. For everything you wish to leave a prayer or ask for something, we’ll have a deity to listen to you.”

And finally Yeonjun points to the moon that Beomgyu is most curious about; he’s almost restless to know about the only one that matters to him, the only reason for him to listen to Yeonjun talking for minutes about all the other — to hear Yeonjun’s voice for such a long time is also one of the reasons, but he won’t admit it yet. The lilac medium moon that Beomgyu spends nights and more nights watching from his window, thinking about everything and nothing at the same time, feeling his body get filled with an emotion he knows very well but still doesn’t want to acknowledge. The moon he can’t help but compare to one of Yeonjun’s eyes, to think that maybe Nuturn loves this boy so much that it decided that he should be born with a piece of something from the planet in his body. To forever carry a piece of the prettiest moon Beomgyu has ever seen.

“That’s Baella, the sixth moon, in honor of the Goddess of Love.”

Love. That’s the meaning behind the moon that Beomgyu is so amazed by. He wants to laugh all by himself, how ironic is the situation he’s in. He, someone who rarely falls in love, enchanted by a moon that honors a goddess that people send prayers in return for love. He can almost feel the laugh bursting from his throat when he remembers that the same color in this moon is in Yeonjun’s eyes. If Nuturn gave him a piece of a moon that represents love, this means Yeonjun is the embodiment of love. How ironic is life.

“Want to know some interesting trivia?” Yeonjun asks, noticing the man’s sudden silence, the lost gaze in his brown orbs. Beomgyu nods absentmindedly, still internally laughing at the irony of his enchantment over the lilac moon. “Here on our planet, when we want to show our love for someone, we give them a necklace with a Charoite stone, the representative stone of the Goddess Baella. When we give this necklace to someone there are no other words needed, no need to say I love you.”

“I didn’t take you nuturnians for the cliché type,” Beomgyu scoffs affectionately.

Yeonjun huffs. “You think it’s cliché, I think it’s very romantic.”

“Have you ever received a necklace like that?” Beomgyu asks, curious — deep down hoping that Yeonjun has never received one, even if the thought is selfish; after all, Beomgyu isn’t staying, there’s no reason to act as if Yeonjun is solely his.

“A Charoite necklace isn’t something you give to just anyone,” Yeonjun says, his voice serious, his stare fixed on Beomgyu’s face. “You have to be genuinely in love with the person. We take this very seriously, it’s an important ritual for us, it’s something beyond feeling attracted to someone. You don’t give such a thing to a silly crush.”

“So, you’ve never received one, right?” Beomgyu mocks, one eyebrow raised.

Yeonjun sighs, looking away. “I’ve never fallen equally in love with someone to the point of giving a necklace like that, or receiving one.”

“You’ve never fallen in love?” Beomgyu asks, surprised. From the way Yeonjun is a hopeless romantic, from the way he talks and goads about romantic stuff in general, Beomgyu would expect him to have fallen in love far too many times in his life to have this much experience — to talk as if love is a blessing instead of a curse.

“Not yet,” Yeonjun smiles slightly. “There’s still time. I’m not in a hurry.”

Beomgyu’s curiosity is a box that has been opened, and now he can’t close it until he has everything he needs to know. He’ll blame his curiosity for the question that leaves his lips right after Yeonjun’s answer. “So, what would you do if you ever received one?”

“Probably wouldn’t accept,” Yeonjun replies, not a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

“Why?”

“Because I want to be the one to give it to someone,” Yeonjun says, gnawing on his bottom lip. “My father gave one to my mother, I want to show someone how much I love them.”

They stop in front of the small hut that Yeonjun uses to store his tools and prepare the flowers before delivering them to his personal customers. He doesn’t work exclusively for the flower shop, as Beomgyu had thought before the man let this information slip. Yeonjun has loyal customers on the side, privileges of being someone with blessed hands and the royal gardener. Yeonjun leaves the wheelbarrow near the door, carrying the good flowers to a table and dumping the wilted ones on a table near the tools hanging on the wall. Beomgyu waits for him outside the hut, leaning against the door, watching the man move around the place with ease, the words from before still lingering inside his mind.

Everything Yeonjun does or says lingers more than necessary in his mind. Beomgyu’s sure he’ll go crazy until his last day in Nuturn.

“The day is ending,” Beomgyu comments, crossing his arms. “It’d match the romantic vibes if you gave the third reason now.”

“Do you wait for the moment I’m going to give you one of the reasons in every meet we have?” Yeonjun turns around with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s one of my entertainments in his place,” Beomgyu shrugs, looking at his dirt-soiled shoes. “It’s funny to watch you try.”

“If I say one of the reasons now, will you give up?”

“Never,” Beomgyu laughs. “But you can try.”

Yeonjun chuckles, shaking his head before turning his attention back to the table filled with flowers. He takes a pair of pliers that were already on the table in one hand and one of the azaleas in the other. He cuts the small thorns off with an ease and agility that only someone who has been doing this for a long time would have. Beomgyu can’t stop being impressed with Yeonjun’s dexterity when it comes to caring for these flowers, can’t stop being amazed by the way his hands hold the flowers with care and confidence.

He walks over to where Beomgyu is, handing the flower to the man before returning to the table. Yeonjun walks away with decisive steps, with the grace that only he has, a dance that only he knows how to do. Beomgyu holds the azalea with the same care as all the other flowers he received before, his finger brushing against the petals. It’s not soft, but isn't as hard as ice either. It’s interesting to him how even though they’re made of ice, they’re not hard, some are soft like cotton; a sensation Beomgyu can’t describe or put into words.

“I disagree with you,” Yeonjun finally says, cutting the thorns off the other azaleas.

Beomgyu frowns. “About what?”

“I don’t think this is the best time,” he looks briefly at Beomgyu, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “But I also see no reason not to tell you.”

“Then tell me.”

“Here in Nuturn, there’s an atmosphere of purity and magic that makes dreams bloom. If you believe, dreams can even stop being just dreams.”

Beomgyu stares at the flower in his hand, turning it from side to side, a weather vane that only shows white. Dreams are dreams precisely because they never come true, and it’s funny that Yeonjun doesn’t think that away. Beomgyu catches himself smiling at the thought that Yeonjun really is like no one he has ever met in his life, from his words to his ideals, from his voice to his face, from the feelings he arouses in Beomgyu to the way he makes his dwelling in Beomgyu’s head and heart. He stops turning the flower, raising his head to look at Yeonjun, who’s almost finished with all his tasks for the day. It’s surprising how he managed to do this in a matter of seconds — or maybe, Beomgyu spent minutes stuck in his own mind without noticing his surroundings.

“Dreams don’t bloom like flowers, Yeonjun,” Beomgyu finally says, smirking to himself. “But it was a good try, I must admit.”

Yeonjun groans, running a hand through his jet black hair. “Man, you really are a difficult one.”

Beomgyu lets out a laugh before stepping away from the door and walking away from the hut with Yeonjun by his side. He still holds the azalea gently in his hand, with a little more force than usual, almost like the flower could disappear if he didn’t hold it strongly. If this flower is a dream, Beomgyu will make a point of keeping it from wilting like the others — even it it’s inevitable, even if it’s future is to become like all the other yellowish flowers in Beomgyu’s drawer and on the table inside Yeonjun’s hut.

It’s a reminder that these moments with Yeonjun will come to an end too, will wither away and become just a beautiful memory in Beomgyu’s mind. He can’t expect things to last forever, everything is bound to have an end, sooner or later.

The arrival of spring brings a warmer air full of the stagnant scent of flowers that would make Beomgyu wrinkle his nose if he weren’t slowly getting used to it; it brings longer days and shorter nights. Even though it’s past eight o’clock at night, the sky is still blending to become dark, a paint palette after a painter has finished his artwork, full of colors and blends. Spring is beautiful, Beomgyu can’t help thinking that maybe staying a little longer on Nuturn wasn’t such a bad idea — he still refuses to admit that he’s still on the planet because of Yeonjun; Beomgyu is a born denier, he’ll never change.

Spring brings the festival that makes the whole city lively, full of people in the streets even during daylight, conversations and smiles all around, a joy that only the end of winter can bring. The festival is different from what Beomgyu had imagined when Ryujin, just before night painted the skies in dark colors, said nonchalantly that it’s just a small party downtown. From her words alone, Beomgyu should’ve been a little more suspicious instead of just shrugging it off — Ryujin has the habit of making big things seem small, important things become insignificant, a natural talent for fooling people. One thing Beomgyu has come to learn after months on this planet, is that nothing in Nuturn is small; be it the endless fields of ice flowers to the markets every Sunday to festivals celebrating a new season.

That brings him to the moment in question, Beomgyu standing next to a stall selling very exotic drinks, surprised to the core and a little overwhelmed by all the information overloaded around him. The streets are crowded with people, the number almost tripled compared to what Beomgyu has come to see even at night time; he has a deja-vu, almost feels like he’s back on one of the famous planets in the Sangaphus galaxy, breathing polluted air and looking carefully not to be robbed. There are people dancing, singing, talking, kissing and drinking large amounts of something that surely is very alcoholic.

The night is warm, the wind that hits skin feels like a light hug, the promise of a good season. When Beomgyu looks at the sky, the stars have disappeared, replaced by medium-sized lanterns with flowers of all kinds and colors drawn on them; multi-coloured stars that no planet has ever seen, everything is unique in Nuturn. Beomgyu squints to see if they’re holograms, but the coloured lights coming out of the lanterns seem too real to be only technology. There’s music playing, coming directly from the sky, but he can’t tell where it’s coming from exactly — probably from drones flying above the buildings, dark shadows no one is paying attention to.

As you might expect from a festival in celebration for the coming of spring, there are ice flowers everywhere the eyes can see. But, unlike the white and translucent things Beomgyu is used to, these are full of colors. Still the famous ice flowers that everyone in the galaxy wants a chance to see, but there are colorful brush strokes on the petals, like someone had carefully painted each one at a time. He sees flowers adorning lampposts, strung on strings that run the length of the big streets, braided in the hair of some locals, being carried in the hands of tourists. They are everywhere Beomgyu looks, it’s almost like being in the field again with Yeonjun in front of him as he tells stories about his past travels. There’s a warm feeling in his chest when he remembers that afternoon — as well as all the times he spends with a certain gardener.

“You’re going to stand here all night?” Ryujin goads, drawing Beomgyu’s attention.

Tonight, Ryujin isn’t the hostel receptionist nor is she in her usual yellowish uniform that looks dirty with the electronic badge shining her name on it. Tonight, she’s just another local celebrating the new season, helping some friends at this stall selling drinks — Beomgyu waves to Bang Chan when he notices one of the hostel bartenders shaking a blood-red drink. Ryujin is wearing a tight black dress, her hair loose framing her face and neck merging with full of small ice flowers dyed red; her cheeks are a little flushed which means that she probably has alcohol in her system. She’s naturally beautiful, this evening is just another enhancement, another chance for everyone to get a glimpse of her beautyness. If Beomgyu wasn’t too busy thinking about a certain Nuturnian, he’d risk getting dumped by the woman in front of him.

“Do you gain something by picking on everything I do?” Beomgyu retorts, snorting.

“No, but it’s funny to see a small human angry,” Ryujin gives a smile so big it makes her eyes almost close, small crescent moons on her pretty face.

“I’m taller than you.” Beomgyu crosses his arms, arranging his posture to show the height difference between them.

“Semantics,” Ryujin says.

“Do you even know what semantics mean?”

“Not at all,” she says before turning with a smile to meet a tall native with large muscles wearing only a vest. Apparently, it’s normal on Nuturn to wear as little clothing as possible, especially in spring — even in winter, Beomgyu remembers how Yeonjun always wore only a few pieces, so much skin showing that his hands itched to touch.

Beomgyu sighs, resting his hands on the tent’s counter as the woman begins to pour three different colored drinks into a single glass. The final color is a mix between green and brown that looks too disgusting, like someone had vomited into the glass and poured it for the muscular man, his face doesn’t look disgusted when she hands the drink to him. Nuturnians are weird. Ryujin walks back to where Beomgyu is after the man leaves with his drink in hand.

“You’ll at least have something, right?” She asks, pushing a lock of her long hair behind her ear. Sometimes, Beomgyu has to remind himself that Ryujin isn’t a human like him, but it’s difficult when she looks so much like one — if you don’t notice the tiny light blue scales all over the exposed parts of her body, which you can only see if you stare closely enough with good lighting. And of course, her large fingernails that seem to curl up like springs that don’t hinder her at all.

Beomgyu looks at a yellowish flower hanging above her head. “I don’t think so.”

Ryujin scoffs. “Today’s one day when everyone can drink until they fall on the streets without giving a damn, and you’re going to stay sober?”

Beomgyu raises an eyebrow. “Are you by any chance trying to persuade me to drink until I pass out?”

“Is it working?” Ryujin says sheepishly.

“Not at all,” Beomgyu chuckles lightly.

“Man, I should’ve listened to Yeonjun when he said you’re stubborn as a mule,” Ryujin complains defeated, bending down to pick something. She stands again holding a glass of the same disgustingly looking drink she made for the man not long ago. She takes a sip and grimaces afterwards, Beomgyu can’t hide the disgusted grimace on his face at the thought of how bad this thing must taste.

He looks away from the drink in the woman’s hand, his curiosity peeking. “Yeonjun told you that?”

The thing is, as far as Beomgyu knows that Yeonjun has other friends and acquaintances and talks to them, he can’t imagine Yeonjun casually talking about him like he’s the most interesting subject that the gardener has found in years. Beomgyu can’t picture the things Yeonjun talks about him, and as much as his mind wants to wander through the possibilities of Yeonjun talking fondly about him to his friends, this is not a path he wants to explore too far. Things are already too risky to Beomgyu, he doesn’t want more things to bite his brain before he lays his bed to sleep.

Ryujin rests her face in her hands, fingernails brushing against her cheek, but she doesn’t seem to care. A teasing smile forming on her pretty lips, Beomgyu knows what is about to come. “Why do you want to know?”

“Well, if there’s someone talking about me behind my back, I have the right to know, don’t I?” Beomgyu mumbles, scratching his arms like a bug had bitten him.

“Calm down, loverboy,” she giggles. “He’s not saying anything bad ‘bout you, relax. He just commented vaguely about a challenge you guys have going on and how hard it’s to convince you.”

Beomgyu won’t lie, he feels a little crestfallen at the answer. It’s not like he was expecting Yeonjun to go around confessing his undying love for him or anything like that, but at least something more than just commenting about the challenge — Beomgyu doesn’t want Yeonjun to think about him only because of their little challenge. For some reason, not unknown since Beomgyu is clearly well acquainted with the things his subconscious wants, he’s been thinking about Yeonjun a little more than he should. Deep down, he knew from the moment he first saw Yeonjun that he’d eventually fall in love with him. It’s not just because of his exuberant beauty of the teasing that surrounds their unusual friendship. 

Beomgyu knew he’d fall in love with him because Yeonjun was the first one to try to convince him to stay before he even met him properly — and that’s something no one has ever done before. It’s a shame that the year is already coming to an end for him, and nothing will happen between them. Beomgyu won’t stay, won’t change his mind, and Yeonjun will only have his heart broken at the end.

“What are you drinking?” Beomgyu points to the glass with the disgusting colored liquid nursed in Ryujin’s hands.

“This, my little human who’s not so little,” she says, lifting the glass towards Beomgyu’s face, “is a Tonic Bull. The only drink in the whole galaxy capable of making a Nuturnian so drunk they’ll fall to the ground in a blink of an eye.”

Beomgyu looks sideways to the glass, his nose twitching. “It doesn’t look very tasty, y’know?”

“It looks ugly and disgusting, and I won’t lie, it’s the bitterest thing I ever drank in my life,” Ryujin says, swishing the liquid inside the glass, taking it in Beomgyu’s direction as an offering.

“Don’t you have anything more… appetizing?” Beomgyu says, shaking his head, pushing it back to the woman and taking care not to touch her long, sharp nails. “Or at least something that doesn’t look like it was vomited by someone.”

Ryujin shrugs. “Tonight we’re selling only Tonic Bull, sorry pal.”

Beomgyu would easily believe in her lie as he always does, if he wasn’t watching Bang Chan hand a pink and green drink at this very moment to two tourists with tentacles as arms, yellow and sticky, grins full of sharp teeth in the direction of the bartender.

“And what’s that over there?” He points to the drink that has been handed over.

Ryujin doesn’t even turn to look at where Beomgyu’s pointing, an embarrassed smile on her lips at being caught so easily. “That’s today’s rule, I swear.”

“Rule?”

“We should be selling only Tonic Bull because it’s expensive, especially for tourists since they’re here to spend all their money. But it looks like someone is trying to get something from outsiders,” she raises her voice, the last words directed at Bang Chan, who gives an embarrassed smile and turns to attend to a scrawny boy who doesn’t look old enough to be drinking alcoholic beverages.

“You guys have a very cruel policy of treating tourists, you know.”

“Is it cruel to extort money from those who have more than needed?” Ryujin says. Beomgyu can’t deny that she has a point, that all the nuturnians have a point. But he’s not a rich guy like most of the people staying here — he’s not even sure if his money will last for more than a month.

“No, but I don’t have that much money like you think I have,” Beomgyu deadpans, rubbing his neck.

Ryujin is about to make a meany retort like it’s naturally expected from here, when she’s interrupted by someone tall and muscular approaching the tent, confident steps that Beomgyu would recognize if he wasn’t looking away. Ryujin moves away to meet the man, signaling to Beomgyu that she’ll be back. While looking at the glass she left on the counter, Beomgyu almost accepted a damn Tonic Bull just to have something to drink and a reason to keep standing at the drink stall without looking like a loser who has nowhere to go.

The night is kind of different from what Beomgyu imagined it’ll be — in the sense that it’s boring. It’s a festival, a party, he should be having fun; but why does he feel like something is missing?

“Ryujin! I didn’t know you’ll be working for Yunho this year,” the man says. Beomgyu turns his neck almost automatically in the direction of the voice. He’d recognize this slightly husky tone even if fifty people were shouting at the same time nearby — which isn’t much different from what is happening right now.

Yeonjun is, as always, wearing only a vest like the muscled man from before; a vest that strangely looks like the one he wore on their first encounter in the hostel lobby months ago. There’s something shining on his toned and defined chest, Beomgyu keeps staring at it, trying to figure out what it is — he’s not checking out Yeonjun, definitely not checking the man out. It shines like stardust, little sparks of gold, silver and multi colors at the same time; it looks like the same kind of dust that is shining on Ryujin’s cheeks and on the faces and bodies of some natives Beomgyu saw passing by. Maybe it’s part of the celebration, a tribute to spring. There are blue flowers in Yeonjun’s hair, hidden among the dark strands, inviting Beomgyu to touch them, to gently card his fingers through Yeonjun’s hair.

Beomgyu didn’t think Yeonjun could look even more beautiful, so beautiful that he’s probably gonna spend nights after this thinking solely of this image Yeonjun is giving to him. The most beautiful boy, in the palm of his hands, blossoms in his hands like one of the ice flowers — but Yeonjun is so warm, the one who’s probably going to melt is Beomgyu. His mind fills him with scenarios that make him want to approach the man close to him and finally kiss him, finally make all these daydreams become reality. To finally know if Yeonjun is as sweet as Beomgyu thinks he is.

“It’s always good to guarantee an extra buck,” Ryujin deadpans. ‘He told me I’m quite persuasive when I want. And I can drink for free all night.”

“If I had known, I would’ve volunteered this year too,” Yeonjun says gloomily.

Ryujin shrugs with a mocking smile on her face. “What is it going to be for tonight?”

“Two Fantasy Velvet, three Jasmine Dutchess and a Cranberry Scream,” Yeonjun recites the order as if he had memorized everything in the first listen.

“Wow,” Ryujin whistles, turning to ask for Taeyong’s help, who begins to gather the drinks and stir them. “You’re very inspired tonight, aren’t you?”

Yeonjun laughs. The sound clings to the walls of Beomgyu’s ears, echoing incessantly — a sound impossible not to notice, not wanting to laugh along with, not wanting to hear one more time, not wanting to be the reason for such laughter.

“They’re not for me this time, and I’d sure challenge on a Tonic Bull instead of all these drinks if I wanted to look like Yeonjun over there,” he points with his head in the direction of the crowd, but Beomgyu doesn’t know who he’s talking about; and if he’s being very sincere, he doesn’t care about anyone tonight except Yeonjun looking like the personification of desire.

“I knew you’d choose good ol’ Tonic Bull,” Ryujin smiles victoriously, turning to Beomgyu and showing him her tongue. “Unlike the little human who prefers something more appetizing.”

“Little human?” Yeonjun frowns, turning his head in the direction Ryujin is looking.

A big smile breaks out on his lips the moment his eyes land on Beomgyu, who’s just standing there, leaning against the stall and motionless like a statue — something about the way Yeonjun is looking at him makes all his joints and muscles stay still, turn into ice, immovable. Beomgyu feels naked, the nuturnian’s gaze tearing away all the layers on his body until only the raw and ugly remains are left. He moves, staggering the discomfort of Yeonjun’s gaze, smiling sideways at the man. Beomgyu doesn’t realize that the warm feeling returns to his chest just by seeing Yeonjun; nor was he expecting a chance to run into the gardener in the middle of this huge celebration.

What were the chances of them meeting accidentally in the middle of a festival full of people? Fate is probably controlling little strings that make Yeonjun and Beomgyu meet so frequently, even when they don’t want to — which is a lie, they always look forward to the moment when they will meet, at least Beomgyu catches himself acting this way.

“Hey Yeonjun,” Beomgyu greets, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Little human?” Yeonjun says with a smirk.

“I don’t know where she got that from, I’m more than ten centimeters taller than her,” Beomgyu rolls his eyes.

“I didn’t think I’d run into you here,” Yeonjun changes the topic, not once taking his eyes away from Beomgyu’s standing figure, almost like he’s mesmerized, trapped by invisible claws.

“And miss a big party like this? I’m not sure if you know, but I’m the biggest partygoer in the whole galaxy,” Beomgyu jokes. It’s not technically a lie, he really is a party person when it’s needed, he just doesn’t attend that many parties for reasons that Yeonjun doesn’t need to know.

“It really would be a shame if you missed it,” Yeonjun comments, getting closer to where Beomgyu is, his moves so smooth that he’s close in a blink of an eye. “It’s one of the best celebrations we have in Nuturn.”

“Don’t forget Ityx Day,” Ryujin says. Beomgyu doesn’t notice that she’s still around, looking at them as she shakes one of the drinks that Yeonjun ordered — maybe it’s a problem that he forgets everything in his surroundings when Yeonjun is so close. Ryujin bends down to pick a cardboard form and some empty plastic glasses, placing them in the form one next to the other, pouring the drink she was stirring.

“Ityx?” Beomgyu asks, watching the lilac drink being poured on the glass. The color is eye-catching, reminiscent of the Baella moon that is nowhere in sight in the sky — but it’s not a problem, he can see the same reminiscent color in Yeonjun’s eye, right in front of him.

“The God of Parties,” Yeonjun replies.

“If you think you’re going to find people passing out from drinking too much, it doesn’t compare one bit to Ityx day,” Ryujin wiggles her eyebrows.

“We went a little overboard last year,” Yeonjun says, scratching his neck, sounding slightly embarrassed.

“A little?” Ryujin scoffs. “Last year they had to carry your ass back home inside a wheelbarrow. They saw you almost kissing Yerim’s old aunt.”

Beomgyu cackles, trying to imagine the scene of a drunk Yeonjun being taken away in a wheelbarrow, it’s such a funny thought that he laughs loudly. Ryujin moves away from them with the cardboard form, taking it to the side where Bang Chan is standing, another colorful drink ready to be poured in the empty glasses. Yeonjun’s cheeks are a little reddened, whether it’s from drinking or being embarrassed, Beomgyu can’t tell. What he can tell is that Yeonjun looks absurdly handsome, the kind of beauty you get from birth, the kind of beauty that gods would get jealous of, the kind of beauty that Beomgyu won’t find anywhere in the galaxy except here.

“I didn’t know you were the drunk-until-you-pass-out type,” Beomgyu teases, one eyebrow raised.

Yeonjun gives a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck more insistently. “I swear I don’t drink as uncontrollably as I did that time.”

“I’m not judging you,” Beomgyu holds his hands up. “There’s nothing wrong with drinking a little now and then.”

“Are you this type too?”

“He’s been here for at least two hours and he hasn’t had a drink so far,” Ryujin says before Beomgyu can answer. “I doubt he’d last an hour on Ityx day.”

She’s holding the cardboard in her hands, glasses filled with drinks of varying colors, eye-catching and apparently more appetizing than the vomit Ryujin was trying to push to him. Beomgyu sees lilacs mixed with purple, red of every possible shade and a mix of pink and turquoise that doesn’t look strange. Ryujin places the form on the countertop, pushing it closer to the gardener. Yeonjun fumbles with the pockets of his pants, and only now does Beomgyu notice that he’s wearing leather pants so tight that there’s no room for imagination. Beomgyu isn’t ashamed to admit that he take a good look at Yeonjun’s thighs, imagining the luck of anyone who has ever hired him as a lover; he’s also not ashamed to admit that he’d very much like to hire him right at this moment — it doesn’t matter that he’s already in love and it won’t change anything.

“Tell the guys to take it easy, tomorrow’s work day,” Ryujin warns as she takes the money.

“I think it’s a little late for you to say this,” Yeonjun chuckles, but doesn’t take the drinks yet. Deep down, Beomgyu hopes he doesn’t catch it so soon, that he stays talking to him for a little while.

“Try to persuade this one to have a drink,” Ryujin says, pointing with her head to Beomgyu. “It’s sad to see someone sober in early spring,” she adds before walking away to serve customers.

Yeonjun turns to Beomgyu as soon as Ryujin is away. “You don’t drink?”

“Of course I drink,” Beomgyu says, sounding offended. “I just don’t want to drink this vomit-like stuff Ryujin tried to sell me.”

Yeonjun looks at the glass Ryujin left on the countertop near Beomgyu. “Oh, the Tonic Bull? Maybe it’s not the best one to drink right away.”

“What’cha mean?”

“That puts out any nuturnian in two glasses,” Yeonjun says, shaking his head. “Imagine what one sip won’t do in a human body.”

Beomgyu raises one eyebrow. “Are you calling me weak?”

“Not at all! All I’m saying is for you to not drink and humiliate our people with the fact that your body can handle more than two glasses of Tonic Bull,” Yeonjun explains, a slight joking tone in his voice. Beomgyu should feel offended, but he can help but laugh at the comment.

“I’ll do it out of respect for this celebration, but I’ll prove to you that a human body can handle whatever’s in this slop,” Beomgyu grimaces while looking at the glass. He turns to Yeonjun, who’s looking at him with maybe too bright eyes — or maybe it’s just the reflection of the lanterns in the sky, Beomgyu shouldn’t keep raising false hopes for himself. “What ‘bout you?”

Yeonjun frowns. “What about me?”

“Aren’t you going to drink the good old Tonic Bull like everyone is doing?”

“Not today,” Yeonjun smiles. “This year I was chosen as the spring square. Which means I had to promise my friends I wouldn’t drink anything alcoholic all night so the other can drink without worrying about waking up inside a trash can tomorrow.”

Beomgyu holds back a laugh. “So you got to babysit tonight?”

“That’s what it looks like,” Yeonjun shrugs, resting his hands on his hips. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. It’s just… boring to watch everyone get drunk while you can’t do anything but drink water.”

“You know, you don’t have to watch them anymore for tonight,” Beomgyu says, a little quieter so that only Yeonjun would be able to hear his words — the words that are just for him to hear. “You can spend the rest of the night with me.”

Yeonjun looks thoughtful for a few seconds, before a smirk blooms on his pink lips. “That sounds like an offer I can’t refuse.”

“It really is. You’re the only one who got the chance to have it tonight.”

“And an offer exclusive to me. Oh, it’s really tempting,” Yeonjun runs his tongue over his lips, Beomgyu’s eyes following closely the motion. “But unfortunately, I’ll have to decline this time.”

“It’s a shame,” Beomgyu says, pretending to be disappointed — deep down, he really is disappointed that Yeonjun won’t stay enough for him to do something he’ll probably regret later. “Ryujin isn’t such a nice company as she makes it seem.”

“No one has come looking for me yet,” Yeonjun comments, glancing briefly behind his back to see if anyone he knows is around. “You can have my company for now.”

“Sounds like an offer I can’t refuse,” Beomgyu repeats, “and unlike you, I’m not going to refuse.”

Yeonjun chuckles, his dazzling smile appearing on his lips. Oh, the things Beomgyu would do without thinking twice to find a smile like this across the galaxy. He’s not the kind of person who lies to himself, but he doesn’t want to admit yet that this smile only exists in Nuturn, that there’s only a single Yeonjun like the one in front of him in the entire galaxy. Maybe, he is the type of person who lies to himself, he's been lying since the moment his feelings for Yeonjun started to grow inside his head and heart. Beomgyu knows that to have this man, he must stay forever. So for the meantime, he’ll keep lying and believing that the moment he decides to leave, Yeonjun won’t be stuck in his memory — that with time, he’ll learn to forget his feelings, as he did with the others; his feelings will be something he’d look back and doesn’t feel nothing more.

Beomgyu turns and looks up to where the ice flowers are hanging next to each other on strings above people’s heads, above their heads. There’s a yellow flower, orange, pink, purple, Beomgyu wonders how they got colored like that. It’s not possible that someone actually painted them one by one before the celebration, it’s too much effort for a party that lasts only one night. He sighs dreamy, his eyes still on the hanging flowers, out of the corner he can Yeonjun is looking up at the same direction.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Yeonjun sighs, his voice standing out amidst all the noises around them. Beomgyu’s ears don’t pick up any sound other than Yeonjun’s voice this night, a bubble wrapping around them. Tonight, at least for now, there’s only Beomgyu and Yeonjun — and even though they aren’t the same, they’re nothing, Beomgyu doesn’t want to spend this night any other way.

Beomgyu nods. “I’m curious about something.”

“You won’t find anyone better here to explain the things inside Nuturn,” Yeonjun says proudly. Beomgyu is sure that there’s no one better, he wouldn’t want any other person to cease his doubts about this planet.

“How did they get colored?” He asks, pointing at a red flower close to their heads.

Yeonjun raises an eyebrow. “How do you think they got that way?”

“I thought someone had hand-painted all of them before the celebration, but it’s a lot of effort for something that people are not even appreciating,” Beomgyu comments, taken aback by Yeonjun’s laughter exploding inside their little bubble. It’s endearing how Yeonjun makes him feel like he’s the funniest person when he doesn’t say anything funny during their time together.

“That really is a lot of effort,” Yeonjun says between laughs. “And no, we didn’t paint each of these flowers just for the celebration. They actually bloom that way during spring.”

Beomgyu frowns. “How come?”

“Do you really want to spend the brief time we have together listening to yet another story about gods?” Yeonjun asks, but it sounds like a warning.

Beomgyu wouldn’t mind hearing the story of all the gods of Nuturn if Yeonjun is the one telling him — maybe he reached a level of whipped he never felt before.

“Do you have something else in mind?” Beomgyu asks, looking at him. Yeonjun seems to have choked on his words, his eyes a little wide as he keeps watching the flowers above them. Whatever has passed on his mind that moment, Beomgyu is sure it won’t be said anytime soon; that makes him even more curious about the things Yeonjun’s mind conjures when it comes to him. Yeonjun shakes his head in denial, Beomgyu only scoffs. “That’s what I thought.”

Yeonjun takes a deep breath. “A few days before spring arrives, all the already blooming flowers start to change color on their own, while the ones about to bloom come bursting like rainbows. It’s something that happens overnight, you can go to sleep looking at white fields and when you wake up, see a plethora of colors. That happens because of the goddess Kuuna.”

“Kuuna?”

“The Goddess of Spring. This isn’t just a change of season festival, something for us to take a break from winter and drink until we pass out. It’s a day to celebrate her. If it weren’t for Kuuna, we would live in eternal winter and never have flowers full of colors.”

“If she’s so important to you, why wasn’t she honored with a moon?” Beomgyu asks.

“Because she never ascended to the heavens, but that’s irrelevant to our story,” he shakes his head, turning to Beomgyu. “When the garden made by Olios started to get bigger and bigger, Kuuna thought it was an invasion of her space. The flowers were her children, they were created out of her love for nature, they couldn’t grow this easily by the hands of another god, a god who was in love with another god. She decided that for three months, Olios’ ice flowers wouldn’t turn white or translucent as it usually does, but full of the colors she wanted. She drips her blood on all the flowers, leaving them this way.”

Beomgyu's eyes widen. “I’d never imagine the reason for the flowers to get colored was that.”

“No one from outside would imagine,” Yeonjun’s eyes turn into small crescents from the way he smiles. “That’s the magic of Nuturn.”

“Actually, everything about this place is more of a surprise than magic,” Beomgyu mumbles.

“And yet, you don’t want to stay to see all the surprises we have,” Yeonjun, once again, touches the sore spot, as he always does when they’re talking about the subject of Beomgyu’s departure.

Beomgyu sighs. “You know that—”

“Junnie!” Someone hums the man’s name, interrupting Beomgyu before he can come up with another retort that will lead to them starting their push and pull game.

They turn in the direction of the caller, seeing a tall man approaching them with two girls by his sides. All three are staggering and giggling at themselves about nothing in particular, Beomgyu doesn’t have to get close to know they are totally drunk. The man almost falls over before balancing himself using the stall’s countertop, while the two women start laughing hysterically. Everyone is wearing less clothing than would be common in other galaxies, but Beomgyu isn’t offended at all, different from some tourists who pass by the three and grimaces. He hears Yeonjun sigh beside him, before walking over to the stumbling boy.

“Arin, I thought I had asked you all to stay at the table,” Yeonjun says, looking at one of the laughing girls.

“He kept complaining ‘bout how you were taking so long, it’s not like we could stop him,” the woman, Arin, shrugs. “You know how Soobin is.”

“Junnie!” Soobin calls out excitedly, opening his arms toward Yeonjun when he gets close, hugging him awkwardly. It’s a funny scene, but Yeonjun’s affectionate small smile gives away that he cares about the man hugging him. “You won’t believe how much we drank!”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Yeonjun says, shaking his head. “Which one of you two gave him Tonic Bull?” He turns to the two women again, the two can barely stand and answer only with shrill laughter. Arin seems to have used all her ability to talk minutes ago telling all that, the only thing leaving her mouth is the sound of her laugh. Beomgyu crosses his arms, watching everything with amusement, holding back a giggle.

“Oh Junnie, you took so long,” Soobin says, slurring his words, his eyes half closed. “What the hell were you doin’?”

“Sorry pal, was kinda busy,” Yeonjun says, feeling a little guilty.

Soobin decides to open his eyes at that exact moment, brown orbs staring directly at Beomgyu, widening afterwards. It’s kind of creepy, especially with the way a wide smile opens on his lips. He pulls away from Yeonjun, his arms remaining lazily around the man’s neck, looking up at Yeonjun with wiggling eyebrows, chuckles escaping through his lips in a teasing smile. “Ah, now I know what you were busy with.”

“What did you—”

Before Yeonjun can say something more, Soobin puts a finger in his lips, shutting him up. “Hush my loverboy, you don’t have to say anything. A man has needs to, doesn’t he?”

“Soobin, what the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking ‘bout the handsome one over there.” Soobin turns away from Yeonjun, propping himself up on the countertop before pointing at Beomgyu. He ends up pointing at nothing in particular, his finger wagging endlessly.

Yeonjun turns his head, giggling before looking at Soobin. “Are you talking about Beomgyu?”

Upon hearing the name, Soobin’s eyes open again and he begins to stagger to where Beomgyu is. It doesn’t take many steps, but he makes it look like he’s walking a mile, almost tripping over his own foot and falling face first into the ground. Luckily, Yeonjun acts quickly and holds him up before he can reach the ground, Beomgyu bites his lip to hold back a laugh — unlike the two women, who are laughing so hard they look like they’re going to faint at any minute.

“Beomgyu!” Soobin says with the same excitement as before, reaching out a hand that is too far from Beomgyu’s body for him to shake. “It’s a pleasure to finally see your face. Was starting to think that Yeonjun was lyin’ ‘bout having a date.”

Beomgyu shakes Soobin’s hand calmly, ignoring how he clearly referred to him as Yeonjun’s date. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Yeonjun’s friend.”

“My name is not Yeonjun’s friend,” Soobin frowns, offended.

“Sorry, I don’t know your name,” Beomgyu says sheepishly — he actually knows his name because the other woman said, but he’s not sure if he should call Soobin by his name.

Soobin turns to Yeonjun. “You didn’t tell him ‘bout me?” He sounds bummed, the crease on his forehead deepening. Yeonjun just shrugs, Soobin turns back to stand face to face with Beomgyu. “On the other hand, he can’t stop talking ‘bout you.”

“Oh, really?” Beomgyu says with a raised eyebrow.

Yeonjun hisses. “Soobin—”

“You have no idea!” Soobin snorts, ignoring the warning tone on Yeonjun’s voice. “It’s only Beomgyu this, Beomgyu that. I was surprised when he took you to the sacred clearing, y’know.”

Beomgyu frowns. “Why?”

“You probably have no idea but it’s something very important to us, that place. The sacred clearing isn’t a place you visit with another person without—”

“Soobs, I think it’s about time you go home, buddy,” Yeonjun interrupts, putting his hand over Soobin’s mouth so he can’t say anything more. Beomgyu can still hear the muffled murmurs, the end of words he’ll never listen to, Soobin’s frown deepening at the premise of going home. Yeonjun turns to the women, pointing a finger in their direction. “You two too. In fact, I’m taking all three of you home now. No more spring festival for y’all.”

“Are you going along?” Beomgyu catches the words slipping through his lips, sounding more crestfallen than he intended. He thought he’d have a little more time with Yeonjun, to listen to another story about gods he doesn’t care about but likes to listen because of the gardener’s voice.

Yeonjun looks at him, Soobin’s mouth still covered. His look is apologetic, like he doesn’t want to leave so soon either — their feelings in tune. “Unfortunately. I’m sorry I can’t stay a little longer.”

Beomgyu sighs, pretending to be not disappointed. “No problem, they need you a lot more,” he points with his head to the three drunk people close to them.

“Duty calls,” Yeonjun laughs, the sound far too sad. He’s slowly moving away, his steps slower than usual, as if expecting Beomgyu to stop him, to ask him to stay, to make him stay.

Beomgyu feels like stopping him, but he doesn’t have the strength to do it. “See you around?” He says, hopeful.

“Yeah, sure,” Soobin replies, putting Beomgyu’s arm around his shoulder so that he doesn’t fall while walking. When he’s already a little far away, he turns his head in Yeonjun’s direction, a spark of hope igniting inside the human’s body. “Ah, if you want, you can have the drinks,” he points with his head to the form on the countertop. “I suggest trying the Silent Kissed, it’s one of my favorites,” he winks before signaling for the two women to follow him and disappearing into the crowd — taking with him Yeonjun’s willingness to stay for the rest of the celebration.

Beomgyu mentally admits without feeling any shame that he’s sad that Yeonjun is gone. After Ryujin, the gardener is the only friend he has made during all his time in Nuturn. Besides, he likes to be around Yeonjun, likes to hear his voice calmly telling him things, likes to spend his time teasing and talking and daydreaming about the other things they could do if both were not so hesitant to take the next step — nowadays, he dreams about how his life would be if he stayed, if he had Yeonjun all to himself. Alone with seven glasses of alcoholic beverages in front of him, Beomgyu isn’t afraid to admit that he’s in love with Yeonjun, that he longs to be something more, that he longs to be always close to the other. It’s so easy to admit it that he laughs to himself while looking at the drinks Yeonjun left behind, thinking if it’d be as easy to say it to him.

However, he doesn’t admit it yet that there’s a small part of him that would like to stay. It’s not as easy to let it grow into something bigger like his feelings for the nuturnian.

He stares at the glasses once more before he picks up the red one and sips, the sweetness turns into bitterness as it goes down his throat. Strangely, it reminds him of the situation he finds himself in — the sweetness of listening to Yeonjun’s story, the bitterness of watching him go. He drinks the rest almost in one gulp, feeling everything burn as it goes down. Before he gets another different glass, he asks Hyunjin to make the drink Yeonjun told him about, hoping it’ll be tasty enough to make him forget about the small part inside him that’s screaming sharply in his ears.

By the time they cross paths again, Beomgyu is so drunk that his eyes barely stay open and his body feels lax. There’s a false sense of happiness inside him as he moves around with other drunk people in the crowd, dancing to a song he can’t even hear properly over the white noise in his ears. He’s sure he looks ridiculous next to all these people, but he can’t care less. He’s too inebriated to care about anything other than getting another Silent Kisses — Ryujin and Hyunjin keep refusing him, saying that he has already drunk too much for one night.

Deep down, he knows they’re right, he has drunk more than usual. He drank all six glasses Yeonjun left on the counter and three more of the one he suggested — leaving behind the sips he took from strangers’ glasses and the brief sip of Tonic Bull before he almost vomited because it tasted as horrible as he thought. He’ll probably have one of the worst hangovers when the sun comes up, but that’s something to worry about later, that’s the least thing on his mind right now. In fact, there’s almost nothing in his head, his thoughts are all incoherent.

He feels a hand on his shoulder, not reacting as quickly as he should, figuring it’s just another person dancing too close. The touch is warm, the hand closing a little on his collarbone before turning him around. Beomgyu is about to complain to whoever is bothering him — c’mon, he just wants to enjoy the moment without someone standing in his way. His eyes are slightly narrowed as he lifts his head to look at the person.

“Yeonjun!” Beomgyu says with way more excitement than he’d if he were sober. He opens his arms, but doesn’t let them meet the man’s body. His mind is intoxicated, but his body still remembers boundaries, remembers they’re not supposed to be so close. He stands with his arms open like a fool waiting for something, a big smile on his lips. “You’re back!”

Yeonjun can’t help but smile along, hand still resting on Beomgyu’s shoulder. “I see you’re having a great time.”

“Even greater now that you’re here,” Beomgyu giggles, putting his hands around Yeonjun’s neck. The mind really does rule over the body.

He notices the way Yeonjun holds his breath, his eyes widening before going back in a matter of seconds, another giggle escaping Beomgyu’s lips. Yeonjun stays still, his hand that was on Beomgyu’s shoulder moves away, going back to the place it belongs — next to his body, still while processing Beomgyu’s touch, Beomgyu’s closeness. It’s like hugging an ice statue, he lets out an annoyed grunt. This isn’t how Beomgyu imagined his first intimate, close contact with his crush would be. The hug doesn’t leave butterflies on his stomach or makes his heart beat fast, the kiss Yeonjun gave on his hand woke up way more reactions inside his body.

Yeonjun takes his time getting used to the hands around his neck, slowly getting closer to the man. “I think you’ve had enough fun, don’t you?” He whispers close to Beomgyu’s ear, making all the hairs on his body stand up, his eyes closing for a second.

Beomgyu pouts, whining. “But you just got here.”

“I’m not leaving, dummy.”

“Promise?” Beomgyu says when he feels Yeonjun slowly pulling him away. He stares hard into the man’s eyes, he can see his reflection in them, swimming in blue and purple, diving into the deep, never wanting to go back to the surface.

Beomgyu doesn’t know where he’s going diving so deep into the unknown, but he doesn’t care for once.

“I promise,” Yeonjun says with a chuckle, but it dies on his throat before Beomgyu can hear. “Besides, you’re the only one leaving here.”

Beomgyu shakes his head, trying to scare away the bit of headache that is rising above his brow. Somewhere in betweenYeonjun’s words and his headache, he feels Yeonjun entwining their hands, letting him lead them away from the still big crowd and the endless celebration. The sky is turning a lighter shade of purple, perhaps the day is about to dawn, Beomgyu didn’t see time passing while he was alone. He stares at the sky while Yeonjun takes him wherever he wants, he doesn’t care where they’re going as long as Yeonjun keeps holding his hand like that — with care, the same way he holds his beloved flowers.

“Y’know, ‘m not leaving,” Beomgyu mumbles, his voice trailing off at the end, his mouth just putting all his thoughts out before he can think straight. “At least, not yet. I guess.”

Yeonjun scoffs, turning his face slightly to glance at him with a raised brow. “You guess?”

“Man, I think I drank a little more than I should have,” Beomgyu comments, running his free hand across his forehead, rubbing it hard.

“You think?” Yeonjun says in a playful tone. “I saw the glasses you left behind in the stall. Take it from me, it was more than little.”

“You’re the one who told me to drink them!”

“No, Beomgyu,” Yeonjun denies gently. “I said if you wanted to you could drink.”

“I did want to drink,” Beomgyu retorts, huffing. “I also drank a Silent Kisses.”

“Just one?”

“Maybe more than one,” Beomgyu grimaces. “It’s tasty. No one would be able to resist just one glass. I’m only a human, you know.”

Yeonjun laughs, the sound making warmth spread in his body like a fever. “I have to agree with you on that.”

“They’re sweet,” he adds, his head elsewhere, his thoughts running free. “The same way you kiss me everytime I dream about you.”

Yeonjun stops abruptly, Beomgyu bumps into his back and lets out a grunt of pain; he manages to not fall over, standing without needing help, his head spinning only a bit. They’re still in the same place, the sky slowly turning a bluish tone, Beomgyu can swear that Yeonjun looks like he isn’t breathing from how motionless he is.

“Yeonjun?” Beomgyu calls, poking the man’s shoulder. “Nuturn to Yeonjun?”

He remains motionless, starting to annoy a drunk Beomgyu. First, he takes him out of all the fun without letting Beomgyu have a bit of fun with him, now he gets all weird like this out of nowhere. He lets go of Yeonjun’s hand and walks ahead of him, without caring whether he’s following him or not. Beomgyu only manages a few steps until he feels Yeonjun grabbing his wrist and stopping him, he turns slightly, head spinning a little too fast for comfort. He blinks a few times until he properly looks at Yeonjun, whose face is mixed in confusion and surprise; he has no idea why Yeonjun looks like that.

“You think now is a good time to tell you my next to last reason?” he asks, hand sliding from his wrist to Beomgyu’s hand, intertwining their fingers as before. Beomgyu feels his body heating up again, like a warm, furry blanket being wrapped over his already feverish body.

“I’m too drunk to answer with something sarcastic as usual,” he admits, hiccuping and laughing at nothing. “But you can try. I just won’t promise you that I’ll remember it in the morning.”

“It’s already morning, Beomgyu,” Yeonjun says, running his tongue over his plush lips. Beomgyu follows the movement with his eyes, his head flooding him with thoughts about how he’d like to kiss them right now, how he’d like to know if they are as soft as they look, if they are as sweet as Yeonjun’s smiles and laughter. “And I really hope you’ll remember this.”

“It’s morning already?” Beomgyu softly gasps, looking up at the sky only for a second before his head ducks and he loses the breathtaking view in front of him.

Yeonjun lifts their intertwined hands, bringing it to his soft lips, lightly kissing Beomgyu’s wrist with the same fondness from that afternoon in the clearing. This time, it’s not just a simple peck. It’s a path that goes from his wrist up to his knuckles, like feathers being passed over his hand, leaving goosebumps on the skin. Yeonjun has his eyes closed, lashes fluttering, enjoying the moment like it’s the best experience of his life. Beomgyu can’t take his eyes off, this is more intimate than anything they did before, this is the intimacy his mind and body has been craving ever since he laid his eyes on Yeonjun.

His eyes are open now, but Beomgyu’s hand is still close to his lips; close enough that he can touch it with his lips if he says something. Beomgyu feels all the air escaping from his lungs with one look into the man in front of him. Yeonjun’s eyes sparkle like the moons in the sky, silently inviting Beomgyu to do what his mind is screaming over and over again. Kiss him, kiss him, kiss him. If Yeonjun keeps looking at him this way, so desirable and mesmerizing, he’ll eventually succumb to the want inside him with no regrets.

“Here in Nuturn,” Yeonjun begins, pulling the hand a little further away so that the words don’t come out muffled. “There are visions of fantasies that become enchanting realities.”

“The only fantasy I want to come true is you kissing me,” Beomgyu says, not feeling any shame afterwards.

Right now, his brain-to-mouth filter is completely turned off, his mouth saying with every word the things that are in his head. His cheeks don’t burn, he feels nothing but a lightness in his body from finally letting these words run free. He knows that all these sensations are consequences of the alcohol still running in his system, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it. He feels no shame, he finally said what he’s been daydreaming about and he feels light. He couldn’t be better.

“I’ve been dreaming every single night about you kissing me, I even daydream about it when I look at your pretty lips,” Beomgyu continues. “It’s always so sweet, I’m dying to know if it’s that sweet in real life. I’m thinking about it right now, while you’re standing here in front of me. Please, cease my doubts about this. Please. ”

The last plea seems to make something, Yeonjun gives one last kiss on the hand before gently releasing it. Beomgyu feels panic crawling in his veins, he feels like he said something wrong, crossed a line that he shouldn’t have, his mind can’t process the reason for Yeonjun letting go of his hand. Gladly, Yeonjun doesn’t leave space for Beomgyu’s drunk and sincere mind to overthink things, his hands curl into Beomgyu’s cheeks, bringing him in, leaving only a little space between them. Beomgyu takes a deep breath, blackberry and plum filling his nose, hands searching for anything to grasp that might tell him that this is reality, that it’s not another dream. His hands find Yeonjun’s waist, squeezing hard enough for the man’s eyes to flutter.

“All your fantasies will come true here, darling. That’s it, if you stay,” Yeonjun whispers, his lips brushing against Beomgyu’s before the human can retort.

One thing he’s sure of: Yeonjun’s lips are indeed softer and sweeter in reality than in his dreams.

He can taste the alcohol in his mouth, but Yeonjun doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by it, judging by the way he pulls Beomgyu closer and kisses him properly. Beomgyu tightens the hold around his waist, the gasp that leaves Yeonjun’s lips makes him smirk in between the kiss. It’s a competition as always, a push and pull that they’re used to in the strange friendship they created along the months. While Beomgyu is the calmness in the ocean, Yeonjun is the storm about to crash boats and leave destruction behind. A pretty storm, a storm that Beomgyu embraces with pleasure.

Another thing that pops up in his mind is why he didn’t do this before, why he didn’t kiss Yeonjun like this in the afternoon in the clearing or the evening in the gardens. There were so many moments he could have done something, so many chances lost because of his pride, so many opportunities to taste the sweetness of Yeonjun’s lips and the tender, warm touch of his hands. He’s having all that now, scorching flames burning inside him, a fire that would be able to melt Yena’s entire ice garden if he wanted to, warm enough to melt them both if they stay this close. Beomgyu had no idea that his desire was that great, that his body was dying for one kiss.

He tilts his head to kiss Yeonjun deeper, his tongue desperate to know every inch and corner, showing how great is the desire burning in him. Yeonjun sighs into his mouth when their tongues touch, another significant spark that makes them both shudder, hands curling around Beomgyu’s neck for support, body going soft under Beomgyu’s scalding touch. Yeonjun is melting, slowly turning pliable for Beomgyu’s hands to mold him however they want, turning him into the shape they want. Beomgyu can no longer stop kissing him, can even think about stopping once he feels Yeonjun lightly pulling his hair.

They move in a calm desperation in this empty street Yeonjun brought them in. It’s a kiss that will live in his head for a long time, all his dreams will be all around this. Yeonjun officially left a mark on him that he’ll never be able to take away or forget.

It’s Yeonjun who finally disconnects their lips, Beomgyu almost whining into his mouth when he feels the man pulling away. Yeonjun leaves lingering kisses on his bruised lips, something to make him stop whining and pouting, something that only makes them want more. Beomgyu’s hands are still around Yeonjun’s waist, he squeezes hard when the kisses stop, relishing in the dreamily sigh that comes out of Yeonjun’s mouth. He doesn’t want the kiss to end so fast, he wants it to last until morning comes.

He opens his eyes to a clear blue sky, the pink clouds slowly painting the still empty canvas. Morning comes, but Beomgyu can’t feel anything but dread at the pretty sky. He takes back his words from before, he wants the kiss to last until nightfall and long after that. He wants to mold his lips on Yeonjun’s, want to remember the shape even when he’s light years away from Nuturn, wondering if Yeonjun will still remember the shape of his. He looks at the man in front of him, almost moaning at the sight.

Yeonjun is smiling like he's drunk from the kisses, his lips puffy and red in a way that would make anyone mesmerized. His pupils are dilated, the black in them contrasting with the colors of his irises, a sight that would take anyone's breath away. Beomgyu spends a few seconds just watching, storing everything in his memory, feeling lucky to be one of the people who sees Yeonjun like this — and deep inside wanting to be the only one who sees him like this, a vision he wishes was his alone. Beomgyu wants Yeonjun all to himself, but he knows that will never happen. To have Yeonjun, he has to stay, and this is something that Beomgyu isn't sure he can do.

“I broke my promise,” Yeonjun whispers, voice sounding tipsy, hands still gripping Beomgyu’s neck. They’re still close enough for Beomgyu to kiss him whenever he feels like, whenever he wants.

Beomgyu frowns. “Did you make a promise not to kiss me?”

“No, I knew I couldn’t keep it if I made such a promise.” Yeonjun gives another peck on Beomgyu’s mouth, leaving him hoping for more, wishing for more, wanting more. “I promised I wouldn’t drink anything with alcohol the whole night. And here I am, tasting the sweetest wine ever discovered in Nuturn.”

“I heard it’s imported from far away.”

“From lands that I didn't even know existed, from lands that I don't know, from lands that everyone has tasted but that I’m only getting the chance now.”

“Don’t worry, not many people get the chance to drink a wine as sweet as this one,” Beomgyu jokes, licking his own lips.

“Well, I won’t be a fool to waste a one in a million chance like this,” Yeonjun says, kissing Beomgyu’s lips without warning or second thought, deeper as before.

Beomgyu groans, his eyes fluttering shut automatically at the contact, thinking about how much he’ll miss this when he leaves. Just a bunch of kisses from Yeonjun and he already knows he’ll never feel like this again, he’ll never want to kiss any lips that aren’t the ones he’s savoring right now. A voice in the back of his mind keeps saying that he doesn’t have to miss Yeonjun’s kisses, Yeonjun’s touches — Yeonjun in general — if he stays, if he admits defeat and stays for as long as this man wants him. Once again, Beomgyu doesn’t feel like listening to it. Nothing in his mind matters except the feeling Yeonjun's mouth and tongue are causing in his body.

Morning finally settles in Nuturn, pink clouds and blue skies, sun slowly shining with slightly whine rays, bathing the two men in that lonely street in clarity. Beomgyu doesn’t stop kissing Yeonjun, and he doesn’t intend to stop any time soon either.

————————————

Beomgyu has seen many extraordinary things throughout his life as a planet hopper. Each planet has its own magnificence, its own peculiarity, its own distinct beauty that makes them so unique, makes them unforgettable. There are planets with creatures that can change shape, color, can talk and can mimic people actions; some planets have trees that move through the forest, looking for the best place for them to spend the summer; some planets have several moons of different colors and shapes; some have rivers that tell stories of drowned people and sunken ships and horrific sea creatures; some have gods above them that could destroy the whole galaxy if they wanted to. And some planets have nothing splendid, but have people so welcoming that they make the place beautiful.

He has seen lots of pretty, splendid, scary and disgusting things in his whole life, but never has he seen anything as ravishing as the image that is portrait in the sky at this moment. An Aurora Borealis piercing the once purplish sky with waves of colors that leaves him breathless. Turquoise, dark blue, green and burgundy paint the dark canvas in such a magnificent way that Beomgyu can’t find words to say, and he doubts there are any that come closer to describe the beauty that’s in front of him. All he can do is stand open-mouthed, staring up at the sky with glazed eyes.

Sitting beside him in a plastic chair, Yeonjun has a knowing smile on his lips. “I knew you would like it.”

When Yeonjun stopped by the hostel earlier and asked Beomgyu if he’d like to see something amazing, he didn’t refuse or got suspicious this time, he just changed his clothes and followed Yeonjun through the streets of Nuturn to near the forest, without entering the maze of tall trees. Yeonjun guided him to a small house nearby, something reminiscent of a cottage never forgotten by time with all the plants growing over the slightly darkened wood of and the whole feeling of being in a magical place. There are flower beds in the front and more plants growing all around, a garden in the back probably filled with all the things Yeonjun planted with his parents when he was younger and continues to take care of over time. The house is old, small and makes Beomgyu feel like he belongs somewhere when he looks at it. It’s the house that used to belong to Yeonjun’s parents before they passed away, the place where Yeonjun was born and raised, the place that Yeonjun belongs to — the place Beomgyu used to imagine living when he was younger inside a ship traveling the universe, when he still thought his parents would come looking for him.

They’re sitting on plastic chairs in front of the cottage, looking at the most astonishing thing Beomgyu has ever seen. Yeonjun doesn’t look that impressed, a reaction to be expected from someone who must’ve seen this several times in his life. Still, he stays next to Beomgyu the whole time, looking more at the man than at the wonder of colors in the sky — watching mesmerizingly the way Beomgyu eyes shine with the colors, the way he’s impressed to the core, the way he smiles at the view. Beomgyu feels Yeonjun’s gaze burning on him, something that has been going on since the morning they kissed at the spring celebration.

Yeonjun always looks at him with a different gleam in his eyes, as if he were a star about to explode, a black hole about to take Beomgyu inside. It's as if he’s waiting for something, for the exact moment to do what both of them are longing for again. But nothing happens, they’re eternally doomed to the limbo of not knowing what to do now that they both know how they feel. Feelings are complicated, cunning, treacherous, but Beomgyu doesn't regret feeling so much for Yeonjun. Of all the things he regrets in his mere existence, falling in love with Yeonjun is far from being one of them.

Even if they both long for telling the things they feel, they never talk about what happened that night — or the things they hide inside each other. Their relationship is basically the same as before, flirting and teasing that now always ends with them kissing each other somehow, no matter the place, no matter the time, no matter the feelings and confessions that are smothered in both of their mouths. There isn't a single word about what they are feeling, and Beomgyu is sure that it's better that things stay this way. He’s already gaining more than he could ever bargain for, he never thought that he’d one day have Yeonjun in his arms and be able to kiss him whenever he feels like it. At this moment, Beomgyu knows that it’s better to swallow his feelings than to break Yeonjun's heart and have to live with the pain pinching his heart when he leaves.

They kiss every night, Beomgyu pretends that Yeonjun feels nothing but desire over him to spare his own guilt.

It’s January, in a few days, it’ll be a year since Beomgyu settled on Nuturn longer than he did on the planet before. So much time in one place means only one thing: it’s time to leave. There’s a ship leaving tomorrow afternoon, Beomgyu made sure to secure a place on it for the affordable price of helping load and unload the crates when they land on Tenzides, in the Delta Eubuleus galaxy, a long way from where he is now. Yeonjun knows he’s leaving tomorrow, there was no reason for him to keep this information from the man — before Yeonjun became the object of his affection, he’s the closest to a friend Beomgyu has. They both know that the last reason won’t work no matter what Yeonjun has come up with. 

By tomorrow evening, Beomgyu will be inside that ship and far from Nuturn, leaving behind a piece of his heart. This time, he knows it’s a piece too big to heal so easily like before. It will take time, but he knows that someday in the future he’ll be able to speak Yeonjun’s name without feeling any ounce of pain.

“That’s…” Beomgyu stops, suddenly breathless. “That doesn’t even look real.”

“It really doesn’t,” Yeonjun says, taking a brief look at the sky before turning his attention back to Beomgyu. “I used to think the same way when I saw it for the first time.”

“Do you remember the first time?”

“I was ten, it was the most amazing thing I had ever seen. I remember asking my parents if I could see it every day until I found out that it's something that only happens every five years," Yeonjun comments.

"Every five years?”

"Looks like you got lucky to see a unique event, Beomgyu," Yeonjun laughs. "I think Nuturn is trying to impress you."

Beomgyu gnaws on his bottom lip. “You’ve seen it so many times, it must’ve lost the magic by now.”

“A little,” he shrugs. “But I guess it doesn’t matter if it lost its magic for me over the years. I still like to see it whenever it appears in the sky.”

“It’s so unfair that you’ll be able to see it again in five years.”

“You could see it too. That is, if you stayed for five more years, of course,” Yeonjun teases, poking the possibility into Beomgyu’s chest a little too hard.

“Let’s not talk about this, at least for tonight,” he says in a defeated sigh.

“I’m not trying to persuade you to stay, I know it won’t work anymore. It’s time to accept my defeat,” Yeonjun says, not hiding the sadness in his voice. “I just wanted you to see something beautiful and magical before you left.” He turns his gaze back to the Aurora Borealis, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. Beomgyu doesn’t risk looking at his face, afraid to see visibly what he knows is hidden inside Yeonjun.

Feelings, stronger than they should be, more painful than they should be.

“It really is beautiful and magical,” he whispers cautiously, eyes never straying from the sky. “I’m grateful you showed it to me. I’d have settled for just a ride downtown with you.”

“I don’t want downtown to be your last memory of Nuturn,” Yeonjun grimaces. “You deserve to remember it in a special way.”

“I will remember it in a special way,” Beomgyu insists, still not looking at Yeonjun’s direction. “It won’t be because of the scenery or the flowers or the skies. It won’t be because of these things that I can see in any other place.”

It's almost easy to let the words leave his lips and finally become something solid, something beyond a thought. I will remember this place because of you , he can almost hear his own voice uttering those words and leaving Yeonjun surprised and confused, he can almost smile thinking that Yeonjun would respond with a kiss or a beaming smile. He doesn't say the words, he locks them tightly betweenhis closed lips, he gets no reaction but a defeated sigh from the man next to him. It's for the best, he knows it is. That doesn't stop him from wanting to dream of other possibilities where this would be the perfect moment to confess, the perfect moment to make Yeonjun his for as long as they have — but there’s no more time, no more moment for confessions.

“I keep trying to understand why you need to leave, but I can't come up with any reasons.”

“Because I don’t stay more than a year on a planet, it’s simple.”

“But why? That’s what I can’t understand.”

“I told you the reason in the first conversation we had about it,” Beomgyu sighs. He wants to be irritated by Yeonjun's persistence on this topic, but he can't. Yeonjun is the first one to ever really question him about it, the first one who seems intrigued to know more about it, who seems to know Beomgyu beyond what he makes visible. “I don’t like putting down roots in a place, or in people. So I don’t stay enough for this to happen.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Yeonjun raises his voice a little, sounding disbelieving. “What’s so wrong with staying in a place? With letting yourself get attached to someone? With letting someone get attached to you?”

“Because all they do in the end is leave me! They always abandon me, they always leave, they never care to remember me in the first place!” Beomgyu shouts, finally looking at Yeonjun, deep into his eyes he can see the surprise by his sudden outburst. “So there I am, rooted in the place they left me, having to live with memories that only hurt me and haunt me to this day. I’ll never do that again, Yeonjun. I promised myself I’ll never do that again.”

Yeonjun frowns, worry slipping into his features. “What have they done to you, my love?”

Beomgyu is so shaken by the past slowly coming back into his memory that he doesn't realize Yeonjun's last words, doesn't realize how easily the other has called him his love, doesn't realize that at this moment all Yeonjun wants is to reach out and embrace him, to comfort him in the way that he has never been in his entire life. Beomgyu feels his eyes burn with the same tears he has cried so hard in the past. They sting, scratch like small shards of glass made to hurt him. They don’t deserve to be shed, Beomgyu refuses to cry over this once again. These are past wounds, things from the past that aren’t worth reliving, he promised he’d never let them come to the surface again. Beomgyu doesn’t want to relive his past, doesn’t want to tell Yeonjun more about himself and puts down roots in Nuturn, next to the ones that belong to Yeonjun. He cuts those roots every single day, he can’t let them grow that big and out of his control.

Beomgyu shakes his head, ignoring the burning in his eyes. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

Yeonjun gets up from his chair as soon as the words leave Beomgyu’s mouth, walking over to the man and kneeling in front of him in smooth moves. He places both his hands on Beomgyu’s face, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs, so fondly it makes something crash inside Beomgyu. The touch makes the tears escape freely, he’s so exposed and vulnerable that he wishes Yeonjun couldn’t see him. He can feel his roots slowly wrapping around Yeonjun’s arms and legs, gluing his being to the man who keeps touching him, keeps looking at him like he’s a rare gem. For now, Beomgyu lets the roots make whatever they want, he has no strength to stop or fight against them.

“I’m not going to make you tell me what happened,” Yeonjun says softly after a beat. “But I want you to know that I’d never abandon you, ever.”

“You say that now,” Beomgyu sobs, letting all the tears run down his cheeks freely like a waterfall. “But you will in the future, just like everyone does. Just like my parents did.”

Yeonjun’s voice is soft and cautious when he asks, “Your parents left you?”

“Not in the way you’re thinking, they didn’t die. Sometimes, I think it would’ve been much better if they had,” Beomgyu says mockingly, snorting at his own words. “They abandoned me, turned me over to a group of space pirates like I was nothing more than some random house pot they had. I don’t even remember if my mother cried when she handed me over to those people. She just threw me into the arms of some alien, without even saying goodbye, without even looking back while walking inside our house. I was five, five! How do you do this to your only child? I know they couldn’t fight space pirates, but later I learned that they don’t steal children like that. They actually accept any child that is willingly given to them. I was never stolen from my parents, they just gave me away as if I were an object they didn’t want anymore.”

Beomgyu is full on sobbing, crying hard like he used to do when he was a little child stuck inside that ship and going to a training that left too many scars inside and out. Yeonjun doesn’t wait any longer to wrap his arms around his shrunken body, hugging Beomgyu tightly while stroking his hair caringly. He doesn’t feel as light as he thought he’d after finally telling about his past trauma, he actually feels his fear of being abandoned turning as big as one of the moons in the sky. Beomgyu knows deep down that he could stay in Nuturn, he could spend all his days with Yeonjun by his side, work in some downtown store, make friends with other people, live for a while with the person he loves. But how long will all that last? How long will he have before Yeonjun gets tired and decides to leave him? Beomgyu doesn’t want to stay enough to know what the future awaits for him.

“I’m sorry,” Yeonjun whispers, a light in the darkness that are Beomgyu’s thoughts right now. “I’m so sorry, my love.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Beomgyu sniffs, voice muffled by Yeonjun’s chest. He’s wearing only a robe tonight, fuzzy and soft as fur, tickling his face.

Yeonjun keeps stroking Beomgyu’s hair gently, keeping him close to his body. “For what they did to you. Nobody deserves that, especially you.”

“There’s nothing special about me,” Beomgyu mumbles, closing his eyes; keeping them open bothers him, the tears really do feel like shards of glass cutting into his corneas.

Yeonjun pulls back a little, staring at the fragile man under him. “You’re kidding, right?” He puts a hand on Beomgyu’s chin, pulling his head up a little so he can see his eyes, reddish and puffy, still so endearing. “Beomgyu, you’ve traveled more planets than any galactic explorer, you know more languages than any linguist I know here on Nuturn, you’ve lived more things than I did. You’re funny, even if I don’t understand your humor sometimes, but you make me laugh just the same. Your company is the best, I genuinely enjoy being around you even when you don’t seem to be fully next to me.”

“I am totally here,” Beomgyu retorts.

“I’m not talking about your physical body, Beomgyu,” Yeonjun rolls his eyes. “I’m talking about your mind. There are times where you’re somewhere else, a place too far for me to reach, but that I get myself wishing I could go along. Beomgyu, you’re a free person, someone with a different lifestyle compared to mine. I can’t go where you go, because I like the lifestyle I have.”

“Lifestyles can change.”

“No, they don’t change that fast, especially mine,” Yeonjun says with a chuckle. “I’ll give you my last reason tonight, even though we both know it was a lost challenge from the start. It won’t work and you’ll leave anyway.”

At another time, Beomgyu would probably be making fun of Yeonjun's defeat and would be celebrating. but as he spent the days with Yeonjun, he forgot that this challenge existed in the first place, that the reason they got close was precisely because of it. At some point this challenge became something insignificant to them, just something put aside, just a bridge that made their relationship move until it reached this point — the point being Yeonjun being the first to know about Beomgyu's past. He hasn't cared about this challenge for a long time, and he has a feeling that Yeonjun hasn't either.

“I don’t care if you want to follow this lifestyle for the rest of your life, if you want to travel so far away from me. I just don’t want you to forget me, because I’ll never forget you,” Yeonjun adds in a hopeful whisper, closing his eyes for a second.

“I’d never be able to forget you,” Beomgyu says, looking deep into Yeonjun’s eyes once he opens them, the truth all spread out for him to see. “Even if I wanted you, I think my mind and heart would never let me do such a crime.”

Yeonjun beams like a thousand suns, kissing Beomgyu’s cheeks with the same warmth. “Here in Nuturn, there’s the extraordinary, which provides elevation of thoughts, healing of past wounds and chances for change.”

“Yeonjun, I—”

He places a finger on Beomgyu’s lips, shushing him. “You don’t have to say anything, my love. I can’t expect you to stay only because of beautiful landscapes, ice flowers, old stories and my poetic reasons. I don’t want you to stay if it’s not something you truly want, that’s not how love is supposed to work. I can’t force you to be mine, Beomgyu.”

Beomgyu widens his eyes, surprised by Yeonjun’s words, but before he can say anything, before he can deny and say that he truly wants to stay, Yeonjun is kissing him. The kiss is soft, he feels a strange bittersweet taste in between, later realizing that it’s the mix of his and Yeonjun’s tears. Sweet tears, like sugar laying heavy on his tongue. Nuturnians cry tears so sweet that they taste like drops of honeydew, a sweetness that Beomgyu has never tasted before. Beomgyu presses in closer, hands resting on Yeonjun’s shoulders, pushing him lower until he’s sitting on his lap. The kiss is quiet, a silent message of Yeonjun’s feelings being delivered to Beomgyu. Somewhere betweenYeonjun licking into his mouth and the gentle touch in his nape, Beomgyu remembers one last question he’d like to ask before he bottles up his feelings and leaves them floating in Yeonjun’s river of sweet tears.

Beomgyu pulls away far enough to be able to speak without Yeonjun managing to interrupt him — something he learned throughout the days kissing Yeonjun, is that he’s never content to be stopped, he doesn’t like to be stopped until he’s lips are numb and puffy, until he’s breathless and panting, until he bruised and shaped Beomgyu’s lips the way he wants to.

“Yeonjun, why did you take me to the sacred clearing that day?”

Yeonjun sighs dreamily, still slightly affected by the kiss, a reaction that seems common coming from him after being kissed by Beomgyu. “When we take someone special to us, someone we love , to the sacred clearing, it’s a way of asking the Goddess Baella for a blessing. A blessing for our love to be lasting, not fleeting like the ice flowers.”

“Have you liked me since that time?” Beomgyu caresses Yeonjun’s face, soft and warm to the touch.

“I wasn’t sure, but I suspected that I felt something beyond a brief attraction for you,” Yeonjun admits.

“Next time, let’s not take that long to be in each other’s arms.”

Yeonjun frowns. “Next time?”

“If you keep kissing me like this, I might need to go back to Nuturn sooner than I thought, “ Beomgyu smirks, leaving a trail of kisses that go from Yeonjun’s mouth to his jaw, lingering there for a while until he hears a low sigh coming from the man above him.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to stay?”

“Maybe it’d be, but I don’t like taking the easy paths.”

“Stay with me,” Yeonjun pleads, eyes gleaming seeing from above, a fallen star in his hands. “Not tomorrow, not forever. Please stay with me for tonight.”

How could Beomgyu deny such a request made with so much clamor and desire? “I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.”

“Tonight, I want to give you something to remember me by,” Yeonjun says, getting up and pulling Beomgyu by the wrist into the little cottage.

Beomgyu takes one last look at the Aurora Borealis, trying to keep the image in his head — but it's hard when all he can think and remember is Yeonjun, his slightly pink lips and dilated pupils, the desire explicit in them, the way his body seems to call out his name. For a second, he finds himself imagining what it’d be like to live here, to see all those colors in the sky, to have Yeonjun in his arms whenever he wants. The truth is that some things are meant to be seen and experienced only once, and maybe, it’s not Beomgyu's destiny to see ice flowers every day, to see Aurora Borealis every five years, to have Yeonjun in his arms whenever he wants, to belong to Yeonjun and be able to love him unconditionally.

For tonight, he’ll enjoy all these things as if it isn’t the last time he’ll see and have them.

If Beomgyu thought Yeonjun looked beautiful under the colored lights of the night, nothing compares to him under the yellowish lights of his bedroom, lying on the bed with his whole body exposed and his chest heaving up and down, eyes simmering and mouth ajar. Beomgyu is standing next to the bed, staring at the sight in front of him, indulging his mind to never forget. He doesn’t want to forget Yeonjun at all, he can’t forget Yeonjun. He wonders how someone can be so beautiful, straddling Yeonjun and pressing kisses to his cheek until he reaches his mouth, waking shivers all along the man’s body.

Beomgyu seeks the taste of Yeonjun’s lips like a thirsty man, seeking the sweetness of his tears, of his mouth, of his skin. He’s about to get a toothache just from kissing Yeonjun, an overdose of sweetness that he happily embraces. He doubts there’s anything as sweet as Yeonjun’s kisses in the entire galaxy, anything as fragrant as the plum and blackberry he smells on Yeonjun’s skin. His heart is so full of love he can barely contain the palpitations, his heart beating so fast that even the gods above could hear. Beomgyu opens his mouth to deepen the kiss, licking into Yeonjun’s mouth, tasting the sweetness straight from the source.

Yeonjun’s hand, which was previously around Beomgyu’s neck pulling his hair, slip down to his shoulders. Beomgyu gasps when he feels his back leaning against the mattress, Yeonjun taking his previous position, straddling him with a smirk on his lips as he rests his hands on Beomgyu’s still covered chest.

“What—”

“Tonight, I’ll show you how a nuturnian lover makes love,” Yeonjun says, signaling for Beomgyu to lift his torso off the bed and unceremoniously removing his shirt. 

Beomgyu isn’t the type to brag about his muscles, but the way Yeonjun looks at him almost about to devour him whole makes him feel some strange satisfaction. His eyes burn with blue and purple desire as he leans in, placing wet, open-mouthed kisses along his neck, his shoulder, mapping the skin with his plush lips. Beomgyu breathes heavily in Yeonjun’s ear as he goes back to kiss his neck in a sensitive spot that makes something burst inside him.

“How can you be my lover if you don’t give me a price?” Beomgyu asks, his voice equally shaken, gasping loudly when Yeonjun nibbles on the sensitive part of his neck. He really hopes that Yeonjun slowly leaves marks on his skin in the same colors as the ones he sees in the skies every day and night, turning him into a pretty coloured canvas. A testament of the time he spent in Nuturn.

“My price is your love, but I can’t have it,” Yeonjun replies, biting his lip. “So I’ll settle for your pleasure.”

He bends down to kiss Beomgyu’s chest, but he’s quicker this time, holding Yeonjun’s face before he can mask his emotions and run away. He looks deeply into Yeonjun’s eyes, gleaming and mesmerizing, he can almost see the blue and purple flames of desire burning in them, ready to burn Beomgyu altogether. He’s hypnotized, unable to break the spell that Yeonjun’s orbs have over him. Now, he has nothing to lose by admitting the next words that leave his lips.

“I love you,” he says, cradling Yeonjun’s face gently. “You already own my love, it already belongs solely to you. There’s no reason to not be yours.”

Yeonjun chuckles, tilting his head. “We had so many romantic moments in romantic places before and you choose right now to say that to me?”

Beomgyu slides his hands down Yeonjun’s sides, marveling at the way he sighs and closes his eyes shut, body almost melting under the touch. “You know, I think it’s very romantic the way you’re straddling me right now.”

Yeonjun snorts, ignoring Beomgyu in favor of returning to kiss the man’s entire naked chest. He lavishes him with wet kisses, touches with his fingertips that make Beomgyu’s entire body burn like a firelight, arching beautifully as he kisses all the way down. Tonight, he doesn’t touch Beomgyu delicately like he usually does, like he does with the flowers in the gardens. Yeonjun knows that Beomgyu isn’t one of his beloved ice flowers, he’s a flaming rose about to burn everything that dares touch it. Yeonjun isn’t afraid of getting burned.

The gasps and moans Beomgyu lets out seem to please Yeonjun profoundly, judging by the way he giggles and keeps kissing and nibbling Beomgyu’s nipples, delighted by every little sound the other makes. He’s teasing, they both know this very well, and Beomgyu doesn’t want to give him the taste of victory. Beomgyu moves his hand sneakily up to Yeonjun’s bulge, pressing the heel of his hand down on his hardening cock. The moan that leaves his lips is so loud it seems to echo in the room, in Beomgyu’s eardrums. He smiles victoriously as Yeonjun rests his forehead on Beomgyu’s chest, rutting his cock into the man’s palm, too close to his own bulge. A broken groan ripping from Beomgyu’s lips, soaked with pleasure and desire.

“Beomgyu, please,” Yeonjun sighs, still rutting against Beomgyu’s bulge.

“Tell me what you want,” Beomgyu pants. “I’ll give you everything you want, everything you need.”

“I want to ride you,” Yeonjun says, lifting his body and staring at Beomgyu. “I want you to never forget this moment.”

It’s such a majestic image that it almost doesn’t seem real, Beomgyu struggles to breathe properly. Yeonjun steps off his body, motioning for him to remove the rest of the clothes that are in the way. Beomgyu is so desperate he almost breaks the button on his pants, ripping the piece of cloth off and throwing it away without care. He’s equally naked, Yeonjun soon back in the position he was in before, holding a bottle of lube in his hand.

Beomgyu lets the desire inside him burn fully, curling his fingers around Yeonjun’s erection, sliding his hand down the length. Yeonjun’s lashes flutter, a wet sigh escaping from his parted lips. He slides his hand up and down a few more times, fascinated by the way Yeonjun shudders and sighs, so needy it makes something bubble in Beomgyu’s stomach. He wants to hear Yeonjun’s moans for a long time, he wants the sound to be etched in his head for a long time. He takes the bottle from Yeonjun’s hand carefully, being stopped not long before.

He frowns. “What?”

“I’ll do it,” Yeonjun says, voice a little weak, the gleam in his eyes strong enough to shine the whole room. “I want you to watch me, to be the only thing you’ll think about for a long time.”

Beomgyu nods desperately, his eyes glued to the way Yeonjun drips the lube on his fingers, doing so while keeping his gaze fixed on his. The fingers go straight to his hole, a soft touch reminiscent of the way Yeonjun holds the flowers, intertwining his fingers with Beomgyu’s. He can’t see much from the position he’s in, but he knows when Yeonjun eases a finger inside himself by the way his head tips back, exposing his neck, unblemished and inviting. Beomgyu runs a hand up the man’s thighs, relishing in the way Yeonjun’s eyes close shut and a quiet moan leaves his lips, finger sinking further inside him.

It truly is an image he’ll never be able to forget, even if he wanted to.

Yeonjun works his finger in and out of himself, loosening the muscle. He has probably done this before by the way he puts another finger in without feeling any discomfort. Beomgyu wonders if he did this earlier, before picking him up at the hostel; he can’t get the idea out of his head, Yeonjun opening himself in this same room while thinking of the possibility of having Beomgyu’s dick inside him, moaning his name unabashedly. Beomgyu’s cock is aching on his belly, begging to be touched, a hiss coming out of him when Yeonjun twitches slightly, giving him a little taste of the friction he’s in need of. He’s impatient, wants things to go faster and slower at the same time, wants to finally be inside Yeonjun’s but doesn’t want to miss a second of the scene in front of him.

By the time Yeonjun has three fingers buried deep inside him, whimpering and moaning so sweetly, Beomgyu can no longer contain himself by just watching everything and doing nothing. His cock is so hard that it’s almost painful, an angry shade of red on the tip that makes Beomgyu groan with any movement coming from Yeonjun above him. The only thing on his mind is the desire to be inside Yeonjun, to be able to feel the sensation of his walls enveloping him, to be one with the man he’s so in love with.

“Beomgyu, more. I want— Please ,” Yeonjun begs for everything and nothing at the same time, so needy it makes Beomgyu move before his head processes what he’s doing.

He drips lube on his dick, pumping it, relief rushing through his body in a sigh, but it’s still not enough for him. Yeonjun takes his cock in his hand confidently, the touch makes the sigh turn into a groan in Beomgyu’s mind, settling for any measly friction he receives from the other. Yeonjun giggles, guiding the dick close to his slick rim, between his thighs with his big hands, making Beomgyu’s head tip back and quiet groans leave his lips. Yeonjun looks directly at him while sinking slowly, an almost torturous pace for both. His eyes are shining, wide and hazy with pleasure, his two-colored eyes even more gorgeous this way.

Yeonjun is a supernova, slowly exploding in a powerful burst of colors, shining brighter than any star he has ever seen in his life. There’s no one in the galaxy like Yeonjun, Beomgyu can see that all the more now.

Beomgyu grips his thighs hard while he sinks all the way down, gasping, thighs trembling under the human’s hands. Beomgyu swears he’s able to see all the colors of the Aurora Borealis in the sky outside on his eyelids from the amount of pleasure he’s feeling. Beomgyu has slept with many people throughout his travels, of many sizes and shapes, each one with their own way of acting in this not intimate moment. But with Yeonjun, it seems different, everything seems more intimate than it should be, all sensations seem to expand, slowly engulfing Beomgyu's entire body with a desire only to give pleasure to the man in his hands. He never thought that making love would be like this, it’d be like watching a supernova happen and then turn into a black hole, pulling him in. Beomgyu doesn't fight it, he never wants to forget this, so he keeps his eyes wide open, watching the black hole slowly swallow him up.

A black hole in the form of Yeonjun with chest heaving, sweat-slicked skin glistening, eyes closed and head hanging back when Beomgyu is totally inside him.

“Oh, Beomgyu,” Yeonjun mewls. “I have dreamed of this so many times.”

Beomgyu almost chokes. “You dreamed about me inside you?”

Yeonjun nods. “I even jacked off in this same bed to the thought of you inside me.”

“How filthy of you to make me lay in the same bed you jack off.”

“If it makes you feel better, this is better than any thought and dream I had.”

That’s all Beomgyu needs to feel confident enough to close his hand on Yeonjun’s dick, pumping slowly and measly, watching the way his face twists with pleasure at such a light touch. Yeonjun adjusts and paces himself, rolling his hips tentatively, making Beomgyu roll his eyes from the pleasure. Yeonjun grins mischievously, knowing all too well exactly what he’s causing in Beomgyu, he feels the need to see this man lose his head, to see Beomgyu broken and unable to think of nothing but him when with someone else. Beomgyu can’t focus on anything but the incredible feeling of Yeonjun walls pulsing around him, trying his hardest to keep still against the mattress, fighting the urge to push into Yeonjun with intent.

“You’re so quiet, my love,” Yeonjun says, voice a little hoarse. Beomgyu closes his eyes tightly when he leans over to his ear, whispering in a seductive tone. “Doesn’t feel good?”

“You really want me to— Fuck, ” Yeonjun chose this exact moment to swivel his hips, making the words in Beomgyu’s mouth die, replace by a loud, hoarse and unabashed moan. He doesn’t remember ever moaning this loud, feeling his cheeks burn from the sound, trying to hide his face on the pillow.

By the proud and satisfied smile on Yeonjun’s lips, that’s the exact reaction he wanted from the man under him. “That’s way better,sweetheart.”

Beomgyu rolls his eyes, both in irritation and pleasure, unable to control his reactions now that he knows the power Yeonjun has to bring them out of him. Yeonjun’s swiveling his hips slow and torturous, making it difficult every second to think of anything but pining him to the bed and pistol his dick inside until Yeonjun’s nothing but a blabbering mess, whining and begging.

He snorts. “Is that how you people from Nuturn treat your lovers?”

“No, we treat them way worse,” Yeonjun laughs, a sound full of lust. “You’re lucky you got a soft-heart like me.”

“If this is how a soft-heart treats his lovers, I don’t want to know how the others do.”

“I said I’d give you something to remember me.”

There’s something both attractive and terrifying about the way Yeonjun looks down at him, a glint in his eyes and a devilish smile that makes Beomgyu wants to flee and feel like he’s home. It’s whiplash, it makes him feel dizzy and his head full of cotton, he wants nothing more than to be treated like this the whole night, as long as Yeonjun is the one making him feel like this. Yeonjun lifts his hips carefully, until Beomgyu’s dick is almost out of his hole, leaving him at the point of whimpering like a needy baby — he’s already missing the warmness, the feeling of Yeonjun engulfing him. When he lowers back down in one hard motion, all the remaining breath from Beomgyu’s lungs disappear, he’s sure he could come with just that, his mouth open but no sound coming out.

“Tell me, love,” Yeonjun draws his attention, one hand on his face, hips moving in slow, precise movements. He’s trembling slightly, Beomgyu can almost feel it in his core. “Will you miss me?”

Beomgyu swallows. “More than you can ever imagine.”

Yeonjun places a kiss behind Beomgyu’s ear, lavishing in the way he shivers when he whispers, “Then let me show you how much I’ll miss you.”

Yeonjun lifts up and lowers down steadily, dragging every centimeter in a slow pace, making Beomgyu’s already dizzy and out of control head spin and spin like he’s in a carousel. He’s pretty sure he’ll pass out at any given second if Yeonjun keeps riding him like that, the tight clench and heat too much for his already gone mind. Yeonjun’s eyes roll back when Beomgyu grinds his hips forward instinctively, equally trembling. Every minute gives a new acknowledgement to Yeonjun to what brings most pleasure from Beomgyu — sinking and grinding slowly, raking red lines in his chest, brushing his fingertips in his nipple, leaving pretty marks on his unblemished neck. It’s such a shame this is the first and last time they will do this, he’ll love to use that acknowledgement again, leave Beomgyu so gone it’ll take time for him to come back to normal.

If Beomgyu wasn’t so focused on not coming on the spot, he’d have more things to catalog about what Yeonjun likes on the bed. He likes control, he likes it hard in everything — hard touches, hard kisses. It’s fine, Beomgyu wants nothing but to be the reason Yeonjun is pleasuring himself.

Yeonjun keeps riding in that same steady pace, a pleasure unlike anything Beomgyu has ever felt in his life. He wasn’t lying when he said that nuturnians make great lovers, he can’t even imagine the luck of those who have Yeonjun in his bed for the time they stay in this planet — a luck that’s all exclusively his at the moment, a luck that he wished he had since the first day they met. They’re both sweating, coming apart and stripped bare, chests rising and falling while Beomgyu tries not to pass out from the frantic pleasure he’s feeling. Yeonjun looks tired, sweat glistening and running down his forehead, skin slippery betweenBeomgyu’s fingers, but he keeps going at the same place. Beomgyu knows he’s closer, eyes never leaving the man above him, not even blinking to not miss a second.

“Like what you see?” Yeonjun teases, a numb smile on his lips, seductively looking at him.

Beomgyu licks his lips. “Maybe I like it a little more than I should.”

“Is it enough to make you stay?”

“For tonight, sure.”

“Don’t forget me, even after many years.” Yeonjun’s movements become more irregular, low, needy moans running from his lips. He’s panting, trying to find his own release, adding in between puffs of air, “I beg you.”

Beomgyu pumps his dick lazily, and when he comes, it’s almost like he’s falling apart in his hands. His cock spurts white across Beomgyu’s stomach and chest, eyes rolling back and head tipped back, clenching so hard around Beomgyu’s dick that makes him come untouched, mimicking Yeonjun’s reaction, his soul almost leaving his body from the strong orgams. Yeonjun’s body falls above his, boneless and exhausted, like he never felt before. Beomgyu comes down from his own high to the sight of Yeonjun lying on his body, head leaned against the junction of his neck and shoulders, dozing off lightly. It’s an uncomfortable position for both, but he doesn’t have the courage to push him away.

It’s their last night together, Beomgyu will give everything Yeonjun asks for, do anything that Yeonjun wants.

“I wish you would stay,” Yeonjun whispers but he doesn't seem to realize he’s talking, lost in that limbo between trying to stay awake and letting himself be lulled to sleep. “I wish you would stay with me forever.”

Yeonjun falls asleep a few seconds later, without even realizing the confession he has made — which isn’t really a confession, Beomgyu has known about this desire of his for a long time. But the sincerity in the words, the way they came out so easily, makes Beomgyu unable to sleep even though his body is tired and his eyes want to close. He’s so in love with the man on top of him, he can't remember ever having felt this way about people in the past, of having felt his heart in his throat every time he’s near the person, of feeling his heart aching for not being able to realize what he wants most.

He closes his eyes, stroking Yeonjun’s black short hair with the same care he holds the flowers he gave him. In that moment between being awake and about to sleep, in the serenity of dawn, with Yeonjun's body on top of his and his calm breathing tickling his neck, Beomgyu admits the one thing he can't even say out loud to himself. The words seem to have no weight when they come out of his mouth, nothing but a whispered confession that will never be heard, but it seems to be enough to make him close his eyes afterwards and sleep peacefully.

“I’d stay in Nuturn. I’d stay here with you forever.”

There is something strange in the air since the moment Beomgyu woke up. Unlike any other days in Nuturn, there’s no sun in the sky as expected from summer season, the air isn’t filled with the usual sweet and citric scent of flowers — the sweet that reminds him of Yeonjun’s lips, the citric that reminds him of Yeonjun’s words. Beomgyu left the little cottage before the sun rose, leaving Yeonjun lying serenely in his bed, dreaming of a reality where Beomgyu will always be with him, hoping to wake up with the warmth of Beomgyu's body beside him, hoping he will stay. Beomgyu feels like a one night stand while he walks alone back to the hostel, watching the empty streets and the dark night slowly being swallowed by the clear blue sky.

At least, that’s what was supposed to happen, but the sky is in an uncharacteristic grayish hue that doesn’t seem to match with all the colors he saw in Nuturn. No sun in sight, the entire planet is covered by a big weird cloud while Beomgyu stuffs all his belongings into his old backpack. If he were superstitious, he’d firmly believe that Nuturn is like this because of his departure, because he’s going to break the heart of the Gods’ favorite child. Beomgyu takes a peek at the sky from his window, he doesn’t believe in deities controlling the weather to make him feel guilty, doesn’t believe in belonging to a place — at least, that’s what he’s been repeating to himself ever since he left Yeonjun.

He looks away from the gray skies, facing the wilted flowers he has kept inside a drawer; the flowers Yeonjun kept giving him months ago for no reason — even though deep down he knows the reason. Beomgyu’s not sure why he kept them even when the petals have dried and turned yellowish, crumbling when he takes them out of the drawer. Maybe he did to remember the way Yeonjun thought of him before giving it, maybe to see if their beauty would last even with time, maybe to cling to the idea that even if they wither, they remain in the same place, until they become beautiful again.

He shakes his head, trying to scare away any thought related to Yeonjun. He doesn’t want to think about Yeonjun right now, he’s trying so hard to make the pain go away before it settles in his heart; but as he looks at the flowers, the gardener is the only thing on his mind, all his thoughts revolving around one dark-haired man, probably still in deep slumber on his bed. There has been no formal goodbye between them, Beomgyu just walked away as if there was nothing going on between them but a one-night stand. He thinks it’s for the best that things end like this, he knows that if Yeonjun asked for him to stay one more time, he’d end up giving in to the man’s wish, would stay without thinking twice. 

Beomgyu doesn’t believe in belonging to one place, there’s no reason to be so attached to a place that will always be there, that will never move or cease to exist; he can't understand how people can stand to be immobile for so long, standing in one place, stagnant to memories lived in these places. He’ll never understand this, but he’s beginning to believe that it’s possible to belong to a person.

He throws all the flowers into the bathroom trash can, watching them burn fastly in the electronic fire, nothing but ashes that the maid will throw away when Beomgyu hands the keys to the reception. Even if he believes in the possibility of belonging to a person, it’s not like his life will suddenly change because of it, not like he can change so suddenly. Just like the wilted flowers that burned under his gaze, Yeonjun will get tired of him at some point, will lose interest in him once they spend too much time together. And what will Beomgyu do when his roots are all wrapped around Yeonjun and he starts cutting them entirely? He can’t go through that again, can’t have his heart shattered like his parents did to him all those years ago.

“So, you’re really leaving,” Ryujin says from behind the reception counter when Beomgyu comes by the lobby with backpack in hands. The way she says it isn’t a question, it’s a disbelieving statement. 

“I told you I don’t stay more than a year on a planet,” Beomgyu replies, walking towards her. “Besides, I have already overstayed my welcome here.”

“It doesn’t sound like a very cool lifestyle,” Ryujin clicks her tongue, eyes misty staring at Beomgyu — he hopes he’s wrong about the look in her eyes, hopes he’s only seeing too much. “Abandoning people who are good for you, you know? I don’t think I could live like that.”

Beomgyu shrugs, pretending that the words don’t hurt more than they should. “You get used to it, with time.”

“The question is, do the people you leave behind get used to not having you around?”

The words are heavy on her lips, almost suffocating Beomgyu as they hover through the air of the large lobby, slowly sucking up all the oxygen and leaving nothing but their weight behind. Beomgyu coughs and chokes on them, looking away momentarily, staring at his hand holding the backpack straps harder than necessary. These words hurt far more than the ones she said before, a sharp blade being stabbed into his already bruised heart, blood washing them all. This time he can’t run away, can’t disguise it with some snarky retort. It’s like Ryujin has opened his head and is reciting all his hidden thoughts aloud.

“They get used to it too, with time,” Beomgyu mumbles, still looking away. “Time heals everything.”

Ryujin snorts. “You really don’t know Yeonjun.”

Beomgyu can state this vehemently, couldn’t agree better with Ryujin’s words. As much as he and Yeonjun have spent almost every single day of the year together, that doesn’t mean they automatically know each other that well. There are things Beomgyu doesn’t know about the man he’s in love with, just as there are things that Yeonjun doesn’t know about him — but he thinks the fact that he knows about Beomgyu’s trauma means more than knowing what his favorite color is. They’re talks where only safely on the tip of the iceberg, only the superficial, only that parts that wouldn’t cause wounds for when Beomgyu left. He’d never be able to fully know Yeonjun in just one year, something in his heart aches at the thought of leaving without knowing him well. But knowing someone is a trade-off, Beomgyu would’ve to open up fully too, something he’s not sure he can do — but he admits that he’d do it if Yeonjun wanted to know him.

“You’re right. I don’t know him,” Beomgyu admits in a whisper.

“Then let me tell you something,” Ryujin leans on the countertop, coming closer to Beomgyu, about to tell him a secret that no one else can hear — the lobby is empty, but he doesn’t comment about it. “Yeonjun never forgets things that are important to him. He remembers the birthday of almost everyone who lives here, he remembers the stories about the Gods that he used to listen to only when he was a kid, he remembers his parents as if they were still around us. He’s the only person who remembers how to take care of flowers the way the Gods like.”

Beomgyu doesn’t know what Ryujin is aiming at giving all these random facts about Yeonjun, but he has an idea that it might be at a point he doesn’t want her to get to. “I figured. He’s really a good person.”

“So don’t go around thinking he’ll forget you in a week, a month, even a year,” Ryujin says, staring hard at him. “He won’t forget you, dickhead. You’re not a random person in his heart, you’re special, in a way that you can’t even understand. He’ll never forget you.”

“I don’t want him to remember this, to remember me,” Beomgyu sighs desperately, closing his eyes tightly. “It’s not gonna do him any good.”

“You really think he cares about it?” Ryujin scoffs. “You’re the first person he’s ever really fallen in love with. How is he going to forget you that easily, you stupid human.”

Beomgyu opens and closes his mouth, no sound coming out of his mouth, nothing but surprise and shock, Beomgyu can't react in any other way. He knows that Yeonjun likes him, he doesn’t need any further proof of his feelings before the last night they spent together — there’s no reason to question Yeonjun’s feelings, they’re so sincere that just thinking about them makes the sharp pain comes back to haunt Beomgyu for heedlessly smashing such feelings. What Beomgyu didn’t know was that he carries with him the gift of being the first person that Yeonjun has ever fallen in love with. Now, he’ll carry the burden of being the first person to break Yeonjun’s fragile heart.

“I didn’t want him to get attached. I didn’t want him to have his heart broken,” Beomgyu whispers, looking down at his feet, stepping firmly on the white tiled floor. He wishes the floor would swallow him up right now, it’d be easier than admit his willingness to stay — easier than admit that if Ryujin keeps telling him these things, he’ll run to Yeonjun’s cottage and lay down next to him, forget about the ship waiting to take him away from the man he loves. “I didn’t want him to fall in love.”

“It’s kinda late to say these things,” Ryujin scoffs.

Beomgyu gnaws on his bottom lip. “You think I don’t know?”

“There’s always a first time for everything, I’m sure you know that,” Ryujin says, moving back behind the countertop, sitting back in her chair before taking one last look at Beomgyu. “I hope you have a good trip to wherever far from here you’re going, and that you live a long life in the way you like it. It may not seem like it, but I’m going to miss you. I still like you, even if you’re about to break the heart of someone who’s like an older brother to me.”

“I like you too, even if you’re hurting me with your words right now,” Beomgyu says, taking one last look at the woman in front of him.

“Consider this as retaliation for what you’re about to do when you leave,” Ryujin remarks. “Yeonjun is going to miss you too, for a long time.”

Beomgyu doesn’t say goodbye to Ryujin, doesn’t want to say goodbye to the only friendship besides the one with Yeonjun that he has made on Nuturn. He walks out of the hostel a bit after the conversation, his backpack straps leaving marks on his palm from how hard he’s holding them, his chest so heavy it seems to compress with every step he takes near the city’s port. His head is full of Ryujin’s words, of the guilt he feels for breaking Yeonjun’s heart, of scenarios and things that could happen if he stayed, of his own feelings piercing his body like a hundred needles. His feet seem to weigh tons, dragging through the streets as if they don’t want to leave. His body is betraying him right now, it takes almost an eternity until he reaches the port and finds the ship that will take him far away from Nuturn — far away from Yeonjun, specifically.

The ship is navy blue, a cargo thing no bigger than the one that brought him to Nuturn one year ago. The captain comments vaguely that it’s name is Emjun, after the Goddess of fortune, and talks some more about things that Beomgyu isn’t paying attention to. If Yeonjun were there, Beomgyu would probably be entertained with a nice story about the previous life of the goddess while he loads the ship with the crates that’ll be his payment to go aboard. The thought makes Beomgyu want to run out of the port and go straight to the little cottage in the forest and ask about the Goddess and any other deity Yeonjun wants to tell him about this afternoon. His feet feel like running away, but he sticks them to the platform where some people are loading boxes onto the ship, forcing himself to stay.

He’s already here, there’s no going back now. He doesn’t understand why his body and mind keeps acting this way. 

Beomgyu doesn’t remember ever having any problem leaving other planets. He never felt like staying before, not even on the planets where he fell in love, where he had someone asking him to stay, where he broke hearts while boarding a ship and leaving things behind. He didn’t felt like putting down roots in Angiea and getting a job in the same place Heeseung worked; he didn’t feel like putting down roots in Colnelia and learning to fly spaceships and compete together with Sunwoo; he didn’t feel like putting down roots in Muigantu and accompanying Taehyun in all his gymnastics competitions. So why does he feel this suffocating need to stay in Nuturn? 

His mind can’t stop imagining a life with Yeonjun. Afternoons spent in the garden with flowers and evenings sitting on plastic chairs near his little cottage in the forest. Celebrating holidays, listening to stories about deities and drinking alongside Yeonjun and his friends. Nights spent with kisses full of passion and fervor, mornings with warm and comforting touches. He pictures himself working in some stupid store downtown just to have some income, coming back every evening to Yeonjun’s arms — Yeonjun popping out of nowhere in the store just to say how much he loves him ou to tease him, making it explicit to everyone that Beomgyu belongs only to him. It’s a bittersweet thought, one that leaves his mind restless and his eyes teary; it’s a thought that hurts but soothes him at the same time.

He’s filled to the point that’s starting to cloud his choices, that makes him feel like staying against all his ideals. He knows that, deep down, he can stay and really wants to; however, fear makes him walk along the platform while helping the crew load the ship, big crates with sweet and citric smells that almost make him feel like he’s inside the gardens again, like that afternoon that’s slowly turning into nothing but a memory. If he stays, this could be a routine in his life, to the point where he’d get used. He could stay, but his fear of being abandoned makes him continue on that platform.

He picks up one of the crates, some flowers escaping between the wooden planks, making Beomgyu shake his head to scare away the feeling of deja-vu. Ice lilies, identical to the one he received from Yeonjun as a welcome gift when they first met. Now, the last flower he sees before leaving is the same one, a goodbye without needing words. He lets out a laugh, ignoring the weird looks the ship’s crew cast in his direction. Now isn’t the time to think about Yeonjun or staying in Nuturn, it’s time to think about Galnainov and the things he’ll find there.

In some time, all this will become nothing but a sweet memory of ice flowers, colorful skies and a love unlike any other Beomgyu has ever felt.

The sky is turning a darker shade of gray, meaning that  departure time is slowly approaching. If the sun were shining in the sky today, it’d be setting in beautiful colors now, colors that Beomgyu wishes he’d be able to see one last time. There are no more crates on the platform, the crew members are taking a little rest to board the ship and say goodbye to this planet for a while. Unlike Beomgyu, who intends to say a final and decisive goodbye. He takes one last look at the dark and sorrowful sky, feeling sad that he can’t see the pretty colors. It’d be a great sight to add with all the others in his head — most of them have Yeonjun along with them, but he’s ignoring these in favor of not giving up on leaving.

The captain, an old man with a big beard and small glasses, briefly warns Beomgyu that they’ll be leaving in a few minutes, patting the human on the shoulder and saying that he’ll love Galnainov before turning around and entering the ship. A few crew members take that as a cue to enter the ship too, small backpacks on their backs, chatting among themselves excitedly in a language Beomgyu understands only a little. He’s still standing on the platform, taking one last look at Nuturn, its large fields so far away that he has to squint his eyes to see it. Yeonjun might be in there somewhere, working on the flowers and thinking about him. One part inside him hopes that Yeonjun isn’t hurting himself by thinking about him, the other hopes that Yeonjun’s thinking about him as much as Beomgyu’s thinking about him.

At some point during his reveries, he begins to see things that he’s sure are tricks of his mind. Beomgyu narrows his eyes, rubbing them hard afterwards, the image in front of him must not be real. Yeonjun, running toward the ship while shouting his name in a breathy, panting voice, dark hair moving along with the wind from how fast he’s running. Beomgyu takes a few steps backwards from being so startled, instinctively moving closer to the ship's entrance. He’s not sure if what he’s seeing is real or not, but he has to congratulate his mind if it’s making up this scenario — Yeonjun's beauty and grace, the way he calls his name in a slightly desperate tone are so true to reality that anyone would believe it without questioning.

“Yeonjun?” Beomgyu mouths to himself, confusion painting in his voice and features. Yeonjun shouts his name once again, his figure slowly approaching, too real to be only Beomgyu’s imagination playing tricks on him. He’s sure that not even if his mind were intoxicated with all the drinks from Nuturn he’d be able to imagine Yeonjun calling his name so desperately.

“Yeonjun!” Beomgyu says again, louder this time — loud enough to attract the attention of the few crew members still around, loud enough to make a smile appear on the corner of Yeonjun’s lips. 

Beomgyu blinks once Yeonjun is in front of him, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his hair messy and sweat dripping from his forehead. So stunning, beautiful as ever, a man that anyone would fall for. Beomgyu feels the urge to kiss those lips take over his body, to have one last sip of Yeonjun’s sweetness before he enters the ship.

“Beomgyu,” Yeonjun pants, putting his hand to his chest and taking as deep a breath as he can.

“What are you doing here?”

“I have… something… to say,” he says between short breaths, staring at Beomgyu, as if afraid that he’d get on the ship if he blinked or looked away for a second.

“Please don’t tell me you came to say goodbye,” Beomgyu says in a trembling breath, closing his eyes tightly to hold back the tears that want to spill out. He hasn’t cried since he left the cottage behind, but now, seeing Yeonjun right here looking so desperate and divine at the same time, he feels his eyes burn with many tears wanting to come out. “I’ve left without saying goodbye for a reason. Please, don’t make me do this.”

“I know,” Yeonjun murmurs, a conversation which is to be heard only by the two. He puts a hesitant hand on Beomgyu’s shoulder, waiting for the refusal, waiting for Beomgyu to push him away. “I didn’t come here for that. I wasn’t even going to come here, to be quite honest.”

Beomgyu frowns. “So what are you—”

“I know our challenge was only five reasons for you to stay, but I have one more.” His voice is slightly shaky but still trying to sound firm, his eyes shining with tears that want to be shed, like stars that Beomgyu would like to take in his hands and keep only for himself.

“Yeonjun, let’s not do this. Please,” Beomgyu breathes, looking down at the space between their feets, hoping the tears don’t start to fall.

“One last reason,” Yeonjun pleads. “If I don’t convince you, you can get on that ship and leave forever,” he squeezes Beomgyu’s shoulder a little harder, his words don’t matching his actions. “I won’t stop you.”

“That won’t change anything, Yeonjun,” Beomgyu shakes his head, sighing. “It’ll only break your heart more.” And mine too, he thinks, gnawing on his bottom lip.

“Please, just listen to me,” Yeonjun pleads once more, a single treacherous tear managing to escape from the fortress he has created. “That's all I ask. I won’t ask you to stay, or to love me forever, or to never forget about me and the things we did here. I just want you to listen to my last reason, because if you enter on that ship without knowing what I have to tell you, it’ll break my heart more than seeing you go.”

Beomgyu can't help but stare at the tear trail left on Yeonjun's face, a single drop capable of breaking his heart into so many pieces that he's sure he'll never be able to mend them. That's the reason he doesn't get attached to anyone on his trips, that's the reason he said he’d never fall in love again after Taehyun. Not because of his broken heart, but because of the broken hearts of the people who fall in love with him. Every time he sees tears, pleading for him to stay and broken hearts, it makes him wonder how different he is from his parents — what’s the difference between him and the people who abandoned him? He can't tell as he watches Yeonjun's pleading features, all the tears in his eyes that are waiting to fall as soon as Beomgyu boards the ship.

He looks away, he can no longer stare into Yeonjun's face without feeling that he’s about to make the biggest mistake of his life, that he’s about to destroy one of the most beautiful ice flowers on the planet. He watches one of the crew members walk past them on the platform, silently saying that they’ll board soon, his lips barely moving with the words, realizing the weight around the two men. Beomgyu takes a look around, the majority of the crewmembers already inside the ship, only a few more men standing nearby, smoking something that smells too strong. He scrunches and twitches his nose, that’s not the smell he wants to remember then he thinks of Nuturn. The smell he wants to keep inside his mind, to keep with him for when longing decides to pin him like a thousand needles, is the scent of ice flowers in the air, the scent of Yeonjun’s sheets, the scent of his body — both so sweet and citric they make Beomgyu taste an exotic fruit on his tongue.

At this moment, Beomgyu realizes that maybe he’s a masochist, a fool so in love that he’d rather break his heart into a thousand pieces than say no to the person he loves. He could walk away, he could spare them both from even more excruciating pain, a pain that won't go away as fast as Beomgyu wants it to. He could do many things, but one thing he can't do is say no to Yeonjun. He could never say no to Yeonjun. and this is what makes him realize that his feelings for Yeonjun are not like the others he felt in the past, nothing he felt before comes close to what he feels now for the man in front of him.

Beomgyu sighs, surrendering. “One last reason.”

“Okay,” Yeonjun murmurs, taken aback by Beomgyu's acceptance. It's as if he had hoped that the other wouldn’t give him this chance — even though deep down a knowing voice keeps saying to him that Beomgyu would never walk away like this, leaving him behind like this without listening to what he has to say. “Alright, alright.”

“You know it won’t work, right?” He tries to joke, to make the air around them less stiff and suffocating, but his chest hurts and his voice comes out slightly squeaky, throat closing up.

Yeonjun chuckles, but there’s no humor in it — it’s painful to hear, it keeps breaking Beomgyu each time he looks or hears Yeonjun, a painful loop. “It can’t hurt to try.”

“It didn’t work on the other attempts, what will be different now?”

“I don't know,” Yeonjun whispers, a doubtful frown. “I can’t guarantee it’ll be different. I can’t guarantee it’ll change your mind, but I want to try. I have tried five times, one more try will only prove to you how much I want you to stay.”

“Why do you want to break your hurt so badly?” Beomgyu supplicates. Why do you want me to break your heart so badly? He thinks, the words are so easy to make room on his mouth for him to say them out loud, but he keeps them binded inside him. A voice in the back of his head kept screaming that he doesn’t need to break Yeonjun’s heart — that he doesn’t need to break his own heart.

“My heart would break a lot more if you left without listening to what I have to say,” Yeonjun replies, repeating himself once again, emphasizing the fact that Beomgyu's departure will break his heart, but not as much as his leaving without listening to him. “I know you’re going to leave anyway, I don't need to lie to myself and say that this last reason will make you stay. But I can’t help having hope, is that a bad thing?”

Beomgyu shakes his head. “Then tell me, Yeonjun. I’ll listen to anything you have to say.”

“Here in Nuturn—” he starts but stops before he can say anything more, voice breaking, showing how shaken he is right now. Beomgyu takes his hands, intertwining their shaking fingers, like lovers about to make a confession. But there’s no confession, only a painful goodbye that will leave scars that’ll take too much to heal. Yeonjun smiles weakly, taking a deep, shuddering breath before looking straight at Beomgyu’s eyes. “Here in Nuturn, there is all the love I can give you, and much more I’m willing to give you. And even though I know that it’s not as magnificent as the universe you long to walk through, I can assure you it’s just as great.”

“Yeonjun…” Beomgyu swallows, the knot on his throat turning bigger to the point he can’t say anything.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Yeonjun reassures him. “I know it won’t work, but I couldn’t let you go before I said that, before I said that I love you, that I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you. Beomgyu, you can’t even imagine how much I’m in love with you. It’s so much it makes me wonder if it’s normal to love someone like this, if love is feeling your heart about to explode every time you’re close to the person, if love is having this feeling of something walking inside your belly. If love is wanting things you know you shouldn’t want because you know you can’t have.”

Beomgyu is about to cry, he doesn't know if he can hold back his tears any longer — not if Yeonjun continues baring his heart like this, saying exactly what Beomgyu is feeling since his heart and mind stopped fighting and decided they love this man. “Yeonjun, I—”

“I thought I could be egoistic, I thought I could make you stay just because I want to. But the truth is, I can’t do this to you,” Yeonjun continues. “Love shouldn’t be about forcing one to stay by your side only because that’s what you want. Beomgyu, I can’t force you to put down roots near where mine are, because roots don't grow where they don’t want to be. And I know that you may love me the same way you have loved others—”

He knows this isn’t the best time to pull Yeonjun close and kiss him softly, but it’s the only thing he’s been aching to do from the moment that Yeonjun confessed his feelings. He lets go of Yeonjun’s hands, holding the back of his neck tightly to kiss him harder, so Yeonjun can’t pull away — not like he would, considering the way he’s eagerly kissing him back. He holds tight not only for Yeonjun to not go away, but for himself to not have a reason to leave.

In that single moment, his mind and heart soars with the same wish that Beomgyu kept ignoring, kept fighting against it, kept fooling himself into thinking that’s not what he wants. He knows now, he can clearly see now. He doesn’t want to get on that ship, he doesn’t want to say goodbye to the wonders he saw in Nuturn, to the gardens where he felt safe and uncertain at the same time, to Ryujin and her witty comments, to Yeonjun and everything that make up the man he’s in love with. For the first time, Beomgyu craves to belong to a place — more than that, he craves to belong to a person, to belong to Yeonjun. He wants his roots to be so close to Yeonjun’s that it’ll be almost impossible to discern which is which, it’ll be impossible to cut them away from each other.

Now that he thinks seriously about it, he doesn’t want just a year or two next to Yeonjun. He wants an eternity, or as long as possible for two different creatures like them to stay side by side. Beomgyu feels now what Yeonjun meant when he said love is wanting things you know you shouldn’t want because you know you can’t have them. He wants so many things in the few minutes they spend on each other's arms, with their mouths glued together in desperation and anguish. He wants to know Yeonjun like the back of his hand, to spend nights and days knowing this fascinating man, to discover every tiny part of him; and he wants Yeonjun to discover everything about him in return. A big part of him still fears abandonment, still fears for the day Yeonjun will get tired of him and leave him behind, but the voice begging him to stay speaks louder now. How could someone who came there only to give him one more reason for a silly challenge that ended last night not care about him? How could someone who simply gave his heart into Beomgyu's hands would do to him the same thing his parents did?

Beomgyu wants to stay, not only because of Yeonjun’s words and unconditional love, but because of his own desire — he just needed a little push in the form of a black-haired man who smells like plum and blackberries, a man who’s blessed by the deities to be the only who can take care of the flowers, a man who knows all the stories of said deities, a man who kisses and touches Beomgyu like he’s the most delicate flower in his care, a man who turned Beomgyu into the object of his affections having never felt such things before.

When he breaks the kiss, Yeonjun still keeps his eyes closed, almost motionless in Beomgyu’s softening grip. Beomgyu cups his cheeks, caressing them like a flower petal, Yeonjun slowly blossoming in his palms with the blue and purple orbs that stare at him. They look deeply into each other’s eyes, close in every possible way, close as lovers who will for as long as Yeonjun’s deities desire.

“There’s no one in the galaxy I loved before as much as I love you now,” Beomgyu whispers these honest words only for Yeonjun to hear, leaning his forehead against his. “I love you, I’ll do it for much longer than you can imagine. I understand you, Yeonjun. Everything that you feel, I feel it too. I thought I needed to stay in a place for a short time out of fear of finding someone who would make me want to stay. I fear abandonment to the extent that I’ve left so many people behind, so many places that I could make a home out of it. The truth is I can do this to you, I can leave you behind, even if you abandon me someday.”

“I’ll never abandon you, my love.” Yeonjun shakes his head, pulling away slightly to see Beomgyu’s face better. “You don’t have to fear that as long as you’re in my arms.”

“Can your deities guarantee that?”

“Here’s an important fact about our people. When a nuturnian loves a person so deeply, it’s a love that lasts until the days come to an end and the bodies are below the earth,” Yeonjun tells, without looking away for a second. “Even more than that, the spirits stay binded together. It’s a love for eternity, Beomgyu.”

“Sounds like a good way to live.”

“You can live like this, for the time you want.”

“What if I want more than eternity?”

“You can have it,” Yeonjun says. “You can have my heart and my love for the time you want. It doesn’t matter if it’s for days, months, years or even more than eternity.”

“Do I deserve it?”

“There’s no one who deserves this more than you.”

“More than eternity with you sounds like a good way to live,” Beomgyu mumbles, looking away to face the ship behind them.

There’s a boy standing near the entrance, holding a backpack in hands and looking at the two on the platform with a tired and confused look on his face. Beomgyu takes a look around and there’s no one else here besides them, the time for departure finally has arrived. He thought his decision had been made since he talked to the captain yesterday to secure a spot in the ship, had been made since he woke up in the morning and left Yeonjun in his own bed without looking back. Ryujin’s words remain vividly in his head, there’s always a first time for everything. Beomgyu decides to take a chance to see if these words are really true.

He turns away from Yeonjun, silently begging him to wait a little bit, jogging to where the boy is standing at the entrance of the ship. He has no idea what his name is or where he’s from or what such a young boy is doing being part of a ship crew — there are things that Beomgyu never asks, the galaxy is an unpredictable place. They have exchanged a bit of small talk while carrying the boxes into the ship, nothing but meaningless conversations about the planet they were going to. The boy’s eyes are shimmering silver, he doesn’t seem surprised when Beomgyu tells him he won’t be boarding the ship this afternoon. “I knew you wouldn’t leave this planet. I can read minds, I read everything in your mind today, sorry about that. If you want to stay, then listen to the small voice that’s trying to guide you, it’ll take you to the place you want to be.” That’s what he said before stepping inside to warn the captain about the change of plans. When Beomgyu jogs back to the platform, the ship is still parked behind him, expecting him to change his mind at the last minute and fly away to another galaxy.

He doesn’t have to change his mind at the last minute, his new decision is made.

“So you’re really going, right?” Yeonjun observes, sounding so miserable he’d be able to make all the flowers on the planet wilt just by hearing his caretaker talk like that, just by seeing the crease in his forehead and the shudder in his lips.

“You think I could leave after you gave me six poetic and somewhat overelaborated and a little dramatic reasons to stay?” Beomgyu scoffs, crossing his arms. “You really think I could leave you after you gave me your heart?”

“Will you stay?” Yeonjun asks, uncertain, trying to sound not so hopeful.

Beomgyu takes Yeonjun’s hand, kissing it tenderly and lovingly. It’s becoming a habit, an intimate gesture that he likes the most — that never fails to make Yeonjun beam like a star in the palm of his hand. The purest, most meaningful display of affection that Beomgyu knows, that Beomgyu likes to give and receive. Intimate, that’s what he’s aiming for them to be from now on. Lovers are what Beomgyu wants them to be.

“For as long as you want me, my love,” Beomgyu says in the skin of his wrist, looking straight at Yeonjun’s face, watching how happiness spreads through his face like the blue and pinks of the sky breaking the darkness in the morning. “My heart is yours for you to do whatever you want.”

“I’ll take care of it, don’t worry,” Yeonjun says in a playful tone, wiggling his brows. “Are you ready to spend eternity in Nuturn?”

Beomgyu shakes his head, taking Yeonjun by surprise. “No, I’m ready to spend eternity with you. ”

It’s the last thing Beomgyu manages to say before Yeonjun pulls him close and kisses him again, deep and romantic like one of the hologram scenes that Beomgyu used to see from the stolen trinkets when he lives on the pirate ship. Outside the bubble that slowly begins to form around them, he hears the ship leaving, his engines roaring in the silence but the sound seems muffled in Beomgyu’s ears. The weight of his body disappears, becoming as light as a flower under Yeonjun’s hands. His touch is gentle and full of love, Beomgyu feels cherished and adored like he has never felt before from anyone in the universe, not even the ones he fell in love with long ago. At moments like this, he really doesn’t mind spending eternity in Nuturn, staying here for so much time, as long as Yeonjun continues loving and embracing him like this.

As they walk back to Yeonjun’s small cottage in the forest, the place Beomgyu didn’t want to leave earlier today, the place he thought he’d never see again in his life, he’s sure of one thing in the sea of uncertain things moving around his new decision. Beomgyu no longer needs the galaxies or any other planet to explore, not when he has Yeonjun right here in the palm of his hand, ready to be discovered and fulfill Beomgyu’s dream of being an explorer.