Starry Eyes |seongjoong|

*1*

"The sky is on fire..." he mumbled, just a second before I kissed him.

I was sitting on the coffee table on the rooftop, working on my project and listening to music. When I noticed the door opened, and someone walked in. Usually, I wasn't really paying attention to who was coming by since the roof was a shared area. But today, I had a feeling something was going to happen. And that person too.

So when that person walked in, I lowered the volume of my headphones, just in case. My eyes were following every movement he made. That guy, seemed too absorbed in his own world to notice me. And I just continued observing him from afar. Meanwhile, my hands were typing on my laptop. I noticed, he stood way too close to the railing, I didn't act yet. He was leaning on it his body was shaking. I had to put my headphones down and listen carefully to hear his quiet sobbing. He was crying, and the sound of it made me feel awkward. I never knew what to do with a crying person. It just felt so weird.

At first, I stood there, unmoved, yet my curiosity took over. I stood up, walking all the way over to him. When I was close enough, I gently patted his shoulder. It was enough for him to notice me, and sniffle away his tears. Even tho his eyes were saying it all, he still tried to hide his sadness behind a fake smile. That made everything more awkward than it was before. But my attention moved on to something else, something pretty in that ugly picture.

"Beautiful..." I mumbled unintentionally while he was wiping his tears. They were mixed with his glittery eyeshadow, shining under the sunlight. Thanks to that, his pretty round eyes were sparkling like two stars. But the painful smile ruined everything.

"No need to force a smile," I told him, in a soft tone. "There's nothing wrong with crying when you feel sorrow." I finished, placing my hand on his cheek.

"Thanks," he said a moment before his tears ran down.

I felt that awkwardness from earlier. Yet, now I knew what to do. I took his hand and led him to the coffee table. There, he sat down and tried to cry in silence, holding my hand tight. He pressed my palm against his cheek, head leaning on my body as I stood beside him. I could feel his tears running down my skin. I guess that was what I could do for him.

It took him some time to calm down, but eventually he did. He continued to hold my hand, his fingers were nervously playing on my skin. It was tickling me, yet I suppressed my instinct to pull away. Mainly cause he could start crying again. So with my other hand, I got him some tissues from the table, wiping his face. As if he was a child. And he acted that way. I could finally understand what my mom felt, when she had to deal with my crybaby brother.

"Thank you," he mumbled again, avoiding looking me in the eyes.

"Sure," I smiled. "Would you like to stay for a coffee?" I asked next, maybe out of curiosity. Of course, not in a way to cross the line.

He agreed. So I got up from the table and walked to my rooftop flat. It took me a couple of minutes to prepare him some coffee. I even added some biscuits on the side. I had no idea if he liked sweets, but just in case. So when I brought everything out, he was staring at the sky. His profile was quite handsome.

"Here you go," I said to get his attention. He turned his sparkly eyes towards me, then the set I was bringing.

To the sight of sweets, he smiled. Such an innocent and honest smile. Like a child's. It made me feel a warmth growing in my chest. I had to look away before my face followed the heath. It was nice to see him smiling after all the tears I witnessed.

I sat against him, observing every move he made. The gentle way he held the coffee cup, how his throat moved with every sip, how his slender hands picked up the sweets he wanted. That man was a gentle and elegant creature, for sure. But the silence between us was heavy. So I decided to break the ice and talk about some random topic. Soon enough, he relaxed just enough. So we could hold up a conversation. It helped me learn who he was. Park Seonghwa, a twenty-three years old, was the new tenant from the floor under. And a social study major in my university. We spoke about common topics, nothing too personal. He didn't seem comfortable enough to talk about his personal life, and so on. I left it that way. Otherwise, I could scare him off.

During our conversation, I didn't even attempt to ask why he came here in the first place. It wasn't my business to know the reason behind his tears. Even if I was curious, there were some boundaries. And I just knew that he felt a little better after crying it out. I read some articles about the effect of crying when people are stressed out. It showed that this is a way of comfort to certain groups of people.

"Thank you, Hongjoong-ssi," he spoke before looking at his watch. "Oh, I have to go to work. I hope we can meet again sometimes."

"Sure," I smiled at his suggestion. "Work hard. Fighting!"

Afterwards, he left the rooftop, and I returned to my work, once again. Spending time with him made me forget about the tight schedule I had. It was due to that sick deadline. I had to finish it sooner and send it for grading before 18:00. So it could get accepted. Sometimes university was a living hell. But even when working on my project, I could picture him crying while holding onto me. There was even some glitter on my shirt.