stars in cat eyes

Changbin hummed the already memorized words in a rough and incomprehensible bass. His head wet, blue rivulets ran down his back, staining his laundered T-shirt, Jisung would pine for it, but later. How strange he's become. It's almost twelve at night, and he's not alone, which is the first time in many, many days that he's in Jun's shrine, sipping sour wine from a flute, but trying to keep a straight face, as if not to open up completely in front of the others. Speaking of them, the rest of the company had clearly got their tongues well untied, they were chatting away, although it wasn't even midnight yet, crumpled up the rabbit's plaid, poured wine into the dried-up smiley-face mug, poured it out at the same minute, covered it with earth and carefully, as far as possible with the hops in their heads, planted a violet in it. However, to do this they had to dig up the flower on the window, which had been there for a couple of years and was beginning to bear fruit. Jisung didn't stop them. He stared at the smiley-face mug that smiled at his new hair and thought about how it would grow into an adult plant and remind him of hyung every day. For the remaining half an hour they made some nonsense out of Yenny's already lightened hair and really nicknamed him Harley Quinn. The hair was divided not evenly, but very delicate and neatly, which made the pink rubber bands on the braces look cute. Seungmin and Changbin, after much persuasion, were persuaded to have green strands on their bangs. It seemed small, but it seemed so interesting. The youngest was the most opposed, already anticipating the taste of a bruise somewhere on his lip from his father. But he knew that if he complained to his friends, they would either set fire to his house or his bills, and it was unclear which was worse. Chan and Minho politely declined. The older one has a job with people, and an important role in the neighborhood, but after saying that, he received a pillow in his face from Jeongin, laughing contagiously. Minho didn't want to ruin his new purple hair, which would soon wash out in the township, with its hard water and bad hair care products. Hyunjin told the whole room in confidence that Minho had brought a whole suitcase of clothes, accessories, and, of course, cosmetics. —Where are you from? — Jisung finally asked, after Felix's joke. —It's not far from here. Gyeongsang, did you hear? — Hyunjin said, while applying pink dye to Felix's bangs. He seemed to have saved it just for him, applying it carefully, slowly, and too close to the boy's face, — I didn't hear it either, until I went to school.  Graduated there, then high school, institute, I met Minho in my last year of high school. At first he was so unbearable, a real rock, but then he warmed up, touched ice! —Of course, you started following me right away, I thought you were in love, until the first time we had a drink and you told me about Fel... —  Minho hesitated, whether he had never said so many words in a sentence, or whether he was frightened by Hwang's stare, — but it doesn't matter now. —By the way, guys, — Felix began cautiously. He didn't seem to be bothered by Hyunjin, his looks, his touches, he himself, as he had said before, was tactile. Maybe only Jisung noticed how the younger one sometimes glanced at Hwang, — how do you feel about a a guy who loves a guy? We've been together for so many years, but this question… The whole room went into a stupor. Not that the atmosphere was ruined, no, but at that very second a disk came out of the disk drive and with a quick click there was silence. The hand that had been holding the wine flute to Jisung's mouth hung somewhere in the air. A stack of comic books almost flew out of Seungmin's hands, propped up by his chin, Changbin suddenly crunched a chip in his teeth, startling through the silence. —Well... — Chan scratched his head, smiling modestly, — What difference does it make who you love? —I agree with Hyung. Don't you think I've been called a faggot? — Jeongin said tiredly, picking up some breadcrumbs in the palm of his hand. —What if, — Felix persisted, — What if one of us turns out to be... like this? —Then go love! — He waved to Felix, calling him to the first floor to wash his hair, to which the younger man jumped down the stairs with a "we'll be right there" nod. —Felix is a very... inquisitive, — Chan pulled out a CD and inserted a new one, and beats began to play, the voices of a man and a woman humming the familiar "it's my life", making foot stomp and hum the tune. *** —"Hyung, do you listen to such old stuff?" — The boy looked at the older man, holding his first bottle of beer, with eyes of utter incomprehension. —"What's the matter, it's fun", — Jun danced around the middle of the room, wiggling his jeans in different directions, milling around in the corners, drinking a similar bottle. —"I'm having fun with you. The music doesn't matter, hyung." *** —Han, Sunny, are you with us? — Chan snapped his fingers in front of the frozen boy's face. The others were still in their seats. One Jeongin shifted, now turning the nightlight-bearer on and off. —Just thinking about it. —And about what? —How about punching that Chivong guy in the face? — Hyungin flew to the second floor, almost falling down the stairs, grabbing the banister and Felix, whose bangs dyed his freckles pink. Only now did Jisung notice that one bottle was missing. —No, hyung! — Jeongin cheered up, — We don't need any trouble right now. Go get some sleep. —Yenny, at such a time night adventures only begin, — his tongue was a little slurred, words were confused, but he extracted the thought as nicely as he dressed, — Why are we sitting in this shack like old men, let's go to Gwangju, to the neighborhood of this.... this… —  Hwang started rubbing the younger one's cheeks, holding him with a strong grip, — my Yenny was hurt, don't be afraid, hyung will save you! —Jinny, — Felix touched his face cautiously, — shall we go to bed? —Are you? —And me. The bed's been drilled, the rabbit blanket's been pulled up, and the dinosaurs forgot to take off their funny socks. Well, tomorrow Hyunjin will curse everyone for it, if he wakes up in time for dinner. —Minus one, — said Seungmin, — Now that the main funnyman is gone, what shall we do? And the question became a question. Felix got out of Hyunjin's grip and stood by the window, smiling absurdly at the mug smiley-face, answering all questions by saying that it was the best way to dry his hair. The music was turned off, the cassettes, CDs, and comic books were put away by Seungmin, the sofas were moved opposite each other, and so they sat down, with Jisung, Jeongin, and Chan on one and Changbin, Seungmin, and Minho on the other. Jinny's voice was soothingly under his ear, reminding him of his own voice, when hyung had spent sleepless nights lying on his right side against the wall, facing Jisung, looking at him for hours, not touching him, and then saying in the morning that it was too hot to sleep at all. even in November. At first they all chatted. Han poured himself some wine, and sometimes, without Chan seeing, gave it to Jeongin, who clung to his hand even more. Topics of conversation came out of drunken mouths by themselves. Sometimes they remembered their beginnings together, which made Jisung catch every word without worrying that he would forget it in the morning, sometimes they discussed someone, which surprised him, Han hadn't realized they were so close. —I heard a woman's voice when I went to Gwangju, where I met Jeongin, and she must have been calling for Jinny, — Jisung said through the murmur, either to himself or to Jeongin, who was lying on his shoulder. —Of course it is, you should see his grandmother, she doesn't like anyone but me, — Minho proudly proclaimed, and Jisung almost opened his mouth. This cat-like guy, all cold, telling this guy he didn't know about Hyunjin's grandmother? Come on. —Why you? —She feels sorry for me, all special and urban. Hyunjin had lived in a small town like this for a while, he knew what it was like to survive here, but I was a dummy, even though I'd been here for years. —Minho, after Felix, is the newest of us, and he brought both Jinny, — Chan smiled, — he stood up for Lix with his hands and feet, even when he got into a fight. —Without you I would have met some bad guys and smoked all day long, — they heard from the side of the smiley-face mug, —  by the way, Sunny, why don't you buy a new one? Any other day, Jisung would have thrown him off that very window, but this was different. —There's no other one like it, it's a family heirloom. *** As expected, Jisung woke up close to lunchtime, among the multicolored heads, with a stiff body and Jeongin at his feet. Minho and Changbin were mirrored on the next sofa, and Felix and Hyunjin were snoring on the painfully soft bed. Chan had said yesterday that he had to go to work in the morning, so he hadn't been drinking much, pouring everything to Jisung. No one was knocking on the gate today, the smiley-face mug was smiling on the window, the sun was still pouring into the room, which even from behind the open window smelled of cigarette smoke. The youngest was sniffling peacefully, his disheveled hair in his eyes, and the color seemed so much brighter because of the blinding sun. It took more than a little effort to get the carcass off of him and at least go wash up. The first floor met with a calm coolness, the green Lada, as always, stood in the corner, the splinters no longer lay on the floor, the leather sofa seemed to remember the outlines of those who used to sit there. When did Jisung's life take such a turn? Maybe he's gone completely insane in the two months he's been gone, and he's imagining all these guys? Who's sleeping upstairs on the blue and brown sofas, wrapped up in a rabbit blanket? Maybe Jisung was a fool for letting them stay, drinking with them all night, almost going to beat up that little Yenny's abusers, who seemed to have grown attached to Han too quickly, clinging to his shoulder all evening. Jisung didn't remember where Chan worked. He didn't remember much at all. How did they fall asleep? When did Seungmin leave? Did he go to see his eldest off when the sun was shining and barely opened his eyes to go home where his father was waiting for him? Was anyone waiting for Jinny or Minho? For little Jeongin, for shiny Felix, for heavy Changbin? Jeongin washed away these issues with cold water from the faucet. Brushing his teeth proved to be the cure for all ills and his thoughts came to order and paint just one image. Grandma. He should go see her. He tiptoed to the second floor, snagging a neatly folded stack of disks, took a random sleeveless T-shirt and jeans, quietly descended, and without closing the workshop headed down the street. He's really crazy. He left five unknown guys like that, where everything smells, feels and senses hyung, but... but he didn't regret it. There's nothing of value there besides those memories and green lada, and if hyung were alive, he'd do the same thing, of course. Even though he'd socialized with people much more than Han, he preferred the younger man's company, tried to build a friendship with him, and... he'd overdone it. No, of course, he didn't know anything about Jisung's feelings, who'd never been in love before; he was just jealous of the younger man, who lacked such openness, too, though June himself had feelings akin to those of a brother. *** "—Have you ever been in love?" —  Jeongin mumbled, taking a sip from Jisung's flute. Chan had already passed out and could loosen his tongue a little more over the conversation. Memories of the previous night began to drag brain and thoughts that had been desperately gathering themselves, then flying out again like a stack of comic books. "—Why do you ask that, Yenny?" —  Changbin smiled. He was a good conversationalist, not at all scary, and his dried hair seemed ridiculously tangled in the nightlight-bear light. "—Why can't I ask? I don't know how to love, and suddenly this summer I'll meet someone," — Jeongin turned out to be seventeen years old, after this summer, he should go back to school again, study to pass exams and forget about the company altogether if he wanted to enter, as Chan had told him. "—Hyung," — Jisung said to himself, — "Can you tell me something?" God, so embarrassed. A drunk Han asked this of the handsome but equally tipsy Minho? Now he want to bury head in a rabbit blanket and hope Minho-hyung doesn't remember. "—Well," — he stretched out thoughtfully, — "I loved, but I'm very glad I let it all go at last." "—And what was it like to love?" —  Jisung stared at the flat nose and purple curls as if mesmerized. Minho definitely reminded him of Jun, and he wanted to cry at the comparison. There he was, his favorite hyung, sitting in front of him now, who had never left, and had been there for two months. "—You know, my exes aren't all great, but some of them I still talk to, one of them even looks like you," — the older man laughed. He had yet to figure out why his heart was warming, his tongue was unleashed, his brain was desperately churning wine, and his heart was tapping tiredly at the frowning and cold boy. *** Han probably asked this as if for himself, to sort out through another's experience his feelings, his thoughts about J un, which had forever embedded themselves in the crust of his consciousness and never seemed to leave. Minho reminds him very much of Jun.