Jaemin the Icy Prince on Campus - Na Jaemin NCT

35. For You Part 1

Everything in my life has led to this moment. Pain is a river that runs through it. The river fills full with my flood of tears, it runs over my heart, and cuts it, and scars it, but my resilient heart beats still, no longer the whole, beautiful thing it once was, but rocky and jagged now. Nevertheless it beats. On and on it beats. It will never stop beating. Come rain or shine, my heart beats on, like the ticking of a clock, relentlessly, steadily, surely...

Roses of all tones and shades fill the hotel's archway. There is a hazy, unreal quality about the whole thing. Perhaps I am in a dream, and I am not here, but in my bed safe and warm, snuggled up against my pillows. I can barely keep my eyes open, but the men and women and children continue to crawl into my vision, back and forth, back and forth, like ants, whispering and nodding and smiling, clustered in their separate little herd colonies. They tire of standing after a while, and lapse into silence, and sip cool iced lemonade with tall straws, and some of them stare at me, because I don't fit in. I am dark and brooding and wretched, and my ancient moth body is bent, hunched double under the weight of my unbearable sadness.

The sun begins to set, fiery orange dipping into cool blue. This morning's cloud cover has given way to an unblemished sky. With everything happening around us, it should be easy to avoid looking at Jaemin, but that always has been, and always will be, impossible for me. My gaze lifts above the crowd and down the petal-scattered aisle.

Jaemin stands under the diaphonous white curtains of a gazebo on the edge of a cliff; the drapes lift a little, and sway, dancing in the wind. He stands stiff and straight, his back to me, next to his grinning best man, a guy named Renjun from university; I was introduced to him a while ago. 

Jaemin is in midnight blue, a shade so dark it appears almost black. There is a corsage of red roses pinned to his jacket pocket; it quivers a little, a splash of red against the blue. His shoulders stretch his suit jacket, and his hands sit loosely in his pockets. He seems calm, at ease, as if it were any other day.

He turns his head, and I see his profile; the set jaw, his sensitive mouth, the pale brown hair turning to dusky gold in the dying rays of the sun. He looks beautiful and dear and familiar, and I turn away to stare blindly at a laughing couple. I know my tears are tears of self-pity, but surely, I have the right to indulge in them today? I keep my eyes carefully fixed on the man and his companion; they are happy and in love, they can't keep their hands off each other. It gives me a kind of sadistic pleasure to watch them and see how in love they are, how enclosed they are in their own little bubble of joy, and after a while, I am composed again. I touch my face; it feels dry. Even my mouth is dry. Perhaps I should smooth on more lipstick.

I know what he looks like, even though I am not looking at him. It would have been better if he had looked different. After all, I haven't seen him since the day we said goodbye on that side street. If he had grown his hair long, or kept a beard, or put on weight, it wouldn't be so hard. But no. He looks exactly the same. He could have walked in straight from that side street, snowflakes powdering his hair, his lips warm from kissing me. 

He looks exactly the way he did that day long ago in the alley. 

I was sixteen, and he was eighteen.

I remember that afternoon so clearly, the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, a breeze rustling through his hair, the walls half-lit, half-hidden in shadow, the signboards rattling in the wind, the glow of the bright sun bouncing off the creaky edges. He bent down, and I looked up, and it was the nearest thing to heaven because he was there. Then he kissed me. It was my very first kiss. And even though he kissed me plenty of times after that, that kiss has to be the single, most spectacular kiss of my whole life. Because that was the kiss that made me realise, in a single flashing, throbbing moment, that I was in love with him. Everything started with that kiss. Everything leads back to that kiss in the alley.

Jaemin's father speaks to Jaemin, his hand on his shoulder. Jaemin just listens and rubs his freshly-shaven jaw as he stares at the ground. The older man pauses, as if waiting for an answer or acknowledgement, and he frowns, and then his smile fades. He looks to the back of the decorated lawn, through the arches hiding the bridal party. He looks at me. Maybe Jaemin isn't as calm as I think. Maybe he's having second thoughts.

The sun is setting; I catch fitful glimpses of it behind the heavy clouds. Footpaths snake all along the cliffs, winding and twisting their way down to the shore below. Ahead of me stretches the great sheet of water, encircled by jutting lips of land, and in the centre is a tiny island, shrouded in trees. Soon the sun will disappear, soon the moon will appear, breaking through the clouds, and turn the water silver, while the patch of land will remain black, humped like the back of a whale.

Soon the man I love will run his hands over his blushing bride, soon he will sleep with her in in the pale glow of the moon-slit light. Soon I will be in bed with drawn curtains, shuttered windows, and perhaps, a lone cat mewing from the gutter. Soon there will be no moonlight, no Jaemin. Soon I will be that island in the water; alone, desolate, shrouded in the dark.

A strange air of expectancy descends upon the waiting crowd. 

Junnie who was roped in by Luna as an additional bridesmaid fixes the train of Luna's strapless dress on the grass while her mum hugs her tightly, rubbing her bare shoulders. Surely, as the Maid of Honour, there is something I should be doing, too, but I am exhausted, I can't bring myself to move. Nobody is yelling or crying or putting out fires. All I hear is blood rushing through my ears.

In a few minutes, it will all be over. 

Everything.

The last couple of years of my life will be erased with a simple "I do." 

There are bows tied to aisle chairs and petals on the ground. Somebody has spent the time to do that - peel flowers just so Luna can walk on them.

Leean shakes Jaemin's hand, and Jaemin smiles politely.

The violinists begin to play, and the bridal party take their places. Luna's dad kisses her on the cheek before whispering in her ear. Her eyes light up as he pulls her into a hug. Her mum holds a tissue to one corner of her eye and then the other. They are happy. I am not. 

Jaemin watches Luna's mum, then Renjun heads down the aisle, followed by the bridesmaids. I just watch Jaemin. 

A mist is rolling over the lawn; I can barely see the island.