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“Jungkook?  What’s wrong?” Hobi asked as he entered his friend’s room later that afternoon.

“Something’s bugging me.”

“What?”

“The last gift.  Tae collected only eleven of the gifts before he disappeared.  What should I pick for her last gift?”

“Maybe you won’t have to.  Maybe Tae will appear before it’s time to give her that one.”

Jungkook frowned.

“Don’t worry, Jungkookie.  We’ll find him.  Our management team is scouring the clinics across the city.  It won’t be long before someone finds him.”

“I hope you’re right, Hobi.” 

But Jungkook wasn’t so sure.  And he was worried about how he would handle things if Tae didn’t come home.  Especially once this little project had come to its end.  At least, for this week, Tae had left him with a responsibility.  Jungkook felt that in some small way he was helping his missing friend.  But once Epiphany had passed, what would he focus on?

––

He had the fluid grace of a dancer. 

That was April’s first thought as her eyes searched the hallway the next morning after a knock sounded on her door.  Her eyes alighted on the lithe figure of a young man headed towards the opposite side of the hallway.  He wasn’t fleeing for the elevator.  Instead, he took the hallway that wrapped around the back of the building.  He didn’t even glance at her, but she did get a look at his profile.  She had never seen him before.

She retrieved today’s present before closing the door behind her.  Kim was still sleeping.  She suspected he’d had trouble falling asleep again last night.  He seemed to be a night owl.  Bent on keeping his eyes open until the sun rose.

His nature was contrary to hers.  Generally, she was an early riser.  Happy to greet the sun on its cheerful ascent into the sky.  She sighed.  She wished he were awake.  To see what he’d left her today.

But her curiosity was getting the best of her.  Today’s box was bigger than the others.  So she was particularly inquisitive concerning its contents.

She pulled the indigo ribbon off the box.  Such a lovely color.  A deep, dark violet blue.  Like a night sky.   Over the ocean.  Where she used to trace the constellations with her thumb while bouncing her tiny cousin on her knee. 

She sighed.  She missed those days.  And the warm ocean breeze.  And her cousin’s miniscule face lit up with joy in her presence.  Those little arms clinging to her as she carried her along the beach.  Watching the waves crash upon the shoreline.  While seagulls cried overhead.

April reached up to wipe away the tear that had begun to slide down her cheek.

“What’s wrong?” a deep rumble emerged from near the ceiling.

April glanced up at her houseguest.  “Nothing.  I’m just missing my cousin.”

He frowned.  “I understand.  I’m missing…someone.”

Her eyebrows danced.  “Do you have a girlfriend?  Or a wife?”

“I doubt it,” he murmured.  “I asked you out for coffee, remember?”

“Or more likely, not for coffee,” she giggled.  “Just for a drink.”

“And maybe some kind of treat?”

“Oh, yes!  A cinnamon roll.  What I wouldn’t give for a whole pan of them now!” she exclaimed happily.  “I do adore cinnamon rolls!”

He chuckled.  “You adore them?  Like worship them?”

She scoffed.  “No.  I just enjoy eating them.  They remind me of home too.”

Surprised, he sharpened his gaze on her.  “They do?  Why?”

Wistfully, she admitted, “Because my cousin always made a big batch on Christmas morning.  And on my birthday too.”  Her lips flipped upward in a reminiscing smile.

His eyes traced those lovely lips for a few moments as she continued to stare at him.  Then he murmured, “What did you get today?”

“Let’s find out,” she whispered before lifting the lid.  Her brow furrowed as she reached in to pull out the little machine hidden within the box.  “What is this?” she queried.

But his face lit up.  “It’s a star scape!”

“What’s that?” she glanced up at him.

He leapt down from his bunk and approached her.  He reached for her gift and carried it over towards an outlet in the wall.  He plugged it in and turned it on.  Then he frowned in disappointment.  “You won’t be able to take full advantage of it until tonight.  When it’s dark.  But it paints the stars on your ceiling.”

She gasped.  “Oh, Kim!  I love it!”

He flicked a smile her way before glancing back up at the ceiling.

Then she reached into the box to retrieve her latest note from him.  “You must have prepared all these gifts ahead of time.  And told someone.  Maybe you hired a delivery service?  That way even if you were caught, you’d still be a mystery.”

“Except that I gave myself away on day four,” he mumbled.

“That’s true.  But maybe you prepared them on day one and hired the service before you ran into me again.”

“Maybe.  And just changed the gift on the fourth day to be your cousin’s cookies?”  He frowned.  “Hmm.  I don’t know!” he gasped in exasperation.  “I just don’t remember!”

Feeling his irritation, she sought to soothe him.  “It’s all right.  We’ll have the answers someday.”

“Will we?” he queried crossly.  Then, as he watched her face fall, he felt immediate remorse.  “I’m sorry.  This isn’t any more your fault than it was Poppy’s.  I should have been watching where I was going.”

“Hey, hey.  Don’t blame yourself.  Accidents happen to everybody.  It wasn’t your fault either.  And you’re paying a huge price for an accident.  No need to beat yourself up on top of it.”

He grunted.  “Don’t mind me.  I’m just…I don’t know what I am.  Irritated?  Sad?”

“Afraid?” she offered.

“Afraid?”  He glanced in surprise at her.

“Who wouldn’t be afraid in your shoes?  Afraid you’ll never discover who you are.  But, Kim…I think who you are is already shining through.”  She glanced at the ceiling.  “Like those stars you created for me, the real you can’t hide.  Not even in the dark.”

His lips quirked upward.  “Thanks, April.”

“For what?”

“For trying to make me feel better.”

She sighed.  “I wish I could do more to truly help you.”

He shrugged.  “This too shall pass.  Right?”

She quirked an eyebrow at him as she glanced down at the card in her hand.

“Everyone needs hope.  And a light in the darkness.  So here are a few to illuminate your room at night.  When you feel lost and lonely.  Just look up.  And remember that even the darkness is populated by tiny lights – which are really giant balls of flame – leading the way home.”

Hmm.  How ironic that when Kim felt the most lost, he had already provided her with a beacon of hope.  Her eyes glanced up at the lights dancing on her ceiling.  He had, in fact, provided her with a whole colony of stars.

Now it was her turn to return the favor, so she read his note to him.

––

April and Kim lay in their bunks, their faces turned towards the ceiling, as they each studied the stars now dotting that white floor overhanging their heads. 

“I love the stars,” April murmured.  “How did you know?”

“Know what?”

“That since moving to Seoul, I’ve missed being able to gaze at the stars.”

“I didn’t know you felt that way.  But that is how I feel.”

“What do you mean?”

“I grew up on my grandparents’ farm.  Out in the country.  I miss the vantage point.  The stars.  The fresh air.”

“Kim!”

“What?”

“You remember where you grew up?”

He had just been walking through his grandfather’s orchard, enjoying the spring breeze blowing across his skin.  His face upturned to the benevolent sun.  Experiencing it all as though for the thousandth time.

“I do,” he muttered.  But not with as much excitement as he would have expected.  “But no specifics.  Not the name of the region.  Not even my grandfather’s name.  Or my grandmother.”

But he suddenly felt an intense ache spiraling up out of his heart.  Why?  Had she passed? 

He instantly felt certain that she had.  And he felt a tear forming in his eye at that remembrance.

“Not all memories are good,” he whispered.

“What is it?  What painful thing did you remember?”

“I think my Harmony passed away.”

“Oh, Kim!  I’m so sorry.”

“Me too,” he breathed. 

And it hurt like it had the first time.  A sharp piercing of his consciousness.  The loss of intense comfort.  And unconditional love.  He winced as he sucked in a crisp breath.  And closed his eyes.  His grandmother’s smiling face floating up from the depths of his memory.  To comfort him.  And hurt him.

But, in spite of that pain, he kept looking.  And he found him.  The face of his grandfather.  And another couple.  Younger.  Chasing three children around.  His parents.  And his…brother?  And…sister? 

“I come from a good family.  We were happy,” he mumbled.

“I can see that,” she whispered into the darkness.  “It fits you.  Explains why you are the way you are.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, Kim, that you have a heart as wide as the Pacific Ocean.”

He smiled as his eyes opened to embrace those lights shining from her ceiling.

“I hope so, April.  I hope so.”

He knew that would have made his grandmother happy.