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For however long, he had loved Dae-jung. The perfect smile. The clearest eyes.
Yet he started to feel something all too familiar, the one feeling he would’ve never thought of for Dae-jung.
Hate.
He had started to hate Dae-jung. For not loving him. For putting him through the effort. Could he not see all Ye-jun had done? All the pain? The tears?
But he had to realise, sooner rather than later, that his ‘love’ would kill them both. And that it had to end somehow. He started to see clarity.
His love was fake.
It always was.
Dae-jung would never love him.
He stared at the mirror, hammer left behind. He breathed heavily. Who was he? His ‘love’ had been the centre of existence, so without it, he felt empty.
Empty… like a starless void…
Starless…
He quickly snapped out of that trance, only to remember that he had given up everything over a man being nice.
Suddenly, the door opened.
Pale hair, dark halo, light eyes.
Andrew.
“You alright in there, Idol?” He raised an eyebrow, shifting his weight.
“Sh—shut it,” he mumbled half-heartedly.
“...Is something bothering you?”
“What does it look like, idiot?”
There was silence.
“...Look, I’m worried—” they started, but were shut up by Ye-jun.
“You? Worried? Self absorbed, uncaring Stareater, worried?” His voice shook saying those words.
“...” the Stareater stayed silent for a moment. “It’s your birthday.”
Ye-jun froze.
“W-what?” he stuttered out.
“Your birthday. Don’t tell me you’re angsting on your birthday,” he replied flatly.
“You— you remembered?”
“...I did… So what?” He quickly changed the mood.
“You…” He breathed heavily, “...care about me?”
They didn’t reply.
“I asked if you cared about me,” he stated in a firmer tone.
“So what if I do?” He shrugged. “I made a cake. I don’t find satisfaction in cake anymore. It’s chocolate.”
Ye-jun sighed. But not in a negative way.
“So, let me get this straight, you found me sobbing, asked if I was okay, remembered my birthday, and made a cake?!” he recounted.
“...That makes it sound gay, Idol.” the Stareater pinched the bridge of their nose.
“You are gay.”
They shrugged, and sighed. “What has you like this? Did the realization finally come?” he asked
“...You’re good at reading people.” He nodded. “Yes.”
“Well, sorry about that.” he looked away. “Come on. The cake is going to get stale.”
With that, the Stareater turned and left, supposedly waiting for Ye-jun to follow.
Ye-jun blinked. Why was the Stareater— that felt rude to say, no, Andrew, being nice to him?
“Idol, get your ass over here.”
And Ye-jun followed.
“Why do you care, though?” He decided to finally ask.
“...I knew someone like you, I guess.” he looked at Ye-jun, almost sadly. “I won’t disclose the information, though.”
Ye-jun shrugged. That was reasonable.
Andrew took the knife with his non-clawed hand and cut a slice of a pretty ugly cake, and placed a star-shaped candle.
“Do you want to light it?” Andrew prompted, which Ye-jun shook his head.
“...Happy birthday, Ye-jun Im.”
A lit candle, and a weird space guy who seemed to care.
More than Dae-jung ever seemed to.