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A man appears in Taerae’s bedroom on a random Saturday morning.
Tall frame, purple hair, and plump lips; but what stands out the most are the white stars tattooed on each of his round cheeks. Ten of them splatter across his cheeks like freckles, lighting up his face in starlight.
Taerae stumbles out of his bed, hair frazzled and stuck up in all directions. “Wh-who are you? And how did you get into my house?”
He knows the doors and windows are locked. He remembers turning the key yesterday night after coming home from work— how did this guy get in?
Taerae nearly grabs his phone to call the police, but stops when the man practically yells, “Wait! Hold on, I’m not going to hurt you or anything, I’m just–” He points to the stars on his cheeks as if they’re the answer to everything.
Taerae scowls. “What are you doing? Those tattoos don’t explain anything.”
The man looks confused for a moment before looking down at his watch and whispering a small “ohhhhh” under his breath. “Shit, I’m one universe off. Okay, I understand now. This must be a non-magical universe.”
He clears his throat. “I’m Gunwook. I’m a dimension traveler, as signified by my stars. But this universe doesn’t have any, I presume…?”
Taerae shakes his head. Gunwook’s lips curl up into a smile, and it makes Taerae want to smile too.
He’s cute.
Taerae instantly wipes the smile off his face.
It’s been years. Years.
He squeezes his eyes shut, just for a second to clear his head. When he opens them, everything is back to normal again.
Taerae nods. “So the multiverse is real. Cool. Are you going to leave, or…?”
Gunwook’s eyes widen. “Oh yeah, whoops! I should be on my way,” Gunwook laughs. He mutters to himself, “Matthew’s probably worried… I should get back to him before he starts moping again…”
Gunwook fidgets with the golden locket wrapped around his neck, and that’s when Taerae sees it. It’s merely a flash of an image, but he’d recognize it from anywhere.
Taerae freezes. His heart both stops and starts beating a thousand times faster in his chest, a chasm split down the middle of his arteries. He sees his face in the tiny locket, and he feels like he’s dying all over again.
“...Matthew?”
“Yeah, Matthew!” Gunwook lights up, a smile slowly creeping back onto his face. “He’s my husband—Seok Matthew. Do you know him?” He shows the locket to Taerae.
It’s him. It’s definitely Matthew. The boy he fell in love with all those years ago. Who died all those years ago. Who he’s still not over, even though he’s aged an entire decade since he last woke up to the sight of his sleepy face, sunlight washing over his features, soft and golden. Matthew would blink up to him, slow and dazed, with that little half-smile he always has on his face when he’s about to ask for five more minutes.
Gunwook’s voice cuts through the silence. “Oh– I’m sorry. Was he your…?” He shuffles closer to Taerae and reaches a hand out to hesitantly rest on his shoulder. The weight feels comforting on him. It’s grounding.
Gunwook purses his lips. “So I guess he isn’t here with you anymore.”
Taerae huffs to himself. He must look so pathetic right now. He didn’t even have to say anything, and Gunwook could instantly tell that Taerae was still grieving over Matthew’s death.
Gunwook awkwardly shuffles in place before speaking. “...I’m a shapeshifter. Do you want to see him again? I can tell you love him a lot. And that you miss him. Maybe it’ll give you some peace of mind.”
Taerae can tell what’s going through Gunwook’s head. Taerae must look so sad and pitiful that Gunwook wants to see him happy again—a people pleaser at heart—like he’s trying to comfort a crying baby so that it’ll go back to normal.
It makes him mad. It makes him sad. (for himself.)
But he’s not going to say no.
So Taerae nods.
Suddenly, Gunwook starts glowing a bright white, the light first emanating from the stars embedded in his cheeks until it overtakes his entire body. It’s so blinding that Taerae has to tightly shut his eyes until the stars bursting behind his eyelids are gone, and he can see again.
In front of Taerae stands Matthew.
The last time he ever saw Matthew, both of them were eighteen—dumb teenagers at the pinnacle of their lives, living like there was no tomorrow.
Here, he looks much older—older than how he looks in the photos that Taerae still keeps in his attic. His hair is longer, his cheeks are more filled out, and he has more weight on him.
Taerae stares.
Matthew’s moles, jawline, and overall stature are the same as he remembers. But his smile lines are deeper. His crescent eyes have crinkled. He’s buff, like how Matthew had described his ideal future self in second grade, when their homeroom teacher had everyone draw what they’d look like in thirty years and Matthew had drawn a big buff man, squealing, “I wanna get big and buff like my dad when I grow up!” And a seven-year-old Taerae had lifted kiddie weights with him every day after school for an entire month because he thought Matthew looked pretty giggling and pumping his non-existent muscles when they were doing it.
Matthew’s breathtaking. It’s a peek into a universe where Matthew got to grow old. Taerae takes in every little feature on his face and body—the curve of his waist, the softness of his hair, the light in his eyes—and he’s never seen anything more beautiful in his life.
And that’s when he crumbles . Taerae’s knees go weak, and he collapses backwards onto the bed. He doesn’t know when he starts crying, tears flowing down his cheeks in small streams. The more Taerae stares at Matthew, the faster his cries devolve into loud sobbing, until he’s practically wailing into the cold air of his bedroom, eyes glued to the face of the only boy he’s ever loved so much that it’s ruined him.
Taerae cries. He cries and cries and cries while Matthew— no —Gunwook just stands there in front of him, unmoving. Frozen. Sad.
Gunwook and Matthew are married in their universe, so Gunwook must understand why losing Matthew would hurt so much . It’s no wonder Gunwook’s lips are trembling, eyes watery; Taerae must be living through Gunwook’s nightmare: a world where the love of his life is dead.
Eventually, Taerae stops crying, because there’s always an end to everything. He wipes the last of his tears and snot away, and pushes down the storm of shame, anger, sadness that sits heavy in his gut like a vice.
“Do you want to take a picture? Just to keep.” Gunwook murmurs quietly, like if he speaks too loud, Taerae will break. It makes shame crawl up his throat again, but he ignores it. He nods. He takes his phone out and snaps a quick photo of the older Matthew in front of him, and puts it away before he can linger on it for too long.
(Who is he kidding? As soon as Gunwook leaves, he’s going to stare at that photo for hours and hours and hours, cry into his pillow for the rest of the day, and then wish that he took a video instead.)
“I should get going now. It’s been a while, my husband’s probably wondering where I am by now. But it was nice meeting you.” Gunwook gives him a shaky smile. “I give you my condolences.”
“Thanks,” Taerae whispers. “Bye.”
Gunwook nods. “Bye.”
Taerae takes one last glance at what Matthew would’ve looked like, had Taerae been faster that day, had Matthew been able to grow old like everyone else.
Then, in one last flash of light, Gunwook, (and what Taerae has only ever seen in his dreams), disappears from his bedroom.