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In the place where the sky seems stuck in its reverie, thousands of stars cling to it, flickering in the midst of boundless clouds. They don’t move, as if waiting for someone to shake them loose.
On the upper floor of an unnamed place, inside a small modern living room filled with fully furnished yet untouched furniture, right in the middle of living room, there is a table with a two chair. There sat Klein Moretti, completely unwavering.
Sometimes, his consciousness would surface. His eyes would briefly regain their luster, only for him to close them again the next second, as though falling back into a deep sleep.
It looked uncomfortable, especially since the chair he sat on was just a simple wooden one— the kind that gives you back pain after only an hour. No one could guess how long Klein had been sitting there, drifting between sleep and wakefulness.
He wore his usual clothing: a Victorian-style suit with a white shirt tucked neatly into his pants. It had always been the same—since XXX years ago.
Klein had long lost track of time in this universe. Instead, he followed the ticking of a clock placed beside the TV—also seemingly untouched.
Then, after one moment and the next, he suddenly snapped out of it—finally able to awaken again.
Klein tried to force his eyes open, feeling as though they had been glued shut by a thousand layers of adhesive. After minutes that felt like decades, he finally opened them fully and tried to recognize the place he was in.
Memories began pouring in, one after another.
And now, he understood the state he was currently in.
And with that understanding came an overwhelming sadness.
It felt as if someone had split his heart open. Klein had the sinking feeling that he was losing something.
Something truly important.
He then began to rack his brain, trying to recover his memories—again and again—from countless timelines and from the many spirit worms scattered across universes.
Ah.
It’s him, isn’t it?
And when realization hit, Klein’s previous feeling struck even deeper.
It wasn’t that he was losing something.
He was losing someone.
Silence reverberated throughout the entire living room while Klein remained completely still, looking petrified.
He closed his eyes and let out a long sigh, rubbing his face.
“He was my boyfriend…” he muttered, looking utterly dejected. He tried to sit upright.
“But no… we didn’t break up.”
“Then he’s still my boyfriend… Eh, it feels weird. The memories aren’t in order. And now, in my mind, it’s full of him. Full of us being happy…”
Klein stopped talking. He extended his right hand into the air, trying to pull something from it.
After one attempt, he was able to pull someone out.
A man in a long white coat.
A Korean man, his eyes still closed.
A man—
A man who was his boyfriend.
Despite the initial shock, Klein managed to fully bring Dokja out from the Fog of History. He was startled by how real Dokja looked. His image wasn’t distorted, and it didn’t feel like a historical projection at all.
‘I wonder… is this the power of the Scholar of Yore due to Sequence 0? Or is it because he’s the only person I know so intimately that my power could replicate an exact copy of him from the Fog of History? Or… did I summon the real him?’
Klein couldn’t help but silently mock his own summoning. He composed himself, preparing to start a conversation.
He didn’t know how to start.
But one thing was certain,
“Hey.” He said.
“I miss you.”
He missed him.
In the silent living room, a quiet confession sounded. It took a while until Klein finally saw Dokja stir and regain consciousness.
Thump. Thump.
Ah, does it always feel like this?
His heart thumping with peculiar excitement—maybe the feeling of finally holding someone you desperately missed.
“…Klein?” A voice so sweet it seemed to tickle Klein’s ears.
“I miss you.” He couldn’t help it. That was all he could say.
Well, if he had to count how many I miss you he had hidden behind his sleeves, he might say infinity.
Dokja tilted his head. His slender hand slowly reached for the gloved hand of the man seated before him.
“What is it?” Dokja asked, shaking his head. The same smile still plastered on his lips.
“It’s been a while…”
“I thought we were always together?”
“Yes. Even now, we are.”
Even now, they stayed in place—as if they were statues in conversation. Neither wanted to move. Klein’s thigh seemed to lock Dokja’s in place, while their hands refused to separate.
Was it always like this?
Every day filled with little talks about everything. Their conversations were wide-ranging, taking turns being the talker and the listener.
And this day, too, was no exception.
“Do you know this house, Klein?”
“Hmm… Yes?”
“It’s from my dream. The one where you suddenly appeared, claiming i was trespassing into your house, but you know it’s actually my house.”
“But was it really your house, Kim Dokja?”
“No,” Dokja laughed. “I don’t know either. I was dreaming too, after all.”
“But then we named it our house.”
“I see…” Klein nodded thoughtfully.
Noticing his shift in demeanor, Dokja asked, “What is it, Klein?”
Smiling, Klein lifted his left hand and snapped his fingers.
Nothing changed. They were still in the modern living room. But the clock had struck 12 o’clock, signifying new day. Klein’s smile widened with subtle amusement as he said,
“Happy birthday, Kim Dokja.”
Klein had only changed the date. It remained a mystery whether he had fast-forwarded or slowed time. But one thing was certain:
The date was February 15th.
Kim Dokja’s birthday.
Looking at the man in front of him—clearly shocked, then continue laughing with pure joy—Klein couldn’t help but tighten his grip on Dokja’s hand.
He didn’t know what to focus on: Dokja’s face or his hand. Both had taken over him.
Noticing Klein’s tightening grip, Dokja smiled and asked, “Was this planned?”
“No.”
How cute, Dokja thought, unable to resist a teasing smile.
“Then?”
“It’s just… its so nice to have someone like you to love me.”
Ah.
It’s Klein Moretti and his unexpected words.
What is this feeling? I can’t help but smile.
It’s the first time anyone has ever said that to me.
My heart flutters.
Is this how teenagers feels when they’re in love?
“So that’s how it is..” Dokja smiled after hearing Klein’s words.
It was a genuine smile. A happy one.
He then leaned in so their faces were aligned, they are finally able to see each other’s expressions up close. The ones they had often dreamed of.
Dokja lifted his left hand and gently touched Klein’s chin.
He moved closer, and just before their faces met, he whispered,
“I miss you too.”
A sweet kiss followed.
Their lips brushed gently against each other’s, as though it had been a long time since they’re kissing each other.
But it is, has been a long time.
And yet;
It was still sweet.