Chapter Text
The black-haired, blue-eyed man woke to his phone's alarm vibrating softly on the bedside table. It wasn't loud, almost too quiet, as if reluctant to wake him completely. It wasn't a special tone, just a standard, flat, cold sound. He blinked a few times, his eyes feeling dry, then stared up at the all-too-familiar ceiling. There were water stains in the corners, the shadow of the lamp always looking slightly askew. With a lazy movement, he reached for the phone.
A notification appears on the screen.
Happy Birthday 🎉 — from an app.
He waited another second. Two seconds. The screen still displayed the same thing.
There are no other messages.
There were no messages from his friends or colleagues. Not from anyone who knew his personally.
Ryu Gunwoo gripped the phone a little tighter than necessary. His thumb paused just above the screen, as if hoping for a late message. But still, there was none. He exhaled slowly through his nose. There was no surprise, just a familiar, familiar emptiness.
“Ah... birthday huh,” he muttered softly, almost silently.
He woke up, took a too-brief, warm shower, and put on a work shirt that had been ironed since the weekend. In the bathroom mirror, he briefly glanced at his face, revealing blue eyes that looked a little paler from lack of sleep, then turned away.
The day went on as usual. He stood on the train, shoulder to shoulder with strangers, listening to other people's conversations without really hearing them. At the office, he nodded when greeted, smiled only sparingly, and immersed himself in his computer screen. He spent lunchtime alone, aimlessly scrolling through his phone while chewing on bland food.
Neither of them knew it was his birthday, and Gunwoo didn't feel the need to tell them.
Night fell, bringing a heavy feeling of fatigue to his shoulders. He returned home and turned on the apartment lights, the sound of the switch clicking too loud in the quiet room. He set his bag on a chair, took off his shoes, and stood motionless for a moment, as if waiting for something that never came.
He sat at his desk. The camera still sat in the corner. A light layer of dust indicated how long it had been neglected.
Somehow, he wiped the lens with the corner of his shirt and turned it on. A small click sounded familiar. He opened the gallery and scrolled slowly. Old photos slowly appeared, capturing idols on stage, their confident expressions, the lighting always looking perfect. He remembered the angle, but not how he felt.
Then a photo appeared. His finger stopped.
Gunwoo took a breath, then almost forgot to exhale for a moment.
The photo was taken in a simple food stall. The wooden table was slightly chipped, with the background blurred by food steam. The yellow lighting created a warm atmosphere, despite the messy framing. The focus was slightly off, but the subject was clearly a man, slightly younger than himself. His hair fell haphazardly over his forehead, his face slightly gaunt, and the bags under his eyes were evident, as if he had lived a long life of exhaustion.
But he smiled.
Not a big smile. Not a smile for the camera either.
The corners of his lips lifted slightly, his eyes half-closed. The smile of someone who had finally stopped pretending to be strong.
“Who... are you?” Gunwoo whispered.
He tried to remember. He pressed the photo's info button. No meaningful clues. No memories surfaced. The photo felt like a secret that had been slipped into his life without his permission.
A sudden pain shot through his head, sharp and brutal. He winced softly, pressing his temples with his palms. His vision began to blur, the camera screen shaking slightly. His breath quickened, and his chest suddenly felt incredibly tight.
Something warm dripped from his nose, falling onto the back of his hand.
“Nosebleed?” he muttered in confusion.
He tried to stand, but his knees suddenly felt weak. Before he could support his own weight, the floor approached too quickly. The world seemed to dim, and his consciousness suddenly faded.
When he came to, his breath was labored, as if he had just run a long distance.
The mattress beneath his was soft, too soft. The room smelled strange, with a hint of detergent and a light perfume. It was dark. It was quiet. It definitely wasn't his apartment.
He sat up in shock, his hands gripping the sheets tightly, his heart pounding furiously. His head still felt heavy, his mind blank, and before he could think of anything—
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”
The lights come on simultaneously.
The sudden light made his squint. Paper firecrackers exploded, accompanied by laughter filling the room. Colorful flakes clung to his hair and shoulders. He reflexively closed his eyes, then let out a small, involuntary laugh in surprise.
When he opened his eyes again, people were standing around him.
Some faces were immediately familiar—faces he'd often photographed through the lens. Faces that felt unfamiliar, but whose names had somehow settled in his head.
Ryu Chungwoo Hyung stood closest to the switch, his shoulders slightly slouched forward, displaying a small but genuine smile. Cha Eugene jumped a little in his place, clearly overly excited by the celebration. Lee Sejin laughed loudly, one hand still holding an empty popper.
Bae Sejin Hyung held a star-shaped balloon that almost covered his face, while Kim Raebin was busy holding another balloon so it wouldn't fly away. In front of them all, Seon Ahyeon smiled while holding a cake, the lit candles on the cake making the light reflect in his eyes.
"Blow out the candles and make a wish, Moondae-Moondae~" said Lee Sejin in a passionate voice.
“Hurry up, Hyung!” Eugene leaned forward.
“Blow, blow!”
Moondae. The name felt warm in his chest.
That's right. Now he's Park Moondae. An idol. Member of TeStar.
He looked at them one by one. Chungwoo Hyung's attentive gaze. Sejin's wide, genuine smile. Eugene's infectious laugh. Ahyeon's awkward smile. Their presence felt real, warm, and never-ending.
His chest felt tight.
Memories of his life as Ryu Gunwoo, of the photo of the man, of the relieved smile at the small food stall, all slowly connected.
The man he photographed before... was this body.
Moondae closed his eyes. If there was something he really wanted, he would wish... For a moment, he really wished.
Then he opened his eyes and began blowing out the candles. Cheers filled the room. The cake was cut haphazardly. Cream stuck to the tip of Eugene's nose. Sejin accidentally fed him too much Moondae. Chungwoo saw him shake his head with a smile. They laughed, teasing each other, their phone cameras flashing for a simple vlog.
There was no schedule that day. No stage.
No demands. Just togetherness.
Night comes slowly.
Moondae lay on his dorm bed, one hand resting on his chest. The phone on her side table glowed dimly. His thoughts returned to the photo—to the relieved smile he now understood so completely.
He closed his eyes and dreams began to come to him.
In his dream, Moondae stood in a room that wasn't completely dark, but wasn't bright either. The floor was plain tiles that reflected a faint light, as if he were somewhere between waking and sleeping. The air around his felt eerily still.
In front of him, stood a man.
His face was exactly the same as his own. Not Ryu Gunwoo's, but the real Park Moondae's , which looked fuller, his shoulders slightly slumped, and the tired lines under his eyes had disappeared. His hair was still a little messy, and his clothes were simple, like everyday clothes he'd worn often.
He smiled first. A smile that Moondae somehow recognized.
“Hyung... happy birthday,” he said softly, his voice not echoing, as if the room was deliberately holding him close.
Moondae fell silent. His chest felt warm and tight at the same time. He opened her mouth, then closed it again, unsure of what to say. There were too many questions, but also too many answers for his to fear.
Finally, he chuckled. “I should be the one saying that,” he said. “It’s your birthday too, isn’t it?”
The young man shook his head slowly. His small movement looked a little hesitant. “It belongs to Hyung now.”
They stood facing each other, not far apart, but not close enough to touch. Moondae noticed small details about the way he stood that he hadn't noticed before.
"Sorry," the man said suddenly. A simple word, but it felt heavy.
Moondae looked at him. “Why are you apologizing?” he asked.
The man looked down, his fingers clenching and unclenching repeatedly, as if he was holding something back from spilling.
“Because I’m tired,” he said honestly. “Because I want to stop... but I can’t. Because I want to live a normal life, but I also want to keep dreaming. Because I’m scared, Hyung.”
The air around them rippled gently, like water touched by a fingertip. Moondae felt something vibrate in her chest.
“I took this path,” the man continued, his voice trembling slightly, “because I didn’t know where else to go. I just hoped... that someone would have a better life than me.”
Moondae took a deep breath. He took a step closer. “You’ve done enough,” he said quietly but firmly. “You’ve made it this far on your own. That’s no small feat.”
The boy looked up, his eyes slightly round, as if he wasn't used to hearing those words directed at him. "Is Hyung happy?" he asked doubtfully.
The question hung in the air. Moondae thought for a moment. About the cake sticking to his finger. About the laughter that was too loud. About the simple but warm "blow out the candles" cheer.
“I ... don’t know yet,” he answered honestly. “But I’m not alone, and that’s better.”
The man smiled again. This time with more relief. “Thank goodness.”
The light in the room slowly grew warmer. Like the afternoon sun filtering through an invisible window. The distance between them shrank imperceptibly.
“Hyung,” the man said again, his voice soft. “Please live well. For the both of us.”
Moondae nodded. His throat felt tight, but he had to say it.
"I promise."
The man raised his hand, hesitated for a moment, then patted Moondae's chest, right above his heart. The touch was warm and felt real.
"A birthday present," he said with a small smile. Slowly, his figure began to fade. Not a sudden disappearance, but rather like a light fading quietly. A smile that remained with his until the very end.
Moondae tried to say something else, but his voice didn't come out. However, he could see the young man nodding in response.
When he woke up, his chest still felt warm. His hand reflexively pressed against the spot he had touched in his dream.
And for the first time, he woke up with the feeling that someone, somewhere—either in his past or within himself—could finally rest.
And for the first time in two lifetimes, his birthday no longer felt lonely.
Thank you and...
Happy birthday, Keundal.