23. The Other Fallen Star
87th Timeline
August 17, 2024
Before the unexpected glitch into the 88th Timeline
W hen he saw his hand coated in blood, Jo Wooju knew he was done for. Amidst the vast sky, he was merely a fallen star. Once cherished, and then forever forgotten.
In spite of the pain, despair, and thoughts of dying with regrets, Wooju still found a little comfort in having snatched a burner phone from one of his other inmates before being left to die in the prisoners’ locker room, with only the dim light from the vintage lamp strip and the distant voices from outside to keep him company.
As he lay on the floor, bleeding profusely from his abdomen, desperation clawed at his heart.
Before Wooju ended up in this gory scene, he had only been observing his fellow inmate’s every move since he caught the latter secretly using a phone in a secluded yard. Wooju trailed behind the scrawny young man in hopes of borrowing the gadget, but after following the suspicious man into a locker room, an unfamiliar, burning pain sliced through him.
Wooju looked down to see a blade digging into his skin.
He had been stabbed.
At first glance, Wooju wouldn’t have thought someone so thin and unassuming could even wield a knife, but then he got a closer look at his assailant’s dark charcoal eyes. They were glowing with unhinged malevolence and hatred, so much so that it shook Wooju to his core.
“It’s because of you,” the man spat with a manic smile, pushing the knife deeper. “Ri Yunho suffered because of you. You brought this on yourself, Jo Wooju. So, die.”
The locker room seemed to close in around him, the air suddenly heavy with the scent of copper.
Wooju wanted nothing more than to numb the pain with sleep, but when he thought about his impending doom and all his unfinished business, his survival instincts kicked in.
He just needed the phone to make a call, and so without a second thought, he lunged after the scrawny man who was either an anti-fan or some random assassin sent to kill him. His heart pounded against his ribcage as he wrestled him to the ground. Wooju got punched occasionally, but that didn’t keep him from his ultimate goal. Eventually, he managed to slip his hand into the man’s pocket, and his fingertips brushed against a small, rectangular-shaped phone.
Wooju yanked it out, sprang up from the ground, and retreated a few paces, swaying a little. The other man, clueless about the phone snatch, scampered off.
With a sigh of relief, Wooju crumpled to the ground, the stolen phone clutched between his fingers. He inhaled deeply, pressing his left hand against his wound. Then, using his free hand, he dialed Ri Yunho’s phone number.
Yunho answered on the fourth ring.
Despite the overwhelming agony, Wooju found a way to say his best friend’s name with a smile. His dying smile.
“Yunho.”
But the pain was excruciating, and it made it difficult for him to stay focused. And, although nobody was in the room but himself, Wooju’s ears rang with a cacophony of noise. All he could make out from his old friend were the words, “I hate you, Jo Wooju.” The rest was static.
“Yunho,” Wooju tried again, “how are you?”
I missed you.
Alas, he could no longer hear anything but the clock hanging on the wall, ticking in slow motion, and himself, whimpering in the dark.
I’m sorry I let you die.
“I’m sorry I called too late,” Wooju managed to say before what looked like an antlered doe appeared at the door, its crown of fireflies blinding him with their light.
In another life, would you forgive me?
The clock grew louder as it rapidly spun in a circle.
Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.
It went on and on, echoing through the walls.
Through time .
Then silence fell.
And with it, all his pain faded away.
The next time Wooju’s eyes flew open, he found himself crouching on the road in front of Yunho’s car, his mouth slightly agape as the headlights beamed at him.