Epilogue
88th Timeline
October 14, 2024
Four Hours Before High School Reunion
“ W hen you’re having a hard time, just think about why you started in the first place.” Yunho doesn’t recall the face or the name of the person who said these words to him, but he can still remember how they made him feel hopeful, yet sad. “And don’t you ever give up, Yunnie. I know you can do it. With or without me, you’ll do great. You got this.”
“The director said I’m lacking as an actor. He said my looks are all I have. He even said I look like I’m in pain during my kissing scenes. You’re the only one who believes in me. How do you expect me to still do great if you’re not around?” Yunho had replied, feeling so close to quitting.
If the person next to him in that dream-like memory didn’t hold his hand, maybe he wouldn’t be here. Maybe he wouldn’t have loved his job. Maybe he’d be lost.
“Prove him wrong, Yunnie,” the faceless boy said as he squeezed Yunho’s hand with his. “Prove them wrong.”
But who was he again? Why does Yunho feel like his heart is on fire whenever he conjures this memory?
It’s been ten years since Yunho graduated high school and decided to become an actor. Looking back, he now acknowledges the gaps in his memories. Aside from the entertainment industry rejecting him multiple times before eventually giving him a chance, Yunho doesn’t remember why he auditioned for film and TV roles in the first place. After high school, he and his friends went their separate ways to follow their dreams. Yunho went to college and pursued a degree in drama. Throughout his studies, he dedicated himself to honing his acting skills.
Now he’s here with his dreams in his hands. He’s a star everyone loves, one who can have everything he desires.
But he’s also a star with an empty space inside him.
“Who do you think about when you have to cry for a scene?” Reporter Yang’s question pulls Yunho back from his daydream. His distant gaze refocuses on the young reporter as she braces herself for his answer. She has a brown journal on her lap and a pen in her right hand.
It’s a Saturday, and they’re at Yunho’s condominium conducting a private interview. He would’ve rebuffed the invitation if Reporter Yang hadn’t been a relative of his friend. She almost looks like Sangheon’s sister.
“Just someone. I don’t remember his face, but... I remember his eyes. He had the most expressive blue eyes.” Yunho slumps back into the tufted cushions and stares up at the white ceiling as he once again daydreams about the mysterious boy. “Even though I don’t remember much about that person, I still think about him. I feel like he was a big part of my life, but my memory of him is vague.”
Reporter Yang’s lips part slightly, but she remains speechless as she maintains her gaze on the actor.
Yunho tousles his recently dyed midnight hair, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears as the nostalgia from an old, forgotten memory swathes him in sadness.
Reporter Yang doesn’t ask him anything else after that. They end up exchanging bows and goodbyes sooner than expected. Yunho politely escorts her to the front door and watches her disappear from his view before heading toward the balcony to unwind, the summer air tickling his skin.
“Hey, top student!”
Yunho turns his head to the familiar sound. Behind him are his friends Sangheon and Jihoon, standing by the sliding door. Yunho smiles, gesturing for them to join him.
Yunho studies Min Sangheon. The man looks taller than before. His hair is darker, and his clothes are more daring. His black button-down shirt reveals almost half of his chest.
Sangheon grins and exclaims, “Dude, you got me worried back there!” He loops an arm around Yunho’s shoulders. “Reporter Yang said you suddenly looked like you were about to cry in front of her, so she decided to cut the interview short. Nothing’s wrong with you, right?”
“What if something’s wrong? Do I get a free private party at your bar?” Yunho raises an eyebrow.
“No, no, no. I’ll get scolded if I do that,” Sangheon says, shaking his head. “If something is wrong with you, Jihoon will take you to the hospital for treatment.” They both turn toward Jihoon who stands beside the balcony entrance, arms folded across his chest. “Right, Dr. Jang?”
Jang Jihoon chuckles. He has the same curly brown hair, square-frame glasses, and naturally long lashes. He’s a little brighter, though— happier . He’s wearing his lab coat with the wrinkled teal scrubs underneath it, but he doesn’t look like he just woke up in the hospital with only two hours of sleep, which is a good thing because he probably did. Yunho is pretty sure Sangheon barged into Jihoon’s workplace again and dragged the doctor here against his will.
“How about this?” Jihoon makes a suggestion. “We can all go to the high school reunion together. Maybe that’ll make you feel better. It would be the same as having a private party at Sangheon’s bar.”
“Exactly!” Sangheon agrees. “We can bring your assistant or your manager if you want. Please don’t say no.”
Yunho shrugs. “I don’t really feel like coming, guys.”
“Oh, come on, you can’t miss this,” Sangheon whines, waving his free arm. “High school reunions are not an everyday thing, you know? You don’t get to see your first love all the time,” he adds, stealing glances at Jihoon. “I need to see mine there because he’s always too busy to see me on a regular day. A reunion is the perfect excuse.”
Yunho gives his friends a knowing look. Jihoon looks away as he clears his throat. Sangheon keeps on grinning.
Yunho knows his friends are in love with each other and that it may only be a matter of time before they announce their marriage. They haven’t told him anything yet, but they’re not very good at hiding things from him, either.
It’s easy to distinguish Jihoon’s light skin from the blush creeping up on his cheeks, and Sangheon’s always been open about his feelings for the brunette.
Sangheon makes his pride in Jihoon clear to everyone in the same way most boyfriends would.
Yunho doesn’t question why they’re still trying to keep what they have a secret. He thinks maybe it’s because of him. Perhaps they don’t want him to feel excluded.
Yunho disentangles Sangheon’s arms from his shoulder as he angles himself away from them, facing the tall concrete and glass buildings ahead.
“Oh, right!” Sangheon leans toward the balustrades next to Yunho. “There’s someone else coming, too. I forgot his name, but I heard he was a transfer student during our senior year,” Sangheon muses.
Yunho listens but doesn’t say a word.
“He was only in our school for a few months before disappearing or something,” Jihoon adds, joining them.
“But remember Taehwan? The spoiled chaebol heir, Han Taehwan?” Sangheon continues eagerly. “He mentioned in the class group chat that this so-called transfer student will be hosting an art exhibition at the same hotel as the reunion.”
“What was his name again?” Jihoon asks.
“Who knows? I can’t even remember his face.” Sangheon purses his lips before his eyes wander to Yunho. “Do you?”
Yunho furrows his eyebrows, pondering for a long time, and yet, his mind draws a blank.
“I don’t,” he replies with a sad shake of his head. “I can’t remember anything.”
One Hour Before the High School Reunion
The first painting that catches Yunho’s attention at the art exhibition is of two boys standing on a bridge surrounded by fireflies and lilac trees. One of the boys is looking over his shoulder, while the other appears to be waiting for him.
Where Fireflies Dwell , it says on the placard beneath it.
Yunho is certain he’s seen it before, but he’s forgotten when, where, or how. His intention is not to linger here, but that might change now. He suddenly longs to meet the artist behind the art, the supposed transfer student no one remembers. He wants to tell him about how, out of all the beautiful colors hanging against the plain white walls, his painting is the most intriguing. He wants to know the story behind it. There has to be one, right?
That’s why he’s been standing in the same spot for almost thirty minutes now. He’s either waiting for the artist to show up or waiting for his memories to return.
The reunion is five doors down the hallway, but his friends and other classmates probably won’t expect a celebrity like him to be at an art exhibition, admiring a random painting while in his usual outdoor disguise.
Yet, here he is. With a face mask on, his favorite Nike cap, and a leather jacket to keep him warm and hidden.
His phone vibrates against his thigh, but Yunho doesn’t acknowledge it. He’s not even paying attention to the other art enthusiasts around him. His focus is on what’s in front of him and the magical lullaby that draws him toward it.
Find me, find me, find me where fireflies dwell.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
Yunho shifts his attention to the sound. There’s a man standing next to him, his gaze riveted on the same painting.
The man appears to be around Yunho’s age, but his simple all-white attire makes him look like a living piece of art. Yunho marvels at the stranger’s beauty: the way his dark, wavy hair falls over his eye and how his skin glows in the light. Perfection seems to describe him.
When the stranger meets Yunho’s lingering gaze, Yunho stills at the sight of eyes as blue as the ocean.
“Yeah,” Yunho manages to say, his heart hammering against his chest, his hands damp with perspiration as they yearn to be held. Yunho shouldn’t speak to strangers while he’s in disguise, but he can’t help himself. “Excuse me,” he blurts out, breaking his rules for once, “what’s your name?”
The young man mirrors the look in Yunho’s eyes—the baffling longing and familiarity. “My name?” he echoes, a soft smile gracing his lips as he extends a hand toward the actor. “My name is...”
the end.