Epilogue: The Memory of a Stranger
Do Yoon found himself alone in the empty hallway, eyes trailing the figure in front of him, heart caught between nostalgia and longing. There was Ju Ha—unfamiliar yet so familiar, passing by with the same effortless confidence, the same cool expression that had once made him seem so untouchable. Ju Ha didn't even glance his way, didn't pause to acknowledge him, didn't offer that slight smile or teasing wink that had become such a part of Do Yoon's daily life now.
It was a strange feeling, being on the outside again, as if he were only a spectator, watching Ju Ha from the shadowed corners he'd kept to himself in the past. In this dream-like state, he was aware of everything, but at the same time, he felt as if he were trapped in the memories of a time when they had barely known each other. Ju Ha continued down the hall, shoulders back, the faint sound of his footsteps echoing against the walls. And Do Yoon stood there, watching the distance between them grow, as if this were some scene he'd already experienced a hundred times before.
The scene shifted, and now Do Yoon was standing in front of the music room. He could hear the faint notes of a guitar from inside, a familiar melody that tugged at his heart with an intensity that felt both comforting and painful. Slowly, almost involuntarily, he pushed the door open, his gaze drawn to Ju Ha, who sat on the edge of a worn-out chair, his guitar resting on his knee, fingers gliding over the strings in smooth, practiced motions.
Ju Ha's eyes were closed, his face soft, lips slightly parted as he lost himself in the music. It was a sight Do Yoon had seen countless times since they'd grown close, but in this surreal, distant past, it felt different. Ju Ha wasn't playing for him; he was simply existing in his own world, oblivious to the quiet figure watching him from the doorway. There was a beauty in it, a rawness that made Do Yoon's heart ache, realizing that back then, he hadn't been a part of this world, not even as a thought in Ju Ha's mind.
Do Yoon's grip tightened on the doorframe as he watched, his heart pounding with an overwhelming mix of admiration and longing. He remembered how he used to feel back then, the unspoken admiration he held for Ju Ha, the fascination with the way he moved, how he played, how he held himself with a quiet strength that both intimidated and intrigued everyone around him. Ju Ha had been a mystery, someone Do Yoon could only watch from afar, too afraid to even approach.
He remembered how he would linger outside the music room sometimes, catching glimpses of Ju Ha in moments like this, his heart racing at the thought of even being this close. It was a time when he thought this was all he'd ever have—stolen moments, distant admiration, a silent longing that he thought he'd never be able to voice.
The sound of the guitar faded, and Ju Ha opened his eyes, his gaze sweeping across the room, though not toward the door where Do Yoon stood. He looked distant, as if he were seeing something beyond the walls of the room, something that only he could understand. And Do Yoon stayed quiet, not daring to move, fearing that if he did, the fragile beauty of this moment would shatter, and he'd lose this rare, vulnerable glimpse of Ju Ha.
And then, just as quickly as it had begun, the scene faded, leaving Do Yoon in a disorienting silence. He blinked, feeling the remnants of that strange dream still lingering in his mind, and slowly became aware of his surroundings. He was no longer standing in the hallway or the music room from the past. Instead, he was back in the present, sitting in the music room he had come to know so well, the air filled with the faint scent of Ju Ha's cologne, familiar and comforting.
He realized he must have dozed off while waiting for Ju Ha to finish his practice. The clock on the wall ticked softly, reminding him that only a few minutes had passed. But the vividness of that dream, that memory, made it feel like he had been there for hours, reliving that strange mixture of admiration and loneliness that he hadn't felt in so long.
A soft sound pulled him from his thoughts, and he looked up to see Ju Ha walking toward him, guitar in hand, a familiar teasing smile on his lips. There was a warmth in his gaze, a closeness that filled Do Yoon's chest with a quiet joy, a reminder of just how far they had come from that distant memory.
"Did I take that long?" Ju Ha asked, setting his guitar down and ruffling Do Yoon's hair in that casual, affectionate way he'd grown so used to.
Do Yoon felt himself smile, unable to resist the warmth that spread through him at the familiar touch. "Yeah, maybe a little," he murmured, his gaze lingering on Ju Ha's face, taking in every detail, every line that he'd come to know so well. There was a part of him that wanted to say more, to tell Ju Ha about the dream, about the strange journey back to a time when he had only been able to watch from afar.
But he held back, knowing that this was enough. Just being here, beside Ju Ha, knowing that he was no longer that distant, untouchable figure—this was all he needed.
Ju Ha tilted his head, giving him a curious look. "What's up with you? You look like you just saw a ghost," he said with a soft chuckle, amusement and affection mingling in his voice.
Do Yoon shook his head, letting out a quiet laugh. "Nothing. I guess I just... remembered something." His voice was soft, almost wistful, as he gazed at Ju Ha, feeling that quiet sense of gratitude well up inside him once more. Gratitude for the way things had changed, for the closeness they now shared, for the way Ju Ha had become not just a distant admiration but a real, tangible presence in his life.
Ju Ha raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Remembered, huh? Sounds serious," he teased, though his eyes held a gentle curiosity that made Do Yoon's heart warm even more.
"Yeah," Do Yoon replied softly, his smile widening just a little. "Just... a memory from a long time ago. From when you were just... hyung."
Ju Ha rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "Just hyung, huh? Guess I've upgraded since then," he joked, but there was a warmth in his gaze that told Do Yoon he understood.
Do Yoon laughed, nodding. "Definitely. You've... come a long way."
For a moment, they sat there in comfortable silence, the weight of unspoken memories lingering between them. And as they sat there, Do Yoon felt that strange ache from the dream fade away, replaced by a quiet, overwhelming sense of peace.
This was no longer a memory of a stranger, of a distant admiration. This was real, tangible, here and now. And as he looked at Ju Ha, he knew that the boy he had once admired from afar was now the man he could call his own, not just hyung, but someone who held a part of his heart he'd once thought he'd never be able to share.
And in that moment, Do Yoon knew that the past was exactly where it belonged—a memory, a reminder of how far they had come, and a testament to the bond they now shared.
