Epex Oneshots (short stories) /imagines

Baekseung- The last two stars

The sky above was a swirling void of black and gray, punctuated by faint glimmers of distant stars struggling to survive in the suffocating expanse. Earth, or what had once been Earth, was no more than ash floating in the vast silence of space. The universe had collapsed into a banned dimension, a space sealed off from the natural order of reality. Everything — planets, life, time — had fallen, except for two souls.

Baekseung and Y/N.

Baekseung floated near the shattered remains of a long-forgotten asteroid, his boots firmly magnetized to a small fragment of metal debris. His sleek, patched-up spacesuit hummed faintly, the only sound in the otherwise deafening silence of the vacuum. His helmet visor displayed a holographic map of his surroundings, but it was blank — it always was. The map couldn't guide him to what no longer existed.

"Any sign of life?" came Y/N's voice through the comms, soft and tinged with a quiet sadness.

Baekseung turned, catching sight of her figure a few meters away. She hovered, her small spacecraft tethered to a rock, her helmet tilting slightly toward him. Her voice was one of the few things that kept him anchored in this strange, dying world.

"Nothing," he replied, his voice crackling slightly. "Just us."

It had been just them for months now. The banned universe was like a prison for remnants — fragments of a reality that no longer belonged. Baekseung didn't know why they'd survived when everything else had disappeared. All he knew was that Y/N was here, too, and that was enough to keep him going.

"Let's head back to the ship," Y/N suggested, her voice hesitant. "It's getting darker out here."

Their ship, The Ecliptic, was a rusted relic salvaged from the wreckage of an old space station. It wasn't much, but it was home. Inside, the dim lighting cast a warm orange glow over the small cabin. Y/N pulled off her helmet, shaking out her hair as she sank into the co-pilot's chair. Baekseung joined her a moment later, his dark eyes scanning the sparse room.

"Still no answers," she murmured, her gaze fixed on the window. Outside, the stars seemed to blink slower, their light dimming with each passing day. "Do you think there's even anything left to find?"

Baekseung leaned back in his chair, his jaw tightening. "I don't know. But sitting here isn't going to change anything. We have to keep searching."

"For what, though?" Y/N turned to face him, her eyes searching his. "We've been through every sector of this universe, and there's nothing. Just ruins. Just us."

Baekseung hesitated, his fingers curling around the edge of his armrest. He didn't have an answer for her. He never did. But the thought of stopping — of giving up — terrified him more than anything. Not because he cared about finding answers, but because he didn't want to face the truth that they were alone, completely and utterly alone.

"You don't believe that," he said quietly. "You wouldn't still be here if you did."

Y/N sighed, her expression softening. "I'm still here because you're here, Baekseung. We're all we have left."

Her words hung heavy in the air, a truth neither of them could deny. Baekseung met her gaze, and for a moment, the weight of the universe felt just a little lighter. She was right. They were all each other had, and maybe that was enough.

The next day, the ship drifted aimlessly through the void. Y/N sat in the cockpit, fiddling with a small, broken music box she'd salvaged from an old wreck. Its tune was faint, barely audible, but it brought a strange sense of comfort. Baekseung stood behind her, watching her delicate movements.

"Where did you find that?" he asked, his voice breaking the silence.

"An old cargo hold," she replied without looking up. "It was one of the only things that wasn't completely destroyed."

Baekseung watched her for a moment before stepping closer. "You always find the strangest things."

Y/N smiled faintly. "It's better than finding nothing at all."

He nodded, leaning against the wall. "You've always been good at finding things. Even in a place like this."

Y/N looked up at him, her expression thoughtful. "What about you? What do you hope to find?"

Baekseung hesitated. He hadn't thought about it much — or maybe he had, and he was just too afraid to admit it. "I don't know," he said finally. "Maybe... hope. Something that proves this isn't the end."

Y/N tilted her head, studying him. "Do you think we'll find it?"

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he stepped closer, his gaze locking with hers. "I think... as long as we keep trying, there's still a chance."

Their proximity was close enough that Y/N could see the faint scars on his face, the wear and tear of a life spent surviving. She realized then how much she'd come to rely on him — his steady presence, his quiet strength. He wasn't just a companion; he was her anchor in the chaos.

"I'm glad it's you," she said softly, surprising even herself.

Baekseung blinked, his expression shifting to something softer, almost vulnerable. "Me?"

She nodded. "If I have to be stuck in this place... I'm glad it's with you."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence was heavy but not uncomfortable, filled with unspoken understanding. Baekseung's hand twitched at his side, as if he wanted to reach out but wasn't sure how. Instead, he simply nodded, his voice quiet. "Me too."

Later that night, as they floated through the black void, something unexpected happened. A faint light appeared on the ship's radar — a beacon, pulsing weakly in the distance. Y/N stared at the screen, her heart pounding.

"Baekseung," she called, her voice urgent. "There's something out there."

He rushed into the cockpit, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the display. "A signal?"

She nodded. "It's faint, but it's there. Do you think... do you think it could be someone else?"

Baekseung didn't answer right away. His mind raced with possibilities, hope flickering to life in his chest. "There's only one way to find out."

They adjusted the ship's course, following the beacon's weak signal. The journey was tense, filled with silence and anticipation. As they drew closer, the light grew stronger, until finally, they saw it: a small, glowing sphere suspended in the void, pulsing with a warm, golden light.

"What is it?" Y/N whispered, her voice filled with wonder.

Baekseung shook his head. "I don't know. But it's beautiful."

The sphere seemed to hum with energy, its glow casting soft shadows across their faces. Y/N reached out, her fingers brushing the ship's control panel as if she could touch the light through the glass.

For the first time in months, Baekseung felt something other than despair. He felt hope — not just for himself, but for both of them.

"Do you think this is it?" Y/N asked, her voice trembling slightly. "The proof you were looking for?"

Baekseung turned to her, his gaze steady. "I don't know what it is. But it's something. And as long as we have something... we can keep going."

Y/N smiled, her eyes glistening. "Together?"

He nodded, his expression softening. "Together."

As the sphere's golden light washed over them, the weight of the universe seemed to fade. In that moment, it didn't matter what the future held or what the sphere truly was. All that mattered was that they weren't alone — and for the first time in a long time, they believed that maybe, just maybe, the universe wasn't done with them yet.