Episode 61: Viral?
Thinking about it, Song Junghoon had it too.
“The moment I can spend with you
Is already the wish that has come true for me.”
The time when he had been anxiously wondering if Ju Mirae’s feelings might be different from his own.
The time when just the fact that their relationship had developed into that of lovers felt like he had already used up all the luck of his lifetime in advance.
Those times when seeing Ju Mirae smile happily made him happy too, when he wanted to grant her every desire.
He definitely had those times too.
“Like a star cutting through the night sky and falling,
Your eyes sparkle as they look at me.
This is like a shooting star.
Like a star that has suddenly fallen here,
My heart sparkles too as I look at you.
Love is like a shooting star.”
With the following lyrics, the image of Ju Mirae from seven years ago, which had been fading beneath Song Junghoon’s stiff, expressionless face in his mind, began to sharpen again.
Because of that, Song Junghoon’s gaze couldn’t help but fixate on the stage.
If he turned his head and saw that cold expressionlessness still there, he felt like his heart would collapse.
“On the way home, a single fallen star.
You who wished upon it ask me,
‘Why don’t you make a wish?’
To that question, I just smile faintly.
Even when the stars aren’t visible at all,
I was already making my wish.”
With the next lyrics, similar to the first verse but with a different ending, Song Junghoon felt as if he had been struck on the head again.
Was it only Song Junghoon who had taken the other’s presence for granted?
Was it only Ju Mirae who had felt hurt by that?
And yet, because his feelings for Ju Mirae were still as strong as ever.
He had even created this opportunity to mend their cracked relationship, but to be honest, Song Junghoon too felt a bit resentful about certain parts.
But why was it?
That lyric about already making a wish even when the star wasn’t visible,
‘Did you really try your best?’
It echoed in Song Junghoon’s ears like that.
“Like a star cutting through the night sky and falling,
Your eyes sparkle as they look at me.
This is like a shooting star.
Like a star that has suddenly fallen here,
My heart sparkles too as I look at you.
Love is like a shooting star.”
Along with the bouncy lyrics that rang out again in the meantime, Han Yujin’s gaze, which had been scanning the entire stage, turned toward them.
Making eye contact with Song Junghoon, Han Yujin then glanced to Song Junghoon’s side, her expression stiffening slightly as if flustered.
And then her eyes turned back to Song Junghoon.
‘Huh?’
Song Junghoon, meeting his gaze for the second time, felt a strange sensation.
“Not always can it shine brightly forever.
Sometimes that star isn’t visible,
And it might feel like it’s disappeared.
That’s okay.
It’s a shooting star.
That star will stay by you and me,
And grant our wishes.”
With those lyrics, Han Yujin furrowed his brow and sent him a slightly pitying look,
It felt like he was saying,
‘This isn’t the time to be looking at me.’
Only then did Song Junghoon turn his gaze to the seat beside him, where Han Yujin’s eyes had subtly dropped, and he felt struck on the head once more.
Gone was the stiff, expressionless face; instead, there was Ju Mirae with reddened eyes, biting her lip slightly as if holding back tears.
“On the way home, a single fallen star.
You who wished upon it ask me,
‘Why don’t you make a wish?’”
The third chorus, signaling the end.
Song Junghoon realized what he had to do.
Grabbing Ju Mirae’s hand, which he hadn’t had the courage to hold all day, Song Junghoon stood up from his seat.
Fortunately, their seats were right at the end by the stairs.
He lightly bowed his head to the people behind them in apology, then led the limp Ju Mirae up the stairs and out of the dark studio.
“Looking up at the sky, that fallen star
I hope it grants the wish you hold.
That’s the only thing I desire.”
The final lyrics flew toward their backs like that.
For some reason, to Song Junghoon, it felt like,
‘Don’t miss this last chance.’
***
Ignoring the staff’s announcement that re-entry was impossible, Song Junghoon and Ju Mirae had rushed out of the public hall building. Before they knew it, they were walking silently through the park under the pitch-black night sky.
The hand that had grabbed Ju Mirae’s wrist and pulled her along had long since let go.
Silence itself had become all too familiar to them over the past few weeks.
But strangely, tonight’s silence felt different from before.
An awkwardness lingered between the two, walking slightly apart—a kind that didn’t suit a couple who had been together for seven years.
Just like that night seven years ago, when they had first watched a public broadcast and come out.
“Mirae.”
It was Song Junghoon, walking ahead, who broke the awkwardness first.
He suddenly stopped and looked up at the pitch-black night sky where not a single star was visible, then opened his mouth.
“I knew. What you were going to say today.”
At those words, while Song Junghoon lifted his head, Ju Mirae’s head dropped toward the ground.
As if to hide her reddened eyes.
Because of their opposite postures, their gazes didn’t meet.
But Song Junghoon continued speaking without caring.
“When was it? The point when I started thinking it was natural for you to be by my side. When I started taking the happiness I felt from our time together as something obvious. But that was never obvious.”
The feelings Song Junghoon was expressing weren’t any different for Ju Mirae.
Just as much as Song Junghoon had taken Ju Mirae’s presence by his side for granted,
Ju Mirae had never even imagined anyone other than Song Junghoon standing in the spot beside her.
That fact hadn’t changed even now, as she had resolved to part ways with him.
“I realized it too late. If I’d realized it sooner, would you have even needed to make that ‘decision’?”
At the word “decision,” Ju Mirae lifted her head.
In that moment, she took in the sight of him still gazing at the sky, desperately searching for something.
Only then did Ju Mirae notice the tremor in Song Junghoon’s voice.
‘I thought Junghoon had changed.’
Of course, that wasn’t wrong.
As Song Junghoon himself admitted, he had changed quite a bit from who he used to be.
But that wasn’t the whole story.
‘I’ve changed too.’
Ju Mirae had changed just as much as Song Junghoon had, and everything surrounding them both had shifted a great deal.
Like how the sky, which once seemed to pour down stars the moment she looked up, was now dyed pitch black.
But there were things that hadn’t changed.
Just like how, though invisible now, shining stars surely existed just one layer beyond.
Song Junghoon had already proven that they hadn’t completely vanished and still lingered within him.
“Come to think of it, we’ve fought so many times, but we’ve never once said ‘let’s break up.’”
At those words, Ju Mirae nodded as if entranced.
Song Junghoon and Ju Mirae had gone through countless arguments, but they had never uttered the word “breakup.”
The quarrels between them were merely extreme adjustments for the sake of staying together, so breakup wasn’t even worth mentioning.
That was probably why Song Junghoon had sensed the catastrophe Ju Mirae had resolved upon today.
Song Junghoon slowly lowered his head, which had been tilted toward the sky, and only then did their gazes meet at the same level.
“No matter what you say right now, Mirae, I’ll answer with ‘yes.’”
A single sentence from Song Junghoon, handing the hilt of the knife that would decide their relationship to Ju Mirae.
“But that’s absolutely not because my feelings have cooled. Of course, I still think I can only be happy with you by my side. But if you’re not happy next to me, then it’s not a normal relationship.”
That was undoubtedly the Song Junghoon from seven years ago, the one Ju Mirae had fallen in love with.
But she couldn’t make up her mind easily.
“I don’t know right now… but is there any guarantee it won’t change again?”
The reason Ju Mirae hesitantly brought up.
It wasn’t directed only at Song Junghoon—it was also toward herself.
“You’re right. I’ve already changed once. The second time might even come more easily.”
That was why Song Junghoon’s response was likewise aimed at both of them simultaneously.
“I won’t rationalize it by saying I didn’t know. But today, I learned what I should have done. So now I can cherish it even more.”
Ju Mirae couldn’t bring herself to say, “Just because of one song.”
Because it wasn’t just Song Junghoon whose heart had changed because of that one song.
No more words were needed.
The two who had spent seven years together were already peering into each other’s hearts.
Song Junghoon extended his hand with a smile.
Ju Mirae averted her eyes slightly but still took it.
“Come to think of it, I think I get why you always smiled whenever you saw Han Yujin. He’s definitely cool, even from a guy’s perspective. He’s young, but there’s a lot to learn from him.”
“Oh, come on.”
A thought flashed through Ju Mirae’s mind—Is this how a 32-year-old man should act toward someone nearly ten years younger?—and an incredulous reaction slipped out,
“Huh? A shooting star!”
But at the streak that just then traced across the night sky, she watched her partner immediately clasp his hands together, and Ju Mirae chuckled.
“That’s an airplane.”
Did Song Junghoon really not know that?
But he didn’t unclasp his hands pressed to his chest,
“Pfft.”
Ju Mirae let out a small laugh at his appearance, then closed her eyes and clasped her hands just like him.
The stars were already in their hearts anyway.
***
And that night.
Flop.
Ailee, who had barely made it back to her officetel, collapsed onto the bed without even removing her makeup, let alone properly taking off her clothes.
“Ah… these bastards must be dead set on killing me…”
Because the employees at the video production company ‘Raccoon’ had whipped her hard during the event, only to pour alcohol into her mouth as if seeking revenge.
But she couldn’t even properly enjoy the hard-earned respite that had finally come.
Bzzz.
Bzzzzz.
Bzzzzzzz.
Her cell phone, tossed beside her head, vibrated incessantly, refusing to allow her rest.
“Ugh…”
She barely lifted her head and confirmed that the name on the screen was one of her subordinates.
“Haaa…”
With a deep sigh, Ailee had no choice but to pick up the phone.
And then,
“What’s going on…?”
Answering in a voice like she was dying, Ailee heard,
“Yes? What do you mean?”
“I just sent you a message. You should read that first.”
Seeing the popup of the private message from her subordinate in the messenger app, Ailee felt as if the alcohol she’d chugged moments ago had vanished in an instant, like magic.
[Thanks to Han Yujin’s song, we saved a 7-year relationship on the brink of ending.]
“Did we ever take on a viral ad request…?”