Chapter Text
woonhak wakes up expecting noise.
there’s always noise in the dorm.
music leaking from someone’s phone, sometimes too loud for how early it is. or the soft crackle of the vinyl player when taesan insists the song sounds better this way. his jaehyun hyung laughing down the hall. someone complaining that they went to sleep too late again.
there’s always something going on.
so the silence is the first thing that feels wrong.
woonhak shifts under the blanket, still half asleep, and reaches a hand out to the left without opening his eyes.
he expects the edge of the other bed.
or taesan’s blanket.
or maybe taesan himself, already awake and scrolling through songs, humming quietly like he always does in the morning.
his fingers brush against a wall.
woonhak frowns.
that’s… weird.
the wall feels close. closer than it should be.
he opens his eyes.
for a second, he doesn’t move.
the wall beside him isn’t the plain white one from the dorm. it’s light blue, the paint a little uneven in places. there are faint tape marks where posters used to hang.
woonhak blinks slowly.
“…what?”
he pushes himself up, looking around.
the room is small.
too small.
a wooden desk sits under the window, sunlight spilling across the surface. textbooks are stacked beside a pencil case. a school uniform hangs from the back of a chair.
his heart gives a strange little thud in his chest.
this isn’t the dorm.
his gaze flicks back to the left again.
no second bed.
no taesan, no jaehyun.
and the room is quiet.
no music playing. no faint bass from someone’s speaker. no notifications buzzing from group chats.
just the soft hum of a ceiling fan and the distant sounds of morning outside.
a dog barking.
a car passing down the street.
and faintly,
the sound of someone cooking.
woonhak sits up slowly, confusion spreading through him.
“…did they drop me off?”
his voice sounds small in the quiet room.
he rubs his face with both hands, trying to think.
the last thing he remembers—
the studio.
bright lights.
the camera sliding past them.
studio choom.
they had been filming all afternoon. take after take of the choreography, fixing angles, repeating parts until everyone was perfectly in sync.
his legs was burning by the end of the shoot.
he remembers collapsing into the van afterward, exhausted.
sungho was sitting beside him, headphones around his neck.
and jaehyun was joking in the back seat, trying to get sungho’s attention.
their manager telling them they did well today, and he has already ordered food to be delivered at their dorms for dinner.
woonhak remembers leaning his head against the window, his eyes closing.
that deep, bone-tired sleep that comes after hours of dancing.
“…oh.”
maybe that’s it!
maybe they didn’t have any schedules afterward?
maybe the manager just drove him home.
woonhak nods slowly to himself.
“yeah… that makes sense.”
except he looks around the room again.
his backpack, the one he always brings to every schedule, which everyone knows not to keep it away from him, is gone. it should be here.
the confusion creeps back in.
before he can think more about it, a sound from outside gets louder.
thump thump thump.
footsteps run down the hallway.
they stop right outside his door.
then it swings open.
“woonhak!”
his little sister appears in the doorway, hair messy, still in pajamas.
she squints at him.
“you’re still in bed?”
woonhak stares.
“…wait.”
she tilts her head. “what?”
he points at her slowly.
“why am i here?”
“…because this is our house? you live here.” she says flatly.
woonhak blinks.
“no, i mean—”
his brain scrambles.
“when did i get home?”
his sister frowns like that’s the weirdest question she’s heard all morning.
“…yesterday?”
woonhak sits up straighter.
“yesterday what time?”
“i don’t know,” she says, shrugging. “you came home late.”
“did the manager call?”
“…what manager?”
woonhak freezes.
“our manager,” he says slowly. “did he tell mom he was dropping me off?”
his sister stares at him for a few seconds, scanning the genuine confusion on his brother’s face.
then she bursts out laughing.
“what are you talking about?”
woonhak stands up quickly.
“no, seriously. when did i get here?”
his sister leans against the doorframe, still laughing a little.
“you got home after school.”
“after sch– what?”
“school,” she repeats. “you said you played baseball with your friends and that’s why you were late.”
woonhak just stares at her.
“…baseball?”
she nods.
“yeah.”
“with who?”
she shrugs again. “your friends?”
this isn’t making any sense.
woonhak pushes past her and walks down the hallway toward the kitchen.
the smell of breakfast gets stronger.
his mom is standing at the stove, flipping something in a pan.
she glances over her shoulder.
“oh, you’re up.”
woonhak stops in the doorway.
“mom.”
“good morning,” she says. “sit down before the food gets cold.”
“what time did i get home yesterday?”
his mom pauses slightly.
“what?”
“yesterday,” he repeats. “what time did i get home?”
she turns to look at him properly now.
“…after school?”
his stomach drops.
“did someone drop me off?”
“no?”
she blinks at him.
“you walked home like usual.”
woonhak shakes his head quickly.
“no, i mean my manager.”
his sister snorts from behind him.
his mom raises an eyebrow.
“manager?”
“yeah,” woonhak says, getting more confused by the second. “our manager. from the company.”
the kitchen goes quiet.
then his sister starts laughing again.
“what company?”
woonhak stares at her like the answer should be obvious.
“the company, koz! the one i’m signed to?.”
she laughs harder.
“what are you talking about?”
his mom walks over and gently presses the back of her hand to his forehead.
“did you hit your head yesterday, honey? i told you to be careful with playing.”
“no.”
“because you’re talking strangely.”
woonhak steps back.
“i’m serious.”
he points between them.
“i’m an idol.”
his sister almost spits out her water and doubles over laughing.
“you wish.”
woonhak’s chest tightens.
“i’m serious.”
his mom smiles a little, clearly amused.
“you must have had a vivid dream. you did come home very tired. you didn’t even get to eat dinner”
“no, listen to me! it wasn’t a dream. you’re just pranking me.”
“okay,” she says patiently, like she’s humoring him. “what group are you in?”
“…boynextdoor.”
his sister wipes tears from her eyes.
“that’s not even a real group.”
the words hit harder than he expects.
woonhak freezes.
“what?”
“boynextdoor?” she says. “that sounds fake.”
his heart starts racing.
woonhak rushes back to his room, grabbing his phone.
his fingers move quickly across the screen.
boynextdoor.
search.
the page loads.
results appear.
none of them are right.
neighborhood blogs.
a movie.
random articles.
no group.
no songs.
no debut.
woonhak searches again.
sungho.
riwoo.
jaehyun.
taesan.
leehan.
nothing.
his hands slowly lower the phone.
behind him, his sister leans against the doorframe.
“see?” she says, still smiling. “told you.”
his mom appears behind her, looking a little concerned now.
“are you feeling okay?”
woonhak doesn’t answer.
his heart is beating loudly in his ears.
the dorm.
the stage.
the songs.
his brothers.
all gone. like it never happened.
except he remembers.
every rehearsal.
every performance.
every moment they stood together under the lights.
woonhak presses a hand against his chest.
“…okay.”
his voice is barely a whisper.
if the world forgot them., then he won’t.
he’ll find them., he’ll find his brothers.
one by one.
and he’ll bring them back to the dream they shared.