“Come on, Kyungsoo. Time for your meds,” the young nurse says, lips pursed and chapped with the cracks of old lipstick.

Kyungsoo looks up with large eyes, dark circles under and traces of youth stretched thin across his hollow features.

He swallows his pills and accepts his injections almost habitually—rituals of never-ending medication that they think will solve all of his problems.

But Kyungsoo knows better than to trust chemically altered solutions and empty promises.

It is an empty Christmas night. And as usual, he has spent in locked up behind hospital doors and tied to cold hospital beds. The only solace he has is the little cracked window next to his IV stand.

They tell him that there are no visitors (no surprise for Kyungsoo). But one thing that startles the man is the Christmas present that gets shoved into his hard palms.

“It was sent in this morning. For you,” the nurse whispers as she undoes his strapped arms and loosens the wires tied to his ankles.

Kyungsoo doesn’t look up at her, only at the neatly packaged present now on his lap. He carefully removes the tape and unwraps the red paper.

There is candle—gingerbread, Kyungsoo’s favourite. And a note captured with the familiar penmanship of his old friend:

Hey Kyungsoo!
How have you been?
It’s been ten years, hasn’t it?
Anyway, I hope you’re feeling better!
See, I promised that I’d always remember you guys.
And I would never break that promise.
With love, Suho.

Kyungsoo sighs. After all these years, with the members retuning to their birth names—no more stage names because they were too corny (and because they brought along with them too many bittersweet memories) —Junmyeon still demanded to be called ‘Suho’. It was almost as if he didn’t want to let go.

Kyungsoo thinks that, of all people, Suho would have been the first to let go. But nevertheless, it was he who promised to always keep in touch. It was he who, as EXO’s leader, promised to look after them for the rest of their lives.

But the members grew up. And they didn’t need looking after anymore.

Kyungsoo’s lips quiver when he thinks of the members. For so many years, he had convinced himself that EXO didn’t exist, EXO was just a figment of his imagination, EXO was merely a dream that came true for that short period of time.

And Kyungsoo thinks it’s all his fault, it’s all his fault. His fault for breaking down when the members needed him the most. It was his fault for crying, screaming, fainting, heart beating, ears ringing, skin wrinkling—it was all his fault. And maybe, if Kyungsoo hadn’t fallen apart, EXO would have lasted just that little bit longer.

Kyungsoo looks up at the full moon and wonders if somewhere, someone is looking up at that moon too.