It was written with a special someone in mind. I don’t know where that person is, or where to even look to find them, but I do hope that if they hear this song, they know that every once in a while, I’m suddenly reminded… 

1. “The fundamental condition of childhood is powerlessness.”

Junho was five when he heard the song for the first time.

His father had just left for another trip and he tried his very best to hold back the tears, even so, the trembling lips gave him away. He was a big boy now, smart too, his teacher had said so, and he understood his father’s job was very important.

Even if it meant he wasn’t always home.  

His father had come into his room a few hours before leaving.  He had sat on the bed, the little boy on his lap, and had presented Junho with a little souvenir from the last trip.

"Someone gave me this as a present." He said, brushing the fringe from the little boy’s forehead. "He told me I reminded him of someone he knew, someone he missed very much."

The words didn't mean much to the boy at the time.  He was just happy to have his father to himself, even if only for a short time.

He sat in his room now, fingers brushing over the smooth surface of the small object.  It was some sort of music player, or so his dad had explained. There was only one song saved on it, and father had told him he should play it whenever he felt like he missed him, and Junho never missed his father more than he did at this particular moment.

He put on the earpiece, and laid down on his bed. He didn’t get the meaning, but he found the voice singing the song to be soothing. It reminded him of the lullabies his nanny would sing to him, on the nights he couldn't sleep.

He fell asleep with the thought that his father would return soon, as promised, and that he would ask him about the song then.

It was a while before he gathered the courage to listen to the song again.

His father had been absent for 5 years now, some accident no one could really explain, two victims, his father one of them, but Junho had never lost hope. His dad had made a promise, his dad never broke his promises.

He never cried.  What would his father think if he were to come home and find him with puffy eyes and trembling lips? But now, for the very first time in a really long time Junho had allowed himself to accept the fact that perhaps, his dad was never coming back. So, as he picked up the last present he had received from his dad and laid back on his bed, he couldn't hold back the tears. 

He listened to the song and he cried.  He cried for a father he would never see again.  He cried for a withdrawn mother, who only care about his studies and the pills she would stuffed herself with when she thought Junho wasn't looking.  The mother that always told him how much like his father, he could become, if only he applied himself.

Junho cried for a father he wanted to hate, but couldn't.

It wasn’t long after that he discover that in fact, the world did not revolve around him. There were others out there that were, quite possibly, in worse situations than he was.

 He and his mother were invited to a party in honor of his late father. He understood what his dad's job was, and why it was so important.  He just never understood why it was more important than his family.

Still, he did as he was told, wore his best clothes, thank everyone that told him how great a man his father was, and held his tongue from asking those people that if indeed he was such a great man, why couldn't he had been a better dad. 

It was by pure luck that he had managed to get away, under the pretense of being too overwhelmed, and needing some room to breathe. He sneaked out through the service the door and made his way out and as far away from the so-called party as he could. 

He stopped in front of a tall glass window that ran along most of the wall, momentarily mesmerized by what he saw.  At first it was nothing but black, the thick glass and the barriers placed around the dome made it almost impossible to truly appreciate what was out there, but he could still make out a planet or two, the faint glow of a star in the distance.

"Pretty, isn't it?" He jumped, startled.  Only seconds ago, he had been sure he was alone, and now he found himself staring at a pair of dirty brown eyes.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." The girl smiled, apologetic, and Junho shook his head, it was his fault that he wasn't paying attention. "Is ok, I didn't notice you at first."

Is ok. Most people don't." She answered with a smile, and Junho noticed that her nose was slyly crocked. It was impolite to stare, so he turned his attention back to the window.

"My mom told me our ancestors came from that one." She pressed a small bony finger to the glass, and Junho glanced in the direction she was pointing.  There, suspended in the distance, as if someone had purposely hanged there with strings Junho couldn’t see, was earth. Massive, lifeless, and somehow beautiful.  

"I already know that." He told her, losing interest in the girl, and wondering how much longer he had until his mother sent someone out to fetch him.

"I wish I could get a chance to see it someday."

"You are seeing it now." Junho's tone was flat, somewhat annoyed, but the girl didn't seem to notice, or perhaps she didn't care.

"No, I mean really see it, during the times that it was possible to actually live there. See it like your dad and my mom used to."

This got his attention and he turned to her, expression harden, because how dare she mentioned his dad, but his anger subsided as quickly as it had rising. A thought suddenly coming to mind.

"You lost your mom too?" He asked, facing the window.

"She wasn't like your dad, though.”

Junho didn't have anything to say to that. Nobody could ever dream of measuring up to his dad. Or at least that’s what the people in the party kept repeating to him. He wouldn't know, he didn't know the man as well as everybody else seems to.

"Anabel." The girl said after a while. "My mom was your dad's technician."

For a second Junho wonder if losing his mom would be as painful as losing his dad. He thought of his mother and concluded, that no, it would not be, but perhaps things were different for Anabel.

"Junho." He told her, though he had a feeling she already knew that.

Junho was 15 when he decided to follow on his dad’s footsteps.

His family was moving, to bigger and better things, his mother had assured him. She wasn’t taking the pills anymore, but instead there was a handsome man that came to visit her every other night.

 Junho pretended to be asleep on those nights. To not hear the things he wasn’t supposed to hear. 

They were using the money and influence they had left from his dad to move to a bigger, better, more suitable sector. The three of them. The nanny would be left behind, of course. Junho was far too grown for that. Or so his mother had explained.

Junho was much older now, and though he wouldn’t argue with his mother, he didn’t believe she had the right to choose for him any longer.

He listened to the song again as he felt as sleep that night, in the same room where he had shared his last moment with his father, for what would probably be the last time.

It wasn’t long after, that for the very first time, his mother put a hand on him.

The slap had come out of nowhere, sudden and unexpected and Junho could do nothing but stand there, eyes stinging with tears he refused to show, face burning where his mother’s meticulously manicured hand had .

There was nothing she could do about it now.

The exam had been taken, the application accepted, and a week from now Junho would be off to follow in his father’s footsteps.

His mother hated it.

Junho didn’t care.

It was a few years, a lot of training, and a lot of proving himself, before he was given clearance for his first trip.

Today they were out celebrating with the closest thing he had to a friend. Ok Taecyeon was older, sometimes overbearing and somewhat annoying, but he was passionate about his work. Something Junho had come to respect.  In a few days’ time Junho would take his first jump, and Taecyeon would be there to assist him. Not everyone made it though, traveling back to a different time was not an easy task to accomplish. Accidents happened, precautions had to be taken, they were both aware of that, Junho more painfully so.

"Why Anthropology?" Taecyeon asked over a glass of ale and some of Junho’s prefer dishes.

"Is traveling back to a time when we didn't live confined to a dome in a lifeless planet not a good enough reason for you?" He answered without giving it much thought, not noticing that Taecyeon had that look in his eyes, the same one he got when he there was a problem to be solve, and he was deciding how to best approach the situation.

"Not when you have lost a father to the profession is not."

For the first time since he had chosen this path Junho was taken aback by a person's reaction.  He was used to congratulatory pats on the back for taking the job and doing it so well,  that now, when someone questioned his reasons, he couldn't bring himself to respond straight away.

"Is the only thing I have left of him." He admitted, and for the first time he wonder if that was a good enough reason.

"Do you believe the story?" Taecyeon questioned. "That their death was just an accident, I mean."

 Junho didn’t like the direction in which the conversation was heading. He focused on the food, questioning his decision on having come out to this outing in the first place.

"I just think is strange that his technician-" Taecyeon wasn’t talking anymore. The bread that Junho had shoved in his mouth making it impossible for him to say another word.

"Eat."

Taecyeon apologized later that day. It wasn’t his place to make assumptions, but Junho brushed it off. It was fine. Is not like Taecyeon had said anything Junho had not wondered about himself.

Junho had his reasons for wanting to get away from his mother, and he often wondered, if perhaps, he was more like his father than he had thought.

A few years later, at the age of 23 Junho got ready to embark on what would be the longest expedition of his career. At the moment, as he listened attentively to Taecyeon’s words, he could have never imagined what was to come.

“So how does it feel?” Taecyeon asked, glasses hanging low on the bridge of his nose, hair somewhat disheveled. He never slept much in the days before a trip. It was his job to get everything right, and no one was a bigger perfectionist then Taecyeon.

“Picking up on my father’s research? Not as exciting as you would think. What’s the year?”

Taecyeon made a strange sound resembling a laugh, holding Junho’s gaze for a few more seconds before turning back to his work. He always found Junho’s stoic expressions somewhat amusing.

“ My best estimate is a few years before your dad’s jump.” He clicked away on his computer, all the while feeding Junho with as much information as he could. What to do once he arrived, who to contact, what to expect, how to react. Junho consider mentioning that this was the 10th time Taecyeon was repeating the information, but thought better of it. Taecyeon’s rambling often helped to soothe him.    

"Everything you've ever done in your life has led you to this moment." Taecyeon finally said, his voice taking a strange tone, and Junho narrow his eyes, what was he up to now?

"Really?"

"I always wanted to say that." Taecyeon grinned like the big idiot that he was, and Junho face palmed himself. This was the person he trusted with his life. He grabbed the closest thing to him, and flicked in Taecyeon’s general direction, hearing a yelp and cursing from the scientist soon after. 

He closed his eyes, laid back in his chair, and decided to just tune out his partner for the rest of the time. His mind empty of everything, except a certain song, one he didn't listen to much anymore, but that had been ingrained in him by now. Don’t be afraid of the dark anymore. Because as long as you close your eyes, there will definitely be me watching over you like a bright moon. Sometimes, when he wanted to clear his mind of everything and anything, he wondered about the lyrics.

Who wrote them? And who were they thinking of when they did?  Did his father know he wouldn’t be coming back when he gave it to him? Did he planned to not come back? What could possibly be more important than the son he was leaving behind?

“Still here?” 

Taecyeon’s voice, deep and serious, brought him back to reality.

“How long do I have.”

“30 minutes before it's ready. How long do you need?”

“Is that a joke?”

“Always trying my best to get the stick out of your .” Taecyeon laughed at his own joke and Junho ignored him, as per usual.

“You remember the rules…”

“Don’t interfere. Don’t fraternize. Don’t reveal.”

“Only what’s necessary.” Taecyeon added, then without missing a beat. “And bring your technician something nice. Ungrateful…”

This time, Junho cracked a smiled.