January XX, 2021.

Two Prism trainees sit together at a table as their plates lay empty, still and silent as the lull of the late evening settles into their bones. 

The New Year is typically rung in with hopes and goals for the future, but the sense of finality in the air is unmistakable.

They failed to join the project lineup with the rest of Prism Boys.

Now, they’re just former Prism trainees, released back out into the wild, like Pokémon. 

Happy New Year.

“Crazy how it’s over just like that.” The first boy to break the silence—Suho—is slumped against the chair, barely propping his figure up. His statement hangs in the air before the conversation kicks up. 

“Well,” It’s Yeonjae across him who offers up, “At least the company was honest about our chances.” He recounts to no one in particular, “Another six years to debut their next boy group..” He’s remained unreadable ever since the news of the trainee contract termination. 

The silence is comfortable yet depressing as they let their dinner digest. There is no rush, for in the morning, they’ll be parting ways.

A middle-aged woman, the restaurant’s owner, approaches attentively. “Do you boys need anything else?” She gently asks, donning a comforting smile that they realize they’ll sorely miss. 

“I think we’re good!” Yeonjae smiles appreciatively nonetheless, “We should get going soon.” With a quick scan across the table, he asks, “Can we have the bill, please?” 

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” She raises her hand up, “It’s on the house.”

Just as they open their mouths to protest, they get cut off.

“No, I won’t hear any of it!” She stubbornly declines, “Let me send you boys off how I want to.”

They relent at the mention of a send-off, almost stunned into silence. 

Hearing it from her, their reality is cemented before them.

Yeonjae manages to respond first, his voice nearly wavering, “Thank you so much.”

“Don’t run off before I can say goodbye, okay?” She doesn’t wait for an answer, shooting a smile before walking off and disappearing into the kitchen. 

And with their stomachs full, they slowly stand up from their seats and take their time slipping into their winter coats.

Suho beholds the cozy family-owned restaurant for what will be the last in a long time, following closely behind Yeonjae as they make their way to the entrance. Closer and closer, a collage of picture frames propped up by the door comes into view. 

Beside the framed, centered copy of the menu, among a handful of framed art prints and photographs, is a group photo of the restaurant owner with their company seniors, Rendezvous. 

Signed with lots of love, with little compliments and accolades where space allowed them.

It dawns on Suho that he will never see himself nor his very own idol autograph on this wall. 

Trudging through the fresh, powdery snowfall envelopes the boys in a sense of peace. Through these narrow streets, they’ve carved a familiar route into their memory. On any other ordinary evening as trainees, this would be the walk back to the company building. Where they’d arrive back with full stomachs and train late into the night. 

Instead, they’ll send themselves back to the dorms, pack up the last of their belongings, and leave in the morning.

Their steps come to a slow halt as they behold the three-story company building one last time