A Glimpse into the Future
He pressed his hand against the glass, as if touching it might help him make sense of what he was seeing.
“What the hell..?” he muttered.
It had been night just moments ago—Ivan was sure of it.
The vibrant streaks of red and gold from the meteor shower had been etched into his mind like a fever dream.
And now, it was suddenly morning, the world outside calm and unassuming, as though the night had vanished in the blink of an eye.
Ivan stepped back from the window, his knees wobbling beneath him as if the weight of what he’d seen was too much to bear.
He blinked, rubbing his eyes, hoping the surreal vision outside would change, that the sky would darken again, or the meteors would reappear. But nothing shifted.
His gaze darted toward the clock on the wall. The hands ticked forward, but it answered nothing.
Had he fallen asleep? Dreamt the whole thing?
Ivan turned back to the window, his reflection staring back at him, pale and wide-eyed.
Was he so affected by the rejection that he had somehow spent the entire night standing at the window, oblivious to time slipping by?
Or had the confession been nothing but a dream?
Had his mind made it all up? Maybe it was a premonition?
A cruel glimpse of what was destined to go wrong.
Ivan shook his head, trying to calm himself down. But everything felt so wrong.
The date.
He needs to know the date today.
Shuffling around, Ivan dug through his pockets, searching for his phone.
After a few seconds of frantic patting, he stopped, his brow furrowing as the memory came back to him—he had placed it on the coffee table.
Turning back towards the table, Ivan felt his stomach dropped. It was empty.
He speed walked over to the couch, anxiously tossing the pillows aside in search of his phone.
His hands moved frantically, each throw more desperate than the last. But after a few moments of searching, he came up empty-handed.
Ivan felt his head begin to throb, a dull ache building at the base of his skull.
Everything felt so overwhelming, like the room itself was suffocating him.
With a heavy sigh, Ivan sank down onto the couch, letting his head fall into his hands for a moment.
When he finally looked up, he quietly observed his surroundings.
The furniture stood exactly where it always had—untouched, pristine, yet oddly lifeless.
It felt almost staged, like a showroom display instead of the home he’d grown used to. His fingers absently brushed over the coffee table’s surface, only to find them coated in a fine layer of dust.
Ivan had never been one for decorations—Mizi and Hyuna teased him constantly about how boring his apartment was compared to their homes.
But that had always been by design.
He preferred the minimalist look, finding comfort in the simplicity. And even if it was sparse, this space had still been his.
He loved this apartment for that reason. It was his to change, his to control.
His father, indifferent as ever, hadn’t cared much about what Ivan did with it, simply footing the bill as another gesture of his wealth.
And yet, sitting there now, Ivan couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that something had changed.
The emptiness of the room felt different now—like it didn’t belong to him anymore.
Ivan suddenly stood up, the weight in his chest pushing him into motion.
He impulsively headed straight for the door, the need for fresh air overpowering everything else.
He needed to escape this suffocating mess, even if just for a moment.
Grabbing his keys, his hand hovered on the doorknob, hesitating.A thought crept into his mind, What if all of it—his confession, Till’s reaction, and even the meteor shower—was just a dream?
If it was, then maybe he and Till were still friends.
Maybe none of it had happened, and there was still a chance to keep what they had intact.
His grip tightened on the knob, and he swallowed hard as he made a silent vow— If it was really dream, I’ll never confess to Till again. I won’t risk losing him—not like that.
With that resolution, Ivan turned the knob and stepped outside, the cold air enveloping him as he drew in a deep breath.
Once he was outside the building, Ivan wandered aimlessly, his feet carrying him with no destination in mind.
There was no direction, no purpose—just the act of walking to keep his thoughts from spiraling.
If Sua were here, she’d probably call me a lost dog looking for its owner, he thought dryly, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite the heaviness in his chest.
His gaze drifted upward, catching on a massive billboard.
A striking photo of his cousin stared back at him, her poised expression framed by the sleek logo of a clothing line he’d never heard of.
The sight gave him pause, though not for long.
Ivan and his cousin weren’t particularly close—they weren’t the type to share updates on their lives, let alone talk about modeling gigs or sponsors.
He dismissed the thought as just another irrelevant observation, pushing it to the back of his mind.
And yet, as he kept walking, his eyes kept returning to the image.
Sua looked... different. She had lost the soft baby fat that once rounded her cheeks, her features now sharper, more defined.
Photoshop? Ivan wondered idly, though the explanation didn’t sit right.
Something about the photo tugged at him in a way he couldn’t quite place, the subtle changes in her appearance feeding the gnawing sense of unease he’d been trying to ignore.
His thoughts were interrupted by the cheerful sound of a jingle.
Ivan blinked and looked up, finding himself in front of a convenience store.
The familiar sight brought a pang of nostalgia and sudden clarity—he hadn’t eaten all day.
His stomach growled faintly, and he realized how empty it felt.
As Ivan approached the store, his eyes caught on the interior, adorned with sparkling Christmas decorations—red and gold tinsel draped over shelves, tiny Santa figurines perched on the counter, and a blinking "Merry Christmas!" sign in the window.
He paused.
Why were there christmas decorations? That didn’t make sense. It was supposed to be autumn right now.
Confused but too hungry to dwell on it, Ivan stepped inside.
The store was quiet, its emptiness oddly comforting.
Ivan couldn’t help but think of the countless nights he and Till had come here for late-night snacks after cramming for exams or playing games until the early hours.
….
The memory made his chest tighten, but he quickly shoved it aside, focusing on the shelves instead.
After wandering for a few moments, Ivan grabbed a melon bread and a box of chocolate milk.
They were old favorites, staples he’d reached for so many times before.
As he walked up to the counter, the cashier offered him a polite smile, though she looked slightly bored.
“Just these,” Ivan said, placing the items on the counter.
The cashier scanned them quickly, handing him the bag with a practiced, polite smile.
Ivan hesitated, the sight of the decorations still nagging at the back of his mind.
“Sorry,” he started, his tone polite. “I couldn’t help but notice the decorations. Are you guys decorating early for Christmas this year?”
The cashier gave him a strange look, her brows furrowing slightly.
“Early? Sir, it’s December.”
Ivan froze.
“Oh,” he said dumbly, the word slipping out before he could think.
He felt his grip on the bag tightened as the uneasy feeling from earlier crawled back into his chest.
He forced himself to speak again, though his voice sounded distant, almost empty, like it belonged to someone else. “What’s the date today?”
The cashier tilted her head, giving him a curious look, but she answered without hesitation. “December 21, 2030.”
The words hit him like a punch to the gut, knocking the air out of him.
Ivan stood frozen, his mind reeling as he struggled to process the information.
“2030?” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.
The cashier gave him another weird look, but he didn’t wait for her response.
His legs felt unsteady as he stepped out of the store, the bag hanging limply at his side.
The cold air hit his face, but it did nothing to clear the fog clouding his mind.
2030.
That single number repeated in his head, growing louder with every step he took.
His breaths quickened, the melon bread and chocolate milk forgotten as his hands began to tremble.
Six years.
Six years had slipped by without him even noticing, and he had no idea how or why.
And at that exact moment, a memory flashed in his mind.
….
...
..
.
He had wished to disappear that night.
Ivan stared blankly for a moment, the thought twisting uncomfortably in his chest.
Could that be related to what was happening now? It sounded ridiculous, but so did waking up 6 years into the future.
Before he could think straight, Ivan bolted, his feet pounding against the pavement.
The world around him blurred as he sprinted aimlessly, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
He probably looked crazy, but that was the last thing on his mind.
Ivan felt all his thoughts racing as he zeroed in on the one thing he needed right now: a phone booth.
The first spot Ivan could think of came rushing to him, a vague memory of a phone booth tucked near a corner store he used to pass by going home.
His heart pounded as he turned the corner—and there it was.
Ivan hurriedly approached it, stumbling slightly as he yanked the glass door open.
Once inside, he grabbed the receiver with trembling hands, fumbling through his pockets for loose change.
His fingers found a coin, and he shoved it into the slot with a forceful click.
The dial pad stared back at him, and for a moment, he hesitated, his mind spinning.
Who do I call? He wondered anxiously as the image of black hair flashed through his mind.
Ivan swallowed hard, his fingers moving instinctively as he dialed her number.
The ringing began, echoing loudly in his ears. His heart raced with every second that passed.
Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up! Ivan chanted silently, gripping the receiver so tightly his knuckles turned white.
And then, finally, a click.
Someone picked up.
Ivan's voice burst out, words falling out of his mouth in a panic, creating a jumbled mess.
“Sua, I’m so glad you picked up. Please don’t hang up, I really need you right now. I don’t know what’s happening, but somehow I got transpor—”
“Ivan?” a voice interrupted him.