Chapter Text
Lee Sejin was pretty sure he was the biggest Moondae stan in the world.
How would one measure such a thing? Hard to say. He felt he loved Moondae more ardently and purely than anyone else, but legions of Moondae super fans would say the same thing about themselves. Maybe one could measure it in terms of merch owned by weight, in which case Lee Sejin, with his bedroom full of albums, posters and plushies, would have a fighting chance… but he’d lose to real grownups who had the disposable income to indulge in Moondae merch the way eighteen-year-old Lee Sejin only wished he could.
But, with the purchase of this photocard, Lee Sejin was one step closer to being able to claim the crown of Moondae’s Biggest Stan.
Interlude: Who is Moondae?
According to Lee Sejin, and legions of devoted fans, Moondae is simply the most perfect idol who ever lived. Known for his angelic voice and looking so good with blonde hair that it’s basically criminal (or maybe, so good it should be illegal for it to be any other color?), Moondae is the main vocalist, maknae, and center of the boy group VTIC, at just eighteen years old. He is also Lee Sejin’s reason for living, and the sun’s reason for rising, and oxygen’s reason for existing – so that Moondae can breathe in air and turn it into song. He is kind, handsome, funny, gracious, talented and adorable. Anyone who denies a single one of these facts is dead to Sejin.
Sejin stretched his hands up to the ceiling as he leaned back in his chair, nearly giddy with success. After months of trawling the internet for listings of this super rare pre-order benefit photocard from VTIC’s very first album, and just as many months of being outbid by bigger spenders, he’d finally managed to secure the legendary Furry Eared Moondae POB. The only, very faint, shadow over his current joy was the giant dent he’d made in his wallet.
“Being a fanboy sure is expensive,” he muttered, setting his chin in his hand to stare lovingly at the purchase confirmation on his screen. It was all worth it. That empty spot in his PC binder was finally going to be filled, and with it, the photocard-shaped hole in his heart.
Then he could begin the search for the even rarer Heart Freckle Moondae POB, which featured an image so cute Sejin could only take sidelong glances at it, lest staring directly at it blind him entirely, which would be absolutely terrible because then he wouldn’t be able to see Moondae’s face anymore.
Thinking of how much that PC would inevitably cost made him finally check the time and close his laptop screen. He needed the money from his part time job to support his fanboy habit. To support Moondae. He may not love cleaning floors and washing dishes, but he loved Moondae. It was the happy thought of fanboy funds that sent him on his way to work early, with a skip in his step and VTIC’s latest single blaring from his earbuds.
He hummed along as he checked the assignment details in his email. Address, instructions on rooms to clean… and the client name, Ryu Gunwoo. If that wasn’t a good luck sign, Lee Sejin didn’t know what was.
Like any self-respecting Moondae stan, Lee Sejin knew that “Moondae” was a stage name for the luminous being who had been born Ryu Gunwoo. It wasn’t an uncommon name – many people in Korea were lucky enough to share the very same syllables that the handsomest man on earth answered to – but it was just uncommon enough that Lee Sejin hadn’t met a Ryu Gunwoo in real life. This day, the very day of his major PC-buying success, he would meet a real life Ryu Gunwoo, who was probably an ordinary 40-something year old man, but still, it was a good omen.
For a second, Lee Sejin allowed himself to imagine that it might not be an ordinary man. That it might, in fact, be his idol, the love of his life and the light of his universe, Moondae. He could be walking, right now, up to Moondae’s apartment, to clean the very floor Moondae walked on each day, to wash the very dishes Moondae didn’t have time to wash because he was busy singing, dancing, and brightening up the entire country with his smile.
Then he slapped his cheek to regain his sanity, so he would be able to greet the client professionally. Sejin spent much of his time zoned out, thinking of Moondae, so he was good at controlling his expression to convince people around him that he was paying attention. Especially on the job, he was an expert at dedicating just enough of a sliver of his brain to cleaning, while the rest replayed Moondae gifs in high definition.
It was this wealth of experience that allowed Lee Sejin to react with calm professionalism when the apartment door opened and he met the client’s eyes. Calm professionalism meaning, of course, a full second of shocked silence before he jolted and introduced himself.
“Hello! Lee Sejin from Housekeeping Made Easy! I’m here to housekeep!”
“...Right. Come in.” Moondae (Moondae. Moondae!!) stepped back to let him in.
He wore a droopy, oversized gray hoodie. Under the hood that shadowed his face, his bleached hair was lank and unkempt. Dark circles underscored his eyes. He looked… like the very son of Aphrodite, of course, nothing could dim Moondae’s beauty – but tired and depressed.
Lee Sejin processed all of that while his brain buzzed with a thousand fanboying bees and his mouth followed the script of every house visit without conscious input, until he found himself alone in Moondae’s kitchen and could finally let his knees give out.
Holy shit. Holy shit.
He was in Moondae’s house… he’d seen Moondae from the absolutely sacrilegious distance of four feet away… he was kneeling on the cold tiles of Moondae’s kitchen. This was. This was so not allowed.
Just by existing in this space he had trampled on the highest precepts of Legitimate Fandom: to not be a creepy ass stalker who breaks into your idol’s home. Granted, he hadn’t done it on purpose! Moondae had let him in himself! But Lee Sejin wasn’t just a cleaner, he was Moondae’s fan, he had fantasized about marrying Moondae a non-zero amount of times, he had spent an obscene amount of his pay on a piece of shiny paper with Moondae’s face on it just one hour ago.
The adherents of the Church of Moondae would stone him on sight if they knew he’d stepped foot in the sanctuary of Moondae’s Actual Home, and he would be too ashamed to even duck.
But, on the other hand, he couldn’t leave. Inconvenience his idol by depriving Moondae of the housekeeping service he was hired for? No, that was inconceivable. Lee Sejin had dedicated his life to the support of Moondae’s happiness. It would violate everything he stood for to run out of the apartment now.
He nodded to himself and got shakily to his feet. What was done was done. Since he was here, he would do his best cleaning job ever, while maintaining absolute professionalism, so that Moondae wouldn’t feel a single molecule of discomfort. And then he would never come back again, and only look back at the time he got to contribute to easing Moondae’s daily life with pride in his professionalism as both a cleaner and a fan.
He pulled open the cabinet under the sink with renewed determination and came to a grinding halt. The cleaning supplies he’d expected weren’t there. He had been too busy with his brain on fire to ask where they would be, as he was supposed to.
Sejin straightened his uniform shirt and took a deep breath. Moondae had gone into the study across the hall from the kitchen, so Sejin would just have to knock and ask where he kept cleaning supplies, with the grace and dignity of someone who didn’t have the fanchants to every single one of Moondae’s songs memorized.
“Excuse me, Mr. Ryu–”
The study door hadn’t been properly latched closed. With the tap of Sejin’s fist, it swung open, revealing his idol sitting on the floor, head in his hands, muttering to himself in a tone of doom.
“–definitely knew. The look on his face. Nice going, idiot, you were recognized while looking like a complete slob. It will be all over the internet by tomorrow, say goodbye to your career– fuck.” He looked up and saw Sejin.
Something hot was rising in Sejin’s throat. Something that absolutely had to be resisted, repelled, pushed down. For Moondae’s sake. For his. But like a dragon’s flames, it just came roaring out of his mouth.
“You do not look like a slob! I mean, well, it doesn’t matter if you look like a slob, with a face like that! Can you even imagine how an oversize hoodie selfie would blow your fans’ minds? You could change the trajectory of lives with that!”
“But I look like shit,” the faint, incredulous mumble came from the ground.
Lee Sejin saw red. “You do not! Not possible! Moondae is the literal height of perfection! Repeat it!”
“What?”
“Say it! ‘Moondae is the literal height of perfection!’”
In a much stronger voice, Moondae said firmly, “I am not saying that.”