("Fame fades. Music stays. And so do the people who made you believe.")
Years passed.
The stages grew quieter, the lights less blinding, the cheers a little softer — not because they were forgotten, but because time had simply moved forward.
SOLIS had gone on hiatus, each member finding their own path — some became producers, some actors, one even opened a small café.
Rian became a songwriter.
Not the type who chased charts anymore — but one who wrote for meaning.
For healing.
For memory.
One sunny afternoon in Seoul, he sat by the window of a small studio, guitar on his lap.
The city outside buzzed softly — familiar, but no longer demanding.
A knock came at the door.
When he looked up, there she was.
Lira.
No stage lights this time. No gowns or cameras.
Just her — in a cozy sweater, holding two cups of coffee.
"I heard your new demo," she said, setting one cup beside him. "It sounds like peace."
Rian smiled. "It's called 'After the Applause.'"
She listened as he played a few notes — simple, warm, honest.
"It's about the silence that comes after everything," he said softly. "The part where you realize… this was never just about fame."
Lira nodded, eyes gentle. "You always find a way to make music sound like home."
They talked for hours — about the old days, about how Begin Again still made fans cry, about how people still remembered #BetweenTheStars.
They laughed at how dramatic their fandoms once were.
When the sunset slipped through the blinds, Lira stood and looked around the studio.
On one shelf, a small framed photo caught her eye — their groups side by side at the awards show, all smiles, all youth.
"Do you ever miss it?" she asked.
Rian strummed the last note softly. "Sometimes. But I think what we found after it… is something better."
Outside, the sky turned gold.
They walked down the quiet street together, side by side, no disguises, no noise — just two people who had once chased dreams until they caught something gentler instead: peace.
And as they passed a poster for a new generation of idols, Rian smiled faintly.
"It's their turn now."
"And we had ours," Lira replied, smiling back.
They didn't need a grand ending.
They'd already lived it.
Because some stories don't end with applause —
they end in quiet companionship,
and in the kind of love that outlives the lights.
✨ End of Epilogue — After the Applause