Chapter Text
Eunae had always been the bright sun on cold and rainy days, ensuring her child felt loved and never pressured him into pursuits he didn't cherish. She knew the weight of being shaped into a mold that didn't fit. So, when she had her baby, she immediately told her husband to not pressure him later and just let him be.
When Hanbin celebrated his first birthday, she organized the doljabi ritual—where babies choose an object to foretell their future career—even though she harbored no belief in such things. Her husband helped her decide which objects to put on the table. After some time, they decided to keep it traditional and to not overwhelm their child with too many objects. They placed a pen for the arts, a ball for the sports, a stethoscope for the medical field and finally a judge's gavel on the table.
Eunae stepped away from the table where the objects were laid out to let Hanbin choose, but he followed her with his eyes seeking guidance. His round cheeks and big boba-like eyes made her smile. She showed him the table, telling him to choose an object and reassuring him that it wasn't a big deal. Next to her was her husband, smiling at the baby too. Even though Eunae didn't believe in this ritual, she still felt a bit stressed, because maybe it wasn't all superstition. Once Hanbin saw his mom looking at the objects, he did the same and stared at the ball for a moment. It was a soccer ball, a bit dirty from Hanbin's father who played a lot with his friends after work.
The brown-haired baby reached the ball, bringing a smile to Beomseok's face. But reality hit fast enough for him to let out a laugh as Hanbin threw the ball across the room. Eunae's hand found Beomseok's, offering solace in that moment. Then, to their surprise, the baby took not one but two objects in his chubby hands: the pen and the stethoscope. The room grew heavier with a sense of significance. Eunae felt it could indeed foreshadow Hanbin's path. His face was so serious for a baby that Beomseok pointed that out, receiving a shush from his wife. It was the moment Eunae knew her child made his choice. Hanbin put the stethoscope down and lifted his eyes to his mom. He showed her the pen proudly, making both his parents come to take him in their arms.
Years later, Hanbin recounted the tale in middle school for a homework assignment on Korean traditions and decided to do it about doljabi, finding humor in a baby determining his own fate. Yet, the doljabi's prediction wasn't far off. Hanbin delved into the arts, began drawing and learned a few dance styles at school with his friends. Life, however, is an unpredictable weave, capable of reshaping everything.
In South Korea, societal pressures to plan for the future starts early through the teachers. Hanbin, guided by his parents' encouragement to savor his youth, brushed aside academic stress. This way, Hanbin always felt comfortable and never took much interest in which university he should attend or how much he had to work for it. While his friends were at the hagwon (for-profit private educational institute in SK), Hanbin filled his days with extracurricular pursuits—painting, dance, and debate club activities—becoming a beloved figure at school for his kindness amidst competition.
Finally, he got into a good high school near his parents' restaurant and close to all his classes. Hanbin bid farewell to some friends but kept his closest. His smile never faltered in his first year.
Hanbin was closer to his mom than his dad. He still loved them both unconditionally but each day, upon returning from school, he embraced her as if sensing its significance in his bones. It was a feeling that would shape his days ahead.
Like every Tuesday, Hanbin got off the bus, exchanging waves with friends who lived in the opposite direction from his parents' restaurant, then continued his solitary journey. As he walked, a fluttering sensation stirred in his stomach, but he pushed it aside upon entering the restaurant his parents had labored since his middle school. From the earliest days of his infancy, they had meticulously planned its inception, deliberating over finances, location, and its potential impact on Hanbin's studies.
Upon seeing the emptiness that pervaded the restaurant, Hanbin quickened his step, hastening to find both of his parents in the kitchen, their tears unabated.
This day etched itself onto Hanbin's soul like a seashell, wrapping around his heart, suffusing him with a profound sadness. Hanbin had never been one to dwell on the future or worry about his parents' well-being. For years, life had unfolded effortlessly, shielding him from the harsh realities of mortality and illness.
"Hanbin-ah, sit down" Eunae beckoned, wiping away her tears softened by the same enduring smile she shared with her son.
Doing as she said, Hanbin settled beside her, his dad taking her hand across the kitchen table. Beomseok's quiet sobs drew Hanbin's gaze. Eunae caressed Hanbin's cheek with her free hand.
"Look at me, my love", she said, coaxing Hanbin's eyes to meet hers. "A few months ago, I had a doctor's appointment, remember? It wasn't for a stomach ache. I lied. I'm sorry."
Confusion gripped Hanbin. "What... then why?"
"Recently, your dad noticed that I started losing a lot of things around me, not knowing where I put them or when I last used them. He did not think it was a big deal so he didn't tell me and just helped me with it. But lately, his concerns grew."
"It happens, Mom. I forget things too. I don't understand why you're crying over it. It's okay, we're here—"
"Son, she forgot your name," Beomseok interjected, cutting through Hanbin's attempt at reassurance. "She didn't recognize our wedding photo and forgot we owned this restaurant, among other things."
The young boy froze in place silently while his mom continued talking. Everything started to get blurry. Hanbin might have been naive, careless about the future, but he still had fears and had heard what happened in some of his friends' families. Maybe he thought he could escape this if he didn't dwell on the possibility of it happening to one of his parents. But now, the fear was right in front of him. If given the choice, he would've run away, being the selfish kid he had always been. While he was dancing, drawing, painting, singing with his friends, eating with them, playing games instead of studying—while he was living to his fullest—his mom was forgetting who he was, what she ate the day before. How could he have been so blind? Was his love for his mother a blindfold, shielding him from her silent suffering?
Hanbin enveloped his mother in a tight embrace as she wept.
"I'm so sorry, Hanbin… I'm sorry, my sweet child. I'll do my best not to be a burden for you two."
"No, Mom... What are you saying? You're never a burden. I'll work hard to help you."
After some time spent talking about the diagnosis, Hanbin's parents went upstairs to their living space. They had arranged the small building they bought with their savings to serve both workplace and home.
The building is part of a shopping street where every owner knows each other. When they first arrived, Hanbin's parents were warmly welcomed thanks to Eunae's sunny personality. As they started living there, Hanbin became friends with one of the shop owner's son, named Kim Taerae. Taerae was a year younger than Hanbin which helped them become close quickly, and they often hung out after school. Their shared interests in singing, dancing, and writing cemented their bond. Taerae slowly became Hanbin's best friend, sharing secrets and worries.
So it was only natural for Hanbin to knock on Taerae's door after his heart-wrenching conversation with his parents. He was a mess, with tears streaming down his cheeks as the door opened to reveal Taerae, his hair pushed back and his glasses holding it in place. As soon as Tarae saw Hanbin, he took him in his arms without a word. Hanbin sobbed harder, his heart aching from all the information he had heard earlier. His mom having Alzheimer's—a cruel thief of memories, robbing her of cherished moments and leaving him powerless, he couldn't believe it.
"Is it real…? How can this be…? She never deserved it; she— she has always been nice to everyone. Why her? Why?"
Hanbin gripped Taerae's shirt as the latter patted his back, listening to his mumbles even though he didn't fully understand. He just wanted to be there for his friend. When Hanbin calmed down, Taerae told him to wait while he got his shoes to join him outside. Hanbin sat on the edge of the sidewalk and stared into the void, his mind becoming blank once again. When Taerae returned, Hanbin lifted his head and smiled when he saw his friend bringing sodas and snacks. Taerae sat next to Hanbin and offered him a can of soda after opening the snack bag. Words unnecessary for the comfort they shared.
"Mom has been diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease," Hanbin eventually murmured.
Even when Hanbin said those words, Taerae remained silent. He was the type of person who didn't interrupt, letting others express themselves rather than questioning them about the problem. That's why Hanbin felt relieved to have him by his side, especially at that moment. Right after saying it, he cried again. Taerae took his hand, squeezing it slightly while looking at Hanbin. Their eyes met and Hanbin smiled while wiping his tears away with his free hand. In those moments, Hanbin saw Taerae's beauty clearer than ever. His dimples were pronounced when he smiled back, and his eyes were always kind and warm. Through all of life's trials, Taerae was the steadfast listener, the friend who simply understood.
Hanbin retreated into silence that night, revealing only fragments of his mother's ordeal. During the week that followed, Hanbin didn't attend any of his extracurricular activities. His mind wandered, reflecting deeply on his life, taking a step back, scrutinizing every decision, unearthing long-buried regrets.
Overnight, without a word to anyone, Hanbin abandoned his classes and threw himself into intense study, asking Taerae to help him with the subjects his grades faltered. Even though he was already helping a lot at the restaurant, he now came straight from school to lend a hand to his parents in serving customers. As the months slipped by, his best friend asked him about the change. Taerae wasn't disappointed or surprised because he always believed Hanbin had the capacity to be an excellent student, but he was simply curious about the cause of this sudden change.
"I'll become a neurologist, Taerae. It's how I'll help her, how I'll make her proud, how I'll ease her burdens."
With unwavering determination, Sung Hanbin toiled through his final years of high school, forsaking outings with friends, driven by the hope of extending his mother's smile beyond the doctors' prognoses. Taerae remained steadfast by his side and even encouraged him whenever it got hard. Hanbin hid all the despair he had gathered over time from his parents. When they asked him about school, he told them he finally knew what he truly wanted to do in the future. As his parents, they could only be happy, knowing that their beloved child had finally found a path he wanted to pursue.
Seasons passed, and Hanbin departed Cheonan for a prestigious medical school in Seoul, leaving behind his mother's tearful farewells and promising weekly calls. Life got harder once he arrived in Seoul. Taerae didn't follow; he had to help his father, who was getting old enough to worry Taerae if he left him for too long. Seoul proved larger and lonelier than anticipated, its labyrinthine streets confusing Hanbin during his initial weeks. Adrift in unfamiliarity, he navigated his first year in solitude. Despite all that, Hanbin started liking his life in Seoul more once he began his second year, perhaps because of him.
Him, Zhang Hao. He was a Chinese music student from a neighboring school. The first time Hanbin saw him was during a concert organized by both schools to celebrate the end of the year. Hanbin, usually aloof to the pleasures of youth, decided to attend in hopes of making new acquaintances. Little did he expect to be spellbound by the sight of Hao on stage, a figure of divine grace, as though a Greek deity had descended to redefine beauty itself. Amidst the uproar of Hao's introduction, Hanbin discovered his name and later confirmed through social media that Zhang Hao was indeed a fellow student. He didn't waste time and called Taerae as soon as he could to tell him about it.
"Taerae, I'm in love."
"Oh, now that's interesting. Tell me more."
And it went like this for months, like a melody played in soft whispers, Taerae was the keeper of Hanbin’s heartstrings, always tuned to the symphony of Zhang Hao's life. At every occasion he had, Hanbin found himself enchanted, stealing moments to watch Hao's fingers dance across the violin, the music a bridge to his longing heart. But then, like a discordant note, a rumor slithered through the air.
Hanbin had never been the type to listen to rumors. In his youth, he had silenced gossip with a gentle hand, steering conversations back to kindness. But this time, rumors went viral to the point that Hanbin heard from some students of his class that Hao took a semester off. For the first time, Hanbin felt the sting of anger so fierce it clawed at his restraint, his heart aching at the injustice done to someone so dedicated, so pure in their pursuit of dreams. The days drifted by, a silent symphony without Hao’s presence.
Matthew, whom Hanbin met during his second year of school and shared most of his classes with, invited Hanbin to a karaoke night with his friends. Under Taerae's encouragement, Hanbin accepted and got dragged along for the whole night. Matthew, with his Canadian warmth and contrasting ways, was a light in Hanbin’s world, their camaraderie a soothing counterpoint to his turmoil. His way of talking and expressing his ideas were totally opposite to Taerae's but still endearing. Hanbin always smiled whenever Matthew was around.
As the night hummed with song, Hanbin slipped away, seeking solace in the cool night air. Even though he loved being with Matthew, he still needed some time alone during such gatherings. Once outside, Hanbin took out his phone, went on Instagram, clicked on Hao's profile, only to find it locked away, a private world he could no longer glimpse. Just as he was tucking his phone back, hushed voices from a nearby alley caught his attention. He hadn't meant to listen, but then he heard Zhang Hao's name.
"This fag better quit. I can't bear seeing him get all the praise. I worked my ass off to be first all my life for some Chinese bitch to steal it from me? Not on my watch. Do you still have the pictures of his OnlyFa-"
The words ignited a blaze within Hanbin, his fist moving of its own accord. It was the first time he ever threw a punch, and it landed with the force of his fury and the weight of his sorrow.
When Hanbin met Hao's gaze for the first time, it wasn’t the romantic reverie he had dreamed of. No, it was under the harsh lights of the university director’s office, with Hanbin nursing a bruised hand and sitting beside his father. Across the room, the boy he had struck sat with his own parents, their faces a canvas of embarrassment. The door opened, drawing Hanbin's attention. As soon as he turned around, he felt his whole face burning. There stood Zhang Hao, accompanied by an older man whom Hanbin recognized as Hao's university director. Hao’s eyes first found his tormentor, a flicker of disdain passing through them, before settling on Hanbin
It was the first time Hanbin and Hao shared a gaze, and even though it was an awkward tableau, Hanbin felt a strange joy at finally existing in Hao's eyes. He quickly regained composure when his dad stood up, a guiding hand on Hanbin's shoulder urging him to do the same. Beomseok leaned in to greet the director, and Hanbin followed suit, bowing even more deeply. Once everyone was seated, Hanbin's university director, M. Kim, began speaking.
"Well, I guess everyone knows why we're here. Mr. Sung Hanbin punched Mr. Lee Youngbin on Tuesday night. Since we all want to avoid police's involvement, let's settle this internally and talk it out. Why did you do this, Mr. Sung?"
"I was outside, taking a breath, when I overheard Mr. Lee insulting Mr. Zhang and threatening to ruin his life, or at least his school li—"
"What the fuck are you talking about? I never said anything, you fucker!" Youngbin's voice cut through, but the director silenced him with a stern look.
Zhang Hao observed everything, his face an unreadable mask. Hanbin found himself glancing at him, seeking a sign of hurt, but found only calm resolve.
"... I never insulted Hao. I was just talking about the rumor with my friends." Youngbin said nonchalantly, slouching on his chair while his parents sighed.
"Mr. Zhang Hao, what are these rumors Mr. Lee mentioned?" Mr. Kim’s voice was gentle but firm.
A heavy silence filled the room. Hanbin held his breath, eyes on Hao, curious to see his reaction. Finally, Hao spoke, his voice steady.
"It's not a rumor. I'm gay. Youngbin outed me without my consent. We hooked up once, I said I didn't want more, and he retaliated by outing me. He tried to blackmail me. Youngbin and his friends subscribed to my OnlyFans and threatened to post it on the university forum. Unfortunately for him, I don't care."
The room stilled, everyone absorbing Hao’s bold honesty. Hanbin felt a surge of admiration, a smile tugging at his lips despite the gravity of the situation. Hao’s courage was a beacon, illuminating the path Hanbin wished he could follow.
Youngbin sputtered, trying to defend himself, but Hao presented his phone, evidence of the blackmail, Youngbin's subscription to Hao's OnlyFans, and the homophobic messages he received from Youngbin and his friends. With Hao’s testimony, Hanbin escaped with only a reprimand for the violence. The incident, having occurred off-campus, spared him harsher consequences. Then, Hanbin, his dad, and Hao were invited to leave, while the directors continued speaking with Youngbin and his parents.
As they were dismissed, Hanbin’s father suggested giving Hao a ride home, a gesture of goodwill. Beomseok turned to Hao and placed a hand on his shoulder, smiling.
"It was very brave of you to stand up for yourself, I won't congratulate you for coming out because it was forced by that … other kid's actions, and I don't think that's the right way to react when someone forces another to come out. I hope you do well in school, eat well, don't worry your parents, and focus on your studies." He smiled, then added, "Stay with Hanbin while I get the car. I’ll give you a ride."
"Oh Mister there's—" Hao began to protest.
"It's fine, it's the least I can do. Stay here, I'm not parked far."
Before Hao could refuse, Beomseok was already on his way. Hanbin laughed softly, drawing Hao's gaze. As soon as Hanbin met Zhang Hao's eyes, he stopped laughing and realized it was the first time he was alone with him. His heart started beating fast, his breath became shallow, and his palms grew sweaty. Hanbin, stressed out by being alone with his crush, stammered an apology, overwhelmed by nerves.
"I'm sorry. It wasn't my place to defend you; we don't even know each other. But I just couldn't stay still when I heard what he called you. And—"
Hao placed a hand on Hanbin's forearm, silencing him with a touch. How could his heart beat even faster? Hanbin had rolled up his shirt sleeves earlier, so Zhang Hao's hand was directly touching his bare skin. Aware of this, Hanbin’s breath hitched at the contact, the warmth of Hao’s skin sending shivers through him.
"Thank you Hanbin. I'm really thankful you did. It gives me an excuse to talk to you."
Hanbin blinked, disbelief coloring his features. "What?"
Hao smiled, his eyes softening. "I've seen you around my campus, especially during festivals and concerts. You know, many people talk about you, even in my school. So I was intrigued by the so-called 'Ice Prince' of the medical school near mine. And let's just say you're much warmer than I thought. I was surprised when I learned it was you who defended me."
Hanbin’s face flushed, his ears burning. "Ice Prince? And you… noticed me?"
"Ah, you don't know about your little nickname? That's cute." Hao chuckled, a melodic sound that made Hanbin’s heart flutter.
"Hanbin-ah! Zhang Hao! Get in!" Beomseok called from the car, breaking the moment.
Zhang Hao left Hanbin staring into the void, but he soon came to his senses and joined Hao in the car. After driving Hao to his student housing, Beomseok dropped Hanbin at his place. After discussing the day's events at the director's office with his dad, Beomseok updated Hanbin on his mother's condition. It was stable; she had some memory problems; such as forgetting Hanbin's name again and her own birthday date, but she was still in good shape, according to the doctors at her last appointment. As his father left, Hanbin’s thoughts lingered on Hao, the surreal encounter replaying in his mind.. As soon as he entered his apartment, he called Taerae to tell him what Hao had said.
Two weeks had passed since Hanbin first spoke with Hao, and in that time, he had learned a few things. First, Hao had returned to school, and apparently Youngbin had been expelled, according to what Matthew told Hanbin. Hanbin also asked about the nickname Hao had called him, and the Canadian laughed at it but soon realized that Hanbin was unaware of the moniker.
Despite his reticence during his first year, Hanbin had attracted attention for his ethereal beauty and the distant kindness he showed. Unconsciously, he seemed aloof but was ever willing to lend a hand to those in need during classes Matthew explained that even though Hanbin had since opened up more, the nickname "Ice Prince" remained, a testament to his enigmatic charm.
One day, as Hanbin and Matthew made their way to the study room, they bumped into Hao, who was accompanied by another boy. This boy appeared older, his features sculpted with a divine precision, and his piercing gaze sent a pang of bitterness through Hanbin as he saw the boy's arm draped over Hao’s shoulders. Was he his boyfriend?
"Oh, the 'Ice Prince'! How are you?" Hao greeted, a radiant smile lighting up his face.
"Fine, and you? I heard Youngbin got expelled."
"I'm doing amazingly well, thanks to that. Not only was he expelled, but his friends were too. I didn't expect it, but I guess my school values me more than them." Hao laughed, making his companion smile.
"And who's with you?" Hanbin asked, glancing at the guy.
"Right! This is Kim Jiwoong, my friend. He's majoring in acting at the university annexed to mine. And your friend is…?"
"Hi, I'm Seok Matthew! A friend of Hanbin's as well. Nice to meet you, Hanbin can't stop talking about yo—" Hanbin quickly placed his hand over Matthew's mouth, his ears burning crimson.
"Well! It was so, so nice to see you and to meet you, Jiwoong, but we have to go! We're very studious, you know. Bye!"
With that, Hanbin grabbed Matthew by the shoulders and hurried away, almost running. He began reprimanding Matthew for what he was about to say, only to hear Hao's voice calling after them.
"Keep talking about me, Sung Hanbin! I love it!"
Hanbin buried his face in his hands and quickened his pace, joined by a laughing Matthew.
This scene played out many times: Hanbin meeting Hao out of nowhere, Hao teasing Hanbin about his obvious crush, Hanbin blushing and fleeing. Until one day, Hanbin gathered all the courage and asked Hao out on a date. To his delight, Hao accepted right away. On their first date, everything clicked perfectly, as if destiny had woven their paths together. They began dating, never leaving each other's side. The 'Ice Prince' earned a new nickname, one that included his beloved: 'Cold Royalty'. Their aura of cool beauty made them seem unapproachable, almost untouchable.
They never hid their relationship; Hanbin's parents knew about his homosexuality even before he came out to them. According to them, it was no surprise, as he had never shown interest in girls. Hao accompanied Hanbin to Cheonan for their first Christmas together in Hanbin's third year. There, Hao met Hanbin's parents and Taerae, who was excited to finally meet the person Hanbin couldn't stop talking about.
Hanbin had found his first and only love in Hao. Everything felt just right when they were together, as if they were truly meant to be. Hanbin had never believed in soulmates, yet here he was, professing his love for Hao and marveling at how fate had brought them together. Hao always reciprocated his feelings. They were sickeningly in love, and no one could complain. Sometimes, seeing couples so enamored could be annoying, but in their case, it was endearing. Their love was so genuine, it was undeniable that they deserved this happiness, especially from one another.
At the end of Hao's last year of studies—Hanbin was in his fourth—they decided to live together. They chose Hao's apartment because it was more spacious, a haven where their shared dreams could flourish.
Two years passed, and life settled into a rhythm. Hao became a violinist teacher, his music a gentle balm to Hanbin's weary soul. Hanbin, immersed in his studies of neuroscience, still aspiring to be a neurologist. Yet, shadows crept into their lives as Eunae's health deteriorated. Doctors advised Beomseok to hire a homecare worker, a necessity as Eunae's condition worsened. Hanbin, unable to be there, found solace and strength in Hao's unwavering support. Hao’s presence was a lighthouse in Hanbin's storm, preventing him from abandoning his dreams to care for his parents.
As their fifth year together passed, Hao grew distant, a gradual fading like the last light of dusk. Then, one day, he vanished completely.
The disappearance was a knife to Hanbin's heart. Even though Hao had been growing distant, he had still been the affectionate, loving partner Hanbin cherished. The world felt like it was crumbling beneath Hanbin’s feet, as if all they had built together was now turning to dust. No note, no farewell—Hao had erased every trace of himself, leaving only an aching void in Hanbin’s chest. More than that, Hanbin had to go through even worse a month after Hao's disappearance.
"Thank you for coming."
Hanbin heard his father's voice faintly, as if from a great distance. It was a moment reminiscent of when his parents had told him of his mother’s diagnosis, but infinitely worse. Now, everything felt empty, his heart bereft of tears, dry as a desert.
Leaving the hospital where the funeral was held, Hanbin was joined by Taerae and Matthew, who had traveled from Seoul to Cheonan. They stood together, smoking in silence, leaning against a wall a little away from the hospital entrance. Matthew broke the silence first :
"Still no news?"
"No." Hanbin replied. "Nothing. His number isn't active anymore."
Taerae remained silent, staring at the ground. Matthew tried to fill the void with light conversation about Cheonan, but the weight of grief hung heavy in the air. It was how they were different, Matthew was the one to keep the silence away, and Taerae was the silent support. Hanbin needed both their forms of support—the quiet strength of Taerae and the comforting chatter of Matthew—to stay upright.
"My dad didn't cry." Hanbin murmured, lowering his head. "I can't blame him; I didn't either. I hope from up there she doesn't resent us for not crying. Maybe she's even happy we didn't. She might be smiling because she can now remember everything she lived with us. She can remember my name now."
Silence followed Hanbin's words. Even Matthew, usually so talkative, found himself without words. They finished their cigarettes and rejoined the mourners, spending the evening drinking and eating in a somber gathering.
Sung Eunae died on a sunny day.
After passing his certification exam, Hanbin chose a hospital for his internship, recommended by his seniors for its specialized neurology department focused on Alzheimer's and amnesia, as he had made this his specialty. Moving out of the apartment he once shared with Hao was the final step in closing that chapter of his life.
In the aftermath of Hao's disappearance, Hanbin had questioned himself relentlessly. Was he to blame? Should he have done something differently? But these thoughts soon ceased. Hao had always been straightforward; he would have spoken up if something was wrong, Hanbin realized it was useless to dwell on the past. At the end of the day, Zhang Hao had left. And life, despite its cruelty, moved on.
On his first day at the hospital, Hanbin met his new colleagues. His tasks were light, mainly involving orientation to familiarize himself with the department. A male nurse, Kim Gyuvin, assisted him throughout this initial period. Gyuvin, though taller than Hanbin, revealed that he was three years younger. Hanbin deduced that Gyuvin must be exceptionally bright to already be working as a nurse in the neurology department at such a young age.
As the week progressed, Gyuvin and Hanbin grew friendlier. During one of their patient rounds, Gyuvin approached a room and turned to Hanbin.
"This patient here doesn't speak Korean. We had to bring in a neurologist from Shanghai to help with his case. Thanks to him, we can communicate with the patient. He has lost the memory of the past five years."
"That's a significant loss. Is he old? How did he get that memory loss?" Hanbin inquired.
"From a—Oh he's here," Gyuvin hurriedly said in a whisper as he glanced behind Hanbin.
Following Gyuvin's gaze, Hanbin turned around and froze.
His face flushed, his eyes watered, and dizziness overtook him as he locked eyes with the person before him. Was the air always this thick in this hallway? Was his body always this heavy? As Hanbin grappled with why Hao was looking at him with such an indifferent gaze, the realization struck him. All the worst nightmares he had ever imagined could never even peak what was unfolding in front of him. The patient Gyuvin mentioned was Zhang Hao. His hair was slightly longer, but from Hanbin's point of view, it was drastic. His cheeks were hollow, eyes shadowed by dark circles, and the corner of his lips pointed downward. Hanbin had seen multiple versions of Hao, so many that he thought he knew all of them by heart. The Hao who was surprised, the Hao who was excited, the Hao who was mischievous, the Hao who was happy, and even the Hao who was sad. But here came the Hao who was a mere shadow of his former self. Still processing, Hanbin felt Gyuvin's hand on his shoulder.
"Hanbin, are you okay?"
Even the sound of his name didn't have any effect on Hao, which pierced Hanbin deeply. It might have been this that made Hanbin silently walk away from this madness. Despite Gyuvin calling his name, Hanbin suffocated and couldn't even hear anything that was happening around him.
Suffocating, unable to process anything around him. The weight of someone he loved losing their memory was too familiar, too painful. His mind and heart were in turmoil, unable to grasp the unfolding nightmare. The trauma from his mother’s illness resurfaced, compounding his anguish.. Everything was against him and his will to heal.
All his organs were torn apart when he finally exited the building, feeling the fresh air against his face. He looked around him and suddenly started crying while dropping to his knees. His sobs were harsh and loud, filled with all the despair he had been holding back. It was destroying him. All the sadness and the grief he tried to ignore were coming out at this exact moment. The grief over his mother, the memories of Hao, the hardships—all surfaced in a tidal wave of emotion. The world spun around him as he knelt, hands on his head, screaming in agony. Passersby stared, drawn by his loud cries. Tears streamed down his face uncontrollably as he looked up at the sky, mouth open, gasping for air, trying not to drown in his sorrow.
It was a sunny day when Eunae died and Hao disappeared, Hanbin remembered. Ironically, it was also a sunny day when Hao reappeared. Unfortunately, Hanbin was the only one who remembered this.