Chapter Text
They Say
They say your life can flash before your eyes’ in less than half a second in times of peril.
They say it’s life's most mundane moments– others say it’s most treasured memories.
Different people say it’s any number of things, and no one’s experience is clearly the same.
Joshua doesn’t see his life– couldn’t even consider three weeks of consciousness a full life–
But.
He sees a face.
An explosion of brilliant light and sound.
That face again.
Then sharp, blinding whiteness, and soundlessness.
Then nothing.
Three Weeks Ago
“... mmm ‘ead hurtss.”
“He’s awake,” a whisper at Joshua’s side, then ruffled fabric, the swish-slide of a door, and a muffled call.
Joshua doesn’t want to open his eyes, sleep still dragging at his heavy eyelids, but his mouth feels stale and a sharp ache begins to radiate from his hips. He feels like his body has been prone for far longer than it needed to be. Suddenly, Josh feels the bed drop its temperature– probably the standard two degrees as safety regulated to better help occupants rouse– and the idea of sleep becomes less inviting.
“Jisoo-ssi,” the voice returns, and Joshua feels his mouth twist in reflex. He was usually a morning person, at least, Joshua thinks he is. It’s hard to remember other mornings all of a sudden.
“Jisso-ssi, are you with us?”
With you? “Wha’does… thamean?”
Much like his eyelids, Joshua’s tongue feels heavy; a useless mass pressing into his teeth and too big for his mouth. Joshua finally feels small, unnatural material pressed along the tip of his tongue, and speaking presses it directly to the roof of his mouth. Hot pain pierces throughout his mouth, forcing a sharp whine out of his mouth. That definitely wakes him up.
“Ah, ah, careful, careful,” a grey haired stranger hovers at Joshua’s left, with a hand raised in a calming-cattle fashion. “Try not to speak too much, Jisoo-ssi. The stitches on your tongue are still fresh, so they’ll cause you quite a bit of discomfort for the remainder of the day. I’m afraid we couldn’t perform our usual muscle replicant procedure without your consent, but we were able to do a clean reattachment. The downside to the old school method is that this takes a few extra days of healing.”
Joshua’s eyes widen in horror. What happened to his tongue? He bit off the tip? How?
The assumed doctor obviously sees Joshua’s mounting distress, and resumes their animal handling stance, “You’re healing perfectly, in fact, the bruising to your face has gone down, as well as the swelling to the back of your head.
Joshua, while still nervous about hurting his tongue all over again, raises his own hands to motion them downward, to the side and asks, “I fe– ?”
“You fell?” the doctor squints down at Joshua. “What do you mean?”
Joshua, frustrated because the doctor just advised him not to talk but still asked for clarification, waves at his whole face, then brings his hands down in the same motion again.
The repeated, non-verbal question seems to further trouble the doctor, “You don’t remember how you were hurt.”
Relieved, Joshua shakes his head in the affirmative.
Ouch. Joshua really wants to get out of this bed and stretch, feeling just how stiff his whole body was from lying down.
The doctor presses something in a palm-sized tablet and pulls out a stylus from their coat pocket, placing both gently into Joshua’s lap, “Jisoo-ssi, may I ask you to write down a few answers to some questions I have for you?”
Joshua nods agreeably, unsure what else he could do for some reason. He cracks his knuckles, too loudly judging by the doctor’s wince, but it was incredibly satisfying, before picking up the writing tool. White scrubs on blurry bodies pass Joshua’s peripheral behind the doctor’s shoulder, just outside the glass walls of his room, and the throb of his tongue lessens. He doesn’t recognize where he is exactly, but there’s a familiarity to the warm lights recessed into the cut ceiling, as well as the baby blue blanket spread out over his cotton-white hospital sheet. This is a hospital, right?
“What is your American name?”
Joshua Hong, and before you ask, I know Jisoo is my Korean name, of course.
The doctor gives a polite, ‘hmm,’ in acknowledgement, then asks their next question, “How old are you?”
33
“What is today’s date?”
Joshua holds the stylus aloft, jerking it from marking the screen in a scribble for unknown. Of course he should know the date, but– but– .
If I hurt myself, and I’ve been out of it for a while. Hasn’t time passed?
“What was the last date you remember?”
Joshua tucks the stylus into his palm and stares at the doctor, uncomfortable in the reality that he has no answer.
The doctor’s expression remains sympathetic, “Do you know what year it is?”
A blink and Joshua sees a holoscreen projection, rainbow lights and euphoric cheers. Class of– !
“Twenty-one, eighty-eight” the doctor reads aloud from the tablet screen.
Joshua is somehow intimately familiar with the ice-cold rush of failure.
“Jisoo-ssi, can you tell me anything about yourself?”
Anxiety mounting, dull pain growing in his brain, Joshua angrily requests if the doctor would mind being less vague.
“Do you have a favorite snack?”
“Favorite color?”
“Where do you live on Earth?”
Fighting the urge to burst hysterically into tears, Joshua clings to the only truth he knows. We’re in space. I know we’re on a ship.
And he knows this by the ever-present glow of gravity stabilizers trimmed to the edge of the floor. The thin, emergency band secured to the doctor’s wrist just below his meticulously clean timepiece.
Ah.
I know your watch is vintage. I know you’re wearing a gravity band in case of emergencies. I know the bed cooled down to help me wake up. I know what replicant surgeries are. I know I’ve been in this room before. I know this is my blanket.
The doctor smiled small, but measured, before asking one more question, “Do you know why you’re on this ship?”
Joshua searched his mind for a reason– for a purpose– for anything else he could possibly know. Joshua has his name, his age, his blanket, but… but… Joshua has no recollection of even an identity.
I don’t know anything at all.
***
The doctor and nurses leave the tablet with Joshua for the rest of the day, encouraging him to use that to communicate inside of causing further injury to his tongue. Apparently, he’d been assaulted and his head had bounced off the side of a wall. Now that he was awake, Joshua was informed they had alerted his family about his accident, as well as his emergency contact on the ship, the Starlight he learned it was called. Joshua was nervous to meet this emergency contact, dreading the thought of talking to family he doesn’t even know.
Luckily for him, one of the nurses pressed play on a tiny, spherical speaker placed on the nightstand at the right of his bed. A low, continuous rumble sounded out, soothing Joshua’s frantic thoughts, and soon, lulled him to sleep. Joshua thinks he hears the door swish again just after her departure, and a new voice calls his name, but he succumbs willingly to sleep.
It’s not a long sleep, but this one feels more restful. Joshua’s mouth isn’t full of cotton, as he’d been able to drink some water before, and his waist is less sore from shifting position, but the pain in his tongue is becoming far more obvious, and his neck is still sore. Hopefully the doctor will supply him some pain medication before he leaves.
Joshua breathes deeply through his nose as consciousness thrums through his addled-brain, preparing himself to meet more people and their collective disappointment.
“Shua-ya?”
There is a man slumped in a chair that wasn’t there before, now alert, at his right side. He is slim, with close-cropped black hair and wearing thick-rimmed glasses. He looks as exhausted as Joshua felt the first time he woke up, and once they’re both fully facing each other, Joshua notices he’s wearing a wrinkled jumpsuit and holding a tablet of his own, which is immediately put beside the speaker, and both are turned off.
Joshua feels his shoulders tighten now that the pleasant noise is gone, leaving only the loud silence of a stare.
With no point in delaying the inevitable, Joshua picks his tablet up and begins to talk, Who are you?
The man scans the question with an unerringly neutral expression and answers, “My name is Wonwoo. I’m your emergency contact.”
Have I kept you waiting long?
A tiny grin briefly graces Wonwoo’s face, before he shakes his head, “No, no. I needed to catch up on my sleep as well.”
Joshua mimics his grin, and writes two more questions, to which Wonwoo promptly answers, “We’re not related, but we’re family. We don’t work together, but we both have jobs on this galaxy-cruiser. I wanted a job with stable pay, and you applied for a teaching position around the same time. We were lucky like that.”
Joshua starts to feel the pounding in his head worsen half-way through Wonwoo’s explanation, but doesn’t want to alarm him. Instead, Joshua turns his face to hide a grimace as he fruitlessly fluffs at his pillows, and gently lays back down.
I’m a teacher? What do you do?
“I’m an electrical technician. I monitor and maintain the living quarters of the staff,” Wonwoo pauses to read the quick note Joshua scrawls. “I sound formal? I suppose I am when meeting new people.”
Joshua feels his smile grow, an unknown weight lifting from his shoulders.
Wonwoo notices, and his own frame relaxes as well, “You’re a preschool teacher. The Starlight is commercial transportation. People boarding on Earth to travel across the Milky Way to move to the planet HD four-zero-three-zero-seven-g to start a new life on a terraformed stretch of land. It takes about a year for our ship to travel the distance.”
Doesn’t ring a bell, but I think even amnesiacs have a hard time remembering number sequences as names.
“I voted for Earth Two.”
You voted? Joshua arches his eyebrow. Was there not a funner name?
Wonwoo seems visibly shocked, but it’s quickly overtaken by a shockingly deep laugh, “That’s exactly what you asked me a few months ago! Same judgy face too. You and Jeonghan-hyung bullied me for a week over it.”
Who’s Jeonghan?
Wonwoo’s good humor immediately sobered, but Joshua could tell he was trying his best to not show how much that question had apparently hurt him. Wonwoo turned to his own tablet, flicking it on quickly and waving his fingers over the hovering search to select memories. For some reason, it feels wrong to look at all of Wonwoo’s personal log, happy, unrecognizable faces flying by in fragments of vivid light, but he can’t look away, desperate to recognize somebody, anything.
Wonwoo presents Joshua with a kindly-looking stranger; a black-haired man caught mid-laugh as a cow licks at his neck.
He looks fun.
“He is,” Wonwoo smiles small. “He’s one of the livestock handlers on board. Do you… have any recollection?”
No. Sorry.
“You don’t have to apologize.”
A stronger twinge builds and begins radiating throughout Joshua’s skull, and even though he’s lying down, Joshua shuts his eyes, looking away from both screens.
“Are you okay?”
Joshua’s mouth twists, unsure how to answer, but remembers that the tablet isn’t his only form of communication. He blindly waves a limp palm in the direction of his iv tube suppressing liquified palm reliever.
Wonwoo calls for a nurse to administer another dose, and some time passes in a haze, but Wonwoo doesn’t leave his side. It’s night-time before Joshua becomes more aware, and they’re able to talk more about Joshua’s past life and the people who care for him. They sounded like nice people, so Joshua isn’t exactly looking forward to meeting them anytime soon. Wonwoo avoids showing him any more pictures, as the doctor suggested the light exacerbated Joshua’s current sensitivity.
The doctor deems Joshua able to leave the observation room for his own quarters on the ship, but with the stipulation he should spend the next few weeks resting, and avoiding too much strenuous activity, as it’ll negatively affect the healing progress of his concussion. There’ll be a nurse assigned to Joshua during recovery, who introduces herself as Yongsun. Upon first meeting, Joshua can already tell she’s a sunbeam of a woman, as she’s wearing a bright grin that seems permanently affixed to her face, smile-lines like sun rays.
She’s also much stronger than her frame suggests, as she doesn’t even need to wait for Wonwoo’s help lifting and settling Joshua into a hover chair. Yongsun laughs at their combined shock, and says, “My mother’s Vulcan.”
Yongsun pushes Joshua’s chair down several long hallways, all while she animatedly chatters on about her favorite food of the month, distracting Joshua from hearing what Wonwoo is rapidly whispering into his tablet, and the occasional passerby staring just a bit too long in their direction.
The halls are lit up much the same as the medical wing of the ship, but they’re brighter, and instead of a soft cream, the walls are colored a pale, almost white, blue, while the floor is carpeted in a darker shade. There are no windows for Joshua to see the vast galaxy that he knew encompassed them all, but the impulsive thought to get out of his chair and somehow verify that reality was rejected when Yongsun took them too quickly around a bend, making stars dance around Joshua’s head. It wasn’t as intense as the vertigo he’s suffered that morning, but it did remind him that lying down in a bed where he could sleep would feel far better than attempting to walk.
It takes about ten minutes for them to reach the Starlight’s staff apartments. Not many people were walking about at this time of night, but the few they did pass all wore varying types of uniforms. One person, who was kneeling down in front of an open wall panel, wore the same type of jumpsuit that Wonwoo had on, but the lapel of their open collar only has one yellow, embroidered patch, vs Wonwoo’s three. They give each other a passing nod, and the person even waves towards Joshua and Yongsun, before going back to work. Wonwoo’s focus is already back on the tablet in front of him, so Joshua doesn’t want to interrupt and ask if that was somebody he knows.
Wonwoo is seemingly so focused that he does not even greet the five other people they pass by. Two are feminine people, with cat-like eyes and brown, tumbling hair, and both are wearing thigh-high boots with matching purple rompers. Yongsun squeezes both of their hands and promises to meet them for dinner; they’re friends of her’s. Another person is quietly leading a toddler down the hall, whereupon seeing Joshua, waves excitedly. The parent gives Joshua a tearful wave, but leaves them alone, clearly having the tact not to bother them at the moment, unlike the child who they can all hear cry about wanting to hug Mister Hong.
“One of your students,” Wonwoo quietly explains. “His name is Seungkwan.”
Joshua’s tongue presses to the roof of his mouth, reflexively wanting to talk– to ask more questions– but the sharp sting and dragging thread makes him speechless again. He can’t muffle the pained whimper that eeks from his throat, and Yongsun smoothly stops the chair from moving forward, most likely to check on him, but somebody else beats her to the punch.
“Shua-hyung?”
A curled figure lurches to their feet before them– towers over them. They’re taller than Wonwoo, and much, much taller than Yongsun, with tan, pretty tan skin, a strong jawline, and brown, red-rimmed eyes.
“Shua-hyung!” They cried again, taking five, clumsy steps to stand awkwardly in front of them. The new person sounded high-pitched, strained, and it was distressingly obvious he’d been crying. Joshua feels immense guilt just looking at this person that he’s apparently wronged in some unforgiving manner.
“I– I’m so, so– how are– ?” Their large hands fluttered in the thick air between them, and their gaze kept jumping from Joshua’s hover chair, to his face, to Wonwoo, and back again. “What– Wonu-hyung?”
Joshua blinks, and he sees this person glaring at him over a cafeteria table, sitting beside a blurry faced stranger, and a tea set in-between them all. Joshua blinks, and he sees this person singing and dancing for a group of small children, all wearing pastel-yellow smocks. Joshua blinks, and sees– , “Mingyu.”
Mingyu startles, and his stuttered breathing almost stops, but then he’s crashing to the ground, grabbing up Joshua’s hands, holding them so reverent, “Yes, hyung? What is it?”
The pain in his mouth had been easy to ignore in the shock of understanding, but now Joshua couldn’t bear to speak anymore. He’s also inexplicably ashamed to be so unprepared in what to say. Wonwoo’s hand on his shoulder had stiffened when Joshua spoke that name, and Yongsun was finally silent.
Wonwoo, probably trying to be helpful, hands over his precious tablet, and Joshua swallows before taking the stylus.
“Hyung?” Mingyu looks so attentive, so desperate to hear whatever it is Joshua has to say.
It hurts Joshua almost as much as it did to say Mingyu’s name, to write out his question.
Who are you?
But that pain cannot compare to absolute blankness taking over the stranger, Mingyu’s, face.
***
Joshua wakes up feeling refreshed, rubbing a cheek to the smooth pillowcase he’s embracing, and sees the warm increase of light behind his eyelids as the room registers his change in breathing and heart-rate. It’s gentle, and the bed slowly lowers its temperature poles by two degrees, to better aid in waking up its sole occupant, as it did in the recovery ward. The brown noise playlist finishes its final run before switching stations to soft synth music. His aching mouth is more of a small sting now, the medicine and pain reliever working through the night to speed up recovery.
“Good morning, Joshua. It is currently 6:01 AM, Standard Galactic Time, January 8th, and 2:01 PM, Pacific Daytime, January 7th in California. It appears your kitchen is currently out of stock of food. Would you like to hear the breakfast menu for the Starlight cafeteria this morning?”
Wonwoo had prepared Joshua last night about the Voice that would activate in the morning; it was an interface attuned to Joshua’s schedule and preferences, as programmed when he moved into the apartment six months ago. In his sleep, Joshua feels that his tongue has been pressed along the back of his teeth all night, but if there wasn’t any lingering soreness when he woke up, it would probably be alright to test his ability to speak.
“Yes, please,” Joshua smiles towards where the request had come from in the wall. No pain.
It’s easy enough to navigate the apartment Yongsun and Wonwoo had left him in last night, even though he has no memory of this place, Joshua is still knowledgeable of what everything is, and how certain things function. It’s just a matter of taking things slow, and not doing any heavy lifting until Yongsun comes along to retrieve him for a morning meal and then they’ll head back to the medical wing for the doctor to remove his stitches and carry out more memory tests.
As Joshua leaves the bed and searches inside his walk-in closet, the Voice carries on describing the menu for the day, as well notifying him about– .
“I have three-hundred messages?”
“There are two-hundred unread emails, forty-two missed calls and forty-one voice mails. Out of the forty-one voicemails, twenty-three are from the parents of your students, ten from Starlight Academy faculty, five from your mother, two are from Captain Lee Dongwook, and one is from Xu Minghao.”
Good Lord.
“Would you like to begin reading your emails, or listening to any messages?”
“Uhm, how about… we don’t do that right now?”
“Very well, Joshua.”
Great. The Voice was judging him.
What kind of man was he? Unprofessional, certainly. Joshua just had to hope given his recent accident, his captain and mother would understand his non-communication. He could probably ask Wonwoo to speak to his mother on his behalf, but he’ll probably have to meet the captain himself, seeing as he was part of the Starlight crew. Is he entitled to compensation for being hurt in the workplace? They might even be considering letting Joshua take a leave of absence due to the amnesia. Hopefully so, because Joshua currently has no idea what to even teach first graders. Are they learning the alphabet at their age, or still figuring out nap time?
Joshua had just finished cleaning his face with cold water and a quick-absorption moisturizer when a tinkling chime sounded throughout the rooms. It was only 6:11, and Yongsun wasn’t set to arrive until 6:30.
“Kim Mingyu is at your door.”
Oh.
Joshua has to answer it, doesn’t he?
Last night, Mingyu had been carefully pulled aside by Wonwoo so Yongsun could maneuver Joshua inside. Joshua, viscerally hating that pained expression on that handsome face, had hastily written, ‘I’m sorry, but I’ve been in an accident. I don’t really remember anyone.’
That explanation only seemed to hurt Mingyu more, and Wonwoo’s one-armed hug and a whisper in his ear hadn’t seemed enough to ease any of that pain.
“Would you like me to open the door, or request he visit you at another time?”
“Let him in,” Joshua answered without a second thought, and buttoned up his shirt before leaving the bathroom.
“Why are you standing up?”
Joshua, expecting to see a teary-eyed, kicked-puppy version of Mingyu, is surprised by the different temperament. This is not the forlorn, forgotten man he’d met last night, but instead he was clean-cut, and clear-eyed, marching toward Joshua.
“Good morning to you too,” Joshua blinked away his confusion as Mingyu began leading him to the nearest lounge chair with a firm grip on his shoulder. Joshua doesn’t fight it, just assuming this is a form of care that Mingyu needs to reassure himself. “I don’t feel dizzy.”
“And you’re talking?” Mingyu’s speaking is rapid, sounding more like mumbling. “Are you allowed to do that?”
“In my own house, yes, but I’ll remember to ask permission once we leave.”
“You’re not funny.”
“Well, I hope other people think so.”
“No, everyone agrees. You’re just sassy, and definitely not funny.”
Joshua doesn’t fight the smile breaking out over his face, but Mingyu continues to look worried, fluffing up the pillow placed behind Joshua’s back and whipping out what looks to be a scanner of some kind, which he pressed immediately to Joshua’s head, “What’re you doing?”
“Making sure you don’t have a fever, or brain swelling.”
“Are you my new nurse?”
Mingyu ‘tsks’ as if that were a silly question, “No, I’m just a very good friend.”
Joshua relinquishes control of his body autonomy after that response. He may not remember this ‘very good friend,’ but it’s clear this fussing is more for Mingyu’s sake than it is Joshua’s. At least in his limited opinion.
“Do you feel weak?”
“No.”
“Any numbness?”
“No.”
“Any irritations?”
“Hmm, just one.”
Mingyu’s eyes snap up to Joshua, “Where?”
“Right here,” he pokes at the mole at the very tip of Mingyu’s nose. “Boop.”
Mingyu’s mouth opens, then closes, looking like a gasping koi fish, and then for a fraction of a second, Joshua thinks he sees joy. He blinks and Mingyu’s face is all pout, eyebrows scrunched down and big hands curling on his knees. Joshua slides his finger up to smooth out the frustrated wrinkle in-between Mingyu’s forehead.
“I’m being serious, hyung!” he whines, but does nothing to stop Joshua from touching his face, even going so far as to lean into the touch.
“Yes, it’s very cute.”
Mingyu looks startled by the statement, but it also seems to embolden him. Mingyu rises from his kneeling position and sits on the edge of the chair, giving just a few more centimeters of authority over Joshua before grabbing at his probing finger, “Show me your tongue.”
“Are you a pervert?”
“Ugh! Stop being difficult.”
“Let me see some credentials first, Mister Very Good Friend.”
Joshua is relieved this is how the morning is turning out. Giddy over this entire interaction, weirdly enough. He doesn’t even fight for his finger back, content to let Mingyu hold onto it as he reads from his apparent health scanner, and asks him other silly questions. Joshua is so distracted by Mingyu, that he doesn’t realize how much time has passed until the Voice announces Yongsun has arrived.
“Am I interrupting anything?” she asks with a whisker-grin.
Mingyu drops Joshua’s finger too quickly in response, and he springs up from the couch, brandishing his scanner at the real nurse’s face. Joshua can’t see his face any longer, and stares down as his suddenly cold finger. Mingyu’s hand had been sweaty, but it hadn’t bothered Joshua at all.
“Thank you for checking in, Mingyu-sii. Would you like to join us for breakfast?”
“Ah, no– I’d love to– but I can’t this morning. I just came to drop off some food because I know he doesn’t normally meal-prep, and then I have to open my classroom.”
“You’re a teacher?” Joshua doesn’t understand how, but he knows that that fits Mingyu perfectly.
“Mm, I’m one of the daycare teachers. I watch the toddlers on the ship, and you teach first grade.”
“Oh,” Joshua was told his position already, but he hadn’t known Mingyu’s profession. Wait a second. “You cooked for me?”
“Of course I did.”
Joshua tilts his head, ignoring the first muscle strain of the day, trying to figure out what exactly that statement made him feel.
Mingyu resolutely looked away from Joshua, staring instead at the containers of food stacked neatly atop one another in his large refrigerator bag. Joshua hadn’t noticed it before, too distracted by how differently Mingyu was behaving, but now that he saw it, he couldn’t look away. The bag was massive, practically overflowing with food and fresh produce and even two jugs of mystery drink.
“Whoa,” Yongsun seemed highly impressed by the spread, hovering near tall-stalked Mingyu in his fluffy, pink sweater; she was a bright little bee buzzing around a honey-filled flower. Her yellow dress had pom-poms swinging left and right as she inspected all the meals. “Did you ransack the kitchen this morning?”
“I made everything last night.”
Joshua couldn’t keep quiet, “You made all of this for a man who doesn’t know you?”
Mingyu and Yongsun both stiffen at his blunt force question, but professionalism and empathy apparently helps rebuff the emotional blow. Yongsun bestows an encouraging grin toward Mingyu and goes about helping him unpack the groceries. Mingyu seems to heave a breath before facing Joshua again with a determined gaze, “I made this for the man that I know.”
“What if I don’t share the same tastes?” Joshua doesn’t know why he’s poking at this raw nerve, but he finds it’s an impulse he can’t control. “Would you make me more food?”
“Of course I will. Anything you like.”
Instead of leaving for the cafeteria as originally planned, all three of them are treated to a quick-service breakfast of eggs over rice, with scallions and sausage. It’s so simple, but Joshua thinks it’s the best meal he’s ever had.
Confessing this revelation to Mingyu might be a little overwhelming before 7 AM, so each time Joshua has the urge to praise his cooking, he takes another bite.
When they part at Joshua’s door, he’s the first to reach out his hand, and the last to linger in the air between them. There’s something about Mingyu compelling Joshua to stay with him; to follow him around and find out if just being in his presence will make the button in his blanked-out brain click open. There is no memory, still, but there is reassurance. Last night was hard, but morning Mingyu didn’t seem outwardly upset by Joshua admitting to not understanding former connections, unlike Wonwoo. While Wonwoo had been so kind, so patient, there was a hard hit to his chest each time he noticed Wonwoo attempt to hide a flinch at every reminder that he was talking to a stranger, and not his oldest friend.
Yongsun is kind, of course, by not bringing up how weirdly charged Joshua made their departure, as she rattles off a list of all the yummy food her partner will make for lunch. And her morning workout routine. And what she wants to eat for dinner. And how since she’s a nurse, she knows all the secret fast pass hallways throughout the ship.
Yongsun is a yapper. Joshua feels his cheeks ache from the giant smile his tiny nurse managed to get out of him.
“Any different symptoms experienced this morning?” The doctor asks once Joshua’s seated comfortably in yesterdays’ recovery room, and he only needs a moment to think about it. Yongsun had excused herself to help another doctor while Joshua got checked out.
“I feel like I’ll experience another headache, like it’s a buzz in my head, but I’m not as dizzy. Walking here was fine, but I feel like I shouldn’t leave this chair too fast now.”
Joshua is just grateful he’s not had any other symptoms. They’d gone over a whole list the night before he was officially discharged. Now that Joshua was lucid, he was able to take in the office fully, instead of just registering objects while testing his knowledge. The walls and floor were a soft cream-color, with accents of pale pink, which matched the accent chair, and his former bed was a sterile white, with plush cushion and a sanitary wrap sealed over top. There was a small projection frame beside the door, flickering tiny figures of people Joshua couldn’t make out from his current position sitting on the bed. There’s a placard just beneath it that reads ‘Kim Family Enterprises.’ He hadn’t thought to inspect the faces of the people who owned the Starlight, but Joshua still knew that they were a company who owned spacecraft fields and helped to commercialize space travel and exploration. His brain had apparently deemed that worthy information to store after getting bonked on the head, more so than what language was branded onto his toothpaste, apparently. He would have to ask someone what it was soon, because he also noticed a book on the kitchen counter that morning in the same language when Mingyu had been rearranging everything in the kitchen. Would past Joshua have been irritated by the new organization, or grateful? The Joshua of today had been ambivalent– grateful someone had opened and revealed the secret contents to a life he’d not lived yet.
There were no preferences in his mind, come to think of it, just vague interest. Visual memory was easier to place than sense memory; empty impressions, ready to be filled by new experience. Joshua thinks back to all those appetizing looking meals prepared by Mingyu waiting for him in the former-Joshua’s home. Joshua thinks about the obstinate comment he made before saying goodbye. How far could he push this new relationship?
Why did he want to?
“I could have Yongsun bring the chair back to escort you back to your apartment?” The doctor kindly offered when the very short check up came to an end. Any new symptoms? No. Remember anything? No. Joshua now gets to go about the rest of the very long day recuperating some more. While the idea itself made him restless, Joshua can’t deny that the ten minute walk to the medical ward tired him out, “I would appreciate that.”
The doctor is perfectly patient and kind, not pressing Joshua to remember anything, not wanting him to overexert himself, as this is all a part of the natural healing process. He presses a quick summons on his tablet and Yongsun arrives promptly after to take Joshua back home.
He feels like such an old man, being guided on short walks through hallways like in a nursing home, only for his destination to be a bed each time. Hey, he remembers what a nursing home is, “What kind of community is being built on Earth Two?”
“All of a sudden?” Yongsun responds, “A regular one, I suppose. It’s mostly for scientists. Agriculturists.”
“No elderly wanting to pass their twilight years on an alien planet?”
“The scientists will eventually want to, I suppose. You’ve retained the basics of life, but do you have any history rolling around that empty noggin of your’s?”
“Not even a loose marble, I’m afraid.”
Yongsun giggles, “I’ll be your teacher for the meanwhile then. To make a long story short, Earth One’s war-hungry ancestors tore up a good bit of habitable land, climate affected crops and trade, the population decreased rapidly, but surged a few decades later in peace-time, so world leaders got together and proposed a joint space expedition to repopulate on other viable planets– or make them viable if need be.
“Space stations became more attractive to the rich, and the first colony was formed on a dwarf moon. Not very sustainable in the long run, but it helped become a stop point in-between Gaia, our first terra-formed planet. Gaia has a fully developed city with a breathable atmosphere, and an internationally governed society with three different diplomats, councilman for each sector, a court, farmland, a gigantic hospital, as well as two school districts. Earth Two and the fine folks aboard the Starlight are going to be applying, as well as enhancing everything learned from Gaia. Our ship is set to refuel there in just a few days, and we’ll be dropping off some families, off-loading supplies and getting some new ones ourselves.”
“Am I going to be off-loaded?”
Yongsun’s breaths in, and chokes on the air, “Did someone tell you that?”
“... No. That just seems like the logical thing to do in this situation.”
Yongsun clearly does not know how to move off from a statement such as that, so Joshua continues, “I mean, I can’t be a teacher like this. My being here, needing to be taken care of, seems like a burden to the crew. If everyone aboard has a purpose, then my being here is useless.”
Yongsun goes silent.
Joshua doesn’t even know if he feels bad about that.
His nurse continues being the exemplary professional, helping him get into bed, placing a covered meal and drink on his bedside table for when he gets hungry, and then turning on the brown noise machine to help him rest. Yongsun speaks quietly to the Voice’s speaker, making the lights dim, much like her sun-shine smile, and she bids him good-day.
The Joshua that he is now just seems like a disappointment to everyone on board.
***
Hunger isn’t enough to rouse Joshua, but the faint sound of the Voice manages to stir him some hours later.
“... – the door.”
“... Wazzat?” Joshua buries his face in the plush pillow. The ruffling makes a soothing echo resound in his ears, but fixating on that makes it hard to hear the Voice.
“Ming– … door. Would you like me to take a message?”
Mingyu.
Joshua wants to see Mingyu.
In response to his rising heart-beat, the bed begins its cool routine, and the house lights turn bright just behind Joshua’s eyelids, “Let ‘im in.”
The playlist turns off seamlessly, letting its last fuzzing note fade out, and Joshua stretches in tune with it, arms rising, holding and pulling, lower back cracking, and a relieved exhale following through as his arms come down. His neck feels even better now, and Joshua taps the tip of his tongue to the roof of his mouth, pleased to feel the stitches dissolved entirely.
“Good morning,” an amused voice cracks the peace in two.
Joshua opens his eyes to finally see the person that he allowed entrance into his room.
“You’re not Mingyu.”
The lithe stranger blinks, caught off-guard, and he stays rooted to the middle of the front entrance. One shoe is left dangling in the air, like it doesn’t know where to go from there either. “No, I’m not. I apologize for the surprise visit.
“I shouldn’t have been too familiar. Mingyu told me about your amnesia.”
Joshua sits up a little straighter, fusses with his blanket, before attempting to school his face and tone, “You’re another friend.”
“Mmm-hm,” the stranger proceeds to place his shoe back on the ground, beneath the rack at the door. “My name is Xu Minghao.”
“Please, come in,” Joshua gestures to the lounge chair and the barstools beside the kitchen counter. “Are you checking in on me?”
“The last time I was able to, you were still unconscious. Wasn’t exactly a very fun check in, so I’m relieved to see you’re actually awake now.”
Joshua notes each open, but demure, expression flit across Minghao’s face. He had a placid type of beauty, and a low, accented voice. Joshua immediately clocked how attractive he was, with his calm nature of poised movement. Every step and sway was a deliberate movement, precise but fluid. Minghao walked confidently closer and sat without looking upon which barstool he chose as his throne. He’d been in this apartment before.
“I don’t remember you,” Joshua ripped the bandaid off.
Minghao’s light-hearted smirk was somehow expected, “I expected as much. Do you want to get to know me today?”
Joshua licked his lips, pondering over the weight-free proposal while bracing a hand to the bed and standing.
”Why’re you standing up?”
Minghao stays seated, quiet, with both hands folded in his lap.
“Sure. Would you mind helping me pour some drinks? I’m afraid I don’t know which cabinet holds my dishware.”
Minghao inclines his head courteously, then gets up again, turning his back while Joshua deer-walks to another barstool. Joshua may be feeling better, but all of the lying and sitting seems to be detrimental to his muscles. He’ll have to ask Yongsun about safe ways to stretch, unlike what he instinctively did upon waking up just a moment ago. At least, when he’s not afraid of talking to her in a few hours.
Minghao rifles through a cabinet and retrieves a moss-green kettle, two matching teacups, and swiping his finger along the temperature-line at the base of the kettle to begin heating before placing both in-between them.
Goose-bumps rise and tickle the hair all along Joshua’s arms, and he tilts his head, marveling over the color of the teacups, and their speckled-looking pattern around the bottom. Within a moment of the impulse, Joshua reaches out and holds one of them, gently rubbing at the rough texture and feeling better for it. Joshua knows now, with full certainty, that these are his favorite teacups, and he cups the one in both hands, slowly dragging the tips of his fingers back and forth over the pretty stoneware.
‘Tactile stimming,’ a memory tells him.
“This is my favorite glaze,” Joshua whispers excitedly to Minghao, who looks to share his sudden enthusiasm. “I made these.”
“You’ve never told me that,” he whispers back.
“I was embarrassed,” Joshua is surprised to know that answer too.
Mingaho’s grin continues to grow, but he doesn’t carry on the conversation, seemingly content in watching Joshua play with his own discovery, “I made the kettle as well, but… ”
Minghao lets Joshua sit, searching his own mind for any more undiscovered gems of knowledge. The kettle’s base glows yellow, signifying it’s finished heating up, so Minghao grasps the handle and pours himself a serving of tea. Joshua holds his precious cup steady, allowing his new friend to pour the steaming water until it almost kisses the lip, and the pair watch as their leaves swirl and float and fog inside. The steeping tea so closely resembles his clouded state of mind. Clear and gray, with pools of color trickling out in a stream.
“How do we know each other?”
“Mingyu and I were classmates in highschool. Not very close until we weathered a semester in college as business majors.”
“But he’s a preschool teacher.”
Minghao gives a high-pitched laugh at Joshua’s assertion and answers back, “That’s how we met you. You were our peer mentor. We also shared an art elective. You never forced us to change our plans, but you helped us refocus our interests. I wanted to own my own art gallery one day, but talking with you helped me realize I was more fulfilled being an artist then I would ever be as a curator.”
“Sounds less stable.”
“That’s how you challenged me.”
Joshua feels himself make a face, but isn’t sure what Mingaho’s getting from his reaction, so instead he switches subjects, “Why did Mingyu want to be a business major?”
“It made sense for his family, at the time.”
“What kind of business does his family do?”
“Kim Mingyu is at the door,” the Voice interrupts whatever Minghao was about to say. “Would you like me to take a message?”
“Let him in.”
Mingyu physically stalls out seeing the two of them together, tripping over his own feet and just barely managing to brace his hands before falling to the floor.
“Are you ok?” Joshua immediately gets up, but Minghao somehow beats him to the other, pulling Mingyu up and inspecting his hands. A sharp pain spikes through Joshua’s chest at the sight, and he falls back down, landing hard against the vinyl-covered seat.
“What do you even like about Minghao? Aside from your friendship, obviously I mean romantically. You two want different things for your future.”
“How do you even know that? Have you talked to Minghao about what he wants?”
“Yes, I have. You said you want kids.”
“I was drunk.”
“And honest. I’m really not trying to be petty here, just laying out the facts. You have family-man encoded into your dna. You dream about white-picket fences and painting baby bedrooms. Minghao shuts down whenever the subject comes up.”
“If you’d seen him with the kids on the ship– .”
“Those are other people’s kids. And he’s actually a nice person. It doesn’t mean he’s ready to settle down.”
“You don’t know him the way I do.”
“You mean, your childhood perception of him?”
“Don’t be fucking pretentious right now.”
“I’m being realistic. I actually care to talk about my feelings– .”
“Yeah, now you do.”
“Instead of bottling them up. Therapy does wonders, I’ll even book you a session with Jun today.”
“You’re really just being an asshole now. Is Minghao privileged enough to see this side of you?”
“You can talk about everything with Jun, because I’m done listening to you. You, and your selfish projection, and daddy issues– .”
“JOSH!” Mingyu is standing right in front of him, holding his shoulders up, and he sees Minghao hovering behind, worried.
The present reasserts itself, and Joshua feels the teacup again. His fingers hadn’t stopped rubbing it, self-soothing on auto-pilot, and Joshua takes in a deep breath, trying to affirm where he is and what’s happening now.
“Do you need to lie down?” Mingyu’s voice is gentled down, and his grip loosens. Joshua has the insane urge to tell him not to stop squeezing his arms because the pressure makes him feel safe, but speaking right now doesn’t feel safe either, so Joshua just slowly shakes his head, and points to the baby blue blanket left on his bed. Minghao retrieves it just as fast as he had gone to help Mingyu, and the weight bearing down atop Joshua’s shoulders is an immense relief. Joshua doesn’t want to lie down again so soon, especially when people he knows he cares about are over, but the blanket helps ground him.
When Joshua looks to be steady, Mingyu and Minghao appear less concerned. Minghao resumes his seat, and Mingyu takes a step backward, “Is it another headache?”
“A memory.”
Both are obviously curious, but they share a look that apparently communicates, ‘we won’t push it,’ and the curiosity is instantly stifled.
Mingyu removes his shoulder bag and pink sweater, hanging both on wall hooks, before coming back to join them at the counter. He looks at the tea cooling in both of their hands, and Joshua thinks he sees Mingyu smother a quick smirk, “Is that turmeric?”
“Yes,” Minghao smiles happily. “Joshua’s favorite.”
“It is?” Joshua asks. The aroma hadn’t triggered anything for him, at least, not like seeing Minghao and Mingyu together had.
“You told me so back on Earth when I first invited you out to tea.”
“The tea you made yourself, right Hao?” Joshua can’t see Mingyu’s face at that moment, but there’s something in the way that he asks that question that pings something in Joshua’s brain.
“Of course.”
“Well,” Mingyu pats on his back. “Bottoms up, Josh.”
It’s so gross.
Joshua doesn’t spit it out, thankfully, but instead he swallows it with a squeezed-lemon face. Minghao’s face isn’t confused or sad, but it’s entirely unreadable. He’s a blank canvas, fit for Joshua to interpret any emotion of his inexperienced discernment. Mingyu on the other hand is biting back a full-blow grin as he plucks the empty teacup from Joshua’s hands and replaces it with a full glass mystery liquid. The texture is less appealing than his teacup, but when Joshua unquestionably drinks from it, he finds the taste to at least be a massive improvement.
“This is my favorite drink.”
“Amnesiac Shua is so honest,” Minghao’s dry statement is the laugh button Mingyu needed, because it makes him curl and clutch his stomach.
“Hmmm… apple juice?”
“Apple juice beats turmeric tea always,” Mingyu giggles helplessly at their feet, and Minghao gulps down the rest of his own like a shot of vodka. “I knew it!”
Joshua is clearly missing the joke, but the pair brush aside his querying look, especially when they all hear the rumbling of his empty stomach.
“Ah, hyung! You didn’t eat?”
Minghao answered for him, “He was just waking up when I got here.”
“I was resting on doctor’s orders.”
“Don’t pout Shua, you’ll get frown lines,” Minghao playfully reprimands whilst pressing into Joshua’s cheeks.
Mingyu comes back with the covered food from his bedside table and places it in front of Joshua after moving aside the kettle, “Here, have this right now.”
Well, if they’re moving the conversation along, Joshua will too, so he tucks in and ignores the awkwardness of eating while two people stare at him; probably afraid he’ll topple over just from lifting a morsel of saucy meat. The tray kept the food in perfect stasis, maintaining the perfect warmth for whenever Joshua decided to dig in.
The moan he lets out is borderline pornographic, and he realizes this in a split-second, deciding to keep his eyes closed and avoid any further embarrassment for today. Instead, Joshua focuses on the sweet, tangy flavor soaked up by the beef, coating his mouth and filling his belly with contentment. If breakfast had been amazing, lunch was taking the crown!
“How’re you a daycare teacher? You should be a five-star michelin!” Now Joshua opens his eyes, needing Mingyu to understand how good his food tastes. Mingyu is staring down at the counter-top, so Joshua can’t see his eyes, but the tips of his ears are burning bright red.
Joshua wants to pet his head and coo.
“That’s a deep cut,” Minghao’s voice mercifully cuts into Joshua’s impulse.
“Deep cut?”
“Five-star michelin. That’s from a century-old song.”
“Huh,” Joshua swallows another mouthful of heaven. “Wait. What’s a michelin?”
***
Minghao answers Joshua's unspoken question from the morning, lifting the mystery cookbook, and a smaller book that had been hiding beneath it. That one he can read. It’s a Mandarin translation guide. Joshua watches as Minghao flips through the pages, pausing to read annotated notes scribbled into the margins, thumb at the big dog-ears for certain recipes, to which he bestows warm, slow blinks at Joshua and Mingyu each, “You’re learning my favorite dishes.”
“Oh, you’re Chinese.”
Minghao barks his laugh this time, “The name didn’t clue you in?”
Joshua helplessly shrugs and looks to Mingyu, hoping to gauge where to take the conversation, but Mingyu is dutifully scrubbing at the dishes. Hours had passed in conversation, and Joshua had been pleasantly surprised to have the same feeling as chatting with just Mingyu in the morning. They’d all shared dinner, and Minghao had been preparing to leave when he spotted the books.
He brings it over to Joshua, now reclining on the lounge chair, and points to one of the scrunched notes correcting a measurement of spices, “This is Mingyu’s hand-writing. And here,” Minghao points to a doodle of an infinity symbol and a comment stating his apparent dislike for pickled onion, “That’s you, having your wrong opinion.”
“I leant that to hyung a few months ago.”
“You two are the sweetest boys in the whole world,” Minghao simpered theatrically. Joshua smiles dully, unsure how to react when Mingyu won’t turn around. Minghao doesn’t comment on his behavior, simply gives a quick kiss to Joshua’s cheek, and he treats Mingyu to the same, who jolts in place. Minghao dances smoothly out of reach of Mingyu’s flailing, suds-covered hand, and opens the door.
“Hello,” Wonwoo gives a little wave when the door whooshes open. “Having a party?”
“Unfortunately, it’s my bed-time, Wonu-hyung. We already fed and watered Shua-hyung, so you just need to tuck him in.”
“I feel like I should be insulted,” Joshua informs Wonwoo after the door whooshes back closed, but a yawn interrupts his disagreement. “That’s probably what I need right now though.”
Wonwoo nods in acquiesce, “No problem. I came to check up on you anyway. Do you want help getting up?”
“No, no, I’m good Wonu.”
The nickname just slipped out, but Wonwoo didn’t make a big deal of it. His eyes crinkled a little deeper though as he watched Joshua hobble over to bed, and slip under his comforter, blue blanket wrapped around him for every coltish step.
“D’ya want me to make you some dinner, Wonu-hyung?” Mingyu turned eager eyes to the new house guest. “I can pour you a drink?”
“You can take a break Min. I had noodles with my crew a bit ago, then I’m grabbing a beer with Jeonghan later.”
“Without me?”
“Yes, without you. Put the puppy-dog eyes away, you’ve got an early morning.”
Joshua pulls and kneads at his blanket, the plush fabric settling his unreasonable nerves, “Early morning?”
Mingyu rubs a hand through his hair, clearly nervous, “I uhm, I’m taking on your students for a few days until we coordinate with the Gaia school district to set up a streaming schedule.”
Joshua doesn’t know how to feel.
Again.
Apathetic.
He needs a face before care is established now, apparently.
“Jeonghan?”
“The friend I showed you on my phone. He works long hours taking care of the animals, but he tried visiting while you were napping. If you’re not too tired tomorrow afternoon, I can ask Yongsun to show you where the cafeteria is, and you can probably catch eating?”
“I think I’d like that,” Joshua barely has to think twice before agreeing. Meeting new people that knew Before Joshua has far been okay, but he’s more so looking forward to seeing more of the ship and stretching his legs. Joshua’s hoping the fatigue won’t be lingering for too much longer, “Will you both be there?”
“It’ll really depend on my progress with the broken gateways, but I’ll see what I can do,” Wonwoo says.
Mingyu is chewing on his lower lip, and he offers a hesitant smile at Joshua’s arched brow, “I’ll be sitting in the kids corner with the students, and the other teachers, but you’re welcome to come over. I just don’t want you to be overwhelmed by the kids. They miss you.”
Joshua purses his lips, apprehensive now that that inevitably has come up. He remembers the sad little boy from last night, and once he’d woken up that morning, it was easy to spot a prominently framed picture on his bookcase of himself sitting in a child-sized chair with two children flanking his sides, and three sitting down in front of them. Only five students. Joshua could handle that. “Should I wait until you’re finished early, just so I don’t distract them?”
“That would be perfect. We usually have lunch at eleven.”
“It’s a date!”
Mingyu’s shoulders suddenly hunch up, and that beautiful blush blooms across his nose, his cheeks, down his neck, and to the very tips of his ears. Being tucked beneath his weighted blue blanket, plush pillows cradling his head, Joshua can’t break free to cross the long distance to try and touch his friend once again.
Friends don’t feel like this.
“Well, I’ll– I’ll see you tomorrow, Josh– Shua-hyung!” Mingyu stumbles over his own crossed legs, righted almost immediately by a smirking Wonwoo. Right as he gets his shoes on, instead of continuing to run away, Mingyu turns to Joshua and says a little too loudly, “Minghao will be there too! You sould– should see him, maybe? If you want. Bye!”
Wonwoo and Joshua stay staring at the closed door for just a moment more, because… that was weird. Joshua replays everything Mingyu just said, and thinks back on the uncomfortable memory that resurfaced during lunch. Wonwoo goes around the room while Joshua stays lost in thought, turning down the lights much like Yongsun did hours ago, before walking over to Joshua all curled up snug, “Need anything? Wanna talk?”
“Was I in a relationship with them?”
Wonwoo gapes down at Joshua, the most exaggerated expression Joshua’s seen on his face in the two days of knowing him, and he opens, then closes his mouth, at a loss for words.
“Was that a weird question? Are they like that with all their friends?” Wonwoo takes in a deeeeeep breath after Joshua voices his insecurity, then plops himself on the edge of the bed, and removes his glasses.
“That wasn’t a weird question,” Wonwoo groans, muffled from behind his hands, which are rubbing hard over his face. “God, I think everything’d be so much easier between you three if you were that blunt all the time.”
“So… I’ll take that to mean I like them, but haven’t said anything.”
Wonwoo stops rubbing at his face, and squints at him, “You like Mingyu?”
“He says we were friends.”
“Do you feel like friends?”
Joshua burrows down in the bed, and his fingers instantly grasp for the security of his blue blanket, “Now I feel like I’m saying something I shouldn’t be. And I asked about Minghao too, but you’re only asking me about Mingyu. Can I just go to bed now?”
“Uh,” Wonwoo looks conflicted, clearly unwilling to divulge anything Joshua isn’t ready to hear, or maybe even understand.
Joshua turns over so his back is facing Wonwoo. The conversation is finished, and Wonwoo said he’s going out, so Joshua should just let him leave now, instead of continuing to make him uncomfortable.
He hears Joshua sigh, but neither push the issue. “I’ll see you tomorrow hyung. I’ll try to… figure out what to explain, but, uhm, don’t stress too much over this. Mingyu’s fine, and Minghao’s fine. When you– ah, nevermind.
“G’night, hyung,” Wonwoo pets gently at the crown of Joshua’s still turned head, the brown noise lullaby fills the room, and he’s gone.
Joshua falls asleep, and doesn’t dream.
***
“Alright, now we’ll do just one more stretch, same as the first I taught you,” Yongsun directs Joshua to sit up straight once more, after he’s held his head down for about twenty seconds. He remembers to tuck one of his arms behind his lower back, and pull his head slowly to the side, then when that’s done, he mirrors the stretch with his other arm.
“Thank you, noona.”
“You’re welcome. We’ll do these tomorrow, three sets, and for the next few days I think you’ll be able to handle them on your own. My visits will be weekly soon, unless you experience any worse symptoms, of course.”
“You’re still joining me for lunch though, right?”
“Of course! I never say no to food,” She winks, but then in a semi-professional confession, says, “I do have to follow you around for the rest of the day if you plan to explore. Gotta make sure you don’t experience vertigo or nausea before I let you fend for yourself.”
“I figured as much.”
Mingyu hadn’t stopped by for breakfast as he did yesterday, so Joshua is worried he scared him off. Doubly so after Wonwoo’s refusal to fess up. Yongsun wouldn’t stop saying how delicious Mingyu’s premade meals were, but Joshua found the morning soup to be far less appetizing without Mingyu there to compliment.
They didn’t head to the medical ward this time around, but instead, went in the opposite direction. It only took them five minutes before the hallways became more populated, but everyone gave them plenty of space to walk through, while some even bowed deeply towards Joshua. One masculine-looking person even burst into tears and held tightly to Joshua’s hand. No words were said, and Yongsun managed to politely ask the person to move along, but Joshua thinks knows he’s receiving puzzle pieces out of order. Memory is not ready to fully form a picture, but he’s cataloging as much as can.
“Did I help people?”
“Yes, you did,” Yongsun answers.
“And that’s how I got hurt?”
“Yes. We believe it’s best not to overwhelm patients with amnesia with their past, and medical findings support this. Your brain needs time to properly heal and its ability to store and retain information has been compromised. Although not knowing about things or people in your life is obviously frustrating, memories returning naturally is your brains’ way of saying, ‘alright, I can handle this.’ So, basically, all the staff, and the parents of your students, have been told not to bring up too much around you.”
Joshua slumps his spine in defeat, “So, what you’re saying is that you’ll only give me yes, or no’s, to whatever memories I guess or put together? No hints?”
“Yes.”
“Ugh.”
The bustling crew of Starlight continue about their business, some waving, some barely glancing up from their tablets, when the pair finally reach their first destination of the day.
“My classroom.”
Much like all of the automatic doors, this door was a light cream color, with the soft white glow of arch-lights illuminating from the side indicating that the room was open (locked doors glowed orange). Since Mingyu was set to be shepherding the children to the cafeteria at this time, Joshua thought it would be a good idea to reacquaint himself with his classroom. Each door also had a sign above it, stating their purpose; the sign above Joshua read, ‘First Grade, Mr. Hong.’
Inside, the walls are the same cream color as the door, but there are posters and drawings that burst with rainbow colors and bubble-word phrases. Animal drawings and lines of scribbled alphabets are pinned to a giant corkboard cube hovering in rotation right beside a very organized desk. The wall behind both is practically all tablet, with two toddler-sized stools set against it. In front of the desk, there’s five tinier desks and matching pink chairs, with an extra placed in the back of the room in a corner. A globe of Earth hovers and spins like the corkboard, but it’s suspended near the ceiling in the center of the room, while a hologram of the milky way twinkles around it.
Joshua presses his teeth to his bottom lip, waiting for something, anything to spark inside of him.
Wandering around for five minutes does absolutely nothing for him. After the first minute or so, Yongsun notices his struggle, and tries to engage Joshua with what he knows about the different tools and toys that are meticulously organized in name-tagged cubbies; the effort is appreciated, but altogether, useless.
Yongsun can read him a bit better now, so she keeps to herself while he’s stewing in his thoughts. They hadn’t had the pleasure of knowing one another for the duration of the trip, because Joshua is apparently healthy enough to have never needed to visit her side of the ship. They knew each other in passing; introductions between the crew members, as well as the occasional polite head nod passing each other, but other than that, no relation. Which Joshua now considers a shame on his part, as Seokmin is apparently noraebang buddies with Yongsun
“Who’s Seokmin?” Joshua didn’t feel dizzy that time. He’s even still moving after a flash-blink of an elf-eared man blinks at him.
Yongsun controls an excitable wiggle, and takes two dancing two steps ahead of him before she calms down, “That’s a mutual friend. We were in theater together at school.”
“Was I in the theater program?”
“Nope!”
Joshua sighs, feeling like that memory wasn’t very worthwhile, but brushes aside his disappointment, “You were in theater, but now you’re a nurse. Was it an elective”
Yongsun’s smile grew nostalgic, “No. I used to be a musical actor.”
“What’re you doing here, then?”
“My parents got really sick a few years back, so I started doing my own research. They got better, no worries on that count,” she pets Joshua on his arm, like soothing a cat. “But I became fascinated with how the body works, got into physical fitness much more too, and my passion just… shifted.”
She shrugs and laughs like a bell, and Joshua is left speechless. How is he surrounded by so many amazing people?
“I took two years off from the performance world to pursue schooling, to see if I could commit myself to an entirely new dream, and two years turned into three more, and now I’m here. I still love singing of course, but I just renewed my license, and my contract on the Starlight is for about three and a half more years, so, eh, I’m not really thinking that far ahead. Just living in the moment.”
“Are there any hospital-themed plays you and Seokmin could work on together?”
“Please! That boy is way too busy! His manager’s got scripts piling up– , I see what you’re doing.”
Joshua swings his arms and tilts his head, innocent as a lamb, “What am I doing?”
“Sure, sure,” Yongsun huffs and lightly pushes at his lower back a large, open doorway, “You get in there.”
The cafeteria is the biggest room Joshua has ever seen (in his memory, of course), with long, rectangular tables, cushioned benches and chairs, and there is a beautiful, sunny sky hologram above it all, with fluffy white clouds drifting along an unfelt breeze. Real potted trees and various flora line two of the walls, and their foliage hide where the hologram ends. Stationed just in front of one of the blank walls is the open kitchens where three line-cooks are bustling away, and a chef helps an attendant talk with a young child. There is a self-serve buffet with steaming, half-filled containers of food, and the cafeteria is not even half full.
Yongsun determinedly marches through it all, hungry eyes set on a stack of clean trays, so focused she misses the friendly waves thrown her way. Joshua waves as a substitute, and the crew members don’t seem off-put by her behavior. A few greet him personally, and one even says, “We should know better not to get in-between Yongsunnie and her meal-time.”
Coincidentally, the lunch menu is similar to what Mingyu served the other day, so it’s actually unfair for him to have a cornerstone for comparison. He tries the meat, the rice, the side dishes, and.
Only half as good as Mingyu’s.
Yongsun doesn’t seem to share his opinion, with her little enjoyable ‘hmmms,’ and ‘ooohs,’ so Joshua actually feels a bit bad he can’t share in her appreciation. He makes sure to take a big bite, and grin every time her brown eyes open towards him, meanwhile imagining it’s another meal he’s having. They’re strategically avoiding the very loud corner of the cafeteria, at least holding off wandering over there until both are finished eating, and Yongsun is facing the entrance in case Wonwoo or Jeonghan walk in.
Joshua ate a good two-thirds of his lunch, so now he’s pushing the leftovers around on his plate by the time Yongsun finishes slurping up her final noodle, on which she almost chokes, waving frantically over his shoulder. Joshua turns to see Minghao walking toward them, wearing a paint-splattered smock and a black head-band that holds his purple bangs neatly in place.
“Hello, noona. Shua-hyung,” Minghao brushes aside a sticky piece of rice stuck to Joshua’s cheek. “Your nurse isn’t taking care of you.”
“I’m here to pick him up if he drops, not wipe his face like a baby.”
“So you would’ve let me walk around wearing my lunch?”
She takes a haughty sip of her chocolate milk before replying, “Some people need more humility in their lives.”
When the milk leaves a mustache atop her upper lip, Joshua makes sure to level a look at Minghao, telepathically urging him not to say anything.
The three of them walk to the much quieter corner of the cafeteria, where three adults, including Mingyu, are standing above a group of coloring children, while a handful of preteens walk themselves out of the area. Mingyu sees them come closer, so he meets them in the middle. A few of the kids sneak glances at Joshua, whispering in-between each other. Joshua doesn’t recognize any of them, the photograph faces blurring together.
“Hey there,” Mingyu’s full teeth grin is horrendously charming, making Yongsun match his energy, Minghao pinches a cheek, and Joshua thinks his mouth cracks in two, like some embarrassing mimicry of them all. “We just finished eating, so now it’s art time, then we’re heading to the playground.
“The kids are excited to see you.”
“I hope I can live up to the hype.”
A tiny fist balls up the fabric of Joshua’s flowing pants, hittinging gently against his knee like a doorknock. Long, black bangs can’t cover big, hopeful brown eyes, and Joshua– .
“Seungkwannie?”
– Can’t believe he forgot him.
This precious, hard-working, and imaginative little boy, who Joshua’s made no secret to the other teachers, is his favorite. Seungkwan, for such a young mind, was able to change his opinion on– .
“You remember me?” Tears begin to flow down Seungkwan’s chubby cheeks and Joshua immediately crouches down to rub them away.
“Of course I do,” he coos. “The minute I saw your face, I knew who you were, Boo Seungkwan. You’re unforgettable.”
Seungkwan hiccups through his tears, a watery smile Joshua’s gift, and he reaches out his own tiny hand to brush at Joshua’s face. Oh no, he’s crying now too, “Teacher Shua, your face is getting sad.”
“Not sad, happy. These are happy tears, Seungkwannie.”
Joshua thinks he hears sniffling right above them, and he’s suddenly reminded of their audience. Seungkwan wraps strong koala arms around Joshua’s neck, so he has no choice but to hug him back and lift him as he stands. It’s Yongsun who is hiding her sniffles into a handkerchief, while Mingyu and Minghao are looking to Joshua with anticipatory gazes. Joshua is suddenly overcome with shame, still not able to recount anything of their past connections, so he hugs Seungkwan just a bit tighter, and looks to other students, who’re now all watching him with bated breath; the only thing stalling their race for a chaotic reunion is a feminine person with chocolate-colored hair fastened into three pig-tails. The younger children are content in their drawing books and gravity-block building, watched over by another teacher.
“Ah, that’s, ah,” Mingyu seems lost for words, and Joshua still refuses to look at him. “Teacher Minji! You can release the minions.”
And with that, the remaining four first graders tumble from their seats and race to see who will be first to hug Joshua’s waist. It’s the tiniest one of the lot, with wild black hair and a big, neon pink jersey shirt, who proclaims themself as Soyeon. The three stragglers join in the group hug, introducing themselves one by one as Vernon, Seonghwa, and Hongjoong.
“It’s a pleasure to me— see you all,” Joshua says in a rush. It’s surprisingly easy to smile down at them, his fear of feeling, well, nothing, appeased by their genuine happiness.
They had so many questions, and Joshua, thankfully, had so many bullshit answers, but all the while, Seungkwan stayed tucked securely on Joshua’s hip. Joshua couldn’t find it in himself to place the boy down, too reluctant to part from the welcome relief of familiarity. Each time Joshua had to fib just a bit, Seungkwan would cover a giggle behind his chubby hand, but his classmates never seemed to catch on.
“You get a pouty smile when you lie, teacher,” he sing-whispers, as subtly as a six year-old can.
“Ah-ha-ha-ha,” Joshua plays along, “You’re actually a little old for me to be holding, aren’t you, Seungkwannie.”
The little boy mimes zipping his lips, and burrows back into Joshua’s shoulder. Joshua fights back the sudden urge to bite his cute, cute cheeks, and catches Mingyu staring at him.
Just staring. So warm, but… lost. Minghao is watching him too. Happy, but contemplative.
Joshua knows he had a memory involving them yesterday, but it’s gone now. Just an impression of desperation. Joshua doesn’t want to associate such feelings to this moment, so he focuses back on the kids. Goes so far as to sit on the clean floor to better talk to them all, and Vernon takes the opportunity to climb into his lap and hold onto Seungkwan’s hand. Hongjoong sees this, and grabs onto Seonghwa’s hand, who grabs onto Soyeon’s, and finally, her doll-sized hand curls around two of Joshua’s fingers.
“When will you be in charge again, Teacher Shua?” Hongjoong asks.
“When the doctor says I’m healthy again.”
“Where is this doctor?” Soyeon narrows her eyes and scans the cafeteria, clearly plotting something nefarious. Her classmates look scared, but Joshua finds her threat-to-society-vibes positively adorable.
Seonghwan pets at Joshua’s nape with sticky fingers, but Joshua finds he doesn’t mind, “Does your head hurt?
“That scary man pushed you really hard.”
”Shut the fuck up!
“Teacher Shua?”
You’re gonna move out of the way, hand over Junior, and we’ll be on our way.
“Joshua-ssi?” Yongsun is kneeling in front of Joshua now, and the children are gone from him.
Joshua, bereft.
It takes another moment to fully gather himself; to see Mingyu hugging and soothing a sobbing Seonghwa, who is wailing, “Was it my fault? I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
Minji is shepherding Soyeon and Hongjoong back to the other children, who’re now openly staring at their group, but most pointedly, at Joshua, who still can’t do anything but sit prone on the cafeteria floor.
Everyone in the cafeteria was staring at them.
And Seungkwan.
Sweet Seungkwan is standing frozen and unsure just a few feet away with Vernon standing firm beside him. Minghao stood just behind them, with a hand on each shoulder.
Joshua scared him. Scared them all.
He’s so scared of what he doesn’t know.
“Joshua-ssi?”
“I want to go to bed now.”
Yongsun’s face is now entirely gentle, but serious, searching his face, but she nods immediately, “Are you able to stand?’
“Yes.”
“Alright, hold onto my arm. We’ll stand up in one, two, three, hup” Yongsun doesn’t even strain a muscle, practically lifting him up all by herself.
“Teacher Shua?” Seungkwan’s voice is strained, and far too quiet. Joshua needs to hear him laugh all over again. “Will you come back if we’re good? If we don’t ask you any more questions?”
Joshua can’t speak. His head is pounding and stars dancing white across his eyes, but reassuring Seungkwan is more important than any pain he’s suffering, “You’re good, Seungkwannie. This isn’t anyone’s fault.”
Mingyu guiltily comes over to them, Seonghwa inconsolable in his arms, “Seonghwa wants to say goodbye.”
“I’m sorry for scaring you, Seong-ah,” Joshua wishes to God he hadn’t met his kids at all today, if this simple meeting would traumatize them this horribly. “You don’t have to apologize, sweetie. You did nothing wrong.”
“Let’s go kids, c’mon, we’re back now,” Minji is walking back to them, petting Seungkwan and Vernon’s heads. She raises a sympathetic eye to Joshua, then to Mingyu as she says, “Let’s let Teacher Shua get his rest now, hmm, Teacher Mingyu? Seonghwa?”
“Oh– okay,” Seonghwa warbles, and Joshua squeezes his hand for being so brave. Mingyu brushes his own hand lightly against Joshua’s clenched fist, and then he’s gone again.
Joshua blinks, and he’s being led through the hallway. He doesn’t ponder whether or not it was pure animal fear keeping his eyes closed throughout the cafeteria, or if his memory retention truly getting worse. Minghao is with them, steadfastly holding up Joshua’s limp elbow. Joshua is stumbling, but Yongsun is holding him firm on his right.
They both tuck him into bed, seamlessly in tandem, Minghao removes Joshua’s shoes, Yongsun updates her tablet, and lowers the lights. Joshua doesn’t have the words to thank them for this devoted care, but he makes a mental (ha) note to do something worthwhile for them. Yongsun repeats her symptoms checklist, to which it takes Joshua just a minute to actually respond verbally to, instead of nodding, while Minghao pours a new glass of water and brings over pain relieving tablets.
Joshua is tired. So tired, but he cannot sleep.
Minghao stays with him throughout the quiet. Sits so still, legs crossed at the foot of the bed, and breathing deeply in through his nose, and out through his mouth. Joshua begins to copy it, because it seems soothing.
He wants to break it.
“Are you meditating?”
Mingaho’s eyes shoot open, but he keeps up his calm breathing, “I am. I picked it up in college.
“I have quite the temper.”
“You? Temper?”
Minghao laughs quick, “That’s wild.”
“What is?”
“I know you’re being completely honest with me, but it, ah, just sounds like your sarcasm voice.”
Joshua raises himself up to better talk with his friend, “Ask me anything. Anything I might know, or an opinion I can speak from the heart.”
He’s desperate for any kind of distraction right now, damn the consequences.
“I shouldn’t be asking you too many questions,” Minghao bites his bottom lip, worrying at the pink skin.
“I’m already in bed,” Joshua waves his arms at the plush comforter. “Just gimme my blanket, and if I pass out again, we’re all good. You know where the doctor is.”
Minghao gestures to the water on the side-table, wordlessly commanding Joshua to drink while he gathers up said blanket from the lounge chair. He covers Joshua up to his neck and takes his position back at the foot of the bed, “Alright. Do you like my tea?”
“No,” Joshua sticks out his tongue. “Sorry.”
“Well, I can’t be angry at you right now. That wouldn’t be fair.”
“Very true. Just look at me. I’m pathetic.”
Minghao pokes him in the forehead playfully, then continues his interrogation, “Who’s your best friend?”
“Mingyu.”
Minghao’s smile turns into a smirk, “That makes sense for now.”
“Why?”
“Uh-uh, I’m asking the questions here. Do you want to be a teacher?”
“Yes.” Joshua surprises himself with how quickly he knows this to be true.
“Did you really remember Seungkwan?”
“Of course I did. The second he came up to me,” Joshua can’t even fathom denying that truth; in fact, he even ignores Minghao opening his mouth to ask another question, because he feels self-immolating sounds like the best thing to do tonight.
“He made me realize I want kids, especially if they’re like him.”
The smile disappears from Minghao’s face.
His breathing stops entirely for a tension-filled ten seconds, and then the breathing is too harsh. Too heavy for the air between them.
Minghao is staring, unblinking, at Joshua, just like all those scared kids in the cafeteria, but he’s not scared.
“You… ,” Joshua swallows heavily, and tilts his head downward. “You said you can’t be angry with me.”
The silence is so loud now.
Joshua doesn’t know what provoked him into saying that. Even to his own addled mind, the truth of it made him feel all too vulnerable; exposed. He said something he knows would upset Minghao, but not the why of it.
“You’re right,” Minghao finally says, after what felt like an hour of severe judgment. “I can’t be angry with you.
“So I need to be angry somewhere else.”
Joshua feels cold all of a sudden, and he knows that he said something he shouldn’t have. He doesn’t know how to salvage this day, but some small part of him thinks he deserves it. “Minghao?”
“I have to go, Shua,” He’s shrugging on his jacket, and his fingers are smoothing over his pockets, back and forth, back and forth. “You need to take your medicine.”
“Minghao?” Is that Joshua’s voice? It sounds different. It sounds sad.
Minghao taps on the brown noise machine, then taps his nightstand before resting, far more woodenly, “Please take your medicine, Shua. I need to be alone right now.”
“Minghao?”
The door whooshes shut.
Joshua is alone.
It takes him another hour of stewing in his own doubts and fears before he can fall into a blessedly dreamless sleep.