Chapter Text
Sunlight filtered through the curtains in golden streaks, painting lazy patterns across the tangled sheets. The air was thick with warmth, the remnants of sleep still clinging to the quiet morning. Gi-hun stirred first, his body instinctively shifting closer to the heat beside him. A slow smile spread across his face as he turned, propping himself up on one elbow to take into the sight before him.
In-ho lay there, his features softened by sleep, his breathing deep and unhurried. Without the weight of the world resting on his shoulders, he looked so different— peaceful, younger, untouched by worry. Gi-hun’s fingers traced the curve of his jaw, featherlight, as if afraid to wake him.
His husband. His.
The thought sent a familiar ache through Gi-hun’s chest, one that whispered of love too deep to put into words.
“Are you planning my funeral?” In-ho mumbled, voice husky with sleep.
Gi-hun chuckled. “Nah, just admiring my husband.”
A single eye cracked open, a lazy smirk forming. “Sappy.”
“You married me.”
“I did,” In-ho murmured, stretching, his arms reaching above his head before he wrapped one around Gi-hun’s waist, pulling him closer. “Best decision I ever made, by the way.”
Gi-hun grinned, poking In-ho’s nose, “You’re so cheesy. I didn’t even know why I married you.”
In-ho huffed, pressing a kiss to Gi-hun’s forehead. “Because you love me.”
Gi-hun grinned. “Yeah, I do.”
In-ho hummed, tightening his arms around Gi-hun and pulling him fully into his embrace. Their legs tangled beneath the sheets as Gi-hun let himself melt into the warmth of In-ho’s body.
“You’re not allowed to get up yet,” In-ho murmured, voice still thick with sleep.
“I have work.” Gi-hun protested, chuckling as he tried to untangle himself from In-ho.
“No.”
“Honey.”
“Five more minutes.”
“We both know it won’t be five minutes.”
In-ho grinned and pressed gentle kisses starting from Gi-hun’s forehead, his eyes, nose, and cheeks before finally capturing his lips in a sweet, lingering kiss.
The slow build between them was familiar— a rhythm they had memorized over time, but one that never lost its magic.
Gi-hun hummed into it, warmth blooming in his chest as he instinctively wrapped his arms around In-ho’s neck,pulling him closer. His fingers tangled in the soft strands of In-ho’s hair, dragging him impossibly near, as if trying to fuse them together.
In-ho’s hands found Gi-hun’s waist, fingers pressing into his skin as if grounding himself in the moment. He deepened the kiss, slow and unhurried, savoring the way Gi-hun melted against him. Their breaths mingled, the kiss shifting between delicate and desperate, as if neither wanted to pull away.
Gi-hun sighed softly when In-ho tilted his head. Their tongues brushed, a tentative slide that sent shivers down Gi-hun’s spike. His body melted into In-ho’s, chest pressing against chest, their breaths mingling in the small space between them.
In-ho broke the kiss only to trail his lips down Gi-hun’s jaw, then lower, pressing kisses along his throat. His name left Gi-hun’s lips in a quiet, breathless whisper, his hands tightening in In-ho’s hair as he tilted his head to give him more access.
Then he felt the graze of In-ho’s teeth, a teasing scrape against the sensitive skin of his neck, followed by the slow, deliberate press of lips. In-ho sucked gently, just enough to leave a mark, a reminder of this moment, of him.
Gi-hun gasped, eyes fluttering shut, body shivering as he let himself get lost in the warmth, in the feeling of being loved.
In-ho exhaled softly, pleased, his tongue tracing over the fresh mark in silent apology before he kissed it again, slower this time, as if soothing the sting. His hands sliding down Gi-hun’s sides, steadying him, holding him close as if he had no intention of letting go.
“”You’re beautiful,” In-ho murmured against his skin, voice low.
Gi-hun let out a breathy laugh, his fingers lazily tracing circles on In-ho’s shoulder. “You’re just saying that because I let you bite me,” he teased, his voice playful despite the warmth in his chest.
In-ho smirked, tilting his head. “Maybe. But it doesn’t make it any less true.”
Gi-hun rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his grin. Then, without warning, he pushed against In-ho’s chest and slipped out of his grasp, darting out of bed with surprising speed.
“Hey—” In-ho barely had time to react before Gi-hun was already across the room, throwing a smug grin over his shoulder.
“Catch me if you can!” Gi-hun stuck his tongue out before making a break for the kitchen, laughing as he ran, the sheets slipping from his body in his rush.
“Seong Gi-hun!”
__________________________________________________
Breakfast was a disaster, as usual.
Gi-hun stood in front of the stove, spatula in hand, as the pancake in the pan refused to flip the way he wanted it to. With a determined huff, he tried again— only for half of it to land on the burner and the other half to flop over the edge of the pan in defeat.
In-ho, sitting at the counter with his coffee, took a slow sip, unimpressed. “You’re helpless.”
“I’m trying!” Gi-hun argued, scraping the remains onto a plate. He turned to In-ho, eyes hopeful. “It’s the effort that counts, right?”
“No.”
Gi-hun gasped, clutching his chest. “You wound me, honey .”
In-ho sighed, shaking his head as he set down his coffee. “Move.”
“But—”
“Move, honey .”
Defeated, Gi-hun stepped aside, watching as In-ho took over effortlessly, flipping pancakes with smooth precision. Without warning, Gi-hun sighed and wrapped his arms around In-ho’s waist from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder.
“This is why I married you,” Gi-hun murmured, pressing a kiss against the back of In-ho’s neck.
“For pancakes?”
“For everything.”’
While cleaning up, Gi-hun puts on music. The smooth melody of “Fly Me to the Moon” filled the kitchen, adding a soft warmth to the morning. Grinning mischievously, he grabbed In-ho’s hand and pulled him into a silly dance, twirling dramatically.
In-ho groaned, pretending to be annoyed. “You’re ridiculous.”
“But you love it,” Gi-hun teased, spinning In-ho around with exaggerated flair.
With an eye roll, In-ho gave in, catching Gi-hun off guard and spinning him in return. Gi-hun laughed, his feet stumbling slightly before In-ho steadied him by the waist. They swayed gently for a moment, the teasing fading into something softer.
Gi-hun rested his forehead against In-ho’s, voice barely above a whisper. “Promise me we’ll always be together.”
In-ho’s fingers tightened just slightly against his back, holding him just a little closer. “You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”
Gi-hun smiled, closing his eyes. “Even if I lost all my memories, I think I’d still find my way back to you.”
In-ho didn’t respond right away. When he finally did, his voice was impossibly soft, almost a vow. “And If you couldn't, I'd spend a lifetime making you remember."
__________________________________________
Gi-hun was preparing to go to work, struggling with his tie, his fingers fumbling over the knot.
In-ho sighed from where he was lounging, watching the struggle unfold with mild amusement before finally standing up. “Hopeless,” he muttered, stepping in to fix it. With ease and precision, he tied the ribbon, straightening it with a satisfied tug.
“Remind me again why you have to go to work when I’m off today?” In-ho grumbled.
“Because some of us have responsibilities,” Gi-hun teased, smoothing his shirt.
“Not all of us get the luxury of lying around all day.”
In-ho scoffed. “Excuse me? I worked overtime all week. I deserve this.”
Gi-hun chuckled, stepping closer. “Then enjoy your lazy day, honey.” He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to In-ho’s lips, slow and warm, like a promise. “Just don’t miss me too much.”
In-ho smirked against his lips. “No promises.”
With one last glance, Gi-hun grabbed his briefcase and headed for the door.
“I’ll be back later, hun .”
In-ho hummed, his gaze following him as he opened the door as if he’s committing it to memory.
“You’ll be careful out there, okay?”
“Okay.”
The office buzzed with ringing phones and muffled conversations, files stacking up on Gi-hun’s desk as the day blurred into a cycle of emails, reports and murmurs of coworkers. He was so focused that he didn’t notice that it’s lunchtime.
Until a voice called from the reception area.
“Delivery for Mr. Seong!"
Gi-hun furrowed his brows, walking over to see a neatly wrapped bouquet of daisies and a packed lunch waiting for him. A small card sat on top, handwritten with a familiar messy script.
Eat well. Don’t work too hard. Love you.
A slow smile crept onto Gi-hun’s face as he pulled out his phone, quickly dialing a number. It didn’t take long enough before the call was answered.
“Enjoying your lazy day, husband?” Gi-hun teased the moment In-ho picked up.
A chuckle came from the other end. “Depends. Are you enjoying your surprise?”
Gi-hun looked at the flowers again, warmth blooming in his chest. “You really didn’t have to.”
“I know. But I wanted to.”
“You’re so stubborn.”
“Love you too,” In-ho answered cheekily, a grin in his voice.
Gi-hun chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll see you later, okay?”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Neither of them knew it would be the last time Gi-hun would saw those words and remember their meaning.
Later that day, Gi-hun stretched at his desk, letting out a satisfied sigh as he glanced at the clock. The day had been long, filled with endless meetings and paperworks that blurred together, but none of it mattered now. He was finally done.
A smile tugged at his lips as he gathered his belongings, his heart already racing with excitement at the thought of going home— to his husband..
The familiar warmth spread through his chest as he imagined In-ho waiting for him, maybe pretending to be indifferent but secretly glancing at the door every few minutes. Maybe he’d be reading on the couch, glasses perched on his nose, looking effortlessly handsome without even trying. Or maybe he’d already started dinner, the rich aroma filling their home.
Gi-hun quickened his pace, slipping on his jacket and grabbing his keys. He didn’t care about the exhaustion settling into his bones. He just wanted to be home.
As he stepped outside, the cool evening breeze hit him, but the thought of being in In-ho’s arms again was enough to keep him warm.
He practically lunged into his car, tossing his briefcase onto the passenger seat before gripping the steering wheel with restless excitement.
The downpour was relentless today, sheets of water blurring the city lights, turning the streets into glistening rivers of red and white. His phone buzzed on the dashboard– a message from In-ho.
Drive safe.
Gi-hun smiled, warmth spreading through his chest. He kept his eyes on the road but reached out to turn up the radio, the soft hum of music filling the car. The rain pounded against the windshield, his wipers struggling to keep up.
Then, it happened.
The blinding glare of headlights appeared suddenly through the downpour. A truck, massive and unstoppable, skidded across the slick pavement, barreling straight through the red light.
Gi-hun barely had time to react.
His breath hitched, panic surging through his veins as his hands jerked the wheel. Tires screamed against the wet asphalt.
A deafening crash shattered the night– metal against metal, the force of the impact, crushing, suffocating, the world flipping as Gi-hun’s car spun violently.
His head slammed against the window, pain lancing through his skull— sharp, unbearable, drowning everything else.
For a fraction of a second, he thought of In-ho. Of his voice, his warmth, his smile, the way he always whispered “I love you’ like a quiet prayer, as if saying it enough times could keep fate from taking him away.
Then– nothing .
Just darkness, cold and endless, swallowing him whole.
_______________________________________________
The hospital smelled of antiseptic and bad coffee. A scent that clung to the air, sterile and suffocating. In-ho barely noticed as he stored through the automatic doors, his coat damp from the rain, his hair sticking to his forehead.
He had driven here on autopilot, hands gripping the wheel too tight, knuckles aching from the pressure. The rain had blurred the streets, the city lights bleeding together in his vision, but he hadn’t cared. Not when his phone buzzed with a call that turned his stomach inside out.
Accident.
That was the only word he’d needed to hear before he was out the door, moving before his mind could catch up.
At the front desk, a nurse looked up at him, startled by the intensity in his expression.
“Sir, can I help—”
“Seong Gi-hun.” His voice was even, controlled, but his fingers curled into fists at his sides. “Where is he?”
The nurse hesitated, glancing at her monitor. “Are you family?”
“Yes.” No hesitation. No room for argument.
She nodded, typing quickly before looking up. “He’s in ICU, Room 456. He was brought in unconscious.”
Unconscious.
The word sent a spike of fear through his chest, sharp and unrelenting. He turned before she could say anything else, his legs carrying him down the too-bright hallway, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. His breath was short, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
When he reached the door, he hesitated for a fraction of a second before pushing it open.
And there he was.
Gi-hun.
The love of his life.
Still. Pale. Machines beeping softly beside him, an oxygen mask covering part of his face. A fresh bandage wrapped around his forehead, dark bruises forming along his arms.
For a moment, In-ho couldn’t move.
He had seen Gi-hun in a hundred different ways— grinning like an idiot, laughing until he couldn’t breathe, pouting dramatically over something ridiculous. Even angry, teasing, vulnerable. But never like this.
Never so… lifeless.
He swallowed, forcing himself forward. His fingers twitched at his sides, aching to touch him, to do something, but he felt useless. Instead, he dragged the chair closer and sat down, his eyes never leaving Gi-hun’s face.
“Idiot,” he muttered under his breath, his eyes glistening with tears, voice rough. “You just had to go and get yourself into trouble.”
The silence stretched on. The only answer was the steady beep of the heart monitor.
So he waited.
And waited.
He waited for hours—hours—clinging to the hope that Gi-hun would open his eyes and flash that lopsided smile, maybe grumble something sarcastic about hospital smell, or maybe complain about how stiff the bed was. Anything that would reassure him that this was just another scrape, another close call, and not something worse.
Until finally, Gi-hun moved.
It was small at first— a faint twitch of his fingers, the slightest wrinkle of his brow. Then a soft, pained inhale as his eyelids fluttered open.
Relief crashed through In-ho so suddenly he almost lost his breath. He leaned forward immediately.
“Gi-hun,” he said, his voice softer now, almost desperate.
Gi-hun’s unfocused gaze shifted toward him. He blinked slowly, his lips parting as if trying to form words.
In-ho exhaled shakily. “Hey, you’re okay. I’m here.”
Gi-hun stared at him for a long moment. His brows furrowed slightly. Then, in a hoarse, confused voice, he asked—
“...Who are you?”
The words settled in In-ho’s chest like ice, freezing him in place.
He stared at Gi-hun, waiting—praying—for some kind of hesitation, some flicker of realization in his eyes.
But there was nothing.
Just confusion, hollow and cruel, where love used to live.
Gi-hun didn’t know him.
Didn’t recognize him.
For the first time, In-ho was neither a lover nor a husband— just a stranger in the eyes of the man he loved.