Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Suho wakes up and the world is upside down. The calendar hanging on the wall is all wrong, his grandma’s face is older, his own face looks like it doesn’t fit and he still doesn’t understand why he’s stuck in a hospital bed, wired to the nines to an incessant beeping machine next to him. Like a clueless bug stuck in a spiderweb.

“The year is 2025,” the doctors tell him when Suho fails to answer that question correctly, which is ridiculous because it is not, that would mean he’s a senior in high school when yesterday he was only a freshman.

“It’s a prank,” he thinks aloud, nagging the nurses next to his bed to give up the act. “It’s a birthday prank, right?”

Two years of his life just wasted, gone from his fingertips and he doesn’t even remember what happened.

Suho stares at himself in a nondescript mirror one of the nurses provided him with. Next to his bed, below the window (best seat in the house, according to the nurse with the kind smile) is his grandmother, much calmer than days before when Suho woke up earthside with his reality all warped. She’s knitting something, ignoring Suho’s protests about her arthritis. She should listen to him; the damn condition couldn’t have gotten better in the two years that have passed.

Suho pokes the skin under his eyes. Then, he touches his cheeks, feels the short hairs on his jaw. He wonder if he managed to grow a beard in those months he’s missing. His chin looks sharper without the baby fat he sported just days before but he’s soft all around, soft and weak, somehow lankier than a beansprout.

The doctors told him it would take time to rebuild his previous stamina and then they listed all the physical and mental therapy he would need to attend before his discharge date but he zoned out halfway through, exhausted by the world he found himself in.

He wishes his friends were here. With grandma being his only tether to the real world, the one he thinks he still knows; he finds himself going stir-crazy in this disinfected, blindingly-white place.

“Grandma,” he says, putting the mirror down onto the blanket. He looks at her and it still catches him off-guard – the added wrinkles to her face, the greyer hair, another layer of worry that Suho seemed to have personally etched into her.

“Yes, dear?” she replies, looking up from her work. Suho thinks she’s knitting socks for him. They look slightly too big for him but what does he know about his own body anymore?

“Have… uh,” he pauses. Disentangling his fuzzy thoughts and voicing them to someone whose marbles seem to be in one place isn’t easy. Thankfully, Suho’s grandmother has always been patient, even without his brain injury in the equation. “Can I see any of my friends?”

It’s a long shot and he knows it. Two years is no small feat. Suho has missed semesters and seasons and quarters and however else people like to divide their years. If his friends have moved on in the meantime, Suho can’t find it within himself to blame them. It stings, the very thought that he was left behind but he can’t think like that.

Sheesh, he thinks suddenly, maybe he really is almost three years older if his sudden maturity is anything to go by.

His grandmother pauses with her ministrations. Suho’s stomach drops.

He’s right. Nobody waited for him.

“Well, I don’t know if… “ his grandmother starts, pauses once again. Smacks her lips in thought. Suho struggles to let go of his breath.

She faces him with eyes that Suho distinctly remembers (and isn’t that an achievement in these trying times?) seeing on her when his parents left him for the last time, no goodbyes or anything. Okay. He survived it once and he can do it again.

“There is someone but I don’t know if you remember him,” his grandmother supplies with her pitying expression.

Huh.

It’s better than nothing, right? It’s more that his parents have ever given him.

“Who is it?” Suho immediately asks, sits up in his seat as much as his body allows him. His joints ache and all of his limbs are half-limp, like they haven’t fully woken up yet. Is it so difficult to get on with the program?

His grandmother smiles at him. “His name is Sieun. I can tell him to visit you tomorrow if you want?”

“Yes, yes, please,” Suho blurts before he can even think about it. “He’d to that?”

Her smile grows even bigger. “He was here almost every day when you were…” she doesn’t finish, eyes flitting away briefly to the machine he’s still attached to. It beeps back in mockery.

“Really?” Suho interrupts, his manners still in deep-sleep. He has a friend like that?

His grandmother nods a little wobblily and Suho realizes she’s about to cry. With the reflexes of a new-born giraffe, Suho reaches for nearby tissues and immediately slams his hands into the bed railing, filling the room with a metallic clang.

“Ouch,” he groans, willing his hands back so he can rub them. His grandmother’s tears are momentarily delayed, for she is busy jumping to her feet and rubbing Suho’s hurt hands.

“Suho!” she exclaims, pulling the hands closer to her face so she can inspect them. “You heard the doctors; you have to be more careful!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says with the intend of waving her off but his hands are preoccupied. “Anyway, this guy, Sieun? He came every day?”

His grandmother lowers their hands and there it is again, the uneven nod, eyes filling with tears. Suho chooses not to offer her tissues this time. One more unfortunate collision and he’s joining the crying party.

“He worried so much,” his grandmother says and sighs. “He came here from… from… oh, I forgot the city! But he travelled to Seoul just to visit you.”

Well. Suho from almost two years ago scored gold, it seems. Hopefully this friend is still happy to hang out with Suho who has gaps in his memory and can’t seem to move his own body like he’s supposed to.

“Yeah, call him, tell him to come tomorrow, I wanna meet him,” Suho nods with as much energy as he can muster.

The next day, his grandmother is in the same spot under the window and Suho is positively buzzing in his wretched place in bed. The nurse told him he would be starting physical therapy within days, once they’ve run all the tests imaginable. Suho, who feels like an undercooked noodle, cannot wait for it.

Grandma told him she had explained Sieun everything – how much Suho remembers (practically nothing after the beginning of high school), how well his body is doing (apparently stiff yet limp is a miracle, if we want to quote Suho’s team of doctors) and when to come visit (now).

Suddenly, as if on cue, there’s a knock on the door. Suho jumps in his spot and then winces. His nerve endings like to bitch at him like that sometimes. He moves one part of his body and then a different part decides to ache, like some neural game of Marco Polo.

Through the entrance comes a boy, Suho’s age (the current one), slightly shorter than Suho (if the new length of Suho’s legs is to be trusted) with beautiful beautiful eyes. Something in Suho flips at the sight and it’s not an underused nerve ending this time.

He’s gorgeous. He looks serious with his bangs growing towards his eyes and he’s hunched, stance screaming DISCOMFORT and Suho can’t look away. He’s in his school uniform, his backpack situated high on his back. He looks like a sad turtle. Suho’s heart thuds against his chest. Thank God the nurses unhooked most of him from the machine yesterday because it would be screeching right now, trying to match the beats of Suho’s heart.

His grandmother never did tell Suho who Sieun is exactly and Suho prays to whichever entity is listening that this better not be his long-lost cousin or something.

In case of that, Suho will have much bigger problems than an uncooperative body and spotty memory.

“Grandma,” Suho croaks, eyes still glued to the newcomer stuck in the doorway. He, Sieun, stares back. He’s wide-eyed, looks like he’s seen a ghost and Suho just hopes he lives up to his expectations.

Suho’s grandmother looks up and lets out a pleased hum. “Sieun!” she says and rounds Suho’s bed to throw her arms around the frozen boy. Suho gulps. There’s still a chance it’s a long-lost cousin Suho somehow reconnected with in the few months his brain has chosen to forget. God forbid. Gritting his teeth, Suho crosses his fingers. It’s wonky, his fingers mainly pressing into each other but it’s the thought that counts, no?

The hug from Suho’s grandmother seems to relax the boy a fraction but not enough to make him look less like a spooked animal. He still hasn’t looked away from Suho.

Suho’s grandmother steps back and looks between the two boys. Once again, there are tears in her eyes. Save it for the wedding, grandma!

Suho would attempt retrieving tissues but if he slams the bed railing in front of the boy, he’s asking the nurses to put him into another coma.

Too soon?

Anyway.

As if reading Suho’s mind, Sieun reaches in his blazer pocket and fishes out a packet of tissues.

“Here you go, ma’am,” he mutters, eyes flicking between her and Suho, as if he cannot decide who is more worthy of his attention. MEEEEE, Suho’s useless brain provides.

“Oh,” Suho’s grandmother says wetly and dabs a tissue to her tear ducts. “Oh, my boys,” she adds. There are mismatched splotches of red adorning her cheeks – a thing that happens when she gets too flustered. Suho is so glad to see it, the familiarity of it all.

“Hi,” Sieun suddenly says, staring at Suho. He has a beautiful voice, Suho finds himself thinking.

Before he can return the greeting, Suho’s grandmother steps forward, one hand on Sieun’s shoulder, eyes flicking between her grandson and the newcomer. “Suho, this is Sieun, he’s your – “

A shrill ringtone, unmistakeably his grandmother’s, cuts through the air. Suho’s pesky little neurons decide to form a headache from that sound alone.

“Oh,” his grandmother gasps, pulling her phone out of the pockets. It takes a few agonizing (read: loud) tries to open her phone but she succeeds in the end. “Oh, Suho, I have to take this, I’m sorry,” she says and hurries out, down the hallway, out of sight.

The room is blissfully quiet with that ringtone nowhere near.

The boy, Sieun, is still staring. God, he’s got gorgeous sad eyes. So big and sad. Suho’s hand is cramping from crossing his fingers but he’s not giving up. He’s going to will this handsome boy out of his family tree if he has to.

They exchange looks for another long moment before Suho breaks it with: “I’m sorry, I don’t remember you.”

Best to be honest, Suho doesn’t want any misunderstandings.

It seems it’s not necessarily the wrong thing to say but it isn’t exactly a great conversation starter either. The boy blinks at the statement and nods. His eyes are still so sad. Like a baby cow’s.

Reminder for all that Suho suffered a great brain injury.

“We were in the same class together,” Sieun tells him slowly, still stuck one step in front of the entrance.

“You’re in my class?” Suho asks. There’s still a chance they’re related but something tells him they’re not. Might be that brain injury of his.

The boy pauses for a millisecond and then shakes his head. “No,” he says. “I moved schools.”

Suho frowns. “Oh,” he lets out. “But we met...?”

Sieun tentatively steps forward. “We used to be in the same class.”

That clears it up a little. Not enough though, not enough for the feelings that are squeezing Suho’s insides every time the boy meets his eyes. To clear his conscience and maybe piece together some of his past, he asks: “So, we’re not cousins or anything?”

The question catches Sieun off-guard, even unravels some of the sadness from his look. Suho is taking that win, thank you very much.

“N-no?” Sieun answers, looking at Suho as if he has two heads. Maybe he does. It would take several heads to house all the thoughts that are firing off in his brain at the sight of the boy. Jesus Christ. Suho is ill-equipped for this state.

“Good, great,” Suho exhales and lets himself melt into the cushions. He may be fucked up for life physically, if not psychologically but at least his moral compass is intact. He flexes his hand that was busy with crossing the fingers. “I was worried.”

“Why were you worried we were cousins?” Sieun asks immediately, head slightly cocked to the side.

He’s adorable. He’s adorable and gorgeous at the same time. Suho is so glad they’re not related because he can now unabashedly think of every pretty adjective that Sieun fits.

Suho waves him off with his feeble hand. “Just brain injury things,” he says and tries to aim a cocky smile at the boy but Sieun’s face suddenly crumples. Shit, fuck.

It’s a cruel reminder not everyone experienced Suho’s coma between one breath and the next like him.

“I’m sorry,” Suho adds hurriedly because it feels the right thing to say. He still doesn’t quite understand how he ended up here but it must have been traumatizing for Sieun if he found himself here every day for nearly two years.

Sieun shakes his head and approaches Suho’s bed, one shuffling step at the time. “No, it’s… “ he starts and stops, both in step and talking. He looks up from his shoes at Suho, a miniscule smile tugging his lips upwards. “I should’ve known you’d make a joke out of it.”

Suho matches his smile, testing the waters. “Yeah? Is that good?”

The smile on Sieun’s face grows in size. Suho’s insides are vibrating.

“Yeah,” Sieun replies, the smile still there, get the cameras! “It means you’re… you.”

Suho grins at him, all teeth and gums, face slightly protesting at the sudden stretch. “Thank you,” he tells Sieun which elicits an even wider smile from the boy. Suho’s heart sings.

“How are you feeling?” Sieun asks and comes closer to the bed. One step more and he’ll be running into the bed railing. Suho itches to pull him closer.

“Everything hurts and I’m confused,” Suho blurts out, rolling his eyes to ease the gravity of his statement. Suho is not above sacrificing a bit of his honesty to keep the smile on Sieun’s face. “But I’ll get better with time, they’ve got me scheduled for many things already. I’m like a celebrity. Get your meet and greet now before I’m too famous and expensive.”

He’s babbling, he’s well aware but the nurses told him he’s meeting a speech therapist later and Suho fully intends on impressing them with the abilities of his tongue.

Wait.

Not like that.

Unless it’s with Sieun.

“Do you want a hug?” Suho babbles out, stutters a bit on the last word.

Sieun visibly falters at that, smile long gone. “A hug?”

Suho shrugs, his shoulders screaming at him with the movement. He ignores it. “Yeah, you know how people hug at meet and greets?”

Sieun’s blank expression serves as his answer.

“Anyway,” Suho quickly adds, never one to lose to silence. “Don’t we usually hug?”

Suho isn’t even aware he posed a loaded question when Sieun’s face suddenly flushes, from his neck to the tips of his ears. Interesting.

Sieun clears his throat, steps back half a step. The air between them grows heavy with tension.

Very interesting.

Suho is a very touchy person and he doubts that changed in the year that he conveniently forgot. If Sieun is his friend, he must be used to Suho’s tactile antics, right? Suho’s a hugger, a cuddler, pets his friends’ hair, offers his lap as a seat, his arm as a cushion, throws winks and finger hearts when they’re out of reach. He’s annoying like that.

Unless…

Oh, my…

What if Sieun is more than just Suho’s friend? It would explain the amount of feelings that are stringing Suho’s insides apart at the sight of the boy. Suho’s had crushes and this is something much stronger.

Yes, it is important to note Suho is currently on multiple medication but these kind of feelings aren’t lab-made, thank you very much.

Suho peers at the tomato-red Sieun. He’s not meeting his eyes, is keener on boring holes into the dull hospital linoleum. He’s embarrassed, Suho realises.

Suho rewinds the very short tape that is his memory.

Sieun visited him every day for almost two years even though he lives in a different city. They’re in different schools now but they used to be classmates. They’re not cousins, that much is confirmed. Suho’s grandmother seems to adore Sieun. He’s gorgeous and apparently the love of Suho’s life, if we use his bodily reactions as proof.

Oh, my God.

They’re boyfriends.

Suho forgot his boyfriend.

Okay, okay, this is still salvageable. Suho’s not getting dumped just because his brain is slow on the uptake. He’s bagged this gorgeous boy once; he can charm him again!

If only he remembered what kind of couple they were! Are! It’s an ongoing relationship!

Suho clears his throat after that brief pause. “I’m not contagious, if that’s what worries you,” he says and smiles again, just to ease the burning Sieun in front of him.

It seems to slightly ease the tension from Sieun’s posture. The boy slides forward again, cheeks stilly rosy, eyes struggling to meet Suho’s. “I know you’re not contagious,” he says simply.

Suho snorts. Between the two of them, Suho seems to be the flirter. That’s okay, he can measure up to that task.

“Then,” he smirks when he finally catches Sieun’s eyes. “please remove the railing and give me a hug. I’m meant to be exercising my grip anyway.”

Suho throws in a wink for extra measure which only reddens Sieun’s cheeks. Oh, yeah, Suho isn’t losing his boyfriend any time soon. He can romance him incapacitated, too. This is definitely going into the wedding vows.

Suho must have said the right thing because Sieun wastes no time to gently slide the railing down alongside the bed. Then, he stops, looks up at Suho and stares.

Right. Suho is the touchy one, he should initiate. Make the disabled one do everything, huh, Sieun?

Regardless, Suho tries to scoot closer to the edge of the bed but he still hasn’t got full control of his taint so he just winces in his same old spot, unmoved. Before shame can take root and ruin Suho’s courting, he forces a grin at Sieun and stretches his arms as wide as they can go. “Hurry up, my arms are starting to shake,” he says a bit manically, already trembling from exertion.

Sieun’s eyes widen at the sight but he still moves slowly, as if Suho will fly away if he breathes closer to him. To Suho’s delight, Sieun is short so he doesn’t give reach Suho enough to tuck his chin behind his shoulder. Never one to do things half-assed, Suho grabs Sieun’s shoulders once they’re within reach and pulls himself closer to the boy.

It’s a mighty task because Sieun freezes on the spot, hands hovering over Suho’s wriggling body. Still, Suho reaches his destination – a few inches closer to the edge, right in Sieun’s orbit. It only takes a few awkward seconds.

To exile the unpleasant air, Suho uses the last of his strength to squeeze his arms around Sieun’s much closer shoulders, chin tucked into his shoulder, face pressing into his.

The boy in Suho’s hold doesn’t let up. He’s stiff as a board, as if Suho’s embracing a mannequin.

Did Suho misread the whole thing? Did he just manhandle an innocent boy, just a platonic friend who unfortunately waited two years to be knocked around by an amnesiac?

Sieun’s barely breathing. Suho can feel Sieun’s jack-rabbity heartbeat from where he’s pressed against him. His face is red again, warmer where Suho’s is touching him.

Nah, that’s a reaction of a yearning boyfriend who just got hugged by his long-lost partner.

After an eternity, Sieun returns the hug with stunted movements, hands landing on Suho’s back in increments. First one finger, then two, more, a palm, then some pressure, then the two of them are finally wrapped around each other.

Suho finds himself exhaling. This is nice. His heart is happily beating in his chest, even though every muscle in him is protesting at the stretch, the effort, the inconvenience. He ignores it. He’ll have plenty of time later to feel everything.

Sieun’s school uniform smells like outside. Suho hasn’t been out yet, it’s only been a few days since he woke up. He hopes Sieun will want to go out with him. Given the state of the boy in Suho’s hold, he doesn’t seem keen on PDA. He’s still rigid, breath coming out in short spurts, heart trying to knock its way out of his chest cavity.

To spare the boy any more humiliation (what will become of Sieun if a nurse sees them hug? the horror!), Suho relaxes, lets his arms limp beside him unceremoniously. He leans back, peers at Sieun’s flushed face. They immediately meet eyes.

“You don’t remember me?” Sieun asks all of a sudden, tone hurried, eyes wild. Suho frowns at him.

“Um, no,” he answers dumbly.

Sieun steps back, the front of his uniform rumpled both by the bed and an enthusiastic Suho. “Right,” he says, eyes briefly going to the machine behind Suho, then back at him. “But you hugged me?”

It takes a lot for Suho not to laugh into his precious face – all pulled taut, eyes sparkling in the shitty afternoon sun, lips gnawed on. It would take very little to lean in and press his lips against Sieun’s.

He doesn’t.

The hug almost took the poor boy out. Suho’s not pushing his luck. Maybe when they’re more alone next time.

“Suho?” Sieun’s lovely voice breaks him out of his stupor. He looks up, realizes he’s been staring at Sieun’s lips. Suho instinctually licks his lips as he looks away.

“Um,” he starts, clueless what his next sentence will be. “I just wanted to hug you.”

It appears to be the right thing to say again because Sieun smiles again, cheeks bunched up, eyes unsure where to land. Suho wonders if he could blame his condition on accidentally leaning down and resting his lips against Sieun’s. It would take a moment only.

God, he’s so gone on this boy. He has to let him know. No brain injury and multi-year coma can erase his feelings! They hibernated with him.

Suho opens his mouth, eye flicking between Sieun’s lips and eyes, ready to say something mushy that will earn him Sieun’s rosy cheeks and smiles. It’ll be incredibly romantic. Suho would go down on one knee if his face wasn’t also guaranteed an immediate meeting with the floor.

“I’m here, I’m here,” Suho’s grandma sing-songs as she comes down the hallway. “My bank called, I had to – “

Suho stops listening, too focused on the way Sieun jumps away from the bed, putting a foot between himself and Suho. He turns towards Suho’s grandmother when she enters the room, eyes betraying his panic.

Thankfully, Suho’s grandmother doesn’t notice, just squeezes Sieun’s arm as she passes him, babbles about her bank and whatever else the phone call was about.

Interesting. Sieun really dislikes PDA.

Suho will respect that boundary. The coma didn’t impair his manners after all.

Suho truly, really, from the bottom of his heart to the end of the world, appreciates his grandmother.

She’s a very talkative lady in her nature, someone who taught Suho everything when it comes to not shutting up.

She sits Sieun down into one of the chairs available in the room, makes him scoot closer to Suho’s bed and then suffocates him with a thousand and one question. Suho is eternally grateful for the exposition she is providing him with. If it were up to Suho to lead the interview, he’d twirl his overgrown hair at Sieun and ask him whether he comes here often.

Which he does, the worst of all.

“Sieun, how’s school going?” Suho’s grandmother asks at first and Suho gets to find out that his boyfriend is not only a looker but also a nerd. A proper ‘nose-in-the-books’ nerd. In a few shorts sentences, Sieun lets the room know he won first place on a physics competition. Next week, he has to prepare for the regional chemistry competition. Suho swoons in his spot in the bed. He can help him practice chemistry winky face winky face.

“Have you thought about university yet?” is the following question and Suho’s stomach briefly drops because oh. Right. He’s supposed to be at that age now.

“I’m still deciding,” Sieun answers then, calm and collected, a stark difference from earlier when Suho smothered him.

“What are you thinking?” Suho chimes in just to say something, just to banish his doom and gloom thoughts about the passage of time and whatnot.

Sieun’s eyes slide over to Suho. It feels like such a novelty, each time, to have those intense eyes focused on him. Suho wants to preen under his sight.

“Maybe I’ll pursue medicine,” he replies, something solemn slipping into his already serious tone.

Suho has a dozen of innuendos ready to fire off his tongue – I can be your specimen, touch me, prod me, by all means get to know my insides – but with his grandmother mere meters away he bites his tongue and smiles instead.

“That sounds lovely, Sieun,” Suho’s grandmother says and Suho nods. That will suffice, yes.

Suho’s grandmother continues to pester the boy about his parents – apparently a sore topic if Sieun’s sudden cold gaze is up for interpretation – about his health (Sieun’s suspiciously tight-lipped about that, Suho will investigate once the fog of infatuation lets rational thought have a spin in his brain for a change), about friends in his school.

“Yes, I have friends,” Sieun answers and Suho quirks an eyebrow, though no one in his present company notices. “They’re great.”

“Oh, Sieun, that’s wonderful,” Suho’s grandmother gushes as Suho realizes he’s missing a chapter, if not more. Just more for him to investigate later on, no rush.

There’s a lull in conversation as Suho’s grandmother finishes her interrogation. Sieun doesn’t look like he talks in excess like the Ahns in front of him so Suho decides to take the mantle until his mouth gives up on him.

“Sieun – “

“Suho – “

Both boys stop. Suho’s grandmother chuckles in the background.

“Uh, you go ahead,” Suho beckons Sieun who has gone slightly red. Sieun curtly nods back, all wide-eyed and beautiful. Suho’s starting to hate his brain for forgetting him.

“What did the doctors tell you?” Sieun asks, short and to the point. Suho turns to his grandmother on instinct. He’d love to engage in a conversation with his boyfriend but truth to be told, Suho is still connecting all the dots that is his situation and diagnosis.

“Well, he’s got, uh,” Suho’s grandmother jumps in swiftly, recognizing Suho’s struggles. “amnesia, they said. Retro – retro, uh, I think it says on his form, something like – “

“Retrograde amnesia?” Sieun asks. God, he’s smart. Brains and looks and he chose Ahn Suho to wait for for two years?

“Yes!” Suho’s grandmother claps her hands softly.

“Apparently I don’t remember almost a year before the accident,” Suho supplies quickly, just to feel like a participant of this conversation regarding him.

Sieun looks at him as if that fact personally stomped on his feet. Suho stares back, hopes to convey tell me what I’m forgetting, when did we meet, how did we meet, why can’t I remember you.

Sieun switches his eyes to Suho’s grandmother as Suho sags in disappointment. To the outer eye it just looks like his back muscles decided they’ve had enough of holding him up.

“Did they say if he’ll get his memory back?” Sieun asks. His voice is stable but, again, the eyes! No wonder he barely speaks when his eyes communicate more than any dictionary could hope to. Suho is starting to see why they match so well – he gets to babble all he likes and his boyfriend doesn’t hog any speaking lines, just gives him a look and all is understood. Beautiful.

“Well,” Suho’s grandmother sighs, coincidentally pulling Suho out of his daydream. “The prognosis is good, it’s already a miracle that he’s as cognizant as he is,” she says, leaning over to squeeze Suho’s hand. “so, they believe his memory will come back as time passes but they can’t know when.”

Opposite her, Sieun nods. “That’s understandable.”

The room falls silent once again. Outside, the sun is starting to set. Suho realizes he’s exhausted. He hasn’t moved much today, not when he’s under instruction to gain some strength back before physical therapy starts but his body is weak, limbs cooperating less and less. He’s sinking into the mattress more with each breath. It feels nice to relax, to let go. He wishes Sieun would stay nearby all the time. Though, it’s getting dark, if he needs to go home, it’s best he leaves now. If anything happens to him, how will Suho know? Better yet, how will Suho protect him? He can’t even stand on his feet without swaying and kissing the floor within seconds.

Suho belatedly realizes the conversation did continue, he just checked out, eyes naturally landing on Sieun’s lovely form. He’s been slurring something, probably letting his inner monologue leak out into the world. Sieun stares back at him, slightly concerned.

A warm hand cups Suho’s cheek. It’s calloused yet soft – his grandmother.

“Suho,” she coos next to him. He lolls his head towards her. “Get some sleep, you did a lot today,” she tells him. He can’t even see her. Either the room has gone dark or he closed his eyes. He’s not sure. He wonders if Sieun will come tomorrow again. He should ask him before he leaves. He really should…

The next time Suho wakes up, he’s alone in the room. It’s dark outside. The only light in his room is the one spilling out of the hallway.

Suho squints around the room. On the chair below the window, grandma left her knitting. The chair Sieun used is neatly placed back where it was next to the entrance. Suho wonders whether he’ll visit again soon.

Suho hopes he didn’t freak him out too much today with his antics. It’s just that Suho feels like a hollow ragdoll and the sight of Sieun is like a battery that suddenly livens up his insides and he’s left flailing around his limbs uncontrollably. Something like that. That line isn’t making it into the wedding vows.

Suho wishes he had his phone with him. Logically, grandma was given all of his belongings while he was busy taking a two-year siesta and she still hasn’t brought any of it to him. Though, who knows if Suho is even cleared to burn his retinas on bright pixels. Not to mention, his graphomotor skills suck ass, who knows whether he’s strong enough to even unlock his phone, let alone browse through it.

Suddenly, a nurse saunters into his room. It’s one with the kind eyes. Suho tries to peek at her scrubs to catch her name but she moves fast. She clicks the night light next to his bed, grabs his file from the foot of the bed and then crosses all three steps it takes to reach the machine that has minimized its beeping since a few days ago.

“Feeling good, Suho?” she asks with no preamble, eyes going from his file to the random numbers the machine shows.

“Oh, yeah, yeah,” Suho nods, still half asleep. “Could go for a jog once the sun is up.”

The nurse snorts and shoots Suho an eyeroll. “I saw Sieun visited,” she says and then faces him with a teasing grin. “Gonna jog with him?”

For some inexplicable reason, Suho finds himself blushing. 

“You know Sieun?” he asks, the heat reaching his ears. The damn night light is probably making him look redder than he is.

The nurse looks away, eyes the machine again. “We’ve been seeing him ever since you came here. Everybody knows your Sieun.”

Your Sieun.

Suho’s heart stutters in his chest. Something tells him it isn’t an undiagnosed heart condition that his coma left in its wake and it’s something else entirely, perhaps something he has dragged with himself from this previous life that he can’t remember.

“Oh,” he just says. There’s his heart thudding and then there’s panic pooling into the very space below it. He’s going to ruin the best thing he’s ever accomplished for himself. Sieun waited by his bedside for a guy who remembered him, knew how to treat him and make him laugh and love him and here’s Suho who doesn’t know any of that.

He knows how to work three jobs, drive a motorbike and sleep through an entire school day. He knows how to throw a punch and evade one coming at him. He knows how to make his grandmother laugh. That’s all.

Nurturing a relationship with a boy way out of his league? Please, Suho can’t even hold a spoon and eat soup by himself.

He’s going to fuck it all up. He wasted two years of a poor boy’s life. He –

“Suho? Are you okay?” the nurse leans over the railing all of a sudden, one hand flying to his forehead, another to his chest. Suho chokes on his saliva in surprise. It doesn’t help his situation.

The room, the stupid room he’s prisoner in, feels smaller, bathed in the yellow glow of the night lamp. The windows are pitch black. The machine is beeping. He’s trapped under the blanket. His legs are weak. His body is weak. His head feels both empty and overflowing with thoughts, weighing him down until he wishes for another coma, just so he doesn’t have to feel all of this.

He tries to breathe. The nurse takes his hand and presses it against her chest. Suho can feel air filling her lungs, can feel it leave a moment later. His attempts at copying are unstable but he tries, gulps down as much air as he can, breathes out, coughs.

It takes a few minutes to calm down but Suho succeeds, staring at the nurse’s eyes the entire time. He’s an embarrassment. Thank God Sieun isn’t here to witness it.

“Yup, deep breath in, you got it,” the nurse tells him, though he’s zoned her out, thoughts still spinning in a whirlpool of his self-made despair. “And out, great, keep going.”

It’s another few minutes until the nurse deems Suho stable enough to breathe without her guidance. Then, she scribbles something on his file, hooks it to the bed again and turns off the night lamp.

“Good night, Suho,” she tells him in a much gentler voice from before. Suho realizes he still hasn’t got her name. “Everything will be okay.”

Once she’s far enough down the hallway, Suho barely drags himself so his back faces the door and bursts into tears.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep.

Chapter Text

Physical therapy is ­horrendous.

Suho was wheeled into a room filled with mats of various sizes, countless bars, steps, weights, treadmills and whatnot. For a moment, Suho felt like he was back at practice, back when he hadn’t had to spend his free time delivering food around town and then speeding back through afternoon rush to clean up dishes.

The wheelchair under him, the smiling trainer in front of him and the tumult of anger that had been brewing since he had woken up reminded him he was no longer that boy. Not even close.

The trainer was a tall, muscular man who cracked jokes at everything. Distantly, he reminded Suho of himself.

Suho tried to swallow down his anger – it wasn’t the man’s fault Suho ended up this way, but the constant reassurances when he almost face-planted during the first exercise and the nicknames, quips, perpetual cheery tone had Suho taking a swing at the bar he slipped from again.

In another life, in a different reality where Suho got to stay as he was, a strong boy who could defend himself until teeth were missing and more, he would’ve hit the bar with immaculate precision.

He missed. He missed and nearly landed himself onto the mat, chin ready to hit it first. The smiling trainer caught him in time, hauled him back carefully to the benches on the side and plopped him on it. Like he weighed nothing.

Which was true. Gone were his muscles he had put years of effort in, gone was the fat cushioning them, the courtesy of his grandma’s cuisine and the restaurant he had worked at. His face was hollow, his ribs poking out, his legs weak and unstable.

That was 10 minutes ago. Suho is in time-out until he calms down. It’s stupid. He’s allowed to be angry about the situation.

To be fair, the trainer did try to soothe him with more breathing exercises and motivating words but Suho ignored all of it, deciding boring a hole into the offending bar across the room was a much better deescalating tactic.

The trainer left him alone after that and busied himself with tinkering around the machines.

Suho refuses to look at him. His body hurts. He has so many medals and trophies in his room and his body hurts from squeezing a fucking bar over and over. He needs to find out what or who did this to him.

“Can I go now?” Suho asks gruffly, as if he can even reach the wheelchair he came in. It’s several metres away and Suho can barely stand up, especially after that tiring session.

The trainer whirls around from a cupboard filled with dumbbells. “Hmm? Oh, no, no,” he says with a smile. Like a Cheshire cat. “We’re not done yet.”

It’s only good manners that his grandmother carved into him that stop Suho from rolling his eyes at the man.

“I don’t like this,” Suho admits just because he has to say something, react somehow.

The trainer nods as he approaches him. “You’re not gonna like it for a long time. But that’s okay.”

Suho grits his teeth. It’s not fucking okay.

“Let’s just get it over with,” Suho says instead and lets the man get him back to the original place.

He misses his friends from practice. He misses the artificial smell of the mats and the disinfectant used on the bars at his old gym. He misses knowing his body. He misses his body. He just misses so much.

When Suho opens his eyes again, it’s still day out. He returned from his first physical therapy session just before noon and conked out immediately. It’s humiliating.

Before he can go back to feeling like the epitome of garbage, his stomach growls. Right, he missed lunch. What are the chances Suho woke up closer to dinnertime so he doesn’t have to pester the nurses for some crackers?

He looks sideways to catch sight of the clock above the entrance when he sees him.

Sieun.

Sieun sitting in the chair next to the entrance, scribbling away in his notebook that’s perched on his lap. He hasn’t noticed Suho’s awake presence just yet.

Suho uses the opportunity to stare at him. Between fuming because of his state and feeling exhausted by every little thing, thinking of Sieun provides significant respite. It’s funny,  if you look at it from a certain angle, how Suho doesn’t remember a thing about this boy and yet, whenever his thoughts migrate to him, he feels much better. However, if Suho dwells too much on the fact he doesn’t remember him, he seethes immediately and then he’s gone into a whirlwind of rage and resentment. So, it’s a fine line between daydreaming of what kind of things Sieun and him were up to years ago and making his own blood boil at the lack of memories and knowledge.

Suho focuses on his face to dispel any of those ugly thoughts. Now’s not the time. He can feel sorry for himself at night when nobody’s here.

Sieun’s hair looks windswept, bangs slightly sideways, almost cow-licked. His eyes are completely focused on the notebook in front of him. With the notebook balanced on his knees, his back is bent in an uncomfortable position. The rigid hospital chair certainly doesn’t help the situation.

“You’re going to have bad posture if you sit like that,” Suho decides to say from his bed.

The reaction is instantaneous – Sieun looks up, the pen drops from his fingers and rolls down the notebook, the world loses all sound once their eyes meet.

“You’re awake,” Sieun says, wide-eyed.

“Yeah, sorry,” Suho finds himself smiling at the boy. It’s just – he’s adorable, yet again. He’s got a soft grey hoodie thrown over his school uniform, his bangs are sticking to his forehead and he’s looking at Suho like he hung the moon twice over.

Tendrils of dread lightly tug at his insides. He’s gonna fuck it all up. Whatever they had, Suho won’t compare.

Suho gulps. “Anyway, have you been waiting long?” he asks because he’s an attentive boyfriend like that and because something tells him this has happened before. Suho sleeping, Sieun writing next to him… it’s a familiar scene, though Suho can’t conjure a concrete memory of it. Maybe he’s making things up. His body feels like it came out all wrong in the wash, all wrung out, stretched at the seams and his brain is no different.

“No, I got here…” Sieun starts as he leans over to peer at the clock above the door. Ah, yes, Suho was about to do the same. The clock hands inform them it’s almost 6 PM. Perfect, Suho can wine and dine with Sieun soon.

He chooses not to fixate on the fact he slept for six hours after barely squeezing some bars in the morning.

“I got here 20 minutes ago,” his beautiful Sieun says and Suho is promptly distracted. His stomach makes a noise again but Suho ignores it. The nurses will bring dinner soon so he’ll deal with that issue then. For now, he’s got Sieun all for himself.

“Great,” Suho nods, drinks in the sight of Sieun. “Have you eaten?”

Sieun shakes his head. He’s putting away the notebook and the pen, clicking it closed (the sound echoes around the room and Suho feels a wave of déjà vu at that), placing it back into his backpack.

“Then you’ll eat with me,” Suho tells him and tries to make the act of lifting himself up into a sitting position look effortless. The groan that leaves his body, as well as the fact he’s simply not moving an inch, ruins the illusion. He situates his hands into the mattress and pushes but his will doesn’t translate into strength nor movement. “Fuck,” he breathes out.

This is mortifying. Sieun probably thinks he’s a joke. Suho bets he used to send him photos of his biceps and abs and now he can’t even sit up.

“Do you need help?” Sieun asks next to him. Suho dares himself to look at him.

Sieun doesn’t look disgusted or mocking, much to Suho’s relief. He’s got his eyes focused on Suho, all worried and big. The petulant rebel from this morning tells Suho to reject him, snap at him with some low-effort quip and then prove himself wrong when he can’t do the thing he’s convinced himself he’s still capable of.

But Sieun is Sieun – an enigma the presence of whom can’t help but comfort Suho.

He sighs, lets himself seep into the cushions below.

“Yeah,” he admits quietly. He’s no longer looking at Sieun, rather he finds the scratchy hospital blanket easier to talk to at the moment.

Sieun doesn’t seem to mind – he approaches the bed, removes the railing and offers his hand to Suho.

The last gesture startles Suho. He half-expected Sieun to grab him under his armpits and haul and not give him his hand like they’re about to waltz onto the dance floor.

Still, Suho is a lover and a fighter not a quitter so he takes hold of Sieun’s hand (it’s cold! why is it cold? Suho better hold it more often), locks his elbow next to Sieun’s and attempt to stick the landing this time but he doesn’t even manage the lift-off.

“I – shit, I’m sorry,” Suho says, looks away again, pulling his hand back. He’s messing it all up. “I have no strength in my arms, it’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” Sieun replies immediately, his tone almost scolding. Suho looks back at him.

He’s got a furrow to his eyebrows, small but visible.

“You had physical therapy today, you’re tired,” he continues with the same conviction in his voice.

“How – how did you know? Are you a mind reader?” Suho asks, slightly taken-aback at everything that has taken place in the last ten seconds. “Are we soulmates?” he blurts out, his mouth working on its own.

“Um,” Sieun says with red spreading quickly from his cheeks to his ears. Suho would tease but he still feels like an exposed nerve ending himself after that embarrassment.

“Your file says you have physical therapy every morning,” Sieun explains, nodding at the clipboard stuck to the end of Suho’s bed.

“Oh,” Suho says, both disappointed and flustered.

“It will take time to gain your strength back,” Sieun continues. He’s suddenly taken an interest in the close surroundings of Suho’s bed, peering back where the railing is and where a number of buttons stands. “Did you know you can raise the top part of the bed? So you can sit up?”

No, Suho hasn’t been blessed with that knowledge.

He bites his tongue. That’s no way to talk to someone who’s trying to help him, much less his boyfriend.

“No,” Suho says and tries not to let his voice betray his irritation.

Sieun looks at him for a beat and then nods. “I’ll raise the bed and then show you so it’s easier. Is that alright?” he asks, not once looking away.

“Yeah, yup, go for it,” Suho replies, nodding at his own lap. He pointedly avoids thinking about his inadequacy as a functional member of society. Bookmarking that thought for a later date.

Thankfully, slight rattling under him diverts Suho’s attention and suddenly his back is being lifted. It only takes a few moments to get him to Sieun’s eye-level. Much like his body, Suho’s mood has been lifted as well with the new developments.

“Okay, yes, this is much better,” Suho feels himself smiling.

Suho’s elevated spirit proves to be infectious, judging by Sieun’s similar expression. Suho can even see his eyes better from this angle!

“Do you want to see the buttons?” Sieun asks, eyes bright.

Suho starts to lean over to check out the sides when Sieun quickly presses a hand to his shoulder.

“Wait, wait,” he adds and then makes quick work of putting the bed railing back in place. Suho scoffs at him, even though the gesture does make him feel a bit giddy.

“I’m not gonna fall out of the bed, Sieun,” Suho rolls his eyes at him but grabs the bed railing nonetheless as he leans over again.

Sieun doesn’t dignify him with an answer but he does hold onto the railing with one hand, the other busy with pointing at a pair of buttons stacked onto the side bed wall. “The right one is to lift, the left is to lower.”

Suho hums. “Neat,” he supplies and reaches over to try the buttons himself.

It’s not easy – Suho’s stamina is weak as it is and after today’s session with the physical therapist, his hands are shakier than usual. He manages to bring his unstable hand to the buttons but when he presses, the bed jerks awake, jostling Suho and making him lose his mark. His fingertip slips away from the button and the bed stops moving.

“Shit,” he clicks his mouth and leans even farther to get a better angle but Sieun puts a hand to his shoulder, effectively stopping him.

“You’ll tire yourself out,” he tells Suho, which is precisely the wrong thing to say.

A heft of frustration situates itself at the back of Suho’s throat and it takes a deep breath in and out for him to not hurl it right at Sieun and his beautiful innocent face.

“It’s fine,” Suho says instead, which invites less conflict than his preferred answer of “fuck you”. “All I can do here is sleep, anyway.”

It’s a bitter answer which douses the room in tension. It’s not what Suho wanted, not when Sieun is travelling God-knows how far for how long just to talk to a guy who doesn’t even remember him. And he’s been doing it for years. It’s not fair to Sieun to finally reward him with a disgruntled Suho who bitches and moans in an inadvertent effort to ruin everything he’s built for himself.

“I can lend you some books if you want,” Sieun says simply, one hand still on the railing. Suho kind of wants to hold it, kind of wants to see if his fingers will work there, around Sieun’s own cold fingers. “I know you don’t read but…” Sieun goes on because Suho’s attention was absent, taken by Sieun’s hands.

It’s a sweet offer. So charming that Suho can’t help the grin that overtakes his face. How can he ever lash out at this boy?

“What would you recommend?” Suho asks and only the debilitated state of his wrists stops him from leaning on his palm and dreamily blinking up at Sieun’s face.

Sieun clearly doesn’t expect that answer because he’s silent for a moment too long, squinting at Suho’s face. Then, he turns on his heel and goes to the abandoned backpack near the chair.

“I have some written in my phone,” he explains as he fishes out his phone from the pockets.

“Ah, to have a phone,” Suho sighs. He really should ask his grandma to bring it to him. It would solve some of his problems, that is certain.

“You don’t have your phone yet?” Sieun asks as he’s returning to his spot next to the bed.

“Nope,” Suho replies, rolling his eyes for extra measure. “Besides this annoying thing,” Suho gestures at the machine opposite him. “I haven’t laid eyes on a screen in two years. I bet my eye sight has improved.”

Sieun frowns at him. “I’m not sure that’s how that works in your case.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Suho waves him off. “We’re breaking that streak today. Show me some pixels, please.”

Sieun falters for a moment.  “It’s just my Notes app,” he says, leaning to show Suho his screen. Truth to be told, Suho just wants to know more about the boy, books be damned.

Alas, just as Suho’s eyes are about to grace the lovely screen of Sieun’s, a nurse comes into the room, wheeling a tray of food.

“Hello, hello,” she says, causing Sieun to jump away from the bed in surprise. Unperturbed by Sieun’s reaction (or perhaps used to his comportment), she parks the tray of food next to the bed. Suho peers over the railing to check out today’s menu.

In a variety of bowls are kimchi, pickled radish, steamed rice, some chicken breast and a soup with what look to be perilla seeds. Not Suho’s favourite assortment of foods but his stomach churns at the display, having not eaten since morning.

“Looks delicious,” Suho looks back at the nurse (her nametag reads Lee Hana) and smiles as sweetly as possible at her. He has a strategy. “Do you think Sieun here could get something, too?”

Sieun’s eyes widen at the proposition behind her.

Nurse Lee snorts at Suho. “Your tray from lunch, perhaps?”

“Uh,” Suho blinks at her. “You still have my lunch portion?”

The nurse shakes her head as she rounds his bed to check the machine. “No,” she says with an air of playfulness. Suho counts his blessings for having such an easy-going medley of nurses on his floor. The doctors frighten him with their clipboards and furrowed eyebrows so the nurses provide a much-needed repose from those vibes.

“We gave your lunch to the stray cat out front,” the nurses nods towards the window as she clicks buttons on the machine. Then, she looks back at Suho and Sieun, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Sieun can go check if anything’s left.”

“I’m good,” Sieun clears his throat, stashing his phone into his pocket. He briefly meets Suho’s eyes then switches back to nurse Lee. “I have snacks in my bag.”

“You have snacks?” Suho asks, amazed. He swings his head back to look at the nurse. “Can I eat snacks?”

Nurse Lee chuckles at him. “Depends on the snacks,” she tells him. She’s turned back around to the machine, eyes flying over the data it tells her. Suho spends most of his day next to it and still doesn’t understand what it says.

With divided attention, the nurse continues: “You still need to be careful with swallowing.”

Suho goes to roll his eyes at Sieun to show his exasperation while the nurse isn’t looking when the boy across him says: “I brought pudding.”

Nurse Lee now fully turns around to face the boys. She is completely grinning at Sieun. “Somebody did their research?”

Suho suddenly feels like he’s missing something. Sieun’s entire face is blazing, the nurse looks like the cat that got the cream and Suho only now registers Sieun’s words.

“You brought me pudding?” Suho asks, bewildered even more than before. Suho doesn’t remember telling him all the dietary restrictions the doctors recited to him on the first day of his waking. Hell, he doesn’t even remember all of them himself.

Sieun, red in the face, eyes wide, stance all dense, shrugs. “Your form says you can’t eat hard foods yet. The internet said pudding would cause you the least trouble.”

Right. The form at the foot of his bed. Apparently, it knows everything about Suho. And, apparently Sieun finds enough time between attending classes, studying for competitions, and commuting to the hospital to research what Suho can and can’t eat yet.

“Well,” Suho says, feels himself smiling at the sentiment. He gulps, spares a quick glance to the nurse who looks delighted by the scene unfolding in front of her. “Does the form say my heart is fluttering?” Suho asks Sieun, lips quirking into a wider smile.

Sieun looks momentarily confused but before he can respond, nurse Lee quips in: “Should I add heart palpitations to the form?”

Suho barks out a laugh, both at the question and Sieun’s growing perplexity. Suho wants to touch and smooth the furrow in his forehead.

“Only when someone brings me snacks,” Suho answers the nurse. The blood under his skin is buzzing. He feels like he could squeeze a hundred bars without breaking a sweat.

“Uh-uh,” the nurse laughs. “Emphasis on someone,” she mutters, throwing a brief wink at Sieun. The gesture doesn’t help his confusion at all, judging by his expression. As she passes Sieun who looks rooted to his spot, she lightly taps his shoulder.

“I’ll go see if we have any portions to spare for Sieun here,” she says, looking at Suho. To show his appreciation, Suho grants her a smile and a thumbs-up. The fire in his blood caused by the earlier interaction really helps with his motor skills.

“It’s okay, I don’t – “ Sieun starts but the nurse is already walking away, her sneakers squeaking against the linoleum.

“Don’t worry,” Suho tells him, beckons him to come closer. “I’m a long-time customer here, I’ve got some privileges.”

Sieun replies by staring at him, dead-pan. Suho smiles even harder in retaliation.       

Nurse Lee is kind enough to smuggle Sieun a tray of his own. He situates himself at a small table in the corner of the room, half-facing Suho who eats in bed. Suho isn’t too pleased with the arrangement since he finds Sieun to be way too far but he’ll make him clamber into his bed some other time.

Clamber into bed to eat, Suho should clarify. He’s a gentleman first, thank you very much.

Suho is chewing his kimchi very carefully, as per instructions. It’s somewhat irritating because Sieun also eats slowly, as per his nature, Suho supposes. So, the room is blanketed in silence as they eat and Suho cannot handle it. He can hear the machine next to him quietly whir.

“So,” Suho starts after thoroughly chewing and swallowing a piece of kimchi. Sieun looks up at him from his plate. “How was school?”

Sieun nods, picks up a piece of noodles with his chopsticks. Suho wishes he got noodles but apparently that’s still a choking hazard in his condition.

“It was good,” Sieun answers. “Our mock exams are soon so we’re preparing for that.”

“Couldn’t be me,” Suho replies on impulse and immediately cringes. Right. Be careful what you wish for. “Sorry,” he mumbles when Sieun directs his big sad eyes at him.

“Do you know…” Sieun starts then stops. He flexes his fingers around the chopsticks. “Do you already know what you’ll do with school?”

Ah. Suho has given it some thought. He hasn’t even finished his first year of high school and yet he’s at an age where he should be seriously considering universities or other career opportunities. The whole thing gave him a headache so he stored those ideas away for the time being.

Suho shrugs, ignores how shaky the whole motion feels. “No one’s really mentioned anything about it,” he confesses. “I was thinking of maybe just doing one of those general… exams, whatever.”

“Qualification examination?” Sieun promptly asks.

“Yeah, I guess that,” Suho says. He starts to feel embarrassed for some reason. He looks down to his tray. “It’s still the early days, so.”

Thankfully, for once, Sieun doesn’t let the room descend into awkward silence. Instead, he straightens in his chair. “I could tutor you,” he says.

Suho whips his head up. “What?”

“I could tutor you,” Sieun repeats and then, as if knowing Suho will add something sarcastic, he continues quickly. “The exam is very difficult.”

Suho is quiet for a moment. The boy waits for him for two years, brings him pudding and now wants to tutor him? Who was Suho in this past life of his to deserve him?

There it is again. The panic, the way it smoulders low in his belly.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” Suho responds with a lopsided grin, just to chase away the thoughts, just to lighten the air.

Sieun fixes him with an unimpressed expression. “No,” he says simply.

“I bet you say that to all the ladies,” Suho goes on, pointing his chopsticks at him. It’s easier to play into this harmless ribbing than acknowledge all the feelings swirling inside of him.

Sieun frowns. “I go to an all-boys school.”

Suho can’t help but laugh. He hits the tray with his knees as he bends over in laughter, almost sending kimchi juice flying all over the sheets. Sieun jumps to his feet to prevent the invasion of flying saucers but fortunately, the tray only sways a little as Suho shakes from laughter in front of it.

“Sorry,” Suho squeezes out through peals of laughter, “I’m sorry.”

Sieun, now standing next to Suho’s bed, looks stupidly fond. Once Suho catches sight of it, the laughter dies down, doused by Sieun’s face. Suho expected a glare, not the softest he’s ever seen Sieun face to be.

“You’re making fun of me,” Sieun says, almost smiling.

“Sorry,” Suho repeats, unaware he’s matching Sieun’s expression. “You’re my only source of entertainment here.”

Sieun scoffs at him and goes to turn around, return to his seat and dinner. Suho’s arm shoots out before he can even comprehend it. He grabs Sieun’s forearm.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he says, trying to bring Sieun closer but the strength in his grip is non-existent. “You can be my only source of education, too, I accept.”

Sieun briefly glances at Suho’s fingers barely gripping his hoodie and then at the boy himself. He sighs but his eyes reveal he’s not all that peeved. “When do you want to start?”

“Well,” Suho says and uses the opportunity to retrieve his arm without making it awkward. He flexes his fingers. “I don’t think I can hold a pencil yet.”

“We can practice that,” Sieun says, staring at Suho’s latent fingers.

“After dinner, though,” Suho tells him and points at Sieun’s abandoned tray. “We need energy first.”

“And pudding,” Sieun adds, making his way back.

“Yes, exactly,” Suho laughs as he picks back up his chopsticks. His tray is a mess after his guffawing but at least none of the foodstuffs left the premises.

After dinner and chocolate-flavoured pudding (Sieun knows all his preferences, it seems), Sieun wheels the trays back to the nurse’s station. Suho massages his knuckles. He better perform well, he’s got a boyfriend to impress.

Barely a minute later, Sieun is back. His trajectory is clear – get his backpack, pull out textbooks, retrieve his pencil case, rummage through it, pick a pencil, take a paper out of his notebook, turn around and face Suho.

It’s very systematic. Suho’s pretty sure he didn’t even own a backpack for school. Once he got his bike, he just threw random pieces of paper in there and hoped a classmate in front of him had a spare pencil.

It’s truly a mystery how Sieun decided this was the guy he wanted to date.

Already familiar with the path of these kind of thoughts, Suho promptly shuts that down and focuses a smile at Sieun.

“What do you want me to write?” he asks, accepting the sheet of paper and the pencil. Sieun arranged so the bed desk they used for the trays stayed behind so Suho can freely write on it from bed.

“Your name, for now,” Sieun replies.

“How riveting,” Suho comments but gets to it immediately. He wraps his finger around the pencil, tries out different grips and then places it on the paper. He’s confident in his ministrations until he presses the tip onto the paper, starts the first letter of his name and does a terrible job. It’s wonky, doesn’t even resemble the original letter.

Suho stares at it for a moment then looks up to Sieun. The boy looks up as well, meets his eyes.

The eye contact lasts for a few moments when Sieun says, matter-of-factly: “Keep practicing.”

Suho snorts at the comment. “Okay, thanks for the feedback.”

Undeterred, Sieun continues. “The positioning of your fingers is good, it’s muscle memory. You need to work on your stamina. Once it improves, the letters will look better, too.”

Suho clicks his tongue, puts the pencil back onto the paper. “Dunno, remember my handwriting from before?”

Sieun pulls a face at the memory. “Maybe we can fix it.”

Suho looks at him, smiling. “Better Google that, too.”

“I already did,” Sieun nods. “It’s possible.”

Suho is unsure what exactly does it – the conviction in Sieun’s voice, the fact he spends his free time researching things for Suho, the way he holds his gaze – but he blushes. He knows it’s obvious, can feel the heat pooling in his cheeks.

“Right,” Suho clears his throat, speechless for once. He refocuses on the task at hand – writing his name.

Sieun returns to his seat, pulls closer one of the notebooks and starts scribbling something. Suho decides to wait until his cheeks return to their original colour before he starts babbling again.

Almost an hour passes of them, each in their respective corner, writing and scribbling. Suho, bored of just writing his name, started writing Sieun’s name, his grandmother’s, the nurse’s. Then, he graduated to just drawing things. Tried illustrating his bike. Moved to drawing himself. Stopped, switched to Sieun’s eyes.

Even though it’s a pity Suho sucks at even writing his name, at least the drawings are so unintelligible that Sieun will never be able to tell he’s the subject in half of them.

Now, usually Suho wouldn’t say anything but outside has gone dark and he doesn’t know what Sieun’s commute looks like.

“Sieun,” he says, breaking the silence. Sieun looks up from his notebook.

Suho can tell the boy is tired. His posture has slackened since starting the homework, the bags under his eyes are more prominent and he blinks at Suho when he faces him. It shouldn’t be cute.

“You should go home to rest,” Suho tells him gently. He wishes he could slip off the bed and hug the boy.

Sieun looks up at the clock. “Oh,” he breathes out. He’s been here for hours. Suho has wondered how the nurses let Sieun stay so long but he’s decided not to look a gift horse into the mouth.

“I lost track of time,” Sieun says as he sluggishly gets to his feet.

“Yeah, you looked pretty taken with whatever you were writing,” Suho says, watching Sieun go through the motions of picking up his stuff. He’s meticulous in the way he arranges his textbooks first, then notebooks, followed by his pencil case.

“Just some equations,” Sieun answers, zipping up the backpack.

“Hopefully me + you,” Suho says and smirks instantly, already expecting a blushing glare from Sieun.

What he gets, however, is Sieun slowly looking over, blinks as slow as molasses. “What?” he asks, lips pouty, cheeks soft. Suho’s heart thuds against his chest at the sight. He wants.

“You’re gonna fall asleep by the time you get to the station,” Suho tells him instead.

“I won’t,” Sieun replies as he adjust the backpack on his back. “I’ll put some music on.”

Suho hums, looking over the worn out form of his boyfriend. “That’s smart.”

They look at each other for several breaths. Suho distantly wonders whether they were like this before or is it a new thing – Sieun staring because Suho is moving and talking and Suho staring because he still can’t fathom he’s got someone like Sieun in his life. Willingly, at that.

Unable to handle the cocktail of emotions bubbling inside him, Suho beckons Sieun. “Come here.”

Confused, yet obedient, Sieun goes, feet dragging across the floor until he’s right at the railing.

“Move the railing, please,” Suho asks, offering a smile for Sieun’s troubles. Again, Sieun does as he’s told. Suho kind of really desperately wants to kiss him.

With the railing gone, Suho gives himself the liberty to pull Sieun closer, until his thighs meet the edge of the bed. The boy almost trips but finds his footing while Suho grabs hold of his hoodie and zips it up.

“It’s cold at night,” Suho, who hasn’t been outside in two years, says. He allows himself to adjust the collar of the hoodie as well, fingers brushing Sieun’s neck. The reaction is well-anticipated – a blush creeping Sieun’s face, goggle-eyed, uncertain where to look. Suho smiles, though his face is in a twin state to Sieun’s. “Anyway,” Suho catches Sieun’s eyes. “Can’t leave me without a hug, right?”

Suho doesn’t expect an answer. Rather, he cracks his knuckles poorly, announces: “Last grip test, let’s go!” and throws his arms around Sieun’s rigid shape and pulls until they’re chest to chest, cheeks squished together.

Sieun is as soft as Suho has been envisioning the entire time. He doesn’t smell like anything in particular but Suho welcomes the lack of the hospital smell that he’s been engulfed in all this time.

Much like last time, Sieun is slow on the uptake but he gets there eventually. He positions his arms around Suho cautiously then, at a snail’s pace, tightens his hold. Suho finds himself exhaling at the action.

They should make this into an everyday occurrence. Maybe it was, once upon a time.

After ten seconds of just holding Sieun, Suho loosens his grip and leans back, arms still in the general vicinity of Sieun’s space. “So? How was it?”

Sieun’s eyes flit to Suho’s, a bit manic. “What?”

Suho knows it’s unkind but he can’t help the grin that overtakes his face. Sieun is just so cute all flustered.

“My grip? What do you think?” Suho clarifies.

Sieun gulps. “Ah. Good,” he nods. His face is still flaming. “It’s good.”

Suho nods back, then looks back at the clock. “You’ll miss your bus,” he says, without even knowing  the timetable. “See you tomorrow?”

Sieun steps back, visibly breathes easier. “Yes, I’ll be here,” he answers, meets Suho’s eyes one last time and spins on his heel, exiting the room.

Suho thinks he could fly from the butterflies in his stomach. He’ll get better, even if it’s just to make Sieun all hot and bothered.

Something wakes Suho up, a rustle on his right. When he opens his eyes, he sees the familiar blue scrubs.

“Sorry, I just need to check something,” the nurse with the kind eyes whispers, going over the machine again.

“S’fine,” Suho says, squints at the clock above the door. It’s past three in the morning.

“How are you feeling?” she asks when she notices he’s not going back to sleep.

Suho yawns before answering, tries stretching his hands but they begin to tremble at the exertion within two seconds. “Tired but okay,” he concludes.

The nurse quirks a smile at him. “I bet. I heard Sieun visited today.”

Suho knows where this is going, even in his half-asleep state. “Do you gossip anyone beside me?” he asks but smiles back at her. The night lamp illuminates her fully and Suho can finally discern the name on her scrubs. Kim Yewon.

Nurse Kim lightly pokes his arm. “Course we do,” she says, then briefly glances at the hallway. Deciding it’s empty enough, she leans down and whispers: “Mrs Yang from two rooms down has a secret boyfriend she hasn’t told her daughter about yet,” she wiggles his eyebrows.

Suho gasps. “Mrs Yang who made her daughter call her grandson after his late grandfather?” Suho asks, knowing fully well there’s one and only Mrs Yang on his floor. She’s an older lady that has suffered several strokes so she goes down the hallway with a crutch, peering into people’s rooms and talking about her life unprompted. She introduced herself to Suho when he was still gathering his bearings his second day earthside.

However, a soap opera lover at heart, Suho remembers every detail of her story.

“Yup,” nurse Kim chuckles. “He’s been visiting for months now. Mrs Yang makes us hide the visitation log from her daughter every day.”

Suho snorts. “Thank you for the juicy gossip,” he tells her, reminiscing about online gossip blogs he frequented in secret. Then, he remembers.

“Do you think I could use my phone?” he asks, throws on his best smile just for the occasion.

It seems superfluous because the nurse doesn’t even look at him, having turned back to poke at the machine. “Yeah, we can tell your grandmother to bring it for you.”

“Yeah?” Suho sits up a little. “It won’t affect my health or whatever?”

Nurse Kim shakes her head, writes something down in his form. “No, it could even help you with your memory.”

Ah. Ironically enough, sometimes Suho forgets he’s missing a few months of his life. Being stuck in an unknown place, outside of his usual world makes it easy to slip off his mind. He should work on jogging his memory just as much as he works on his stamina and motor skills. Perhaps Sieun would be more wooed by Suho referencing a past date of theirs or, hell, remembering their anniversary or birthday than barely writing down their names on paper.

He slips back down the cushions. He needs to get more sleep if he plans on making progress any time soon.

“Thank you,” Suho exhales, already closing his eyes.

“Don’t worry,” Suho feels a hand squeeze his shoulder. “Get some rest, I’ll see you in the morning.”

Chapter Text

It takes Suho’s grandmother days to bring him his phone.

The first day, she waltzes into Suho’s room with a bright orange duffle bag and a story already firing off her lips, oblivious to the way Suho’s practically shooting laser eyes at the bag. She rounds his bed, drops the bag onto a small night table between the machine and Suho’s bed, continues with her story about… honestly, Suho hasn’t been following.

Rather, Suho digs into the bag the moment it’s within reach, rummages through fresh clothes and snacks his grandmother had the forethought to bring him. No phone.

Suho blinks at the bag and digs in again.

After the third trip through the contents of the bag, he huffs and starts taking stuff out. His arms strain against the effort but he disregards it, has a bigger problem to solve.

“And I told her about the pot but – Suho, be careful, I ironed those,” his grandma clicks her tongue and hastily starts to pick up the clothes Suho’s flinging out the bag. “Dear, what are you looking for?”

Suho stops, sighs at the half-empty bag, no phone in sight.

“Did you bring me my phone?” he asks, pats the side pockets. They’re empty as well.

His grandmother pulls the bag closer to herself and for one brief moment, Suho’s convinced she’ll procure the phone out like a magician revealing a rabbit inside a hat.

Alas, his grandmother starts putting everything back. “Suho, how am I supposed to know where you put your phone?”

Suho stares at her.

He’s been thinking about the phone for days. He even told his physical therapist this morning about it. All the nurses on his floor know about it. He’s talked Sieun’s ear off about the damn phone. He just wants to feel normal for once.

His grandmother plows through the silence on his end. “Do you know where it is?”

Suho clenches his jaw. It does hurt to do so but the annoyance fermenting inside of him needs an outlet.

“Grandma, I don’t remember what phone I even had, let alone – “

“Alright, alright,” his grandmother says, lifts her hands up. “I’ll look again tomorrow.”

“You have to bring it tomorrow, okay?” he says, grabs her hand. She fixes him with an exasperated expression but he doesn’t let up. “Please, the nurses say it might help me.”

That information seems to melt her demeanour and she squeezes back Suho’s hand, brings her other one to the mix, feels up Suho’s arm. “Have you been eating well?” she asks in lieu of an apology.

Suho accepts it, as easy as breathing despite the fact he stills feels like a bug stuck under a glass, can only see the outside from the inside. He gulps and nods.

“Yeah, I’ve already had lunch,” Suho tells her, pokes at an hour old stain on his chest. “Kimchi stew but they’re letting me eat more solid stuff.”

Grandma’s hand makes it to his face where she pinches his cheek. “I can tell,” she laughs as he swats her hand off with the best of his abilities.

Suho bitches and moans to Sieun about the situation for good thirty minutes until he realizes he’s dampening the mood of their dinner.

“How was your physical therapy today?” Sieun asks as soon as there’s a lull in the one-sided conversation Suho’s been carrying. He’s in the same outfit as always, half-facing Suho as he eats cup noodles he insisted on bringing himself.

Suho slurps some extra soft noodles the nurse provided him with. They’re somewhat tasteless but at least Suho can pretend his mouth works as it’s supposed to.

“Well,” Suho starts, chews, swallows. Sieun stares at him. Suho feels himself blushing. “He had me walk a bit. I think I can manage like four and a half steps before I go down, so.”

Suho’s ashamed but he’s putting it out in the world because the thought has been eroding his mind and Sieun deserves to know what Suho’s capable of. Just in case he needs to lower his expectations.

Across the room, Sieun smiles at Suho.

“That’s great,” he says, still smiling, cheeks bunched up, eyes crinkling. Suho momentarily forgets the topic of the conversation. “If you keep it up, you’ll be able to walk alone within weeks.”

The ‘weeks’ part still stings but Suho shrugs it off. He’s got a smiling Sieun in front of him. He’ll focus on that for now.

“That’s what the therapist said, too,” Suho admits, smiling back.

“He’s an expert, you should believe him,” Sieun says, nods.

“I believe you, too,” Suho replies on instinct, doesn’t even register what’s left his lips until Sieun’s eyes widen. To match Suho’s predicament, his face reddens as well.

Sieun doesn’t say anything back, just shifts in his seat so he can go back to his cup noodles, all flushed.

The smell of the noodles has been steadily travelling to Suho and he wishes to taste the spice, slurp it while it’s hot, stain his sweatshirt with sauce that doesn’t come out, have a runny nose from all the steam like he used to.

Suho clears his throat, looks down onto his own soggy noodles. He twirls the chopsticks around them, a bit shakily but he gets the job done. Swallows them in one go to spite everyone’s concerns. They taste like nothing anyway.

Later, Sieun lends him more paper and pens so he can scribble whatever while he studies for his endless competitions. Suho thinks of writing him a letter – an indecipherable letter about Suho’s storm of thoughts but he chickens out, resorts to swirling the pen until he can no longer grip it. Sieun smiles at the effort nonetheless.

He makes Sieun hug him at the end of the visit, tightens the hold around his frame as much as he can while Sieun blushes his way through it. They part ways just as the sun is setting and Suho hopes tomorrow he’ll feel closer to reality.

The second day, Suho’s grandmother comes with the same orange duffle bag, more snacks in tow and Suho’s fighting against his screaming limbs to reach the bag before grandma’s even approached his  bed.

She lets him steal the bag from her, tuts when Suho digs into it like a savage, snacks flying out.

It’s here!

Suho fishes it out with his wobbly fingers, pushes the on button and stares at it in awe as he waits.

It’s a black phone with a black cover case. There’s a small scratch in the left corner. Suho thinks he had this phone even in the time he remembers.

The black screen stares back at him. In the background, his grandmother is organizing the duffle bag again.

Suho pushes the on button again, waits.

Nothing happens.

“Grandma,” he says, pushes the button again.

“Yes, Suho?” she asks as she settles into her chair again, the knitwork already in her lap.

The screen doesn’t change. The phone doesn’t react. Suho has an imprint of the button on his thumb.

“Is it broken?” he asks her, head whipping aside to look at her. “Was – was it the accident? Did something happen to it?”

She looks at him in confusion. “What do you mean? It worked fine when they first gave it to me.”

Suho squints his eyes at her. “Are you sure?”

She points one long needle in his direction. “Stop with the attitude,” she says, resettles in her seat with an air of someone who can’t be proven wrong. Suho gives up the fight immediately. He’s been reminded that his grandmother doesn’t really agree with modern technology. Her phone still has buttons on the front. The TV at home is a box.

Suho leans back into the pillows with the unresponsive phone slipping into his lap.

He abruptly sits back up a moment later.

“Grandma, is my charger in the bag?” he asks, already leaning towards the orange duffle bag.

The phone hasn’t been touched in almost two years and Suho knows his battery was bad enough back when he still used it.

His grandmother lowers the socks she’s knitting and frowns. “Charger? What does it look like?”

Suho supresses the urge to bang his head against the railing. He retreats back to the pillows defeatedly, the weight of the phone in his lap taunting him.

“Grandma,” Suho manages with a normal tone. His eyes are begging him to be rolled but his basic manners win this round. “Even you have a charger.”

“Oh? You want mine?” she asks. She grabs her purse from the night stand before Suho can stop her.

“No,” Suho starts and gives up. She’s rifling through her purse and it is soon apparent that the population of phone chargers in the room is still very much zero.

When she goes back home that day, Suho tells her to bring him every cord she finds in his room. Teaching her the difference between power plugs and outlets isn’t something Suho has the capacity to do, especially not without a working phone on hand.

With his grandmother gone, Suho shamelessly begs the nurses for a charger, there has to be one in lost and found but even that is for naught. By Sieun’s arrival that day, he’s admitted defeat. He’ll just have to pray his grandmother finds his charger and if not, he’ll have her take his phone and show it to a shopkeeper who can help her identify the right charger.

Again, he bitches and moans to Sieun about the situation, then, when the ball is already rolling, he bitches and moans about the dinner (soggy noodles again) and his tiring physical therapy session from earlier. He must be reaching Sieun’s limit because the boy pauses with stirring his delectable cup noodles to comb through his backpack.

Suho half-expects the boy to pull out earphones and drown out Suho’s verbal epitaph dedicated to his dead phone. What he certainly doesn’t see coming is a white cord out of Sieun’s backpack, followed by Sieun nearing his bed and reaching his hand out to Suho.

“You can have mine,” Sieun says, gesturing at a charger in his fist.

Suho’s heart stutters in his chest.

“I – “ Suho doesn’t have the words. He can’t just take his charger? Sieun definitely needs it more than Suho. He’s got school and competitions and whatnot.

As if he’s reading minds, Sieun goes: “I have an extra one at home.”

Suho’s eyes flit back and forth between Sieun’s increasingly red face and the charger still held in his hand. “Sieun, I – “

“My noodles are getting cold,” Sieun waves the outstretched hand lightly.

Suho can’t help but chuckle at that, grabbing the charger with his cleaner hand. He manages to envelope Sieun’s hand with his own during the exchange and uses the opportunity to squeeze it. The contact doesn’t last long but Suho manages to blurt out a “Sieun, thank you so much” before the boy in question flies back to his seat in the corner.

Suho immediately forgets his dinner and goes to see if the charger even fits his phone but – Sieun is smart, he wouldn’t offer him a charger if he didn’t know what kind of phone Suho had.

It’s a match. Suho wonders if this how the prince in Cinderella felt at the end of the story.

Suho looks up to Sieun who’s now completely facing away from Suho, seemingly enamoured by the cup noodles. Suho stares at him a bit longer – he’s still red in the face, his shoulders are tense and his messy fringe is blocking his eyes from Suho’s. Something’s wrong.

“Sieun, really, thank you,” Suho says, still staring at the boy.

Sieun nods into the noodles. “You’re welcome,” he says quietly.

Suho lets himself look at him a bit more, tries to gauge what’s gone wrong. Is it Suho’s nonstop complaining? Has Suho crossed a line? Maybe this is Sieun’s only charger?

Sieun’s stiff stance doesn’t reveal anything. Suho lets it go for the time being, he has a phone to charge. Perhaps it will help him with getting to know his boyfriend better and solving this situation.

Suho makes quick work of connecting the charger to his phone and it proves to be a useful exercise for his grip and aim skills. However, there is a problem. The plug is in the wall behind the night stand and Suho can’t reach it from the bed, not without slipping and making quick friends with the floor.

“Erm,” Suho goes, weighing his options. He could attempt that mission and embarrass himself in front of Sieun or he could bother the boy despite the tension and finally get the phone to charge.

Luckily for Suho, Sieun allegedly has a sixth sense for Suho’s troubles because he peeks through his fringe and instantly deduces the issue.

“Do you need help?” he asks because he’s thoughtful of Suho’s boundaries like that. Suho should really show his appreciation more.

“Yeah,” Suho says, points at the charger and then at the wall. “I can’t get to the plug.”

Without another word, Sieun crosses the room in quick strides, plucks the charger and the phone from Suho’s hold and plugs them into the wall. He rests the phone on the night stand and then goes to shuffle back to his seat when Suho grabs the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Not so fast,” Suho says and beckons him to come closer. Sieun complies, albeit reluctantly judging by his tense posture and wandering eyes.

Suho points at his food tray. “To show my gratitude, pick one,” he says, smiles just to sweeten the deal. It’s a silly gesture, Suho knows it but he’s working with limited options at the moment.

The tension in Sieun’s shoulders seems to dissipate a little and it even makes way for a miniscule smile, one that would go unnoticed if Suho hasn’t been waiting for it. It’s like seeing the sun peek behind clouds. Suho wants to bask in it.

Sieun looks around Suho’s half-finished tray. Then, he nods at the beansprouts. “I’d like those,” he says simply.

“Ask and ye shall receive,” Suho replies and focuses extra hard to twirl the chopsticks around them. It’s a successful endeavour and, driven by it, Suho convinces himself to feed it to Sieun himself. His heart thuds against his chest.

He lifts the chopsticks up to Sieun’s level and it must startle him but Suho’s determined, doesn’t change the trajectory. “Eat up!”

Sieun’s mouth falls open despite the panic on his face and Suho’s hoping it distracts him enough from the way Suho’s arm has started shaking. Sieun swallows the portion, stepping back as soon as the chopsticks are out of the way.

“Great,” Suho says just to say something and then stares at the chopsticks once they’re back on the tray. Does he keep eating with them? Would… would Suho taste Sieun’s spicy noodles on them?

Sieun crossing the room back to his seat breaks him out of his reverie. He doesn’t face away from Suho anymore but there is a certain wall still up and Suho’s yet to learn how to climb it.

“I’ll check out the phone later when it’s full,” Suho tells him, quickly spinning the chopsticks around his own noodles and tasting them. There’s no spice but his lips still tingle, wrapped around the chopsticks Sieun has just eaten from.

Sieun doesn’t answer, just nods and stuffs his mouth with more of his own noodles. Suho spends the rest of the dinner staring at him. It’s not a bad view.

Later, even the tutoring is weird – Sieun cuts it short in half, claiming he has to do something at home. He almost leaves without a hug but Suho manages to trick him to come closer to the bed and then squeezes him for a moment. It’s much shorter than their usual hugs but Suho’s glad he snagged that one at all.

As soon as Sieun leaves for the day, Suho snatches the phone from the nightstand and turns it on.

It vibrates in Suho’s hand as it comes back to life. Suho usually feels tired after a day of physical therapy and constant talking with his grandma and Sieun but right now, he’s powered by sheer curiosity to meet his old self.

The lock screen finally lights up and Suho spends a minute staring at it. Behind the password tab is a picture of his motorbike. Suho’s almost forgotten the way it looks – he sees the stickers on the box in the back, kind of doesn’t recognise some of them but his heart clenches all the same. Grandma told him it’s still waiting for him in the garage. He’s still quite far from sitting on it and riding into the horizon but seeing it now, Suho finds himself motivated to get to that day as soon as possible.

 The blank password tab blinks at him. Right. It better be his old password, otherwise he’s facing another hurdle. Maybe Sieun knows how to hack into stuff, too?

He types in the password he remembers, his fingers shaking from both excitement and all-day exertion.

His home screen loads next. It worked. Suho smiles at it.

Apps pop up, with it a slew of notifications, the phone lighting up with each one.

“Guess I was popular,” Suho mumbles and quickly disables any sounds and vibrations before the phone whirs itself into the ground.

Suho can feel the phone grow warmer as it catches up to two years of news. Suho can relate to the effort, though his is much slower in comparison. Maybe it would’ve been better if he could just retrieve information through the cloud, all his previous memories and skills a few gigabytes away.

Suho closes his eyes. He should stop with those kind of thoughts.

The nurses mentioned a therapist he’ll talk to soon, once he gets the hang of physical therapy. “We don’t want to overwhelm you,” nurse Kim said.

Suho was against it at the time but with these thoughts popping up more and more, he has to concede. He keeps gritting his teeth at everything, set off by the smallest setbacks. He doesn’t want to burden his grandmother and Sieun with these troubles, especially since they can’t relate to it. Perhaps a therapist might help. It’s a step in the right direction, if nothing.

He looks down to his phone. The stream of notifications has calmed down. Suho takes a deep breath and lets it out. Time to get reintroduced to his past life.

He opens his gallery first. He’s always been a visual learner.

The last photo he took is that of a HAPPY BIRTHDAY banner hung up in a really bright room. Just the banner, nobody under it. Suho checks the date of the photo – his birthday. Huh. Days before his accident.

The next one is a selfie of him and Sieun, the banner barely seen in the background. They’re just standing next to each other, Suho with a peace sign up, Sieun staring at the camera. They’re not smiling but Suho is clearly going for a cool vibe whereas Sieun is just following his lead.

Sieun looked paler and smaller than he does now. At least now there’s more colour in his cheeks and he seems to be eating better. Next to him, Suho looked miles better than he does now. There’s meat in his cheeks, his hair is trimmed, his whole build looked much stronger. Suho quickly swipes away, revealing a series of these selfies. In each, Suho tries on a different expression, Sieun’s staying the same.

While it’s nice to stare at Sieun’s face without fear of getting seen, Suho can’t stand the image of himself he’s destroyed. He swipes further.

After the selfies are random photos of receipts and notebook pages. Suho scrolls until he finds more selfies. This time they’re of Suho, Sieun and a girl he doesn’t recognise. She’s got both of them by the shoulders, arms slung over them, pulling them into the shot. Suho’s laughing, she’s grinning and Sieun has a small smile playing on his lips.

Suho finds himself smiling at the photo. They looked happy. Whoever the girl is, she seems to have fit right in.

He should ask Sieun about her. It might jog a memory.

Good thing now he can text Sieun and not wait for him and unload everything during dinner. He’s graduated to bothering Sieun during school and night hours, too.

He searches for the messaging app and the red number of 710 hanging above it confirms to him he’s found the right thing. He opens the app, gives it a moment to load all the unopened messages, Sieun’s taking up the first spot.

Below him are names Suho doesn’t recognise so he decides to lead the investigation with the familiar.

Much like everything else in his neglected phone, the chat with Suho needs a few moments to properly load. While he waits, Suho wonders why Sieun’s name is only Sieunnie and nothing else. Given how he feels about the boy, the name is missing half a dozen of heart emojis and whatever else matches Sieun’s looks. Maybe a turtle or a teddy bear. He’ll change it as soon as he texts him.

The chat loads.

Suho.

You woke up.

Read the last two messages.

Suho smiles at them. He can hear Sieun’s voice saying them. So simple and short. Exactly Sieun’s style.

However, the message before that appears to be so long that Suho has to scroll up to reveal its beginning.

“Jesus, Sieun, were you writing a novel in our chat?” Suho mutters, thumb working fast over the screen.

Suho,

Yesterday my dad ordered takeout without telling me. The doorbell rang and I went to answer it. When I asked who it was, the person said ‘delivery’. I don’t remember opening the door nor taking the food.  I couldn’t eat. I didn’t realise I could miss you in any more ways. It’s been 665 days. I think it’s easier for me to say it’s been a year and ten months. It doesn’t sound as bad.

Because I couldn’t eat, I had time to write down more notes for you. It’s physics this time. I know you don’t like it but I think you will like the notes. I try to include bikes and muscles in my comparisons.

Suho chokes back a dry sob.

He puts his palm against his mouth to stop any more from coming out. Fuck. Fuck.

He didn’t realise – he knew it would be sad but this. He hurt Sieun. He hurt him and his grandmother and countless more people he doesn’t even have memory of. They all cared for him and Suho just blipped out of existence, strung them into a limbo for almost two years.

Tears start to well up. He furiously wipes his eyes, glancing at the hallway in case someone catches a glimpse of him crying at his phone. He takes a deep, shaky breath and continues reading. The least he owes to everyone is to face what he left behind.

I showed Baku some of the notes I’ve been making for you. He’s quite similar to you. He said I should publish them as a textbook. I know it’s a compliment but I didn’t like the answer. I don’t know why. Maybe because the notes are just for you. I don’t know.

It’s getting warmer these days. The view outside your room will look great in spring. I know you don’t have any allergies so it’s good you’re so close to the trees. I wonder if you can hear birds sing. Does it annoy you?

Suho looks out the window. Its’s dark but he can still recognise outlines of trees adorning the path in front of the building. When it’s day out, the view is good – blossoming trees, insects buzzing, birds chirping, people walking. It should make Suho feel better. All he feels is resentment, trapped in these four walls.

I have to go soon. I have to study a lot these days. I’ve been thinking of bringing my notes here. It would be like before when we were in school. I don’t know if I would be able to focus, though. Your machines are so loud.

The laugh that escapes Suho startles him. He’s crying again. He can’t help it.

You were louder. You don’t even snore now.

I’ll see you tomorrow, I promise.

Suho wipes away the tears dripping down his chin, sniffs into the sleeve of his pyjamas. He can feel more tears forming, more sobs climbing up his throat, heart clenching in his chest. He drops his phone to his lap and hides his face in his hands. He tries to breathe but every deep breath gets stuck in his throat, every exhale sends him coughing and crying more. He has to get it together before someone sees him.

The suffocating grip on his lungs doesn’t let up and Suho can’t fight against the twin feeling of guilt and panic that’s been reawakened.

Through watery eyes, he palms the railing and manages to slide it down. He grabs the phone again and tries to leave the bed as painlessly as possible. He has to go somewhere where he’s more alone.

Thankfully, his room comes with an adjacent bathroom so he doesn’t have to shuffle down the hall while crying. He has some dignity left to preserve.

He forgoes his slippers and wobbles barefoot to the bathroom, the urgency of the situation carrying him more than his strength. The trip to the bathroom is only a handful steps away so he reaches it fast, shuts the door and leans against it immediately, slides down until he’s sitting.

The tiles are cold and the door behind him is hard. Suho cries into his knees. They’re knobby and the pyjamas hang off of him like they’re stuck on a wire hanger, not a living breathing person. It’s uncomfortable to lean on them but Suho lets himself rest onto them, sobs in the space between his chest and the knees, feels his shoulders shake.

He can’t stop thinking about Sieun, confused and terrified Sieun seeing him for the first time, Sieun who spent two years missing him, Sieun who thought about him every day and Sieun now who’s holding back because… because Suho doesn’t remember him? Because Suho managed to rob him of everything twice? Suho who must feel like a parody of whoever he knew. A ghost who’s only here to torture him with his existence.

Suho knows it’s not easy to watch someone you love wither away for years, he’s listened to his grandmother’s cries, he’s comforted her but he couldn’t imagine all this. The cars outside Suho’s window drive by every day, without fail. The birds chirp, kids yell on the pavement. Nurses go from one room into another. The machine next to Suho makes a sound every now and then. Life goes on in Suho’s room. He assumed… he assumed it was like that for them. Just with Suho out of the equation, just Suho put aside.

Suho manages to catch his breath. He crawls a few steps to the toilet paper and dries the tears on his cheeks and chin, wipes the ones that have travelled down his neck. He blows his nose.

He needs to start from the beginning. He needs a crystal clear picture of everything. He doesn’t even know what happened to him. Grandma said he was boxing and he got sick. The nurses told him he suffered a head trauma. Sieun hasn’t mentioned it at all.

That’s a question for tomorrow, for Sieun or whoever is in his phone and willing to answer that question. Maybe the girl in those selfies knows something.

Tonight, he’s going to get to know Sieun. He owes that much to him after trifling away two years of his time.

Suho goes to open his phone, has to wipe it on his pyjamas from the tears, manages to unlock it. The chat with Sieun waits for him. Suho begins to scroll up.

Jesus Christ. Sieun wrote to him every day. Every day, sentences upon sentences, perfect punctuation and spelling. Suho closes his eyes as he scrolls. He shouldn’t look. He needs the start of everything. It might help untangle the mess in his head, might relieve the pressure against his ribcage.

It takes a while. Suho’s half-afraid the phone will lag and undo all his scrolling progress but little by little, messages load and Suho propels backwards in time more.

Suho realises the exact moment where the before and after part. Sieun’s long messages suddenly stop, replaced by quick little questions and answers, this time from Suho’s side, too. Suho scrolls faster, sits up. The floor has warmed in the time he’s been in the bathroom. He’s surprised no nurse has checked on him yet.

The very beginning of the chat isn’t difficult to reach.

It was May when they started texting. Suho frowns as he reads the messages. Questions about cafeteria food, about something the teacher said, about some… sort of money? About a heist? Mentions of Beomseok, whoever that is.

Suho doesn’t understand, is clearly missing a huge chunk of context.

They’re boyfriends. What kind of boring couple were they? No emojis, no good morning texts, no good nights, nothing.

Suho reads faster, eyes burning from the screen but he has to go on. He might finally get a puzzle piece.

Food again, meeting with someone named Youngyi, perhaps the girl? Suho’s job, Sieun’s cram school, his bike, more school stuff, more food, Beomseok, Youngyi, food, hanging out, Beomseok, food, birthday –

Suho

Where are you?

Sieunnie

Something came up at home. I won’t be in school for a few days.

Suho

Are you okay?

The messages stop for a few days. It’s right before the accident. His heart pounds in his chest.

Sieun

Where are you? Call me.

Suho

I’m exercising, talk to you later.

Sieunnie

Are you coming to do the exam?

Sieunnie

Suho, where are you?

It’s days until the next message.

Sieunnie

Suho, I saw the video. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know I shouldn’t fight but I had to. I’m so angry, Suho, I don’t know what to do with it. I’m still so angry. I got expelled. Mom yelled at me. Dad isn’t saying anything. I don’t care. I don’t think I can care anymore.

I won’t be able to visit for some time. I’ll try to sneak out sometime. Dad might let me. Mom is looking for a new school for me. I don’t care.

Maybe it’s for the best I don’t visit. I have bruises on my face. I don’t want your grandmother to see me like that. Youngyi wouldn’t approve either.

Suho… I couldn’t hurt Beomseok. I’m sorry. I don’t know. Would you want that? You probably wouldn’t. You wouldn’t want any of this. I’m so sorry.

Suho’s crying again. What did Sieun do? Fight? He looks like he wouldn’t hurt a fly. Did Suho drag him into this? Did Suho corrupt him? And who is Beomseok? What video? What the fuck? What in the world did they do?

He wipes away the tears in his eyes and goes on.

Sieunnie

Suho, I can’t sleep. I’m so tired. I close my eyes and nothing happens. I can only think of you and Beomseok. I’m still angry. Everything hurts. Do you feel anything? Are you in pain? I hope you’re not. I hope you’re dreaming of something.

Mom thinks she found a school for me. It’s over the river. I don’t care. She keeps talking to me. She said I might be able to retake the final exams there. They’re letting me because of my grades. Dad still hasn’t said anything about what happened. Mom keeps coming over and talking to me. If I go to the new school, I might have to move to hers. I hate that. It’s farther from the hospital.

It’s my fault. It’s only right I suffer the consequences. I’m sorry, Suho.

Suho looks away from the screen. The collar of his pyjamas is soaked with tears. This is torture. What did Suho do? What happened?

Sieunnie

Suho, I’m moving to Eunjang High School. It’s so far away from the hospital. I figured out a commute, though. I can study in the bus. I used to do it when I went home from cram school. Sometimes I felt sick so I stopped but I don’t think I feel anything but anger these days. It would be nice to feel sick for a change. Maybe I’ll fall asleep for once.

I changed cram schools, too. The old one expelled me when they heard what happened. Mom found one near the new school but I don’t think I want to go. I can learn everything on my own.

Youngyi’s leaving. She hasn’t said where and I don’t think she will. Your grandmother didn’t say either. I don’t think she wants me to know. It’s fair. I’ll miss her.

I miss you. And I think I miss Beomseok. I hate it. I hate it so much. I hate him and I miss him. How is that possible? Can that happen? You know more than me about these things. I miss you.

Sieunnie

Suho, mom is making me go to a therapist. I understand her reasoning but it won’t help. The therapist can’t undo what happened, they can’t fix it, they can’t make me feel better. I thought mom would leave me alone. I’m studying all day. It’s the only thing that helps me not think about any of this.

But I want to think about it. I shouldn’t forget. It’s not right. Youngyi left, Beomseok left, you’re not here, what am I supposed to do? Do I run, too? No. You wouldn’t run either. Where would I even go? I end up in your room every day. I wish I didn’t have to leave it. It’s easier when I can see you. Everything’s easier.

Maybe because nobody can reach me here. I see your grandmother sometimes and that’s all. Nobody can bother me here.

I wish you would. Sometimes I fall asleep in the chair and dream you’re awake. You’d tease me about it if you knew. Please do. I might even laugh. I don’t know. I haven’t laughed in a while. I don’t think I can anymore.

I’m sorry. These messages aren’t fun. I can try to talk brightly. Just here.

I’ll see you tomorrow again.

Suho leans his head back until it thumps against the wall. Tears keep streaming down his face, now into his ears. He can feel himself getting lightheaded. He should go to bed before he’s too weak to walk back. But the phone in his hand, one that apparently holds Sieun’s thoughts of the last two years, sucks him back in. He inhales through his snotty nose, exhales past the lump in his throat and makes himself read more. It will only hurt more if he prolongs this. Sieun went through it for two years, Suho has the privilege of one night.

Sieunnie

The classmates in my new school aren’t that different from our class. They’re rowdier and the bullies are still so predictable. One threatened me. I didn’t fight him. I wanted to, just so he would leave me alone but I couldn’t disappoint you. I only ever fought to protect myself and you. It led to this. I can’t do it anymore. I’ll find a different way, I promise.

Even though I just want to sit at my desk and think about you, I can admit being in class feels good after so long. My classmates are loud and nobody listens but I like the routine. It makes the hours pass by faster. I like to think that way we’re closer to you coming back. I hope I’m right.

I’ve been sleeping during lunch. I can now see the appeal of the pillow you had. I wonder if it ever got back to you. Did the school give it back to your grandmother with the rest of your stuff? I might ask her about it. Do you think she’d let me have it?

What about your bike? Does it need upkeeping? I can learn how to do it. You can laugh at me later.

I’ll ask her about it when I see her. Maybe I’ll ask about Youngyi, too. She never tells me too much. I think Youngyi told her not to. She’s in a different city.

I wish she stayed. I think we could’ve helped each other. Or at least, I wish she stayed in touch. Maybe she needs time. I’ve texted her but she hasn’t answered. I can wait, I think. I have nothing else to do.

I’ll see you tomorrow.

Suho’s about to start another message when there’s a knock on the door.

“Suho?” one of the nurses say, he thinks it’s the one with the kind eyes – nurse Kim. She seems to be a frequent night shift worker.

Suho quickly clears his throat, dabs at his eyes and cheeks. It’s probably undeniable that he’s been crying but he should at least get rid of some of the evidence. “Y-yeah?” he replies, voice scratchy.

The nurse pauses. “Everything okay?”

Suho tries to think but his mind is desiccated by everything he’s learned in the past half hour and now he’s got more questions than before. Suho of the past would be able to come up with a flawless lie on the spot but Suho of tonight is a relic of that boy, all of the image, none of the glory.

“Suho, can you hear me?” nurse Kim asks again.

“Yeah, yeah,” Suho replies, decides not to bother with coming up with an excuse. He grips the toilet seat next to him and gets himself vertical. He’s no doubt a sight to behold – reddened eyes, blotchy cheeks, damp collar but he doesn’t care. He hobbles to the door and opens it, the light from the hallway immediately lighting up his face. He can feel the air hit the stickiness of his face, the remnants of the tears he shed.

Nurse Kim sports a concerned expression. Her hands fly to Suho as soon as he’s close, throws one of his arms over her shoulders. Suho lets her, the phone gripped in his other hand. He leans into her, the floor spinning as the fatigue slowly corrodes him.

“Are you okay? Were you nauseous? I heard you had a bad session today with Seobin,” she says, slowly leading them to Suho’s bed. Suho finds himself snorting at her words.

“You gossip about me with my physical trainer?” he asks, grins at her all askew. He knows he’s deflecting but he’d love to get back to bed and read the rest of Sieun’s messages beneath the blanket where he can pass out from all the inevitable crying.

Nurse Kim doesn’t buy his faux-cheerfulness. She sighs into his ear as she arranges him onto the bed, her glare quickly following. She catches sight of the phone in his palm.

“Will I have to set up a screen time limit for you?” she asks, nodding at the phone. Suho’s grip around it tightens.

“Can you do that?” Suho squints at her. She can’t do that? This is his property.

She shrugs at him. “If we find it’s hindering your progress, we’ll have to notify your grandmother,” she says, one eyebrow cocked, challenging him.

Okay. So, grandma is the big bad boss. Suho knows how to play that game, hasn’t lost that skill in this turbulence. He bites his tongue and forces a smile at the nurse.

“It won’t be a problem,” he says and plops the phone onto the nightstand, goes the extra measure and tethers it to the charger as well.

Nurse Kim watches him as he slips under the blanket and settles down. Once she’s deemed it enough, she goes to the machine to do whatever she does to it, both of them silent. Suho doesn’t have the mental strength to start any of their usual banter and she still seems too worried by his state to partake in any as well.

Suho stares at the ceiling. A few minutes pass by. She’s writing something down in his form. He listens to her pen scratching across the paper. If he closes his eyes, it might sound as if Sieun’s still in the corner of the room, doing his homework. If he tries hard enough, he might conjure up a past memory of the same situation – Sieun writing, Suho next to him, existing. Have they done that? They must have. It wouldn’t feel so natural if they haven’t.

“Get some rest,” she tells him with finality, one last worried look at him. He gives her a small close-mouthed smile.

Once she’s out of sight, doing her rounds in a different room, Suho snatches the phone from the stand, lifts the blanket over himself and goes back in time.

Sieunnie

Suho, it’s almost the new year. It’s cold outside but your room is always warm. You were always more warm-blooded than me so I hope you don’t think it’s too hot. I keep thinking you’ll wake up and curse out whoever set the thermometer.

It snowed yesterday. I forgot to check the weather so my sneakers got soaked on the way here. The warmth in your room helped, though. One of the nurses told me to get tea in the cafeteria so I don’t catch a cold. She recommended chamomile tea.      I almost fell asleep in the chair after I drank it. It was nice. I can barely sleep these days.

My therapist keeps giving medication to help with the insomnia. She talks to me, I answer her questions, I tell mom the sessions are fine and nothing changes. I can’t sleep and you’re not awake yet.

I bought chamomile tea for tonight. Maybe I’ll be able to fall asleep on my own. Maybe it reminds me of you and your room.

Sieunnie

Suho, something embarrassing happened. I’m only telling you this because I know you’ll laugh. I was going home yesterday after visiting and I fell asleep in the bus. I missed my stop and the bus driver woke me up at the bus depot. Whatever rest I got from that nap was gone when I realized what had happened. I think I ran out of the bus.

I walked back home. It was dark and cold but my face was so red, I couldn’t feel any of it. I kept thinking how you would laugh at me. It would be nice to hear.

Dad scolded me for coming home late but I don’t care. I was so exhausted by the walk that I managed to sleep for a few hours. Maybe that’s the whole point. I need to tire myself out.

I’ve been thinking of running, like we used to. I thought I hated it at the time but now I hate it even more. I don’t want to run alone. And it’s so cold these days. Your room is still the warmest place in the city.

It’s even cold at school. One of my classmates broke the window last week in our classroom and now we only have some duct tape over it until they fix it. Truth to be told, I’m not sure the radiators even work. I stopped coming to school earlier because it’s too freezing. How did you ever work in winter, Suho? Did you dress well enough? How did you handle the cold on your bike?

I’m sorry I took it all away. I think I deserve to feel this cold.

Sieunnie

Suho, you’re not going to like this because it’s about school but I’ve started writing down notes for you. You’ve already missed so much of school and I want to make it easier for you when you wake up. I know you don’t like to do schoolwork but I’ll help you. I can hear you complaining but the notes also help me revise the material that will be on the final exams. So, don’t worry.

The notes help with the guilt, too. I keep wondering if you’ll ever forgive me. I keep thinking and thinking and thinking. My head wasn’t this full before I met you.

My therapist described you as ‘somebody I love’ and I keep thinking about that, too. I guess I do. It would explain why I’m so lost and clueless. Did I love Beomseok, too? Youngyi? Did I lose everyone I love?

You would know the answer. Even if you said ‘I don’t know’, it would help me. Sometimes staring at you chest move up and down helps, too. Even though it’s not even you breathing on your own.

I wish you would wake up.

Sieunnie

Suho, there are rumours I killed you.

I heard my classmates talking today. They think I got transferred because I killed someone at my old school. The bullies don’t want to touch me because of that. They think I’m crazy.

I hate it but maybe it’s for the best. As long as I don’t have to fight anyone anymore. Even if they think I killed you. Did I? Are you ever going to wake up? Am I going to hear you talk ever again?

You’ve stopped talking in my dreams, too. Have I forgotten the sound of your voice?

I keep reading about comatose states and after effects. The longer you’re like this, the harder the recovery will be. I’m so sorry. I keep reading so I can help you later but maybe I jinxed you. I should stop. Should I stop visiting you as well?

I think that might kill me. Maybe it should. I’m sorry. I promised to sound better but I don’t know how. I go to school, visit you, study and try to sleep. Nothing else happens to me.

Mom wants me to join some clubs to help with admissions later on. I told her I don’t want to. She yelled at me and we left it at that. It’s all a waste of time anyway. I’ve been skipping cram school, too. None of it matters anymore.

If you died, I’d die too.

I’m sorry. I’ll stop now. See you tomorrow.

Sieunnie

Suho, I’m sorry I couldn’t come yesterday. Somebody stole my phone. I had to get a new one with my mom. It’s all so annoying but I don’t have the strength to care. Mom lectured me about skipping cram school, then she made me look over college brochures with her. She wants me to study abroad.

It’s a terrible idea. It’s the worst idea. I couldn’t say anything. I can’t visit you when I’m abroad.

She hasn’t mentioned you at all these last few months. My dad doesn’t speak about you either. I’m here every day and they never ask about you. It makes me so angry, like they want to forget the whole thing. I can’t forget it. I don’t want to forget it. All I have is memories with you.

I hate them. I really think I hate them. I used to feel nothing but now it’s just this strong contempt for everything they do.

Sometimes I think about the sleeping pills. If I took too many, would I meet you halfway? Would I breathe easier? Would I even need to breathe?

I’m sorry. I’ll stop promising brighter messages. Between the two of us, you were the happy one. I miss you.

Sometimes I think about the time before I met you. I wouldn’t want to go back. I think that was even worse than now. Is that selfish to say? Is it wrong? Maybe I’m looking at it all wrong. I wish I could hear your opinion on it. Life is so monotonous without you.

I miss you.

Sieunnie

Suho, I almost fought someone today. One of my classmates was bothering Juntae, the boy I told you about. I shouldn’t say bothering. He hit him. Juntae was bleeding. I went to stop him before it got too bad. I don’t know why I got involved. I knew it would go too far, maybe that’s why.

I got hit a little but what you taught me ended up useful. Would you be proud?

Anyway, some other pupil came to stop the fight. He was quite annoying, he kept talking. He reminded me of you. But he’s also nothing like you. Nobody is.

It’s been a while since I’ve had a bruise on my face. For a moment there, when I got hit, I was back to last summer. I was convinced I’d hear you somewhere in the background. I think I’m going crazy.

You called me a lunatic once. I bet you would now brag how good at reading people you are. I wish I was, too. Maybe things would’ve turned out differently.

It doesn’t matter. I’ll go home, dad will scold me for the bruises, I’ll study, go to school and come back here. I think this is how a hamster in a wheel feels.

I hope you don’t feel any of these days passing by. I hope you’re dreaming of something nice.

Sieunnie

Suho, I’m sorry. People know you’re here. I tried to protect you, I moved away, I don’t talk to anyone but they know. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to fight. It’s not fair to you.

I wish I could talk to you. I keep thinking you’ll wake up and everything will be fixed again. My therapist tells me I should find a hobby outside of school and you. I didn’t have a hobby before you, why would I find one now? Nothing compares.

I’m sorry. I’m dragging you down with me. I’ll stop. I’ll fix this. I’m sorry.

Sieunnie

Suho, I’m so sorry. I fought again. It was bad.

Sieunnie

Suho, the weather is getting hotter again. Baku, Gotak and Juntae keep taking me to places to eat. It’s like you and Beomseok all over again. Should I enjoy it? Am I allowed to? Would you want me to? I think you would.

But I can’t let them get hurt, too. I don’t think I would survive that again. What do I do?

I’ve been sleeping better. Juntae’s sleeping package is really helping. I didn’t realise how much I missed talking to friends. I think I can call them friends. It feels dangerous but I do feel better these days. Is that okay? Sometimes I go home after hanging out with them and I feel so guilty. You’re stuck here and I’m out there. It’s not fair.

Sieunnie

Happy birthday, Suho. I wish I could turn back time.

Sieunnie

Suho, it’s been a year. I woke up crying. This should have never happened.

I thought about contacting Youngyi and Beomseok. I don’t know why. Youngyi has decided not to talk to me and I don’t even have Beomseok’s number. But I still want to know how they are. Even though I haven’t forgiven Beomseok. It’s not up to me to forgive him. Would you forgive him? I genuinely don’t know the answer.

I told my friends about you. They don’t really ask about you and I’m thankful for that. I showed them your photo and they would like you to know you’re very handsome. I think you’d like that.

We’ve all been studying together and going out to eat. They want us to go to karaoke rooms but I don’t think I can do that just yet. I’m afraid those memories of us will be replaced by these new ones. Maybe I should write everything down, everything I remember. Just in case.

You’d call me paranoid. I am. It doesn’t hurt anybody so I think it’s fine.

I’ve been thinking about college. Truth to be told, I’m not interested in anything but since I do spend all of my days here, I guess medicine isn’t such a bad idea. Mom loves the idea which makes me hate it but I have to get over it.

Anyway, I brought some ox bone soup with me. Can you smell it? I thought it would be nice. I don’t really like it but I’ll eat it. Maybe my taste has changed.

Sieunnie

Suho, days are so hot. I just want to sit on your bike with you and let the wind cool us down. That sounds perfect right now. We did it once after your shift. I think that night was the first time I felt free.

The boys want me to go clubbing with them. I thought they were joking but Baku was quite persistent. I said no. I don’t see the point. I don’t dance, I don’t drink and I don’t like loud music. How do you even talk to anyone over the music? Would you ever go clubbing? Maybe I’d go then. Just for five minutes.

I’ve started exercising over the break. It’s not much because it’s so hot these days but I’ve been using some of my dad’s equipment in the apartment. Maybe I’ll run once it cools down a little. Maybe you’ll wake up by then, too.

I still miss you. I don’t think I’ll ever stop. It’s been so long.

Sieunnie

Suho, happy Chuseok. I saw your grandmother today. We don’t really see each other, she usually visits earlier in the day than me. I used to be too ashamed to face her. It only got worse as time went by.

I’m better now. It still feels awkward but she hugged me and said I look good. I realised you have her eyes. Oddly, it was comforting to see. She invited me to your place for lunch but I couldn’t. I think everything would smell like you and I wouldn’t handle it well. I told her I’d come another time.

Your hair is longer. One of the nurses told me they like to switch it up sometimes, if the guardian allows it. I guess your grandmother wants to see your hair long. I think it suits you. Your face is leaner so it looks nice.

Senior year is still a bit more challenging than past years but I’m okay. I still don’t want to go to cram school. Mom asks me about it whenever I see her but I refuse to go. I’m still making notes for you so that’s all the revision I need.

Sometimes I think what I will write down for you once I finish school. But it can’t come to that. You’ll wake up soon, right?

Sieunnie

Suho, I saw someone ride the same bike as you. It was only missing the stickers. I never asked you about the stickers. Why didn’t I ask you? How will I ever know now? I should have asked you. I should have told you many things.

I miss you. I want to talk to you again. You can talk all you like. We’ll go to the karaoke room and you can pick a song in the highest possible key, if you want. We can even drink beer under the overpass. I still remember that one time you begged me to do that. I should have said yes. Maybe things would be different.

I miss you so much. It’s nearly spring. I don’t think I can handle another June without you. Wake up, please. I still haven’t given you your birthday present from last year. You’ll love it, just wake up.

Suho doesn’t remember falling asleep. Between soaking the sheet under him with endless tears and biting his lip to stay quiet, he slipped into a dreamless slumber, phone still loosely held between his fingers.

Nurse Lee wakes him up hours later. He feels like shit. His eyelashes are clumped, his face sticky, lips dry from breathing through his mouth. His nose is clogged from all the crying.

He must be a vision given the fact nurse Lee’s eyes widen, one hand flying to Suho’s forehead. “Suho, are you feeling well?” she asks, the hand migrating to his cheeks, then chest.

Suho grunts, too exhausted to articulate anything. He wants to see Sieun. He wants to see him and ask so many things. Distantly, he regrets not writing anything down.

Nurse Lee suddenly shines a light into his eyes. He squeaks, throat dry, tries to avoid it. She grabs his chin and holds him still, the light going from one eye to another.

“Pupils responsive, okay,” she murmurs. She taps his cheek lightly. “Are you in pain, Suho, hmm?”

Suho finds enough strength to shake his head. “M’tired,” he mumbles, hand twitches around the phone in its hold. Nurse Lee’s eyes fly to it.

“Were you on your phone all night?” she asks, grabs it before Suho sees it coming. He whimpers, tries to get it back but she’s out of reach. He slumps against the cushions defeatedly.

She gives him a very stern look which would work if Suho wasn’t already drifting away, Sieun on his mind.

“Sleep, I’ll tell Seobin to give you a pass today,” she says, her voice slipping away.

Suho exhales, hopes he’ll wake up in time for Sieun’s visit.

Sieun doesn’t come that day.