Archive of Our Own

I, Christopher Bahng, take you, Seungmin, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, in joy and in sorrow, in health and in sickness, to love, to care, and to cherish you, for all the days of my life, till death do us apart."

The words came out plain, with no warmth—just something that Chan had been told to remember. His jaw tightened as his eyes met Seungmin's sincere ones. The air felt heavier than the suit he was wearing.

"I, Kim Seungmin, take you, Christopher, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, in joy and in sorrow, in health and in sickness, to love, to care, and to cherish you, for all the days of my life, till death do us apart."

Seungmin whispered with a smile; he meant each and every word. His gaze never left Chan's as he gently squeezed Chan's hand in his.

The vows were exchanged. Rings slid onto fingers. Seungmin's smile never left his face, but on the other side, Chan felt trapped—in a marriage he never wanted.

He had been ordered to marry Seungmin by his father, because the boy had suffered so much. He was soft, innocent—perfect for marriage.

The crowd cheered for the new couple, champagne bottles opened, glasses clinked, and soft music played in the background.

Chan plastered a smile on his face as he met the people who had come to attend this important day. Seungmin, along with Chan, greeted everyone with a genuine smile and happiness.

Meanwhile, Chan's father watched it all, satisfied with his decision, just as he had imagined this wedding. He still remembered the day his wife mentioned Seungmin, the boy who had suffered so much in his past.

Seungmin was the perfect choice for the marriage—for reputation, and maybe for his son too.

The sudden attention he had gotten because of choosing Seungmin as his son-in-law—someone who didn’t belong to a rich family, an orphan—for his only son.

He knew what he was doing: giving Seungmin the dream of a family he had been missing for so long, and giving Chan his company. It was like hitting two birds with one stone.

The night ended with blessings for the new couple. Chan and Seungmin found themselves in the car, heading toward their new home.

The drive was silent, but for Seungmin, it felt warm. Even though Chan hadn’t talked much to him, he was still happy. He knew this might take time. Chan’s mother had told him to be patient with him. He knew he wasn’t Chan’s choice. If it weren’t for Chan’s mother, Seungmin would’ve called off the wedding.

And somewhere, his heart said that everything would be alright.

When the couple reached their new home, Seungmin’s jaw dropped—it was literally a mansion, the kind he had only seen in movies.

The inside was beautiful—too big for only two people. Chan didn’t wait for Seungmin and headed straight to his room.

“Umm... Chan... where will I sleep?” Seungmin asked, a little hesitant.

“Sleep wherever you want. There are so many rooms,” Chan replied sternly.

Seungmin nodded quietly, watching Chan’s figure disappear into the big mansion. The silence felt heavier than anything. He slumped on the soft couch; his eyes went to the ring on his finger—the band that symbolized promises and love, though it meant nothing now.

He sighed, his chest aching at the sight of the ring. This wasn’t the fairytale he had imagined—the one where everything ended happily. He knew that now. But maybe... maybe the ache in his chest would go away. Maybe not everything had to be perfect. Maybe if he tried hard—loved harder—things would change for the better.

Seungmin went upstairs and picked the first guest room beside Chan’s. Maybe this way, he could stay a little close to him.

“Stop dreaming, Seungmin. This isn’t a fairytale,” Chan said, his voice cold, not even looking at Seungmin. “I don’t love you, and I never will. So don’t expect anything from me.”

The words stung sharper than Seungmin had expected. He wanted to say something, but the words felt stuck in his throat, so instead he nodded, forcing a small smile.

“I... I understand.” His voice came out as a trembling whisper. “But still, thank you for telling me.”

Chan didn’t answer. He didn’t feel like answering. His words weren’t a phrase, but a statement—he would never change, and he wanted Seungmin to acknowledge that.

That night, Seungmin couldn’t fall asleep. The soft bed, the big room—all of it felt like a cage.

But still, a little hope stirred inside him, refusing to let him fully believe Chan’s words, even though they echoed in his head like a song. Because there was a part of him that whispered—maybe one day, Chan might see him differently.

Maybe someday, the man he had married would love him too.

..............

The next day, Seungmin woke up with a heavy heart, but still he smiled—trying to adjust to his new life with his husband, making a quiet promise to himself to change everything.

He prepared breakfast for himself and Chan. Seungmin ate alone; Chan was still asleep. He washed his dishes and left for school, not forgetting to leave a note for Chan.

The school where he taught wasn’t far from where they lived. He quickly reached it by bus—it was a playschool, mainly for toddlers.

Seungmin had always loved kids. Since he hadn’t received much love as a child, being with kids made him feel like he was living his childhood again.

When Chan woke up, he found the home silent, like it had always been. He changed into his work clothes, feeling glad he didn’t have to see Seungmin.

When Chan went downstairs, he saw his breakfast covered with a lid and a note on it. It said:

"Please eat your breakfast,

And don’t forget to eat lunch.

Have a nice day."

The words were genuine—and somewhere, Chan felt that too. But before the feeling could take over, he crushed the note and tossed it into the bin.

He didn’t eat the breakfast Seungmin had prepared for him. He wouldn’t. In his mind, Seungmin had only married him for his wealth and reputation. It was all an act—and Chan was far from changing his point of view.

When Seungmin returned home, he sighed softly at the untouched plate left on the table. He had assumed Chan would be stubborn, but he wouldn’t give up.

He cooked dinner for both of them and waited for Chan. When Chan returned, it was already eleven. He found Seungmin asleep on the dining table, with the untouched food still there.

He sighed as he went to Seungmin, trying to wake him up. Seungmin stirred as soon as Chan said his name.

He rubbed his eyes before looking at Chan. “I’m so sorry... I fell asleep.”

“It’s fine. Go sleep in your room,” Chan replied as he turned away.

But Seungmin quickly grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“Wait... let’s eat. I’ve prepared dinner for us.”

“I’m not hungry,” Chan replied, yanking his hand back from Seungmin’s grip.

“But you didn’t even eat the breakf—”

“Oh, just drop the act, Seungmin! Stop acting like you care.” Seungmin was cut off by Chan, who was now boiling with anger.

“What do you think? I don’t know why you married me?” Chan scoffed, his voice louder now. “I don’t know what my parents see in you and why they forced me into this marriage, but don’t expect me to fall for your acts. I know very well you married me for my wealth and reputation. So please—stop with this bullshit.”

Chan left, throwing a last glare at Seungmin.

And Seungmin sat there frozen, trying to process Chan’s words. He didn’t know Chan thought of him that way. He had never wanted the money or the reputation. He only wanted a family—and Chan’s father had promised to give him one by making him a part of his own.

But maybe Seungmin had expected too much. He was only part of a game—and now he understood that. His eyes glistened with tears.

.............

After that night, Seungmin stopped talking to Chan. There was nothing left to say. The conversations he used to initiate had died down. But he didn’t stop caring.

Every day and night, he still prepared lunch and dinner for Chan, always leaving a note on the counter—simple things like “Don’t skip meals” or “Have a great day.”

He’d always eat beforehand, because he knew Chan preferred not to eat with him.

And this routine was never broken. Not even once.

As time passed, things changed. Seungmin’s rhythm faltered a little—sometimes he left things on the stove too long, or forgot where he’d placed them. Nothing major, just small mistakes—but they didn’t go unnoticed by Chan.

He didn’t comment, thinking those little slips might be from Seungmin’s exhaustion. And that thought shifted something inside him.

He still snapped occasionally—especially when Seungmin seemed distracted—but he wasn’t cold anymore. He’d eat the food Seungmin made for him, sometimes drop Seungmin off at school. He started sitting on the same couch with him—working while Seungmin watched TV. It felt like, for once, he had found comfort in silence.

Once, when Seungmin left his purse on the couch, Chan silently placed it on the table before leaving for work. He didn’t say anything, but the gesture stayed.

It wasn’t much, but something had changed between them—small, uncertain, but still, something like hope.

.............

The day was like any other. Nothing had changed. Seungmin followed his usual routine—waking up, changing, making breakfast for himself and Chan, and eating alone.

Just when he was about to leave, Chan stopped him.

“I’ll drop you. Wait for me,” Chan’s voice came from upstairs.

Seungmin just nodded, waiting for Chan to come down.

The drive was silent, like always. When they reached the school, it was empty—the gates closed. Closed for a holiday.

Seungmin looked at the gates, confused. He hadn’t heard anything about a holiday yesterday—or maybe he just didn’t remember.

Chan sighed sharply, his jaw tightening. “Didn’t they tell you today’s a holiday?”

“I... I think... I forgot,” Seungmin replied softly, fingers fidgeting with his bag straps.

“What?” Chan snapped, his voice rising.

“I... I’m sorr—”

“Do you even listen to yourself?” Chan said, frustrated. “How can you forget something like this? You made me drive all the way here for nothing!”

“I really didn’t mean to... And I didn’t ask for a... ride,” Seungmin whispered the last part, but Chan still heard it.

Chan looked at him in disbelief. He wanted to say something, but no words came. Seungmin was right. He was the one who had insisted on giving him a ride. He had no right to lash out like that. But still—how could Seungmin forget something like this?

Chan didn’t say anything else. He simply opened the car door.

“Do whatever you want. Go wherever you want,” Chan muttered as Seungmin stepped out.

Chan drove off, not even looking back—frustrated at the wasted time, the silence, at himself for caring even a little.

Seungmin stood there, staring at the closed gate. He smiled faintly to himself and headed toward a nearby café—maybe to pass the time before meeting Chan’s mother later that evening. She had invited him before, and he had promised to visit after school hours.

...........

That evening, Chan found himself with his friends. They had forced him to hang out since he’d been too busy with work. He agreed, wanting to lift his mood after the fight with Seungmin.

Laughing and eating, Chan was finally relaxing—until his mother called.

“Chan,” her voice came through the line, filled with concern. “Why didn’t Seungmin come today? He’s not picking up his phone either. Is everything alright?”

He frowned. Usually, Seungmin never missed meeting her—she was the only one who made him feel like family. The only one who truly cared about him.

“Everything’s fine, Mom. I’m out with friends. I’ll ask Seungmin when I get home. Don’t worry,” Chan assured her, even though something felt off. He didn’t want to make her worry.

His mother hummed, unconvinced, before ending the call.

He quickly dialed Seungmin’s number, but before it could connect, another call came—this time from an unknown number.

“Hello, am I speaking to Mr. Christopher Bahng?” a man’s voice asked.

“Yes, I’m Christopher. How can I help you?”

“I’m Officer Kim Jung. Mr. Bahng, please come to the police station to pick up your husband.”

Chan froze, standing up immediately. What was Seungmin doing at a police station? Was he hurt? Robbed? Was he okay? Panic filled his chest as he rushed out, heading straight for his car.

The officer gave him the address, and Chan drove there as fast as he could. His heart was pounding when he arrived. An officer explained the situation.

Seungmin had been found wandering near the main road when a car almost hit him. Luckily, an officer had pulled him away in time. When they asked for his home address, he couldn’t remember. He looked lost and confused. That’s why they brought him to the station and called Chan.

Chan’s chest tightened—but anger rose first. How could someone forget their own address? Or was this another act to get his attention?

But then... what if that car had hit him?

What if the officer hadn’t been there?

What if Seungmin had been hurt?

Those thoughts made his anger boil—how could someone be so reckless?

But when he stepped into the room and saw Seungmin sitting there—trembling, eyes wet, hands shaking—the anger disappeared. Seungmin wasn’t pretending. He never had.

“Seungmin,” Chan called quietly, but even that made Seungmin flinch.

Seungmin looked up, then stood quickly, tears threatening to fall.

Chan didn’t say anything. He walked toward him and pulled him into an embrace. A sigh of relief escaped his lips.

Seungmin didn’t know what to say. He was confused, shocked, scared. He didn’t even return the embrace—afraid Chan would pull away.

The drive home was silent. Chan didn’t ask what had happened. He was just glad Seungmin was safe. That was all that mattered.

By the time they arrived, Seungmin was already asleep in the car, probably from exhaustion. Chan didn’t mind. He carried Seungmin to his room, gently placing him on the bed and covering him with a blanket.

Chan didn’t leave his side. Instead, he gently stroked Seungmin’s hair, watching him quietly breathe.

“I’m sorry,” Chan whispered, placing a soft kiss on Seungmin’s temple.

He didn’t know what exactly he was apologizing for—but he knew he needed to. Maybe for making things hard for Seungmin, for thinking he was pretending when he was only trying to build something he could call a family.

Seungmin had been trying—and now, Chan would too.

He would make things right.

Because today, he realized that even breathing felt hard without Seungmin.

............

The next morning, Seungmin woke to the smell of something warm.

When he went downstairs, he found Chan cooking breakfast. He’d even set the table for two.

Seungmin blinked, thinking it must be a dream. Chan didn’t say anything. He didn’t ask or question—just placed the plate in front of Seungmin.

For the first time in their marriage, they ate together. In silence. Quietly. But that silence spoke more than words—it wasn’t cold anymore.

When Chan saw Seungmin wasn’t getting ready for school, he understood that Seungmin was taking a day off. A quiet understanding had formed between them—they didn’t need words anymore. The other’s actions said enough.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” Chan said softly, with a smile, before leaving for work.

It wasn’t much—but for that moment, it felt enough.

Chan left with a smile, and maybe... with hope too.

A faint smile curved on Seungmin’s lips—but it faded as soon as Chan left, leaving him alone in the big mansion.

The whole day, Chan could only think about Seungmin—and last night. He still hadn’t asked him about not visiting his mother. She was quite worried. But Chan didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. Last night had been too much already.

Even the thought of Seungmin’s trembling voice, his tearful eyes, made Chan’s chest tighten.

But still, he had to ask him about it. He would—carefully, gently.

That evening, Chan came home earlier than usual, wanting to talk to Seungmin. He found him sitting on the couch, a file in his hands.

Chan sat across from him, smiling softly.

But before he could say anything, Seungmin placed the file on the table and looked at him directly.

“Chan... let’s divorce.”

The divorce papers lay untouched on the table, Chan’s heart pounding in his chest.

“What... what are you saying, Seungmin?” he stammered.

Seungmin sat there calm and composed. There wasn’t even a little bit of hesitation in his actions or words.

“This isn’t working. I don’t want this marriage anymore. I want a divorce,” he exclaimed.

“Is this some kind of joke to you?” Chan snapped at him.

But Seungmin didn’t flinch. His heart raced inside his chest.

“I’m not joking, Chan. I really do want a divorce. Let’s end it all.”

Chan’s mind went blank. He found himself speechless as anger rose inside him. Seungmin wasn’t stopping, but Chan wasn’t hearing any of it. His mind scrambled—he wanted to fix this, to care for Seungmin, to make their lives better—yet Seungmin’s words shattered everything.

“Chan, please sign these papers. I’ve already signed them.”

“I won’t.”

“What?”

“I said I won’t sign these fucking papers. I’m not going to divorce you, Seungmin!” Chan shouted as he turned around, not wanting to stay anymore.

The words echoed in the big hall as Chan left through the same door he had entered just a while ago.

A sigh fell from Seungmin’s mouth. He hadn’t expected this reaction from Chan, and it entirely changed the way things should go. Because now, even if he wanted to let go, Chan wouldn’t.

But Seungmin wouldn’t let that happen. Before it was too late, it was better to separate his ways from Chan.

Seungmin had never wanted the divorce; even the idea of it made his heart ache. He just wanted a family—and Chan’s love.

But things never go the way we want.

It all started with small things—when Seungmin left food to cook for extra minutes, forgot where he placed things, or took important things with him while going out.

Only small acts, which happen to everyone.

But it didn’t stay that small.

Seungmin started to notice how forgetful he was becoming. Sometimes he forgot things in the oven, his purse, and sometimes... even Chan’s name.

Before Seungmin could stop it, it became a habit—a habit of forgetting. School holidays, the names of the kids he taught, and sometimes he became so distracted that he even forgot what he was teaching.

But those didn’t affect him much. The thing that affected him was Chan. Cold and distant, like always, he would lash out at him whenever he forgot things or got distracted.

They weren’t talking. Chan would never talk to him— that’s what Seungmin thought, and somehow, he was right.

The only thing he was scared of was the moment he’d forget something that would make Chan lash out at him.

Chan wasn’t as cold as before, but it still scared him. They shared one roof, even sat together sometimes, but that didn’t make this relationship any better.

For Seungmin, it was like a routine he and Chan were getting used to.

And he hated the fact that Chan still hadn’t seen his true side yet.

But what could he even do? He was scared of what might happen—and more so because there was no one else for him, no matter how much he tried to assure himself.

Things led him to the hospital, where Seungmin found out about his new habit of forgetting things that was getting worse day by day.

He had Alzheimer’s.

And Seungmin couldn’t do anything about it.

The first thing that came to his mind after finding out about his disease was... what if one day he forgot Chan too?

The doctor told him there was no cure. He would forget things, maybe slowly or faster, but there was no way to stop it.

Seungmin knew then that Chan was the only one holding him back.

He needed to get away from Chan—before things got worse.

So Seungmin decided he would ask Chan for a divorce, which was the only best option left. He knew Chan wouldn’t mind; he was only in this marriage because of his parents. And this might be the only way Seungmin could free him.

But humans are selfish, aren’t they?

Before the divorce, Seungmin only wanted a month—just a month to live with Chan one last time, to spend the moments left with him.

And fate is cruel.

Seungmin didn’t know his symptoms could get this bad. The doctor told him that stress might worsen the condition—and it did.

Last night.

Seungmin had gone to a café before meeting Chan’s mother, but he couldn’t remember where to go. He wandered around the whole day, finally exhausted, trying to find his way home.

But nothing.

His mind went blank even when trying to recall his home address. Panic surged inside him as he couldn’t remember where he lived. He tried to cross the road, mind blank, and didn’t notice the green light. He ran.

A car sped toward him, and if that police officer hadn’t been there, even Seungmin didn’t know what would have happened.

His face went pale. Experiencing death that close, made his whole body tremble, his eyes glistening with tears.

The officer asked him for his address, but the only thing he could do was shake his head in a no. He just couldn’t remember it—no matter how hard he tried.

The officers took his personal information and called Chan. Hearing that they’d informed him, Seungmin’s heart dropped.

Another wave of panic rose at the thought of Chan’s reaction. The only thing he could imagine was Chan lashing out at him for not remembering his own address.

And Seungmin didn’t want that.

When Chan quietly called his name at the police station, Seungmin’s body shivered. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want Chan to think Seungmin was doing this for attention.

But when Chan suddenly pulled him into an embrace, Seungmin’s body went numb—a mix of emotions building up inside him: fear, nervousness, and a little warmth that he didn’t know how long would last.

Seungmin was glad when Chan didn’t ask him anything—not that he would’ve answered if he did—because Seungmin needed time.

The next morning when he woke up, the first question that came to his mind was how he ended up in bed. He wasn’t expecting Chan to carry him all the way there.

It was sudden, and Seungmin didn’t know how to get used to Chan’s small acts of kindness.

And when he saw Chan downstairs, for a moment he forgot everything—last night, their relationship, their marriage. It was just two people under the same roof, trying to understand each other.

But the moment Chan left, the loneliness and fear returned. Seungmin, who had planned to spend one good month with Chan before leaving him, found himself talking to his lawyer.

He didn’t want the divorce. He never did.

The only thing he wanted was love.

But maybe love was never written in his destiny.

And he didn’t want to hold Chan back.

Because Chan deserved better—a person he would love all his life. Seungmin didn’t want to be a burden.

And when that evening Chan returned earlier than usual, Seungmin found it the perfect opportunity to ask him.

For a divorce.

.............

Days passed, and Chan found himself avoiding the topic of divorce. Seungmin resigned from the school for two reasons: one, because Chan had stopped dropping him off, as every time they were together Seungmin would start talking about divorce; and two, simply because Seungmin couldn’t remember the way to school anymore.

But it was more that the school had forced him to resign because Seungmin couldn’t remember the kids’ names, the holidays, and it was becoming a problem.

Seungmin’s frustration grew day by day. He didn’t understand why Chan was being like this all of a sudden—wasn’t he the one who said he was forced to marry him?

So what happened now?

Meanwhile, Chan wasn’t different. He was wondering the same—why Seungmin suddenly wanted a divorce and what exactly had happened that night. He would’ve asked Seungmin, but only if Seungmin wouldn’t start the same topic again.

Chan was tired of it. He didn’t want to let go of Seungmin, because Seungmin had become a part of his life. And most importantly, Seungmin was his husband. Chan had realized, after that night, how much he needed him. Even the thought of Seungmin leaving sent shivers down his spine.

He had started to see and feel the things he had ignored before. Seungmin had tried enough for him, and now it was his turn to make sure Seungmin would never leave.

Because maybe, just maybe, he had fallen for his husband.

But Seungmin’s demand never changed. Even though Chan thought avoiding the topic would make him tired of it, Seungmin wasn’t buying it.

His voice carried desperate pleas whenever he asked for a divorce, and Chan, every time, refused like it was something he couldn’t bear to accept.

After half a month of fighting over this, Chan found himself thinking about it. What if Seungmin had found someone else? Even the thought made his jaw clench. But it wasn’t like he had done anything good for him either.

So Seungmin wanting to live on his own, with someone who would love him, wasn’t wrong.

But not being that man was breaking Chan’s illusion.

Finally, Seungmin’s desperate plea reached him.

Chan was tired of everything. He couldn’t live without Seungmin, but he also couldn’t live with him like this—when every day Seungmin talked about leaving, and Chan couldn’t do anything but ignore him while living under the same roof.

So Chan thought of begging—begging Seungmin not to leave, not to ask for divorce, to give him a chance to prove himself, to let him take care of him.

But what if Seungmin still didn’t agree?

Then Chan would sign the papers and free Seungmin, because Seungmin deserved to be happy.

And at this point, Seungmin’s happiness mattered the most to Chan.

Again, Chan returned home earlier than usual—but to an empty house. He couldn’t see Seungmin anywhere. He wasn’t in the hall, so Chan thought Seungmin might be in his room.

Upstairs, he gently knocked on the door before stepping inside. The room was empty, like the entire house. Maybe Seungmin was out to buy something or had some work.

The guest room was clean; it smelled like Seungmin. Chan found himself wandering around the room, and the thing that caught his attention was the file lying on the bed.

It looked different—not like the one that held the divorce papers. It was in a white envelope.

Medical reports.

As curiosity took over, Chan opened it. And when he read it, his world turned upside down.

..............

When Seungmin returned home, he found Chan sitting on the couch. It was like the same scene from that day when he first mentioned the divorce—but this time, the roles had switched.

“Seungmin,” Chan suddenly said.

Seungmin placed the bag of groceries on the counter. He had gone to the convenience store with the help of the map on his phone so he wouldn’t get lost—and somehow, it worked.

Seungmin sat across from Chan, hands on his lap. Today felt unusual. Seungmin hadn’t been feeling his best; the burden of days passing with his fading memories scared him. And what scared him most was that Chan still wasn’t ready to leave him. Seungmin didn’t know how not to be a burden.

“Why do you want a divorce?” Chan asked him, his voice gentle—not to scare him. He only wanted the truth he already knew, but from Seungmin’s lips.

Seungmin simply shrugged, as if it were the most natural thing someone could ask.

“This isn’t working. I don’t... w-want this marriage anymore. I... I want freedom,” Seungmin replied, his voice cracking a little.

And that’s when the last string of Chan’s patience broke.

“That’s bullshit!” he snapped. “Don’t lie to me, Seungmin!” he said, throwing the medical report he had taken earlier from Seungmin’s room.

Seungmin’s eyes widened on seeing his medical reports. Chan had found out the secret he’d been hiding.

“Isn’t this why you’re asking for a divorce?” Chan exclaimed, his voice louder than before.

“So what if I want a divorce because of this? You don’t love me! You think I’m pretending to get your attention, so why don’t we just end it all?” 

Seungmin cried.

“I... I don’t want to be a burden on you. You... you deserve better. Someone you can love and cherish—not me, who’s struggling to remember your name every day.”

Chan’s heart broke at Seungmin’s words.

"You’re the only one I want to love and cherish Seungmin. You’re not a burden."

Seungmin’s breath caught. He wanted to believe those words—to believe Chan—but fear clawed at his heart.

What if this was all a dream? What if none of this—this disease, this marriage, this love—was real?

As much as he wanted to believe, he couldn’t. The fear of losing everything, of forgetting everything, scared him the most.

Chan noticed the unstoppable tears and fear on Seungmin’s face. He quickly crouched down to his level and gently wiped his tears.

“I know you don’t trust me, Seungmin,” Chan spoke gently. 

“I’m not telling you to believe me now... just... just give me a chance, Seungmin. Let me prove myself to you. Let me take care of you. Please, Seungmin, I’m begging you—just give me a chance to show my love.”

Tears filled his eyes as he gently caressed Seungmin’s cheek. Seungmin only nodded; he was out of words. He could see how genuine Chan’s words were, but he couldn’t help feeling scared.

Because one day, he might forget Chan too.

But Chan’s words stirred a hope inside him. Maybe things would get better. Maybe, even if one day he forgot him, Chan wouldn’t leave.

.......

After that night, things changed—for the good, of course. Chan, the man of his words, took care of Seungmin as much as he could. He knew Seungmin’s disease and his everyday struggles to remember things.

And Chan kept a sharp eye on that. He never let Seungmin go out alone. He even started visiting his mother with Seungmin whenever she invited them. He placed pictures of him and Seungmin all over the house, so one day, if Seungmin forgot him, the pictures would help.

He left notes every day with basic reminders Seungmin might forget. He even called him to remind him to take his medicines on time.

Chan shifted Seungmin’s things into his room, because sometimes Seungmin woke up in the middle of the night and wandered around the house in panic. One night, he even went outside and roamed on the empty roads.

Chan had never experienced that much fear in his entire life. He insisted on sleeping in the same room, so he could be there for him.

Seungmin found it awkward at first. Even though they were married, they had never shared a bed. Chan, noticing his discomfort, offered Seungmin the bed and slept on the couch himself.

But soon, Seungmin didn’t feel uncomfortable anymore, and even shared the bed with Chan. After that day, Seungmin stopped waking up in the middle of the night. Chan would hold him close, and even if he had nightmares, Chan was there to calm him.

One day, Seungmin woke up panicked—he couldn’t remember Chan and thought he was a stranger. Chan had seen this coming. He gently calmed Seungmin down and showed him their photos, their memories, to help him remember.

And after a while, Seungmin calmed down. Chan helped him recall everything. Tears filled Seungmin’s eyes as he hugged Chan.

“See... I told you, it’s not easy to live with me. I’ll forget everything... even you,” Seungmin said while crying.

“I know. But I love you, Seungmin, and I will always love you, no matter what,” Chan replied while caressing his back.

“I love you too... and I’m sorry,” Seungmin cried harder.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything. Just let me take care of you.”

“Will you?” Seungmin asked, pulling away from the embrace.

Chan quickly nodded, wiping the tears that weren’t stopping.

“Thank you,” Seungmin whispered, “for not leaving me.”

Chan hummed and joined their foreheads.

“I won’t leave you, Seungmin. No matter what, even if one day...."

"You forget me too."