Work Text:
The room was quiet except for the hum of the air conditioner and the scribbling sound of a pen on the paper. Americano rested untouched in a tumbler on the table, the owner didn't yet seem to be interested in touching it.
The door swung open, and a blue-haired man stepped in. A box in his hands. "Eunho-ya, could you help me for a bit?"
The one being called turned, getting off of his seat without saying anything. They began to unbox it and discuss where to put the stuff. Until the door opened once again, and three people came in this time. One of those was someone Eunho wasn't familiar with.
"Oh, they've arrived." Yejun stood up, giving out a folder to the blond-haired man who just took a seat and stole a sip of Eunho's coffee.
Seeing that, Eunho tilted his head. "Isn't that mine?"
The guy giggled, using the folder as a handheld fan. "No, it's mine."
It made the other guy—the black-haired one—throw him a side eye, drawing laughter from the blond. "Don't joke around like that," he said, voice tiny.
"Why why?"
Before the situation could heat up, Yejun stepped between them, his hand already gripping someone else’s—slender but not weak. Thin muscles lay beneath the skin, the kind Noah would call “fashion muscles.”
"Alright, let's stop here." Yejun pulled the pink-haired man to his side, placing his hand on the guy's shoulders. "This is Bamby. He'll be teaching dance, so Haminie doesn't have to work alone anymore."
The other two reached for Bamby’s hand, small talk following soon after—and Eunho did the same, holding it, their skin warm against each other. "Do Eunho," he said, eyes gazing into the magentas before him.
"Chae Bonggu."
Eunho’s lips parted, only for him to press them together again. Bamby was cute—there was no denying it. His small figure fit his adorable appearance perfectly. Paired with his pink hair and the clothes he wore that day, everything looked good on him. "He has good taste in fashion," Eunho thought.
The studio grew quiet as Yejun, the leader, dismissed them. But just as Bamby turned to leave, Eunho reached out, fingers closing around his hand. Actually, he didn't know why he did that. So when the pink-haired man asked if there was something he needed from him, Eunho stuttered a little.
"You'll join us for lunch, right?"
Before Bamby could answer, a voice cut in from behind. "I don't think we can finish this piece until lunch break, Eunho-ya. How about you guys go and buy us instead?"
The silver-haired man nodded—surprisingly quick, like he didn't just stutter a few seconds ago. In the end, the two agreed to meet this afternoon, with Eunho picking Bamby up in his studio.
Time flew faster when you were excited. It was twelve when Eunho went out of the room, his footsteps light as he walked toward the other studio. Today, that room seemed more lively thanks to the pink-haired man named Chae Bonggu. After asking Hamin what menu he wanted to have for lunch, Eunho walked out with Bamby by his side.
The sky was rather clear as they stepped out of the building. They walked alongside each other since the restaurant they agreed to visit was near. Eunho kept Bamby secured by making him walk on the side where vehicles wouldn't touch him. He also constantly asked if Bamby was cold, since the temperature significantly dropped that time.
As soon as they entered, Eunho dragged a chair and asked Bamby to sit, waiting for him to make the order. It wasn't long until he came back, with two bungeoppang in his hands. He gave one to the pink-haired man. "It's so cold," he explained, even though Bamby didn't ask anything. "How's your first day working with us?"
Bamby brought the snack to his lips, humming in thought. "Not bad. But since Hamin teaches better, I think I'll handle the choreography instead."
Eunho nodded, his gaze staying fixed on him. When he noticed the cream smeared on Bamby’s cheek, he reached out and rubbed it away with his thumb. "Pfft, what are you? A kid?" he teased, bringing his thumb to his mouth and licking the cream clean.
The blush on Bamby's cheeks slowly spread. He hissed, taking out a mirror from his bag and shoving it to Eunho's face. "You look at yourself."
Eunho froze for a few seconds, watching his reflection in the mirror. Cream and crumbs smeared the corners of his lips—worse than Bamby’s.
A soft chuckle escaped Bamby as he pulled some tissues, wiping Eunho's lips softly. "Who's the kid now?"
The younger one didn't answer, just curling his lips into a smile. He let Bamby wipe his lips—something he actually enjoyed, but didn't dare to say out loud. Then he brought a hand to his chin, eyes lingering on the pink-haired man, who was now focused on the bungeoppang again.
The table fell silent again. Just as Bamby finished his snack, the waiter returned with two plastic bags. Bamby reached for them, only for Eunho to take them first. "Let's go," he said, casually carrying the bags.
The walk back to the studio was quieter than before. Eunho kept tugging his sleeves down, trying to trap even the slightest bit of warmth, and Bamby noticed. "Didn't Yejun Hyung tell us to wear padded jackets?"
Eunho laughed awkwardly—it didn't just sound like a question. Bamby was silently judging him. "It wasn't this cold this morning, though."
Bamby sighed, rolling his eyes in exasperation. Still, he lifted his hand, and a mumble escaped him, "Give me your hand."
Eunho blinked twice, and before he could even process it, Bamby had snatched his hand. He held it tightly, as if the cold would swallow Eunho otherwise. Warmth spread across his face, his cheeks reddening even more—but he ignored it. Or at least, he tried.
One minute almost passed when Eunho finally moved, bringing their hands into his coat pocket. "Thank you," he mumbled, gazing at Bamby who seemed to avoid his eyes. A serene voice slipped from him as they were close to the building. "Are you free tonight?"
That came out unprompted—Eunho didn't even know why he asked. But Bamby hummed, casually answering, "Mhm, why?"
Slowly, their intertwined fingers loosened as Eunho gently pulled their hands out from his pocket, letting them fall back to their sides. Snow fell softly on their heads, and Eunho reached out, brushing it away from the pink strands. His gaze met Bamby's this time.
"It's late at night when my work is done, but if it's alright with you, would you come out for a sec?"
Bamby didn't answer—not immediately. His hands clenched a little, subtle enough that Eunho didn't notice. A gentle breeze brushed his face, as if whispering for him to follow his heart. He nodded, another hum slipping from him.
"Sure."
***
The clock read half past ten when the car halted in front of a house. The door of the passenger seat opened as a pink-haired man stepped in. He took a glance at the one beside him, lips curling into a soft smile. "Good job for wearing a padded jacket."
A warm flush spread over Eunho’s cheeks as he let Bamby ruffle his hair. They had only just met that morning, yet he found himself loving everything Bamby did to him.
The car fell silent as it cruised along the road, tires crunching against piles of snow, Chroma Drift playing softly in the background. They hadn’t decided where to go yet, but Bamby let Eunho choose, since he was the one who had asked him out.
"Let's eat first. You haven't had dinner, right?" Bamby suggested.
Eunho pouted a little. "Is that okay? You've eaten, though."
"No, I haven't." Bamby shook his head. "Noah Hyung asked for a revision, so I did, and by the time I realized, it was past dinner time."
Hearing that, Eunho turned so quickly his neck might snap. A hiss slipped from him. "Damn, that hyung makes someone work overtime on their very first day," he muttered, clearly annoyed. "You should ask for a raise."
Watching the younger rant made Bamby burst into laughter. The once-quiet car was suddenly abuzz with noise. Bamby lost count of how many food and restaurant names poured out of Eunho’s mouth. "I should've jotted them down," he thought as giggles escaped.
And Eunho seemed to realize that. "Am I talking about food too much?" he asked, lips slightly curling down. "I'm sorry."
To Bamby, Eunho looked like a big puppy—ears drooping and tail still. "It's fine," Bamby said softly, "I love it."
It was their first date, though neither of them admitted it out loud. Eunho chose the best restaurant he knew that night. Then they walked down the snowy road, watching city lights from afar, talking about boring things as they built a snowman.
And Bamby made sure everything was captured—by his eyes, and by the handycam he always carried with him.
"Yejun Hyung wanted me to bring you home," a sudden mumble escaped Eunho, his eyes gazing past the snowball in his hands.
There was a three second pause before Bamby lowered the handycam. "Tonight?"
"Yeah." The silver-haired finally took a glance. "But it's late, I'll tell him you'll come next—"
"It's okay," Bamby cutted, already standing up and brushing the snow from his pants. "Let's go, then."
He got into Eunho's car even before the owner did. On the dashboard sat a house-shaped music box, a tiny snowman inside it. Bamby reached out, his fingers stroking it softly. He hadn’t realized it had been there all this time.
"You like it?" Eunho asked as he closed the door.
The pink-haired let out a soft chuckle. "It's cute."
"I know, right?" Eunho caressed it, but his eyes stayed glued to the road, a faint smile tugging his lips. "I don't remember when or where I got it. Yet for some reason, this silly thing brings me comfort. I carry it to the bed, the hyungs even said sometimes I bring it to the studio. It's weird, but I feel safe having it around."
The car grew quiet once again. Bamby lowered his arm, leaning back, looking away from the music box. His gaze stayed fixed on the snow outside, then his lips parted, replying in a serene voice, "Maybe someone is trying to protect you through it."
The silver-haired didn't answer, but he didn't object to it either. No, he didn't believe in spiritual conception, but he was sure that there was a story behind that mere music box.
A story he didn't remember.
He stepped on the brake as they reached the building. It was half past twelve, yet the house still looked alive—the lamps were still on, and the muffled sound of the TV could be heard from the outside. Eunho was about to reach the handle when he saw a pair of shoes he was familiar with. "Oh? Haminie is here?" he asked to himself.
The house felt even more lively by the time Eunho walked in. Inside the living room were three people, lying casually on the sofa. Nobody was actually watching the TV—each focused on their phones, only using the sound to break the silence.
Yejun was the first to notice their arrival. He sat up quickly. "Oh, you really brought him home."
Eunho took a seat on the empty side of the sofa, gently guiding Bamby to sit next to him. "Just don't talk about work again."
Yejun let out a small giggle. "No, we won't." He reached for a notebook Noah just gave out, then continued, "Here. Your diary."
The younger frowned—too confused to understand. "Diary?" he asked, yet he took it anyway. Before he realized, his hand had already moved.
His own handwriting greeted him on the very first page.
Page 1
If you’re reading this, it means you forgot again. That’s okay. We can always try, again and again.
Seoul, December 28th, 20XX
Do Eunho
He froze, his fingers stilled on the paper.
He didn't remember ever writing it at all.
"Eunho," Yejun called softly, afraid that something might break. "We'll explain later. For now, just take a look and write something down."
The younger didn't answer—he couldn't. His hand started to tremble, and Bamby noticed. He held it gently, offering comfort, even if only a little.
He turned the page, but it was empty. Only the trace of a torn piece of paper remained. He swallowed hard. Did he do it? But why?
Past the torn page, however, handwriting he didn’t recognize appeared.
Page 3
From now on, we will always be together in countless sentences.
We might've already visited the same restaurant for the thirtieth time, or watched the same boring movie over and over. Still, every moment with you brings me something new to learn. And despite everything, in the end, I'm the one you always choose.
So I, too, will always come back to you.
Seoul, December 28th, 20XX
Chae Bonggu
A tear slipped down, landing on the paper. Eunho didn't even know why he suddenly cried, but he knew that something inside him just cracked. "The fuck is all this ...," he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. His fingers traced the page—Bamby's handwriting felt both familiar and distinct at the same time.
Page 4
If you have a date with someone named Chae Bonggu, please write anything down here. But before that, let me remind you one thing:
After this, every page you turn will either make you laugh or cry, depending on your mood that day. It's a journey you never thought you'd experienced.
A journey with a pink-haired man you love more than the world.
"What does it mean?" He looked up, eyes meeting the magentas before him. "Hyung ... stop it, it's not funny."
"It's not supposed to be funny," Bamby stated, his voice firm but shaky at the end. "Eunho, we've ... been dating for years."
Silence. The air tightened around them.
"You two got into an accident," Yejun added, "and somehow, it made you lose all memories of Bamby."
Eunho's brows were knitted together. "Only Bamby Hyung?"
Yejun nodded. "The doctor said it might be due to your guilt. But—"
"Then," the younger cutted, forcing a smile tugging at his lips, "we can just make new memories. No need to pretend we just know each other, Hyung."
Hearing that, Bamby's eyes fell shut. The hardest part wasn't about being forgotten, but it was how Eunho chose not to believe him in his new world.
"We've tried once, but you didn't believe me." His voice was hoarse, fear and despair mixed together. "Because by the time you wake up ... you'll forget everything. What we did today, what kind of food we had, how the weather was—you won't remember anything."
Eunho's jaw clenched so tight it might break apart. "So you're saying I'm stuck in the present? I won't remember our times together and I will forget about you tomorrow?"
Nobody answered—because reality was always too cruel to be said out loud.
The sound of flipping pages broke the silence. On every page, a short story was written, with polaroids attached to the opposite side. His hands trembled more with each page, but he couldn’t stop. His fingers brushed every photo, seeking even a flicker of memory.
Yet even when he reached the last page—written only yesterday—the black hole remained.
Page 364
Today is your 364th first date. If tomorrow you go on another date, congratulations, that means you just passed another year with him—without you knowing. And Bamby Hyung said tomorrow is actually our anniversary. Maybe ... you should cook him pasta?
His eyes went blurry, and before tears could ruin the paper, Eunho snapped the book shut. He lowered his head, letting tears fall into his lap. "I can't remember ...." His voice was barely above breath, whispering more to himself. "I can't remember any of those dates ...."
Bamby quickly shook his head, cupping Eunho's cheeks so their eyes would meet. "It's okay ... it's okay, Eunho-ya, you did nothing wrong ...."
Eunho held those hands, lower lip bleeding as he bit too strong. "Hyung ...," he called, barely audible, "I don't want to forget you ...."
Those words hit right in his heart, but Bamby nodded, caressing Eunho's cheeks so tenderly. Tears he tried so hard to hold back finally flowed, trickling down his chin. Gently, he put their foreheads together, whispering softly to Eunho's ear, "I know," he paused, "but it's okay, you'll learn about me again tomorrow ... and the day after ... and days after those."
A groan finally slipped from the younger. He burst, pulling Bamby deep into his embrace. The once-suppressed cries grew loud, so painful nobody wanted to hear it. He gripped Bamby's shirt tightly, burying his face on the guy's shoulder. His heart raced with anger and despair that he wanted to just disappear. "I'm sorry," he muttered, hands wrapping tighter, "I'm so sorry."
A kiss was pressed on Eunho's forehead—one that was so tender, as if that alone could erase bad thoughts. Bamby's fingers gently threaded through the silver strands. "Don't apologize," he whispered right to his ear.
That night, as the other three left them alone, Bamby told him everything—every story behind each photo, memories they made for the past year. How they went to the same places only God knew how many times already. How they'd talked about things like this that it became a routine.
"Don't you feel tired?" Eunho rested his head on Bamby's shoulder, his gaze staying fixed on a handycam. Every swipe on the screen brought him relief—no matter how many times he was gone, his heart still longing for the same person.
And that very man smiled, already knowing the answer. "It's a lie if I say I'm not tired, but I know I won't give up on you."
"Why?"
They turned at the same time, finding each other through the gaze. Bamby reached out, caressing Eunho's cheek with his thumb, while Eunho brought his hand to the back of Bamby's nape, pulling him closer until what remained between them was just air. It wasn't long until Bamby's eyes fluttered shut, lips parting just slightly as Eunho's finger brushed against them.
Finally, Eunho leaned closer, stealing a peck on that lower lip. He let his eyes fall shut, entwining their fingers as if he'd fall apart otherwise.
Chae Bonggu was the reason behind every song he wrote. An anemoia turned out to be the missing piece of the puzzle.
"I love you, Eunho-ya."
A tear slipped down. Eunho didn't dare open his eyes. A soft peck touched his lips, and he gave in, letting Bamby suck his lower lip, even biting it lightly.
"Open your eyes," Bamby begged, "Please."
The younger obeyed, as if his body remembered before the mind could. Just as his lips were about to part, Bamby already leaned—cupping Eunho's cheeks, shoving another kiss.
"I love you," the pink-haired repeated, then a whisper followed, voice cracking just a little. "Happy anniversary."
Eunho pressed his lips together. He slumped, falling to the floor, knees colliding with the cold tiles. With trembling hands, he blindly reached, finding the other's, pulling them closer like they were the only things remaining in this world. "Please ...," he whispered, voice barely above breath, "don't let me fall asleep ...."
The room stilled once more. Nobody could respond to what Eunho had begged.
Including the other three who'd been silently watching from behind. Their hands clenched, jaw tightening in anger, muttering curses under their breaths to the cruel fate.
"Please, Hyung," Eunho looked up, desperate this time, "don't let me slip away ... please ... I beg you ...."
Bamby's throat caught, as if something choked him from within. He broke down, sobbing so desperately it hurt anyone who heard. Outside, the sky darkened, snow falling heavier, as if Terra mourned alongside them, grieving the eternal damnation they never deserved.
"It hurts," Bamby whispered to himself, still trying to hold everything together even as his soul began to shatter. "I don't want to be forgotten ... I don't want you to forget me, Eunho."
But he swallowed hard, not letting even a word slip. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss on Eunho's forehead before moving down to the eye. "Listen, Eunho-ya," he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "No matter how hard tomorrow would be, and how painful every night would feel, I'll wait for you, and you'll come back to my arms. So don't be scared. We've survived this long, haven't we?"
Gently, he brushed Eunho's tears away. A small giggle slipped from him as he rubbed their noses together.
"Hyung loves you so much, Eunho-ya," he uttered, draping a palm on Eunho's eyes so they fluttered shut. "Let's go on another date tonight."
Eunho rested his head on Bamby's arm. It was warm, comforting to the touch. "I love you," he whispered, voice hoarse as fear catching up with him. "Don't leave me."
"I won't," Bamby answered, quick and determined. He pulled him back up, guiding him to sleep in his lap, caressing his hair to make him fall into deep slumber.
He gazed down—Eunho looked so peaceful in his sleep. A soft chuckle escaped him, then a whisper followed, quiet and serene.
"Sleep tight."
***
Bamby forced his eyes to open—he had to, there was something he needed to say to the one holding him so tightly right now. "Ha-minie," He reached—blindly, shakily. His pupils shook, unfocused.
The one being called held his hand tightly, though his own trembled, trying so hard not to fall apart. "The ambulance is near, Hyung, could you please stay for a bit more?"
That voice cracked, Bamby could hear it well. Still, he curled up a weak, fragile smile. "I can't ...," he whispered, eyes fluttering shut no matter how hard he tried to keep them open. "Please ... listen ... to my last request."
Hamin bit his lower lip, brushing blood away from the hyung's eye. He knew he couldn't lie to himself anymore—he knew Chae Bonggu was slipping away through his fingers. So he leaned, his eyes tightly shut, bracing himself to get ruined by anything that'd slip from those lips.
"Eunho ...," Bamby paused. The name he once spoke so lightly now weighed heavier than anything else. Still, he smiled. Even as a tear slid down. Even as his body ached all over. "Don't tell him anything."
Tears streamed down Hamin's cheeks, but it was quiet, not wanting his sobs to interrupt.
"I don't want him ... to be sad ...."
Hamin nodded—not because he agreed, but because he didn't know how to shake away the pain in his chest.
The road fell silent, only the faint wail of the sirens echoing from a distance. And before everything faded, before the last breath was taken, Bamby forced his lips into a smile, once more.
"Do Eunho ... I love you."
The tremble in his body worsened as Hamin couldn't hold the sobs anymore. He folded himself, finally letting a groan escape.
Now Bamby wouldn't answer even if Eunho shouted his name out loud. He wouldn't take revenge for every teasing slipped from the silver-haired. There wouldn't be a battle in trivial games anymore.
And the pages they turned every night finally closed, marking the end of their journey together.
Bamby sighed, walking away from his lifeless body. "It stops right at where we began," he thought. "I'm sorry, Eunho-ya, I can't keep my promise. But I'll be waiting for you, like always."
The road before him slowly turned into white, and before the light swallowed him whole, his eyes caught a flicker of a silver-haired man, smiling at him so warmly. He chuckled—the last chuckle to escape him before his body grew light, drifting away with every breath of the wind.
"Not yet. Please, forget about me."
***
The first thing his eyes caught was how cloudy the sky was. Eunho pulled the curtains. It was snowing so heavily. He stepped out of the room, pinching the bridge of his nose as dizziness catched up with him. The goal was clear—went down to the kitchen and cooked something simple. He was hungry so his head hurt, at least that was what he thought.
But he stopped midway as he found Yejun and Noah, sitting far away on the sofa in the living room. None of them said a word, and the room stilled, eerily quiet. "Hyung?" he called, careful, as if one wrong move could ruin everything. "I thought you'd gone to the studio."
The blond-haired man turned, wiping his tears roughly. "Ah, Eunho-ya, you're up," he said, forcing a smile on his lips. "We're off today. You can go back to rest."
Eunho tilted his head. "Why?"
There was a three second pause before Noah took a deep, shaky breath. He took a glance at the one beside him—Yejun was still trembling, still trying so hard to hold himself together. So Noah looked back at Eunho, gripping on the guy's shoulders a little too tight. "Our friend ... one of our closest friends ... just passed away from an accident this morning. Yejun and I have to go to the funeral today."
Eunho flinched, but he quickly moved, pulling Noah into his arms. "I'm so sorry for what happened to your friend, Hyung ... may they rest in peace." He caressed Noah's back, offering comfort through simple touches. "But Hyung, don't be sad too much, yeah? It hurts seeing you guys cry like this."
Noah felt a bob in his throat. Words he tried so hard to utter disappeared, gone with every drop of tears he'd failed to hold back. He gripped Eunho's shirt tightly, and just as he let go of the groan, Yejun's sobs began to echo. The once-quiet room now turned sorrowful.
And Eunho still tried to keep them intact without knowing who just left them.
That day, as they left him alone, Eunho found a notebook along with a handycam abandoned on the table. He took the handycam, and a video that seemed to be taken in summer appeared first in the gallery. The thumbnail showed himself, playing around beneath the azure sky ... with someone he didn't know.
Before his mind could catch up, his finger already clicked on the play icon.
There was his voice playing in the background. Funnily enough, he didn't remember when he recorded the song, nor when everything in the video was taken.
Even so, as the film continued to run, together with a tear he didn't know why it suddenly trickled, a mumble escaped him.
"Hyung ...,"
앞으로도 늘 우리는
From now on, we will always
수많은 문장 속에서 함께
Be together in countless sentences
방황하며 길을 잃고 말 거야
Wandering and losing our way
띄어쓰기 가득한 미로
In a maze full of spaces