Chapter Text
The morning sunlight hit the street like it had rehearsed it. Duang’s fingers tightened around the bag strap where the confession letter lay. He’d written it last night, overthinking every line, every word. This is it. Today. I’ll tell him.
Duang had rewritten the letter four times.
The first version had been too blunt.
The second sounded more like a joke.
The third had too many crossed-out lines.
So, the fourth one would be his final, sat neatly inside his bag now, tucked between his notebook and a stack of random drawing papers. Even then, he’d spent half the night staring and rethinking, wondering if he should rewrite it again.
He probably should have, but…
But if he wrote it again, he might never have ended up giving it to Qin.
Duang sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets as he walked down the familiar street towards campus. The confession day. Just thinking about it made his chest feel tight.
“I like you.”
The words sounded simple in his head. They’d sounded simple when he practised them in front of the mirror the night before.
But the moment he imagined actually saying them to Qin, his brain turned into static.
Duang groaned quietly to himself.
He didn’t notice Qin walking up beside him, backpack slung over one shoulder, headphones in, humming softly as usual.
“Hey,” Qin said casually. “You’re walking faster than usual. Late for something?”
The voice came from his left.
Duang nearly jumped.
Qin stood beside him, one eyebrow raised in quiet amusement. His hair was slightly messy from the wind, and he looked far too relaxed for someone who had just startled another human being into near cardiac arrest.
Duang forced a smile, feeling his heart leap into his throat. His nervousness crept in faster than he could control, his hands sweating, and his bag felt heavier than before. All Duang’s will dissolve in an instant after seeing Qin’s face.
“Uh… nothing. Just.. errands.”
Qin raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, but he didn’t push. Not today. Today, he’d wait for Duang to speak first.
“What are you muttering about this early in the morning?”
“How long have you been there?” Duang asked, heart still beating fast from the scare and Qin himself.
“Long enough to hear you arguing with yourself.”
Duang’s ears warmed. “I wasn’t arguing.”
Qin hummed skeptically and started walking again, matching Duang’s pace easily.
“You talked to yourself when you’re nervous,” Qin said casually, like it’s an obvious fact.
Duang froze for half a second.
“Do not.”
“You do.”
Qin said it with the quiet confidence of someone who had observed it many times before.
Duang huffed and didn’t respond. Instead, he stared straight ahead, trying to calm the frantic rhythm of his heartbeat.
Of course, Qin had noticed that habit.
Qin noticed everything.
That was part of the problem.
And part of the reason Duang had fallen for him in the first place.
They walked side by side toward campus like they always did every time.
It had started accidentally months ago— running into each other on the same street, realizing they were heading in the same direction, then simply continuing the routine until it became something natural.
Comfortable.
Duang had come to look forward to these walks more than he wanted to admit.
He stole a glance at Qin now.
Qin was scrolling through his phone, his expression calm, thoughtful. There was a faint crease between his brows that appeared whenever he was concentrating.
Duang knew that crease.
He knew the way Qin’s eyes softened when he simply smiled. The way his voice dropped when he was serious. The way he tilted his head slightly when he was listening closely.
He knew all these things.
And today, he was going to ruin everything.
Or maybe change everything.
The thought made his stomach twist.
What Duang didn’t know was that Qin had already made a decision of his own. For months, Qin had suspected Duang’s feelings. He is not that oblivious.
Not because Duang had said anything directly— Duang wasn’t that brave— but because his actions had always been too careful, too thoughtful.
Duang always walked on the side closest to the road.
Duang remembered small things; Qin’s favourite drinks, the songs he liked, the exact way he preferred his coffee.
Duang looked at him sometimes like he was gathering courage.
Qin had noticed all of it. And he waited.
Not because he was unsure of his answer. But because Duang wanted to say it first.
Today, he decided something too.
If Duang confessed…
Qin would finally say yes.
As they arrived at the crosswalk where they usually split up to their respective classes, Duang waited until Qin finished crossing before going to his class. The same crosswalk, Duang had first noticed Qin with the same white Marshall headphones. All of a sudden, his bravery returned in an instant.
Now or never.
Duang shifted nervously, his fingers brushing the strap of his bag.
The letter was still there.
His heart pounded harder.
Say it now.
His brain screamed the words at him.
It happened in an instant.
Duang stepped onto the street, chasing after Qin with a smile on his face, repeating the first line of the letter in his mind, “I like you. I really like you, always have— just like the first day I realized I did. Please be my boyfriend.”
“Qin!!!”
The sound of screeching tires cut through the air, made him freeze. Time slowed. Everything slowed.
Duang barely had the time to look.
There was a flash of movement.
A shout.
The world tilted violently.
Then nothing. Everything went dark.
———————————
He heard soft beeping around him. The first thing he noticed was the smell.
Hospitals had a very specific smell— clean but sharp, like chemicals and cold air. His eyes felt heavy and he tried to pry them open, but to no avail. He heard a familiar voice in the background but the words were muffled.
The letter— was it still in his bag? His memory felt… foggy. He slipped back into unconsciousness not long after.
Machines beeped steadily, almost calmly. Duang blinked. He woke up staring at the white ceiling, feeling confused. He later realized he was in a hospital room.
Something tugged lightly at his arm.
A nurse leaned over him.
“Oh, good,” she said gently. “You’re awake.”
Duang frowned.
His head felt heavy, wrapped in what felt like a lot of bandage.
“What… happened?”
“You were in an accident,” she explained calmly. “But you’re stable now. Try not to move too much.”
Accident.
The word echoed faintly in his mind.
Fragments of memory flickered— cars, the street, sunlight— but they slipped away before he could hold onto them.
After his head cleared up more, movement caught his attention.
A shadow fell across the doorway.
Duang turned his head slightly.
A guy. A strikingly handsome-looking guy.
Tall, quiet, with dark hair falling slightly over his eyes, and his pale white skin. His features were sharp but calm, his expression carefully controlled.
His chest automatically tightened.
Duang stared at him for a moment.
There was something familiar about him— something that tugged faintly at the edge of recognition— but the connection refused to form.
Instead, Duang’s brain settled on the simplest explanation.
Chinese… maybe?
The thought appeared randomly, and Duang almost laughed at himself. What a strange thing to notice first.
The guy stepped closer slowly.
“You… you’re awake,” the handsome guy said. Relief, careful and steady, in his voice. But appearance-wise, that’s a different matter. His eyes were red and a bit teary, his hair looked disheveled, like it had been run through a million times. The guy walked over to Duang’s bed.
Duang watched him carefully.
The stranger didn’t look like a doctor.
And definitely didn’t look like family.
But he was standing there like someone who had been waiting a long time.
Duang tried to speak, but the words that usually flowed so easily— his confession— were gone.
“Uh… hi.”
The man blinked once, clearly not expecting that response.
Duang rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.
“We… friends?” His voice was small, uncertain.
The guy froze in his steps, swallowing hard.
The silence that followed was almost deafening.
But Qin felt like a crack running through his chest.
For a split second, he thought he had misheard.
Then he realized.
Duang wasn’t joking.
He truly didn’t recognize him.
Qin swallowed slowly, forcing his expression to remain calm.
He slowly nodded, trying to hide the ache in his chest.
“Yes… friends,” he said softly. “Always friends.”
His voice was gentle.
“I’m Qin.”
Duang repeated the name quietly in his head.
Qin…
It didn’t ring a bell. It didn’t trigger anything.
No memory. No image. No shared moments.
Just a name.
“Nice to meet you,” Duang said reflexively.
The words slipped out before he could think about them.
And the moment they landed in the air, something about Qin’s expression shifted.
Not anger.
Not shocked.
Just a quiet kind of pain that disappears almost immediately.
But Duang noticed it.
“Did I say something weird?” He asked cautiously.
Qin shook his head.
“No,” he said.
Then pulled the chair closer to the bed and sat down.
“You just woke up. It’s normal to feel confused.”
Duang nodded slowly, accepting the explanation.
For some reason, though, his eyes kept drifting back to Qin. There was something oddly comforting about his presence. He didn’t know why. But seeing him there made the hospital room feel less cold, more bearable.
Duang shifted slightly on the bed.
“So… we’re friends?”
Qin’s hands rested quietly on his knees. He looked at Duang for a long moment before answering.
“Yes.”
The word was soft. But steady.
“Friends.”
Duang relaxed a little.
“Good,” he said. Then he smiled faintly.
“Thanks for coming, Qin.”
Qin returned the smile.
But inside, something in his chest tightened. Because the boy who had looked at him like he was the most important person in the world…
Was now thanking him like a stranger.
And Qin understood something at that moment. If Duang had forgotten everything…
Then he would simply have to make Duang fall in love with him again.
And … The letter in Duang’s bag, the words he had rehearsed— they might as well have been in another life.
—————————
The third day.
Qin is still there. Stayed seated beside Duang’s bed quietly, hands loosely clasped together.
The nurse came in a few minutes later.
Routine checks
Questions.
Instructions.
While she worked, Qin stepped back slightly, giving them space.
Duang watched the whole interaction quietly. Every now and then, his gaze flickered back to Qin. Like he was trying to figure something out.
But eventually the nurse finished and left.
Silence returned to the room.
Neither of them spoke for a while.
Duang felt strangely awkward.
He didn’t know this person— at least not in the way Qin seemed to know him. Yet Qin was sitting there like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Like he belongs in that chair.
Duang glanced at him again.
“You’ve been here long?” He asked.
Qin shrugged lightly.
“Since you admitted here.”
Duang blinked. “That long?”
“You got hit by a car,” Qin said calmly. “Someone should probably stay.”
The casual tone made Duang laugh weakly.
“Fair point.”
Another quiet moment passed. Then Qin shifted slightly in his chair, leaning forward to adjust the blanket that had slipped near Duang’s arm.
Duang watched him do it.
The movement was careful, gentle, like Qin had done it many times before.
For some reason, that made Duang feel… strange.
Like something important was happening that he didn’t understand. Without thinking, Duang reached out.
His fingers caught Qin’s wrist lightly.
Both of them froze.
Duang blinked in confusion, staring at his own hand as if it had moved by itself.
“I— sorry,” he said quickly, letting go.
“I didn’t mean to…”
Qin didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he looked at the spot where Duang had grabbed him.
Before the accident, Duang had a habit.
Whenever Qin was fussing over him— fixing his collar, adjusting his bag strap, brushing lint off his clothes— Duang would grab his wrist gently and complain that Qin was treating him like a child.
I had always been playful.
Natural.
Unthinking.
And now…
He had done it again.
Without remembering anything.
Qin looked back up slowly.
Duang was rubbing the back of his neck, embarrassed.
“Sorry,” he repeated. “That was weird.”
Qin shook his head softly.
“No,” he said.
His voice was quiet.
“Not weird.”
Duang frowned. “You sure?”
Qin nodded. Then he leaned back slightly in the chair, his expression calm again.
“You know,” he said, “This is weird.”
Qin looked at him.
“What is?”
Duang rubbed the back of his neck again, carefully.
“I can’t remember a lot of things right now,” he admitted.
“That’s normal after a concussion,” Qin said quickly.
Duang nodded.
“Yeah. The doctor said something like that.”
He looked back at Qin again.
“But there’s something strange.”
Qin felt his heartbeat pick up slightly.
“What?”
Duang frowned, like he was trying to explain a feeling he didn’t fully understand.
“When I look at you,” he said slowly, “I feel like I should know you better than just ‘a friend’.”
Qin froze.
But Duang quickly waved a hand.
“Maybe I’m just overthinking,” he laughed lightly.
“Head injury logic.”
Qin forced a small smile.
“Maybe.”
Duang didn’t seem convinced. But he didn’t push the thought further. Instead, he leaned back against the pillow, eyes closing briefly.
“Still,” he murmured.
“That’s a nice name.”
“Qin.”
Qin looked down at the floor. And for the first time since the accident, he realized something clearly.
Duang had forgotten everything.
But the way he looked at Qin…
Was still the same.
Something warm had sparked in his chest.
Small.
Fragile.
Hope.
Because even if Duang’s memories were gone…
Somewhere deep inside him, something still knew Qin.
And Qin realized something important that moment.
Maybe he didn’t need Duang’s memories to come back.
Maybe…
Duang would simply find his way back to him.