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The building is almost too quiet. Minseok's tired gaze follows practice rooms and storage closets. He shoulders his backpack more comfortably, feels his ballet shoes swing against the worn straps.
He has two missed calls from Jongdae. He taps out a quick reply; an apology and a promise to be home in the next hour. Minseok is almost too tired to function. He feels the dull burn of his routine in his quads, feels the sweat of every spin matted in his hair.
Minseok is thinking about his next performance when he steps on the recently mopped stairs. His sneakers don't catch enough on the marble and the ground rushes out from underneath him. The world becomes a blur of color, an echo of the sharp crack of bone on stone.
It's all over in a matter of seconds.
Minseok tumbles down 46 steps. He's unconscious before he ever reaches the ground. The pool of blood spreads too quickly. Nobody finds him for another ten minutes. The ambulance makes it to the hospital in fifteen. He goes into surgery within thirty, and Jongdae answers the first call an hour later.
"I think you should ease up on the flowers," Baekhyun says, nervous teeth biting down on his wainning nail bed. Jongdae watches Baekhyun's foot tap the linoleum sterilized floors, all anxious energy and sleep deprivation.
"No," Jongdae replies, irritated.
"Maybe you should buy him stuffed animals. All the flowers are dying in his room." Baekhyun tries again, a little more gentle. He doesn't continue; he doesn't mention that the flowers only remind them of how much time is passing. The flowers, lining every available surface of Minseok's hospital room, with their wilted petals and fading colors, only remind them that Minseok hasn't woken, that Minseok is in a coma, that Minseok might never open his eyes, and Jongdae might spend the rest of his life buying bouquets for a boy who will never see them.
"No," Jongdae says again, a little more tired, feeling the fight drain out of him with every beat of his exhausted heart. "I--I want him to wake up to them. I want him to know we waited."
"Of c-- okay." Baekhyun drops the subject. He knows all their energy is better spent hoping and praying and speaking the improbable into the universe.
"Yixing is flying in tomorrow. Luhan will be here tonight. You should go home for a bit," he ventures, looking at Jongdae, a scattered mess of rumpled clothing and bags crying purple under his eyes.
"They don't need to be here. I'm here." Jongdae says, offhandedly, without any conviction. He's losing himself in his thoughts, losing himself in every memory of the boy he loves, and every worst case scenario.
And that night, Minseok does wake up.
Jongdae speeds through the streets of Seoul, freshly showered, heart racing at 100 miles per hour. His hands tremble as he writes his name in the visitors log, as he enters the new ward for recovering patients.
"Wait--Jongdae--" Luhan tries to stop him at the door but the entire world is blurring at the edges, only one name and one face driving Jongdae's body forward. Nothing, and no one else matter. Only Minseok. Its only ever always been Minseok.
Gracelessly, he throws the hospital door open. The sterilized white room is almost blinding but its natural, instinctual, the way soft brown eyes meet honey colored ones. Jongdae holds his breath, for one second, for two, before a sob rakes through his body. In an instant, he's at Minseok's bedside, reaching for his hand, for his heart, for the familiarity of home.
"Don't touch me!" Minseok's voice is shrill as he scrambles away from Jongdae. "Who are you? Who are you?!"
Jongdae freezes, his hand grasping at air.
"What do you mean? Min, its me." The words tremble on Jongdae's lips, salty with his tears.
Minseok hurriedly presses the button calling for a nurse.
"I don't know you. Please leave. Please leave!" He almost screams, and Jongdae staggers backward, feeling his chest contract around a single breath, around a single name.
"Minseok?" Jongdae whispers, and Minseok only shakes his head, only presses the button more furiously, tears springing to grace his eyelashes.
"Please leave! Nurse! Please! I don't know you! I don't! Please go! Go!" Two nurses push past Jongdae and Jongdae can only stare at the boy he loves, crying in his hospital bed, terrified and small, and looking at him as if he were a stranger.
A hand guides him out of the room but the world is dimming. The colors drip from the walls, from the air, and Jongdae is shaking.
"He--he doesn't know who I am," Jongdae's voice trembles.
Luhan's words fade into the background of all the white noise ringing through Jongdae's thought process; amnesia, head trauma, time to recover. Jongdae hears none of it. Luhan places a comforting touch on Jongdae's shoulder, but only meets air because Jongdae is running, fast and far, and does not hear Luhan calling after him.
Jongdae runs through hallways, down staircases, until his lungs fill with the commotion of the city. And then he keeps running, past strangers who do not understand what the end of the world feels like, until he reaches the street, their street.
Jongdae takes gasping breaths, drinks in every shop, every corner, because this is where it all started; where they met, their first date, Minseok's first performance. Jongdae feels numb. His eye sight blurs as tears come to remind him that this is all real, that this is all happening. The desolation claws at his insides as he gazes upon the coffee shop where Minseok first said I love you, and Jongdae promises himself he'll remember for the both of them if he has to.
"I'm sorry," Minseok whispers for the tenth time that morning.
"No, it's okay. It's not your fault. It's okay." Jongdae says, voice cracking, uncertain of who he's reassuring.
Jongdae swipes away from the photo of them at the beach. Its been two weeks since Minseok lost his memory and every day, Jongdae feels like he's being forgotten all over again. Minseok does not recognize years of promises and forevers, does not recognize the night they spent stuck at the top of a Ferris wheel, all the walks they took to watch the sunset, all the mornings they spent huddled between warm sheets.
Minseok spends so much time apologizing. The world is a frightening echo of nothingness, and Minseok spends every night reaching into the darkness, trying to find the moments the strangers around him are so adamant about. Minseok can feel their desperation growing, day after day, as they show him videos and photos of days he does not remember.
And Minseok can feel Jongdae's hurt. Jongdae, who looks at him with so much expectations that Minseok does not know how to reciprocate. Jongdae, who says they've been dating for five years, who says they met in college when Minseok accidentally spilled his coffee down Jongdae's favorite shirt, who says he can wait as long as he has to.
"I'm sorry," Minseok says again, and Jongdae only nods, disappointed.
He puts away his cellphone, and bites the inside of his cheek. The ache starts somewhere in his chest and then reverberates throughout the rest of his body, reminding him of every instance Minseok does not recall. Jongdae holds patience in one hand and hope in the other; it feels like that’s all he has left as he gazes upon the boy who looks back at him, unseeing, stranger in this estranged version of love gone wrong.
"Do you know when Luhan will be back?" Minseok asks, quiet, suddenly avoiding his eyes.
"I-- no." Jongdae responds, deadpan, feeling the ache burn stronger, a little more resentful.
"I'll text him and ask." He says, and Minseok gives him a small smile of gratitude, one that does not reach Jongdae.
The day Minseok comes home, he stares at their apartment with wide, terrified eyes. The others stand as Minseok enters the living room, and rush to embrace him. With a noise of alarm, Minseok takes three staggering steps away from all of them, and time holds still. Baekhyun looks at the ground. Junmyeon doesn't know what to do with his hands. And a familiar hurt makes its way across the space as they realize they're all strangers.
Junmyeon's laugh is awkward, heavy.
"I guess we should give you some time to adjust first," he says, voice barely loud enough to overcome the cloying silence.
"We can give you the tour!" Baekhyun interjects, stepping forward, forcing away the stiffness of his body, of having so much love thrown back in his face.
Jongdae motions Minseok to follow Baekhyun, gives him an encouraging smile, but Minseok is frozen in place. His mind is a hazy mess, some miswired instinct itching for escape, sending panic coursing through his blood as he stands on foreign ground.
"It's okay," Luhan's voice rings throughout the room, and he steps away from the group. He beckons Minseok toward a waiting Baekhyun and Jongdae's breath hitches in his throat as Minseok follows, as Minseok trusts Luhan more than he trusts Jongdae. The room stales, and alarmed gazes fall on Jongdae's crumbling world.
And that's how it all begins to end.
Jongdae spends weeks trying to help Minseok readjust to his former life. It is a faithful effort, an unwavering symbol of Jongdae's capability for love, the way he brings down the world and plants it at Minseok's feet. Photos and stories and every conceivable memory Jongdae has held onto, he shares with the boy he loves.
And Minseok listens, patient, tries to feel the passion and gentility in Jongdae's words. But his mouth shapes funny around Jongdae's name. He doesn't look at Jongdae like he used to; Minseok doesn't laugh at his jokes, doesn't find home in arms that now hang empty and alone. His tone changes, and as the days pass, Jongdae is frightened as he too begins to forget, as he forgets what its like to be loved by Kim Minseok.
The day they return to the dance studio, Jongdae feels more hopeful. They pass the staircase where it all happened, and Minseok gasps, feels a tinge of ghost pain shoot through his body; somewhere inside of him, his brain stores away a piece of the traumatic experience.
Jongdae helps him tie his ballet shoes. Minseok's fingers tremble too much around the straps, and Jongdae helps him to his feet. Jongdae's smile is pure adoration, unhindered belief that Minseok can accomplish anything, and Minseok feels so guilty that he cannot remember how to love Jongdae like he needs him to.
Minseok's body recovers faster than his mind; Jongdae plays music from a speaker he brought, and Minseok's muscles find the rhythim. Ballet welcomes him home. He moves, graceful and petite across wood flooring, and Jongdae begins to cry, says he looks just as beautiful as before, that he's just as good as before, and Minseok is inclined to believe him.
There is one song in particular that feels just right. Minseok asks Jongdae to play it over and over again, until the battery on the speaker dies out. And then, Jongdae sings it for him.
Minseok loses himself in the melody, in the smooth tone of Jongdae's voice that fills the studio with color, with warmth. He dances until he aches because it’s the only thing that makes sense to him; it feels like the only thing he'll ever be able to hold on to.
"We're going to the movies," Luhan announces one evening. The others turn their attention away from the tv, and Jongdae feels a now familiar pang of jealousy.
Minseok hovers behind Luhan, hand clinging to his jacket's sleeve like a lifeline. Luhan doesn't meet Jongdae's eyes, and the others feel the tension expand, feel pity and confusion and exhaustion all at once.
"But...." Jongdae's voice is quiet, tired, feeling like he's fighting the entire world in the same heartbeat. "You hate the movie theater."
He looks up at Minseok, dazed yet pleading, desperate for him to remember even this small fact of his old life. And Minseok blushes, shakes his head, stumbles on words that sound like a confused apology;
"I don't think I hate it anymore."
"Minseok," he says softly, choking on an ugly bitterness brewing in his throat.
But the world is more complicated than everything that was and everything that is. So Minseok only falls silent. He does not know how to respond to the unspoken hope loaded into Jongdae's gentle voice. He has no memory of why this love is worth fighting for.
"You can't just teach him to be his old self," Luhan interjects and Jongdae balls his hands into fists. Jongdae has to remind himself that this was nobody's fault.
"Please-- stay out of it." Jongdae warns, voice wavering. Brown eyes meet honey colored ones and Jongdae's heart strains; it derails inside of his chest, hating the way Jongdae has nowhere to set this love down.
"Minseok-- you hated the theater because everything was so messy. You hated the popcorn strewn all over the floor. You hated the gum on the seats. You hated how sticky the armholders were. You--"
"Jongdae--"
"You carried your own hand sanitizer in your pocket every time we went. And you joked that one day we'd buy our own theater, mess free, and charge extra for cleanliness."
"Jongdae, please--"
"And I believed you. I believed every plan we made for the future; the theater, the studio apartment in the middle of the city, the skylight we'd have in our bedroom so we could watch the stars!" Jongdae's voice rises, like waves feeling the first cold of an oncoming storm.
"Me and you, Minseok! Against the world! We were supposed to--
"Jongdae-- why are you doing this? I--"
"Because, Minseok! Because I love you! Because I've known everything about you for the past five years! I've known your coffee order, and your rankings of detergent! I've known that this is your favorite mug! And this is your favorite spot on the couch! And that I was your favorite person, Minseok! You promised me that!" The sob bubbles from somewhere deep inside Jongdae, loud and raw, and no one can look away.
"I was supposed to be the person you loved," Jongdae chokes out, and it hurts, it hurts in a way Jongdae never thought would be possible, but Minseok only shrinks further and further away.
"I'm sorry," Minseok says, syllables now familiar on his tongue. "I'm so sorry."
And no one speaks. The silence is an icy realization, a knot in everyone's throats that reminds them the world is different now. Jongdae feels like the earth falls out from under him, and no one reaches out to catch him. There is no soft voice reminding him of all the reasons he is worth loving. This moment suffocates him. It extinguishes any hope he had that one day their hearts would both remember the love they called home. No one has anything left to say to save either of them from this tragedy, from the misfortune of chance, from the fact that their love was stolen from both of them.
The night everything falls apart, Baekhyun finds Jongdae crying quietly in the stairwell. He knows better than to make a misguided attempt at trying to explain something none of them can comprehend. So Baekhyun says nothing. He sits next to Jongdae and places an arm around shivering shoulders. Baekhyun has no words, but that does not mean that Jongdae is alone. So he listens as his best friend's heartache takes a corporeal form; it pours out of Jongdae in whimpers, makes itself known as Jongdae grows cold, so cold that night, and all Baekhyun can offer him is his presence.
"I'm trying to understand…" Jongdae whispers as the night grows darker. "But how could he forget me, Baek? How could he forget that he loved me?"
And Baekhyun doesn’t know either.
The days pass and all they can do is witness as the end unfolds. Jongdae sees it, they all see it, that maybe Minseok didn't just forget who they were, but he forgot the type of love he had for them. Jongdae watches, helpless, as Minseok finds safety in someone else. And Jongdae hates that he feels resentment. Hates that he hates Minseok for leaving him behind.
So Jongdae walks away.
Jongdae wishes he could lose his memory too. He fades into the background of Minseok's life, because he'd rather live in his own loneliness than continue to haunt the boy he loves.
He moves out of the dorm, and stops answering phone calls that only remind him of everything he lost. He has no one to blame, he knows that, and the resentment dims into grief. It dims into something a little more present, like an echo, like a shadow collecting pieces of who he used to be. He does not know who he used to be.
Jongdae leaves a letter for Minseok; it takes him ten tries to get it right. The final version is an apology; it is funeral hymn to commemorate what once was, but is now buried. Jongdae asks Minseok not to feel guilty. Jongdae hopes Minseok is happy. That's all he's ever wanted, he promises.
Jongdae reassures himself he is okay three times in the morning, and three more times at night. He diverts all of his attention to his career, considers adopting a cat. He realizes he needs to create a new path, one that doesn’t involve walking alongside someone else. And that is okay too.
Time begins to move again, slowly but surely, and Jongdae rebuilds a new definition of normal. He finds equilibrium within himself, forgives life for playing him a hurtful hand. Baekhyun says Minseok is well, says he's back at the studio, says he'll have another performance soon and that Jongdae should consider attending.
The night of Minseok's recital, Jongdae buys three roses and three daisies, ties satin around their stems, just like before. Minseok always loved things in balance.
Baekhyun squeezes Jongdae's hand as the performance begins. They sit in the same row, in the seats that Minseok always reserved for his family. The lights flare, and Jongdae's breath gets caught in his throat because he had forgotten what this felt like. He had forgotten that Minseok was born to grace the stage. He was born for the lights and the applause and the elegance and the finesse of ballet, and Jongdae, with his broken heart and healing wounds, feels so lucky to have been loved by someone so special even if it was only temporary.
Jongdae doesn't make it to the end of the show.
He thanks Baekhyun for the invitation, and leaves quietly. He leaves Minseok's performance with as much composure as he can muster. He leaves because he still loves his ballet boy, and he does not want to ruin this night for him.
So Jongdae does the only thing he can think of.
Jongdae returns to their street. He returns to all the first experiences only he will remember; first kiss, first I love you, first I'm gonna marry you one day.
It starts to rain but Jongdae doesn't care. He walks and watches as people hurry for cover. He watches as they continue to live their linear lives, without fear that one wrong step could change everything, that in the space between heartbeats someone could forget them forever.
He likes the lull of the rain. It feels like it washes away some of his grief, some of his hurt. Jongdae looks up at the sky, the ever-forgiving sky, and blinks away tears and raindrops.
And then, someone runs into him.
Hands reach out to steady him, and like before, like so many times before, brown eyes meet honey colored ones and Jongdae forgets where he is.
"Your birthday is September 21st." Minseok says, breathless, and Jongdae doesn't understand. Minseok is still in his stage clothes, still wearing his ballet shoes, and they're both drenched in rain.
"You hate cake so we always go out for ice cream instead." Minseok whispers, choking on the words, and this time, it's Jongdae who stays silent.
"You always make us sing happy birthday, so you can sing the high note in the end."
Jongdae is trembling now, feeling Minseok's small hands pressing into his arms. The world becomes a blur of color, and Jongdae can't see through his tears.
"I first told you I loved you on your birthday." Minseok says, and a sob bubbles from somewhere deep inside of Jongdae, before he's throwing his arms around the boy he loves.
Minseok hugs him back with as much desperation. He muffles his own sob into Jongdae's sweater, and just like that, Minseok knows he is home.
They both cry under the rain. They lose track of how many times they say I love you, how many times they say I'm sorry.
Minseok pulls away. He holds Jongdae's tearstained face between his palms, and just stares. Minseok's smile is pure adoration, and right there and then, Minseok memorizes every detail of the boy he loves, every freckle on the bridge of his nose, every curve of his kitty smile. Minseok engraves Jongdae into his mind, and then kisses him. Minseok kisses Jongdae like he never wants to forget him again, and Jongdae kisses back like he never wants to be forgotten.
"The song-- the one you sang in the studio," Minseok whispers against Jongdae's lips, breathless. "It's your favorite song. I choreographed that dance just for you. It was a birthday gift."
And Jongdae half-laughs, and half-cries because of course ballet brought Minseok home. Of course.
Minseok intertwines their fingers, and continues to gaze upon the boy he loves.
"Don't forget me again." Jongdae murmurs over the gentle fall of the rain.
"Never," Minseok answers.