Sometimes Jisung felt like his dreams were real. Even when he dreamt of running with dinosaurs or being abducted in an alien invasion, he’d wake up and have to remind himself it was all just a dream.

Not every dream was wild and adventurous, which made it even harder to tell the difference. Like right now—he was dreaming of Minho, his boyfriend of six years, gazing at him with that beautiful smile. They were lying in bed. He wasn’t sure what time it was, maybe early morning, since his hair was messy. One hand was tucked under his cheek as he blinked at him slowly. His mouth moved like he was speaking, but Jisung couldn’t hear anything.

He tried to say something, but nothing came out. He clutched his throat, wondering where his voice had gone. No matter how hard he tried, there was no sound. Minho kept smiling, then started to get out of bed. Jisung wanted to reach for him, to tell him not to leave, but he couldn’t move either. His body felt heavy.

He panicked. He tried to kick his legs, but it was no use. When he looked back over, Minho was gone. His eyes searched frantically as he struggled to move, to speak. Suddenly, he felt short of breath, his heart pounding, his airways tightening. 

“Minho—babe. No, please…"

Jisung’s eyes snapped open. He still couldn’t move. The white room was blinding as the bright sun filtered in from the windows. 

He had no idea where he was. Sweat beaded his forehead, his breathing still uneven. His vision was blurry, and when he tried to move again, his entire body ached. 

“Fuck,” he groaned.

His eyes went wide when he realized where he was. He was in a hospital bed, in an ugly checkered gown. His left arm was in a splint, and his left leg was in a cast. He was hooked up to machines that beeped loudly, with wires everywhere, holding him in place.

“Wh—what the—fuck,” he swore again, his head pounding in his skull. 

The pain in his body was unbearable. 

He looked to his right, and his heart swelled at the sight of a familiar figure adjusting blue flowers in the vase on the windowsill. They were beautiful, but slightly wilted, their leaves withered.

“Minho. Oh, thank god,” Jisung whispered. 

Minho’s sweet smile immediately calmed his racing heart. 

“Hey,” his gentle voice embraced him. “You’re awake.”

“Babe, what’s—fuck,” he hissed, trying to turn towards him, but moving wasn’t possible. “What’s going on? Where am I? What happened?”

He clenched his eyes shut as the sharp pain in his head made his vision blur. 

“Careful. Take it slow,” Minho said, leaving the flowers to sit on the edge of the bed. 

His hands were cold as he touched his knee that wasn’t stuck in a cast. 

“Am I—fuck, am I in a hospital?” he asked, looking around again. There was no mistaking it—this clearly wasn’t his room. 

“Baby, you just woke up. Let’s get you some water first.” 

Jisung looked to his left, and this time, there was a glass waiting on the bedside table. He grabbed it with his uninjured arm, having to reach across his body, so painful it ripped right through him.

“Oh, shit. It hurts so bad,” he complained, the pain radiating through his bones. It felt like every bone was broken, every muscle torn.

“I know, love. It’s okay,” Minho assured him. 

He chugged the water, coughing slightly since his throat felt so dry that even the room-temperature liquid irritated it.

“There you go,” Minho whispered. “Better?” 

Jisung nodded, but even that hurt. 

“Min, what happened?” he asked again. 

The soft smile on Minho’s face confused him as he shook his head slowly.

“How does your head feel?” 

Jisung sighed. “I mean, it hurts like hell,” he said, trying to move again, but his arms gave out. 

“Just relax, okay? Don’t push yourself. We don’t want to make it worse.”

“Make what—oh, god,” he said, clutching his head. 

It really did hurt like crazy. Maybe he was right. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t answer his questions.

Nothing was coming to mind. Everything was blurry, and he felt a little delirious. Honestly, he could barely even remember what he was doing before he ended up here. He tried to remember, squeezing his eyes shut.

He was with Minho, having dinner—but wait, were they arguing? Most of their conversations ended with one of them leaving the table in frustration these days.

Did he leave the apartment? No—he was certain he went to bed that night. He remembered Minho crawling in with him, kissing the back of his neck softly, just like he always did whenever Jisung was mad at him. 

But something wasn’t adding up.

What was he even mad about?

He tried to think harder, but—

“Oh—oh my god,” he whimpered, grabbing his head again. 

“Hey, what’s wrong? Does it hurt that much?” Minho asked. “I can grab the nurse if it’s that bad.”

Jisung shook his head as much as he could without pain ringing through his ears.

“I’m okay. I just—I’m trying to remember—fuck, what is happening?” 

His memories were fuzzy. His head was pounding. He couldn’t think of anything he’d done that would’ve landed him in the damn hospital with broken bones.

“Maybe it’s better to just relax for a bit. You just woke up. You’re putting stress on yourself.”

Jisung sighed deeply. Minho was too calm. He guessed it was good that at least one of them was. Jisung was always the one spiraling by losing his cool and freaking out. Minho was the reasonable one—level-headed, not emotion-driven. The two of them evened each other out. But other times, it made them clash. 

He nodded. Minho was right. It’s not like he could move anyway. He took a few deep breaths, hoping that calming down and easing into the reality of the situation would help. 

Minho’s soft touch trailed up to his cheek, brushing his thumb over his skin. 

“Good. You should take it easy.”

Jisung leaned into his touch, his fingers lingering with the soft scent of the flowers by his bedside. 

Before he could even close his eyes, a loud gasp made his eyes snap open, darting to the doorway of the hospital room.

Standing there, with tears in his eyes and jaw hanging open, was Changbin, one of his best friends since forever, staring at him with the biggest sense of relief he’d ever seen on someone’s face. 

“Oh—oh my god. You’re—oh my god—Chan! He’s awake! He’s awake, oh my fucking god, he’s awake!”

He ran into the room, rushing to his side, slamming his hand on the button next to Jisung’s bed. 

“Are you okay? How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?” 

Jisung wanted to laugh, but he knew nothing about this was funny—besides that Changbin was in the same panicked state as he was. 

“It hurts, yeah. My head…” he trailed off, rubbing his forehead. 

“I told him to take it slow. He just woke up,” Minho said.

Changbin frowned. “I guess you hit your head pretty hard.”

“What happened?” he asked, thinking maybe Changbin would tell him, since Minho was being so tight-lipped about it.

Changbin breathed in deeply, the tears in his eyes swelling. “Um, why don’t we get the nurse in here first?”

Jisung wanted to roll his eyes. The secrecy of what happened was starting to drive him insane. He was clearly in some sort of accident, since his arm was messed up and his leg was obviously broken.

Before the nurse came in, Chan barreled into the room.

“Holy shit, Jisung.” His heavy breathing from running down the hall and the tears on his face made something in Jisung’s heart crack.

He’d never seen Chan cry before, and he was starting to think that maybe this was a lot worse than he’d thought. 

“Hey, Chan,” he said, maybe a bit too casually.

His heart ached when he let out a sob, dropping to his knees next to the bed beside Changbin. 

“I’m so happy you’re awake. I’m so glad you’re okay. I’m so—fuck, I’m so—”

He reached out and slipped his fingers into his hair, but Jisung wasn’t going to complain about the pain. He’d never seen Chan so hysterical. It was almost scary.

What the fuck happened?

“I’m okay. I mean, I think I am. I can move my fingers. Well, only on one hand right now.” 

He tried to joke, but it clearly didn’t land, since Changbin just grabbed his hand with a frown and Chan only sobbed harder.

“I’m gonna go grab the nurse,” Minho said then, sliding past Chan and out the door.

Jisung nodded at him. Minho must’ve known he needed a minute alone with his best friends. He was always attentive to his surroundings. It was something Jisung loved about him.

“Guys, can you please tell me what happened?”

Changbin and Chan shared a glance, and Jisung wished they weren’t having a silent conversation right in front of him.

“Why, hello there,” the nurse said, walking in and interrupting them. “It’s so good to finally have you awake.”

Finally—maybe she could tell him what the hell had happened. 

“Excuse me, boys. I just need to check his vitals,” she said. Changbin let go of his hand, and Chan rubbed his eyes as he took a step back. 

“Sorry,” Changbin said, moving out of her way.

The nurse stepped next to the bed, taking his hand again. 

“Squeeze for me.” 

He did as he was told, even though his strength was low and there was no way he was passing whatever test this was.

“Can you tell me your full name?” 

“Um, Han Jisung,” he said with a raised eyebrow.

“Can you tell me who this man is right here?” she gestured to Chan, who gave him a little wave. 

“Christopher Bang Chan—my best friend, of course.”

Changbin pouted, making Jisung laugh. 

“And Seo Changbin, my other whiny best friend.”

Changbin smiled, flipping him off. 

“And can you tell me what day you think today is, Jisung?”

“Uh…” he winced, his head throbbing again as he tried to remember anything.

The nurse must’ve noticed immediately, because she gently took his chin. “Does your head hurt?”

“Yeah, a little,” he admitted.

“Can you rate the pain on a scale from one to ten?”

“Ah—maybe like a six right now. But earlier it was like a ten.”

“Okay, let me take a look.” 

She tilted his head forward, and the pain sharpened as she parted his hair at the back of his skull.

“It’s a bit swollen. You have a few stitches, so be careful when lying your head down. Can you tell me where the pain is?”

He groaned, rubbing his forehead. “I don’t know. I can’t really pinpoint it. It’s everywhere.”

“Alright. Let me get you some pain relief.” 

Jisung nodded, but before she left, he couldn’t help but reach out and lightly touch her wrist. 

He needed to know. 

“What exactly happened to me?”

She gave him a soft smile, the same one Minho had given him when he’d asked before. 

“Let me get you the medication, and we can discuss a little more.”

Jisung had to stifle the frustrated groan that threatened to leave his throat when she left the room. 

“Why can’t anyone tell me what happened?”

“We will, Sung,” Changbin said. “They’re just worried that it might be too much at once, and with the head trauma, they don’t want to make it worse.”

Jisung groaned. “Fine.” 

Minho came back into the room, and Jisung smiled, relaxing when he took his hand. 

Suddenly, he felt exhausted. But he didn’t want to sleep until he learned what the hell had happened. 

“Take a rest if you need, love. We’ll all be right here.”

“I don’t—I want to know what happened,” he complained, squeezing his hand. 

“We know,” Chan said, still a little sniffly. 

The nurse came back in again with a giant pill Jisung didn’t want to swallow. But he took it anyway, quickly washing it down, sticking his tongue out when it briefly caught in his throat.

“There. That should help with the pain.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled, wishing it would kick in immediately.

“Okay,” she said gently. “Now let’s try again. What day do you think it is?”

Jisung took a deep breath, looking at Minho first. 

“Take your time. If it’s too much, we don’t have to push it,” Minho told him, his soft voice soothing his head. 

“No, I can—I just need a minute to remember.” 

“Take your time, honey. Just try to think of the last thing you can remember. Where you were, who you were with, what you were doing,” she said gently. 

Jisung tried. He really did. But everything was fading together. His head hurt. The memories blurred. 

Then Minho’s face appeared in his mind. They were grabbing dinner, laughing together, walking home hand in hand. 

“Wait, we were…we were getting dinner,” he said, glancing over at Minho, who gave him a sweet smile. “Then we…we went home.” 

“Who was getting dinner? Where?” the nurse asked.

“Um, Minho and I—we were…it was our anniversary. We went out for dinner and drinks. We were walking home. I was a little drunk—wait, did I get hurt on the way home?” 

The harder he tried to remember, the more his head ached. 

“What’s the date of your anniversary?” 

“It’s…February 20th.” 

“And that’s the last thing you remember?” she asked again. 

Jisung nodded. “Yeah. I think so.” 

When he looked over at Chan, there was a strange, grief-stricken look on his face. 

“What? Did something happen that night? Can someone—fuck, can someone please just tell me?”

He winced, grabbing his head that was starting to pound again. 

“Baby, take it easy,” Minho reminded him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

Maybe he was right—because now the room was spinning, his vision going hazy.

“Jisung, honey,” the nurse said carefully. “I need you to lie back for me, okay?” 

He whined and groaned as she guided him down, his head settling onto the pillow. 

“Please,” he whimpered. “What happened? Just tell me. Please just tell me.”

If someone gave him one more of those sympathetic smiles, he thought he might actually lose it.

“Let me discuss something with your friends and family, and then I promise I’ll be right back.”

Jisung wanted to scream. 

Minho let go of his hand, and Chan and Changbin followed the nurse out, the door clicking shut behind them.

Through the glass panel, he could see them discussing something, Chan looking stressed, Changbin tense, and Minho, of course, calm, like he was trying to hold the entire situation together.

After a few minutes, the only person who came back in was the nurse. 

“Okay, Jisung,” she said with a gentle sigh. “You’re suffering from some severe head trauma, so we need to take this slow.”

Jisung sighed shakily and nodded. 

“It hurts when you try to remember things, right?” 

“Yeah. It like…throbs,” he said, rubbing his forehead. 

“Then we’re going to take our time. I’m afraid if we tell you everything all at once, we might make your condition worse.” 

“Yeah, okay,” he mumbled, 

“Now, if it starts to get too much, and your head really hurts, I need you to tell me.”

“Okay, I will,” he promised. 

“So the last day you remember is February 20th. Can you also tell me the year?”

“Yeah—I think so. And it’s 2026.”

The nurse nodded, writing something down on her clipboard.

“I’m going to show you today’s date, okay?”

When she slipped a piece of paper in front of him, his head throbbed so hard he swore he almost passed out.

“Honey, are you okay?” 

Jisung tried to make sense of the numbers on the page, grabbing it and pulling it closer to his face.

June 27th, 2026.

June. It was June? There was no way. 

But when he glanced out the window, there was no snow. The trees were lush and green, summer light spilling into the room. 

What the fuck?

“How—how long have I been in the hospital for?” he asked, barely able to breathe.

“About ten days.”

“Ten days? That’s it? Then why—what do you mean it’s June? How could that be pos—fuck, oh fuck.”

His head pulsed violently, the pain overtaking his body. The room blurred, and everything sounded like static. He also suddenly felt nauseous.

“I’m gonna be sick.”

“Okay—one second. Alright,” the nurse said quickly, grabbing the trash can from the side of the bed. 

Luckily, the contents of his stomach made it into the can and not all over the nurse and the floor.

“You’re okay,” she assured him, even though he was coughing up his stomach into the metal container. 

“Sh—shit,” he coughed, taking the napkin she held out for him to wipe his mouth.

“How’s your head?” 

Jisung winced, clearing his raw throat. “It hurts really bad.” 

“Okay, how about we stop here for today. I’m afraid if we touch on it anymore, it will do more harm than good,” the nurse told him. 

“But how? How is it…I don’t understand—”

“Jisung, for now, I need you to settle down and rest.” 

He couldn’t even argue, since his head hurt so badly he could barely see.

He laid back, and even though he’d just woken up after being out for ten days, he felt exhausted. He felt the nurse around him, moving his arm and fixing the blanket under his good leg. He heard her changing the bag in the trash, and he felt a little embarrassed when she placed it back at his bedside. 

He kept his eyes closed, since there was really no point in opening them. It’s not like he could see anyway. 

He groaned as she tried to make him comfortable. His entire body was starting to ache again, and the pain in his head was almost indescribable. He breathed steadily, hoping it would help.

He was almost asleep when something gentle grabbed his hand. He opened his eyes, and Minho was sitting there at the side of his bed, with that soft, calm smile on his face—like everything was fine, and Jisung wasn’t totally losing his sanity. 

“Babe?” he choked out, his voice scratchy, and in desperate need of water. 

“Yes, baby. I’m right here,” he said, stroking his thumb over his knuckles. 

“Where’s the nurse? And Chan and Changbin?”

“The nurse said you need your rest,” he said, brushing the hair from his forehead. “Just get some sleep, and we can talk more when you wake up, okay?” 

Jisung nodded, taking a deep breath before closing his eyes. Minho’s gentle touch felt comforting. 

And the next thing he knew, he was dreaming again. 

February 20th, 2026

Jisung skipped up the steps and into their apartment. He’d finished work early, and Minho had been waiting at home for him. It was Friday, and they were planning a romantic evening together—dinner and wine, hopefully ending the night with the best sex they’d had in a while.

Honestly, it had been a bit since they’d slept together. Life had been busy lately, especially with Jisung’s new position at work and Minho traveling for his job almost every other week.

When he walked in, Minho was in the kitchen, a beautiful bouquet in his hand, and that sweet smile he’d fallen in love with. 

“Hey, baby,” he greeted. “Welcome home.”

Jisung dropped his bag at the door and ran into his arms, making Minho chuckle as he wrapped his legs around his waist and pressed a fat kiss to his cheek. 

“Hello, my love. I missed you,” he said, hugging him tighter. 

Minho’s soft hand on his lower back made him shiver. He was already so excited for later, to crawl into bed with him and kiss him until they both couldn’t breathe. But he had to control himself. 

When he pulled back and hopped onto the floor, Minho held out the flowers for him. 

“For you,” he whispered. “Happy anniversary.”

Jisung smiled, taking the flowers. He pressed his nose to them and breathed in deeply, a pretty scent.

“Happy anniversary to you too,” he replied. “These are gorgeous.” 

He touched the soft petals of the blue flowers, admiring their beauty. 

“Hydrangeas. They looked pretty in the flowershop window, and I thought—how about some pretty flowers for my pretty boy?”

Jisung giggled as Minho kissed his neck, trailing along his cheek until he pecked his lips. 

“Stop, you’re gonna make me want to skip dinner,” he whined, wrapping his arms around his neck and pulling him closer. 

“Well, we have a dinner reservation,” he reminded him. 

“Yeah, but if you tease me like that, we’re gonna have to cancel.” 

Minho hummed. “Tease you how?” He leaned in, sucking even harder on the skin between his neck and shoulder. 

“You know how,” he mumbled, biting his lip. 

“I don’t,” he whispered in his ear, nibbling on it. 

“Minho,” he groaned. “You haven’t fucked me in two weeks. Don’t mess with me right now.” 

Minho chortled. “Oh, believe me, I know.”

“I swear you do this on purpose,” he complained, even though he tilted his head back to let Minho bite his neck. 

“Do what? Make you impatient? Make you want to beg for it?”

Jisung’s eyes rolled back. “You’re definitely doing it on purpose.”

“Maybe,” Minho murmured, kissing the center of his neck. “I like it when you’re a little desperate.” 

Jisung smacked his shoulder. “Knock it off.”

“Never, baby.” 

It took everything in Jisung’s power, but he wiggled out of Minho’s grasp. 

“No. Bad,” he said, holding up a finger. “And don’t even think about pouting at me.” 

Of course, he pouted anyway. 

“But I miss you,” he mumbled, reaching for Jisung’s wrist. “I want to fuck you. Don’t you want that?”

Jisung couldn’t fall for it. Because even if he said yes, Minho wouldn’t actually give it to him—not yet, not that easy. He knew this game, and even if he loved to play, he wasn’t sure he had the strength for it tonight. 

“No—I mean, yes, but no. Dinner first. You’ve been gone for over a week. I want to hear about your work trip.”

Minho smiled, those pretty eyes crinkling as he laughed. 

“Okay,” he said, brushing a thumb over his cheek. “Let me grab a vase for these, and then we should get going. Our reservation is at seven.”

He leaned in to kiss him again, deeper this time, and Jisung missed those lips so much. Time together had been scarce lately, and he hated it.

But they were both busy, building the careers they’ve always wanted. 

Jisung was the lead producer at the record company he’d been at for the last four years. It was a dream come true, something he’d worked towards for years—and now he had finally been recognized, his talent noticed after years of dedication and hard work. 

Minho had been running his own cafe for years now, and the world was finally starting to discover the food he loved to create. He’d been invited all over the country, even overseas, bringing back photos and hanging them on the walls of the cute little cafe Jisung had met him in six years ago. 

Minho kissed him again, again, and again.

Jisung had to force him back by the shoulders. 

“Okay—no more. Dinner first,” he reminded him. 

“Then dessert?” he teased, pulling him in by the waist.

He was seconds away from breaking and cancelling the damn reservation entirely. 

“My pretty flowers need a vase,” he said instead, shoving them lightly in Minho’s face. 

Minho chuckled, taking them. “You’re right. Okay.”

“Go—I’ll get your coat.” 

Minho, of course, stole one last kiss before strutting into the kitchen. That was when Jisung realized how fucking hot he looked, dressed in all black, his satin shirt a few buttons loose at the top. Minho had always been gorgeous, and Jisung was pretty sure he’d fallen for him right away. A part of him was even jealous of how attractive he was. He remembered being a little intimidated by his beauty that winter afternoon they met.

As he pulled on his jacket, Minho came up behind him and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Ready?”

Jisung turned with a smile and handed him his coat. 

“I’m ready if you are.”

Minho kissed him again—deeply, passionately, the type of kiss he could feel Minho’s entire heart in. One that said I love you, more than words ever could. 

“Let’s go.”

June 28th, 2026

When Jisung woke up again, the sun was shining in his eyes. He didn’t want to wake up from his dream of Minho’s gentle hands on his body, the way he’d made love to him that night, the way he’d made the tears run down his cheeks, just the way he liked. 

He tried to move, but his body felt rigid and stiff. 

And fuck, his head still hurt like a bitch. 

“Hey, baby.” 

He groaned, turning his head to the right. Minho was fixing the flowers again. They were the same ones he’d bought him the night of their anniversary.

“Are those hydrangeas?” he asked, his voice deep and scratchy.

“They are,” he said, carefully adjusting the wilted petals. 

“They’re beautiful.”

“I thought, how about some pretty flowers for my pretty boy?”

Jisung smiled, his heart fluttering as Minho gazed at him, soft and sweet like he always did. 

He tried to sit up, but it was almost impossible on his own.

Minho rushed over to the bed, helping him by the arm. “Careful now.”

“I’m okay. I just—I need to sit up,” he groaned, finally scooting back so he could lift himself off the uncomfortable hospital sheets.

His arm hurt, his back hurt, his leg hurt, his head hurt—everything just hurt. 

“Easy. You’re all banged up.”

Jisung chuckled. “Funny, I was having a dream about that.”

Minho cocked his head to the side. “A dream?”

“About the night we spent together. Our anniversary?”

Another sweet smile. “Oh, yeah, I remember.” 

“You were crazy that night,” he laughed. 

“I had missed you,” Minho whispered, taking his hand and pressing a cool kiss to the back of it. “Remember how you passed out in my arms right after?”

Jisung nodded with a blush. He did remember. “I had missed you too.”

He looked around the room then, noticing a pillow resting in the chair in the corner.

“Did you stay here all night?” Jisung asked.

Minho squeezed his hand. “I wasn’t going to leave you here.”

Just like the rest of his body, Jisung’s heart ached.

“You could’ve gone home to get some rest, babe. That chair can’t be comfortable.”

Minho patted his hand. “It’s okay. I don’t mind. Not at all.”

He reached out to brush his gentle fingers over Jisung’s cheek. 

“How’s your head today?” Minho asked, worry laced in his tone. 

“It still hurts, but not as bad as yesterday.”

Minho tucked the hair behind his ear. “Good.”

“Min,” he whispered, swallowing nervously. “Is it really June? Have I really…all these months, did I really just…forget?”

He glanced out the window. The weather was undeniably nice, no winter snow in sight. 

Minho’s smile softened into a small frown. “The doctor said you’ve lost a few months of your memory, and that this can happen with a severe head injury.”

Jisung squeezed his eyes shut. “This is insane. So I just have months of memories I can’t remember? And not to mention, I can’t even remember how I got here in the first place? And no one wants to tell me?” 

The stress was getting to him, and Minho quickly rubbed a gentle thumb over his wrist.

“I know, baby. I know it’s frustrating. But the doctor said you have to remember on your own.”

“But if you just tell me, then I can remember.” 

Minho shook his head. “Even if we tell you what happened, you won’t remember, and it’ll just make it worse.”

Jisung let out a deep sigh, squeezing his eyes shut even tighter. 

All he had to do was remember. But there was nothing after the night of their anniversary. How could there be four months he’d just completely forgotten?

He tried and tried, his head starting to pound harder the more he searched for answers.

“Jisung, baby. We don’t have to remember right now. Let’s just get you something to eat, and we can try to work through some memories together when you’ve got your strength up.” 

Jisung sighed and opened his eyes. “Yeah, okay.” 

It was clearly no use anyway. 

Minho placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. “I’ll go get the nurse.”

“Okay,” he whispered, lying back again. 

When Minho left the room, he closed his eyes once more, hoping something, anything, would come back to him. 

“Good morning, Jisung,” the nurse said, making his eyes snap back open. 

He groaned as he tried to sit up, the nurse quickly rushing to his side to help him. 

“Easy,” she said, supporting his back. “I know you probably want to get out of this bed, but let’s take it slowly.” 

“I’m trying. I can barely—even move.”

“Well, you’ve got a broken leg and a small fracture in your arm, so you’re going to be wheelchair bound for a bit.”

“Seriously?” he groaned. 

“Until you can safely bear weight on your arm, then yes.”

“And how long will that be?”

“If we can practice getting a good grip on your crutches, you can use those to get around in short distances.”

“And what about my leg? When will I be able to walk again?”

“Typically up to twelve weeks, depending. We’re hoping your arm heals quickly, but your injuries were pretty severe, so we’ll revisit it in a few weeks once there’s been some healing.”

Jisung let his head hang. This entire ordeal was a huge pain in the ass. 

“Man, this sucks.”

“How’s your head today?” she asked. 

Jisung almost lied, wanting to tell her it felt fine so she wouldn’t start withholding information again. But then he caught Minho’s disapproving stare from the corner of the room. He hadn’t even noticed when he slipped back in. 

If he lied, he would totally tattle on him. 

“It still hurts a bit. I had a dream last night—well, it was more of a memory, I guess. About the last night I can remember before everything just…yeah.” 

She nodded. “That’s good. I’m hoping more memories come to you as you heal.”

“They will come back, right?” he asked nervously. 

When she placed a soft hand on his shoulder, the panic set in. 

“They often will gradually. But it might take a while, especially with the pain in your head still.”

For the last twenty-four hours, that seemed to be the only answer he got. He had no idea how he’d gotten here, no idea how he’d gotten hurt, no idea where he’d been when it happened. And no one was going to tell him. Not the nurse, not his friends, not his boyfriend—no one.

If he was going to figure it out, he’d have to remember on his own.

“Can I go home soon at least?” 

“After a few more days of monitoring your head injury, and as long as you can get to the bathroom in your wheelchair, then I’d say you’ll be out of here in no time.”

Jisung nodded. “Minho will be able to help too, so I should be fine.”

“Maybe,” Minho chuckled from the corner. “I can already foresee you fighting me off as I try to help you.”

Jisung rolled his eyes. “He worries too much,” he told her.

The nurse just smiled. “Okay, I’m going to get you something to eat and your meds for the morning.”

“Okay, I’ll be here,” he said, leaning back on his bed with a frustrated huff.

As she left the room, Minho came back over to him. 

“Hi,” Jisung whispered. 

“Hi, my love,” he murmured, taking his hand and pressing a soft kiss to the back of it. 

Minho had always been so sweet to him. It was one of the reasons he’d fallen so hard all those years ago.

“What about work? Shouldn’t you be there? Doesn’t the cafe need you?” Jisung asked then, realizing Minho must’ve been taking time off. 

“Don’t you worry about that,” he said, poking his nose. “Everything is fine. Hyunjin will look after things.”

“But weren’t you guys supposed to go on that trip?”

Minho just stared at him, nothing but that sweet smile. 

Suddenly, the pain in his head intensified. 

“Fuck—ow,” he whimpered, clutching his head. 

“What is it, baby?”

“I’m…wait, I remember…fuck.”

Flashes of memories were hitting him. Minho’s bags were packed, a full suitcase ready for a week’s trip to Japan. His face was stressed, a hand running through his hair as he paced near the front door. The clock on the kitchen stove read just after five in the morning.

“What do you remember? Can you tell me?” 

Jisung took a shaky breath. 

They had a fight. 

“The trip. You already went. But we…we argued before you left.”

Minho’s face turned sorrowful, but he didn’t say anything. 

“I was mad because…because I didn’t like that you and Hyunjin were going to be sharing a hotel room. I said I wasn’t comfortable with it, but you said I had nothing to worry about.” 

Minho gripped his wrist a little tighter. “Do you remember the dates? The nurse said you should try to remember when things happened.”

Jisung clenched his eyes shut, the pain almost blinding now.

“It was about two weeks after our anniversary. The beginning of March.”

He remembered now. He could see it clearly. He felt his heart swell, the emotions of the past coming back to haunt him. Jisung had yelled, begging him to understand. But Minho just assured him that it wasn’t like that, and it was all in his head. 

But it wasn’t all in his head. He knew it wasn’t. 

Hyunjin liked Minho. For years, he’d been in love with his boss and bestfriend. And Minho was either too oblivious or too deep in denial to see it.

Jisung had made little comments about it before, but Minho always brushed them off. And if he ever tried to press further, Minho would shut it down immediately.

“Hyunjin doesn’t have feelings for me. Trust me on that,” Minho had said multiple times. 

But Jisung had eyes. He could see it. And honestly, Hyunjin wasn’t exactly subtle about it either. It was like he didn’t care if Jisung noticed, almost like he wanted him to, like he was reminding him that if he chose to, he could take Minho away.

It wasn’t that Jisung didn’t trust Minho—he knew he loved him more than anything. It was Hyunjin he didn’t trust. Not even a little.

So when he begged him to change the plans, because he wasn’t comfortable with them sharing a hotel room on a trip where they’d be drinking a lot of wine, and Minho denied it—well, excuse him for losing his shit a little.

“You went anyway. You didn’t even text me back.”

His head ached. 

“Okay, baby. That’s enough for right now,” Minho said gently, pressing a palm over his sweaty forehead. “You’re going to make yourself sick.”

Jisung winced, lying back against the hospital bed as his vision started to blur. It was there. The memories were right there. But it hurt. Everything just fucking hurt. 

Even his heart.

March 6th, 2026

“You’re sharing a what now?” Jisung asked.

It was painfully early, and Minho was about to leave the apartment to catch a flight. They were attending a wine tasting event, and Minho had been invited to prepare dinner for a bunch of wealthy collectors with a taste for aged wines. It was a great opportunity for him and his business, so Jisung was extremely proud of him. 

But when he handed Minho his phone, he caught the text from Hyunjin on the screen. 

“There are two beds. It was all the hotel had left since we booked late,” Minho said calmly.

Jisung, on the other hand, was anything but calm. 

“Then you book a different fucking hotel.”

“The dinner event is at that hotel.”

“Then stay somewhere else and get a damn ride to it.”

“Baby, please—”

“Don’t fucking baby me, right now,” he snapped. 

Minho let out a short sigh through his nose, an indication that he was getting pissed. But he had some nerve, getting mad at him right now.

“Were you even planning on telling me that you two were sharing a hotel room?” 

Minho bit his lip, not saying anything. 

“Well?”

“No. Because I knew you’d get upset.”

Jisung let out a short laugh of disbelief. “So you were just going to lie to me? On purpose?”

“I wasn’t lying to you, Jisung. I knew you’d overreact and—”

“Oh, I’m the one who’s overreacting?” His eyes widened, pointing at his chest. “You’re under-reacting. You were about to fly to another country, go on a trip where you’d both be drunk, share a room together, when you know he likes you, and not even tell me about it?” 

Minho pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jisung, it’s not like that. It never has been.”

“For fuck’s sake, Minho. I’m so damn tired of hearing that when it’s so obvious he has feelings for you!”

“So what? Even if he does like me, do you not trust me? You think I’d cheat on you?”

“No. But that’s—that’s not the point!”

“Then what is the point? Hyunjin has been my best friend longer than you’ve even been around.”

Jisung’s heart snapped. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Minho breathed in sharply. “Nothing—I didn’t mean—”

“So he comes before me? Because you knew him first?”

“No, Jisung. Of course not. I’m just saying—”

“Right. You’re just saying that you don’t care about how I feel, and that since he’s your best friend, his feelings matter more than mine.”

“Fuck! Jisung—no, that’s not what I said!” he yelled. 

Jisung froze. Minho never yelled at him like that. 

“God, I’m so sick of this conversation! Every time with you two! It’s like I have to choose between you being upset or him getting annoyed because you have this delusional idea that he’s into me!”

Tears welled up in Jisung’s eyes. “I’m not fucking delusional!”

“You know what,” Minho huffed, grabbing his luggage. “I’m not doing this again. Not now.”

He turned quickly, grabbed the door handle, and yanked it open.

“Minho—”

“I’ll see you next week.”

He slammed the door shut. He didn’t kiss him goodbye. He didn’t say I love you. He didn’t even look back at him before he left. 

Jisung’s throat went tight as he wiped his angry tears away. It felt like lately, the fights had only been getting worse. His heart ached, the pain spreading throughout his chest. 

He gasped for air, sobbing through his tears. 

He wasn’t delusional. 

He wasn’t.

June 29th, 2026

Getting around was harder than he’d thought it would be. The nurse helped, and Minho did his best to lift him, but his body felt heavy, and his broken limbs refused to cooperate. 

“Ow, ow, ow,” he complained as they guided him into the wheelchair. 

“Almost there,” the nurse said.

“You can do it, baby,” Minho said softly. 

“I can’t—it’s too much.”

“You can. You’re strong, remember?” Minho encouraged him. 

He finally plopped into the wheelchair with a defeated huff. 

“Oh my god, this sucks,” he groaned. 

“But you did it,” the nurse said, smiling at him.

“I’m exhausted,” he gasped. All he did was move from the bed to the wheelchair, and he was already completely drained.

“It’ll take some practice, but we’ll keep building your strength up, okay?” 

He nodded, trying not to get frustrated. He’d never felt so weak and helpless before in his life. 

“Now, if you need anything, just press this button. I think your friends said they were coming back to visit this afternoon.” 

Jisung smiled. Apparently, they had stopped by yesterday, but he’d already been asleep for the night.

The nurse left the room, and Jisung let out a deep sigh.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Minho asked, brushing his thumb over his cheek. 

“Nothing. I just…I want to go home.”

“Soon. The doctor said if you can get around on your own a little, then we can.”

“But what if I can’t? It’s so hard just to move by myself, and I hate feeling like I can’t do anything.”

Minho’s soft fingers tangled in his hair, and Jisung leaned into his touch. 

“You can do it. I know you can. If there’s one thing about my Jisungie, it’s that he never gives up.”

Jisung smiled, his heart fluttering as Minho caressed him. He was lucky to have such a sweet man by his side.

That’s when he remembered their argument about the trip.

“Min?” 

“Yeah?”

“Did I…ever say I was sorry?”

Minho’s eyebrows furrowed. “For what, baby?”

“When you left for your trip. I didn’t want to fight. I was just upset, because I love you. And the thought of you leaving me for someone else is…I know I’m not perfect. I’m hard to deal with sometimes, and—”

“No, sweetheart. You are perfect,” Minho whispered, kneeling beside him. “You mean everything to me.”

Tears slipped from Jisung’s eyes, frustrated by a past he could barely remember. “I’m sorry. If I didn’t apologize before, I’m apologizing now. I can’t remember if I did, but…I love you.”

Minho kissed him, gentle and sweet—a light feeling. 

“And I love you,” he murmured against his lips. “More than anything in the world. I’m sorry too.”

Jisung nodded, the pain in his head subsiding as Minho kissed his cheeks. He giggled, the soft feeling tickling his skin. 

“Do you need anything? I’m gonna head out for a bit—but Chan and Changbin are on their way.”

Jisung reached for him, pulling him in to kiss his lips again. 

“No, take your time. Shower, eat, get some rest. You’ve been taking care of me, but you need to take care of yourself, too.”

Minho smiled. “Okay. I won’t be long. I promise.”

He gave him one more lingering kiss before waving and disappearing through the door. Jisung let out a deep sigh, glancing out the window.

The weather was beautiful, the sun shining through the glass, the warm rays comforting on his skin. He wanted to go outside, to feel the heat, to take in the reality that it was summer, and that he was really missing four months of memory, uncertain if it would even come back. 

“Hey!” 

Jisung turned from the window, smiling widely when he saw Chan and Changbin leaning against the doorway. 

“Hey, guys.”

“You good if we come in?” Chan asked. 

“Yeah, of course.”

Changbin ran in, and Chan followed after. Jisung could still see the worry on his face, knowing he wasn’t one to hide his emotions well. 

“Look at you,” Changbin said, placing a hand on his wheelchair. “It’s good to see you out of that bed.”

“I was sick of the scratchy sheets,” he smirked. 

“How are you feeling today?” Chan asked. 

Jisung shrugged. “Could be worse, I guess.”

“How about your head?” Changbin asked, poking his temple gently. 

“Still not working and still hurts—but I remembered a few things.”

Changbin and Chan shared a glance, just like the other day. 

“What did you remember?”

He sighed. “Me and Min got into a fight—it was back in the beginning of March, before he went to Japan for that work trip.” 

They were both quiet, and Jisung knew how awkward it must’ve been, not being able to tell him anything and just waiting for him to remember on his own.

“But it’s all good. We’re okay.” 

Changbin placed a firm hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. 

“Have you remembered anything else?” Chan asked carefully.

“Nope,” he said, popping the p. “If I think too much…well, you know. Pain, blurry, nauseous—all that shit.”

“Just try to take it easy for now. Focus on healing first,” Changbin said. 

“Hey, do you think we can go outside?” he asked, gesturing to the window. “It looks so nice, and I just kind of want to feel the sun.”

“Um, yeah—let me get the nurse and see if we can get out for a bit,” Chan said, rushing out of the room.

When Chan left, Changbin’s worry finally showed, his grip tightening on Jisung’s shoulder.

“Hey—I’m fine. He worries enough for all of us. Between him and Minho, I’m not sure who worries more.”

Changbin smiled, something a little sorrowful in his gaze. 

The nurse came back and cleared them for a short stroll outside. Well, less of a stroll and more of a sit-and-push situation for Jisung. But it was still nice to get into the sunlight.

“Ah, yeah. This feels so good,” he sighed, leaning his head back.

Chan wheeled him over to a bench, the two of them sitting and relaxing with him. It felt freeing after being stuck in a hospital bed for days. 

“Did they say when you can go home yet?” Changbin asked.

“Hopefully soon. There’s no way I can stay here any longer. They said when I can move on my own a little, then I should be all clear, so you bet your ass I’ll be moving on my own by tomorrow.”

Chan chuckled. “Stubborn as always.” 

“I thought you loved that about me?”

They laughed, the sound of their chuckles light in the wind. 

“Man, I can’t believe I can’t remember the entirety of spring. Minho and I always go see the cherry blossoms when they bloom.”

They were beautiful, and he looked forward to it every year.

He winced, something suddenly sharp in his head, making him groan.

“Jisung?” Chan panicked. 

“Are you okay, Ji?” Changbin asked, kneeling beside him. 

Blurry. Everything went blurry. But something was there on the edge of his brain.

Pretty pink flowers. Minho holding tightly to his hand. A few petals falling into Minho’s hair. Jisung gently plucking them out.

“Fuck,” he swore, the pain intensifying. 

Minho’s smile. His sweet, pretty smile. 

“Hey, should we get the nurse?” Chan asked.

“No,” he said, slightly pushing him away. “I just—I remembered…we did go see the cherry blossoms. We went together. In April. But something…ugh,” he grumbled, clutching his head harder.

They had been fighting again. He couldn’t remember why, but he remembered the pain in his heart and the tears on his face. Minho had asked him to meet him by the cherry blossoms after work. 

“Fuck—I can’t…it hurts,” he cried. The pain was so intense he felt like he was about to be sick. 

“Shit, I’m gonna get the nurse,” Changbin said.

“No, don’t. I’m—I’m fine,” he insisted. 

He wanted to remember. Even if it hurt, he wanted to remember what happened. 

“Jisung, you’re not fine. Your nose is bleeding, and you can barely open your eyes.”

No. He needed to remember first. He needed to. 

“It’s okay. It’s…it’s…”

His mind went fuzzy again. 

And everything went black.

April 3rd, 2026

Jisung sat in his office with tears in his eyes. He hadn’t heard from Minho in three days. They’d had another fight—something stupid this time. But they were both so stubborn it was hard for either of them to reach out.

Ever since Minho had gotten back from his trip to Japan, things felt different. He hadn’t called or texted the entire time he was gone, leaving Jisung to wallow in his anxiety the entire week. Jisung hadn’t reached out either, but Minho had yelled at him, so he should have been the one to call. 

Jisung had lingering anger since Minho never apologized for not telling him about Hyunjin and their shared room, and still going on the trip without booking a different hotel.

So he felt bitter.

He kept picking petty fights. But he was so frustrated that he couldn’t help it. Whenever Minho came home late, he’d bitch about it. Whenever Minho left something lying around the apartment, he’d complain under his breath. 

Minho just took deep breaths, ignoring it, responding as calmly as possible. But Jisung pushed until he snapped, either yelling back or slamming a door shut on the argument. 

But when Minho told him he was going out with Hyunjin after work one night for drinks, he completely lost his shit.

Words he never meant to say left his lips. He told him not to bother coming back to the apartment. 

And Minho didn’t.

Now here he was, crying, missing him like crazy, wishing he would call. 

He was about to leave work when his phone rang, Minho waiting for him on the other line. 

His heart ached, hesitating for a moment, but he’d missed him so much he answered after the second ring. 

“Hello?” he mumbled, trying not to sound too excited, knowing Minho had left him wondering where he’d been the last few days—even if he was the one who had told him not to come back. 

“Hi, baby,” he murmured, and tears instantly welled up in Jisung’s eyes. 

“What do you want?” he said, his voice cracking, betraying him. 

“The cherry blossoms look beautiful,” he said softly. “Wanna meet me near our bench in the park?” 

Jisung sniffled, rubbing at his watery eyes. If he hadn’t missed him so much, maybe he would’ve said no, made him apologize for everything first. 

But he missed him too much to stand being away from him for another second.

“Yeah, okay.”

June 30th, 2026

Jisung blinked his eyes open. He looked around, realizing he was back in the hospital bed. The bright white ceiling and steady beeping made his head hurt.

He glanced to his left, and Minho was fixing the flowers in the vase again. The petals looked even more wilted than before.

“Minho?” he said, trying to sit up.

“Hey, baby, hey,” he whispered, rushing over to him. 

“What—what happened?” 

Minho gave him one of those sad frowns. “You had an incident outside yesterday. You passed out.” 

He winced, managing to sit up, but the ache in his brain was bothering him. 

“I passed out…” he repeated slowly, trying to pull the faded memories together.

“When I got back, they’d already brought you back to the room. Do you remember?”

He pressed a hand to his head, the pain sharp and intense.

“Yesterday…yeah. I went out with Chan and Changbin. I was getting some fresh air—but then…” He slowly looked over at Minho, who stared at him with those gentle eyes. “Minho, we…we had a really bad fight.”

His throat tightened, tears welling as fragments of the memories pieced themselves together—the yelling, the pain, the harsh words.

“Baby, you don’t have to remember that,” Minho said, gently brushing a hand over his cheek. 

“Yes, I do,” he argued, wincing at the accidental sharpness in his tone. “We didn’t talk for days, but…then you called me. You told me to meet you by the cherry blossoms in the park where we had our first date.” 

Minho took his hand. “You remember the cherry blossoms?”

Jisung nodded. “We made up. You kissed me. You said you loved me. You said you were sorry. And I…I cried.” 

Minho leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Very loudly in public,” he chuckled. 

“Oh my—I can’t…I can’t believe we…ugh.”

His head hurt again, the pounding only subsiding when Minho caressed him gently. 

“None of that matters now,” Minho assured him. “All that matters is that you know how much I love you. That’s all you need to remember, okay?” 

Jisung sighed. “But I have to remember. I have to remember what happened to me.”

Minho frowned again. “What if you just remember the good times? I don’t think remembering your injury will do much good.”

“The good times?” Jisung asked. 

“Like the day we first met. Or the night I took you to the park for a walk in the snow for our first date. Maybe the first time we made love, very impatiently in the back of my mom’s car.”

Jisung chuckled. “Oh my god, I still can’t believe we had sex in your mom’s car.” 

“I was so broke at the time. I even paid for dinner on her credit card that night,” he said, brushing his thumb over Jisung’s knuckles. “I was nervous for my date with the prettiest boy I had ever met.”

Jisung rolled his eyes and pushed at his chest. “Stop.”

Minho shook his head. “You know how beautiful I think you are. My pretty boy.”

Jisung shuddered. He remembered that night vividly. No stupid brain injury could steal that from him.

“Remember when we went on vacation to Jeju together?” Jisung asked.

“I do.”

“We fucked in that hotel room so much I felt bad for the maid,” he laughed, making Minho laugh too. 

“I couldn’t hold back,” he said, kissing Jisung’s neck. “And you kept begging for it, so how could I?”

Jisung took a deep breath, letting Minho kiss him over and over, even though the nurse could walk in at any moment. 

“Hey,” he whispered. “When I get out of here, and I don’t have any of these silly casts on, let’s go on a trip like that again. Just you and me. What do you say?”

Minho gave him that sweet, sad smile. 

“Let’s get you healed up first,” he said softly.

Jisung nodded before reaching up to cup Minho’s cheek, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. But he pulled back in surprise when the nurse came in.

“Oh, you’re awake,” she said.

“I’m awake,” he repeated. 

“How’s your head?” she asked, placing a clipboard on the wall. 

“Better.”

“You passed out yesterday, then you were talking in your sleep for a while,” she added. 

Jisung sighed, glancing over at Minho, who gave him a small nod.

“I remembered some more things. I think they’re slowly coming back.” 

She grabbed him some water and handed him some pills as she made her way over to the bed. 

“Can you tell me what you remembered?” 

He quickly took the pills, knowing the pain would subside a little once they kicked in. 

“My boyfriend and I,” he gestured to Minho, who was still sitting by his side, “back in March and April, we had a few fights, but we made up. And then we went to see the cherry blossoms.” 

“Is that all you remembered?” 

“Yep. That’s it,” he said. 

“Okay, good. It sounds like your memories are slowly coming back,” she said, but something in her tone felt off. 

It was quiet as she took a few tests and examined the back of his head.

“Does my little episode yesterday set back my chances of being discharged soon?” he asked.

“Well, let’s see how your strength is today. If things look good, and you have people to check on you at home, then we should be good to go.”

“Well, my boyfriend can help me. And my friends. And my mom,” he said. 

“Right. That’s good.” She just smiled again. “I’ll be back in a minute with some breakfast.” 

Jisung sighed. He had to do everything in his power to show that he was ready to go home. He was getting tired of this uncomfortable hospital bed.

“What’s wrong?” Minho asked, probably noticing his deep frown. 

“Nothing. I just want to go home. I want to go home with you.” 

“I know, baby,” he said, patting his thigh.

“Like, I know my head is fucked, but you’ll be with me.” 

“They just want to make sure it’s safe for you to leave first. There’s nothing I can do if you pass out and have a seizure.” 

Jisung could see the stress on Minho’s face. It wasn’t fair, making him worry like this and putting the pressure on him to take care of him. He wasn’t a nurse or a doctor, and Jisung knew that if anything happened, he would blame himself.

“I know. I’m sorry. I just want to sleep in our bed. Just us. No nurses, no beeping, no uncomfortable sheets, none of it.” 

Minho gave him that soft smile once again. 

“Soon.” 

Jisung nodded and didn’t bring it up again. He could tell it was upsetting him. It was probably frustrating, watching Jisung stuck in a hospital bed every day, in pain, knowing there was nothing he could do to fix it. 

All day, he practiced with Minho and the nurse, transferring into his wheelchair, walking to the bathroom, and getting back into bed. Honestly, he thought he did well, and most of it he even managed on his own.

But by the time evening rolled around, he was exhausted. 

“Get some rest, Jisung. Your mother is coming tomorrow, and I think you’re all set to head back home. But if anything goes wrong or you have any concerns, just give us a call,” the nurse said. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, so tired he could barely lift his head. 

She gave him a small, sad smile, similar to the one Minho had been wearing these days.

“Of course, honey. And I’m really sorry about what happened. But don’t forget how strong you are, okay?”

Jisung nodded, grabbing Minho’s hand and squeezing it tightly. 

He looked over at him, and he had no idea how Minho didn’t look tired at all. 

“Don’t you want to go home tonight?” he asked, his eyes already struggling to stay open. 

“No, I’m staying here with you.” 

Jisung yawned. “But you need to get some actual sleep. You’ve been sleeping in that chair for what—weeks now?”

Minho shook his head. “Don’t worry about me. I don’t want you to worry about me.”

He brushed his knuckles over Jisung’s cheek, and he leaned into it, exhaustion finally starting to take over.

“I’m tired.”

“Rest, my love. Get some sleep.”

Jisung didn’t even have the strength to argue, his eyes closing in an instant.

February 2nd, 2020

“Where are we going?” Jisung asked as Chan pulled him up the street. 

“To get something to eat. I’m starving, and I’m skipping classes,” he said. 

“Didn’t you skip classes yesterday, too?”

“I went to one,” he replied, making Jisung shoot him a stern look. “Hey, it’s my final year, and I have more than enough credit to get by skipping a class or two.”

Chan, his best friend and the bass guitarist for their little garage band back in high school, dragged him into a local cafe near their college. Jisung had never noticed the place before. It was small, quaint, and perfect for hiding if someone wanted to skip class. 

When they walked up to the counter, Jisung reached for his wallet. Chan ordered first, the barista already knowing his order. Apparently, he’d been there a few times before.

“And for you?”

As Jisung looked up, his wallet slipped from his hand and hit the floor. Standing in front of him, waiting to take his order, was the hottest guy he’d ever seen in his entire life.

“Uh, I…uh,” he stammered. 

His pretty smile almost made his knees buckle. 

“We have a really good Americano if you wanna try that?”

Jisung wasn’t sure what was happening, but his brain had completely stopped working. All he could do was stare at him, wondering how on earth someone could look that flawless.

“Dude?” Chan asked, elbowing his side. 

Jisung grunted. “Sure—yeah. That sounds…that sounds great.”

“Cool. You can tap your card whenever you’re ready.”

When he turned around to start making the drinks, Jisung’s gaze dropped to his ass. He flushed, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head.

Chan was definitely looking at him weirdly, and honestly, he had no idea what to say. They stood there in silence while Jisung tried to figure out why his heart was racing so fast.

He was totally hot, but it wasn’t even fair for someone to be that hot. His blonde hair was pulled back with the cutest hairband, and the tiny freckle on his nose was adorable. He was hot, cute, and sexy all at once—and in a selfish way, it kind of pissed him off. 

“Here you go,” the hot guy said, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

“Thanks, Minho,” Chan said. 

“No problem. Have a good afternoon, yeah?”

Jisung’s heart thumped when Minho looked right at him. But of course, he couldn’t get any words out. 

Chan had to drag him away from the counter, having to press on his shoulder to make him sit. 

“Hey, are you in there? What the hell is your—”

“Do you know him?” Jisung cut in.

“What?”

“That guy. I asked you if you know him.”

Chan raised an eyebrow at him. “I mean…kind of. Not really. Why?”

“What do you mean, not really?” 

Chan put his hands up. “Yo, what is going on right now?” 

“Look, that guy might be the hottest guy I’ve ever seen in my entire life. So if you know him, I need you to introduce him to me.” 

Chan blinked at him for a second before letting out a loud laugh.

“Holy shit, did you just fall in love in thirty seconds? Is that why you’re acting like you’re dumb and lost?”

Jisung flushed. “Yeah. Possibly less. So that’s why if you know him at all, I need you to—”

“Hey.” 

Jisung’s head whipped around at the soft voice behind him. Standing there was the hot barista, his cheeks tinted a pretty pink. 

“H-Hi.”

That was all Jisung could seem to get out. 

His sweet smile made his heart flutter. 

“I’ve never seen you around here before,” he said. “How’s the Americano?”

Jisung glanced at the green and pink cup, then at Chan, who had the widest smirk on his face, then back to the guy whose pretty face made his heart race. 

“S’good, yeah. I like it—a lot,” he rushed out awkwardly.

“Good, I’m glad.” His smile widened before glancing over at Chan. “And yours?”

The widest shit-eating grin came to his lips as he kicked Jisung’s shin under the table. “It’s really good, yeah. Just like always.”

“Well, I just wanted to come over and introduce myself,” he said, reaching out his hand towards Jisung. “I’m Minho.”

Jisung took it quickly, his skin warm.

“Jisung,” he said, annoyed with himself when his voice cracked. “Do you go to college here?” 

Minho shook his head. “No, I actually own this cafe. I work here full time.”

“Oh, wow—that’s cool.”

“I’m assuming you’re in school then?”

“Yeah—it’s my first year.”

“Nice,” he said, his eyes softening even more—and he had really pretty eyes. “It’s my first year running this place. It’s going pretty well so far.”

“You’ve got a talent for sure. And I love coming here because it’s so chill,” Chan added, still nudging Jisung’s shin under the table. 

Minho’s soft blinks were cute, the praise clearly making him happy. 

“Thanks. It’s awesome having you as a regular, so—seriously, thank you for always stopping by.”

It was quiet for a moment, and Jisung wished he had the courage to say more. But he was genuinely intimidated by how good-looking Minho was.

“Um, would it be cool if I give you my number?” Minho asked then, looking right at him. “Sorry, you’re just the prettiest guy I’ve ever seen come into my cafe, so…I thought I’d take a chance.”

Jisung’s mouth dropped open. He really wanted to give him his number? He thought he was pretty? 

His heart pounded. 

“Yeah—yes. I mean, totally, for sure.”

He cringed at his own rambling, but Minho’s beautiful laugh made him forget about his shame almost immediately. 

Minho grabbed a pen from his apron, and Jisung quickly slid a napkin over to him. 

He watched as he wrote down his number, catching a faint scent of vanilla as he leaned over the table—or maybe it was just the lingering aroma from the treats he’d been making in the kitchen. 

“Text me—and I hope you come back again.”

Jisung pulled the napkin closer before nodding quickly.

“Yeah. I’ll definitely do that. Both—like, I’ll text you, and I’ll—I’ll come back.”

Chan kicked his shin again, harder this time, and he could see his amused grin.

Minho smiled again. 

“Cool. It was really nice meeting you, Jisung.”

July 1st, 2026

“Now, if you need anything at all, you better call.”

“I will, Mom.”

“Your dad and your brother are available too. So if I don’t answer, try them next.”

Jisung smiled, taking her hand gently. “I’ll be okay.”

She sighed, kissing his forehead before wrapping him in a tight embrace. “I’m so happy you’re okay, my baby bird.”

His heart squeezed. It had been a while since she’d called him that. His dad came up with it, since Jisung always complained of being hungry, and begged to be fed, reminding him of a baby bird waiting for food. 

He hated that he’d made everyone worry, and he still couldn’t even remember how. 

He hugged her back. “I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too,” she cried. “I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

“It’s okay. I’m okay now,” he assured her as she wiped her tears.

He sighed as he watched her leave, his dad practically having to force her into the car. He knew she was worried, but he would be okay. The doctor had cleared him to be at home on his own, and as long as he took his medication and could get to the bathroom, then he was good to go. 

Besides, he wasn’t even alone. He had Minho to help and worry over him all day and night. 

When he hobbled into their bedroom on his crutches, Minho was fixing the pretty blue hydrangeas on his nightstand, the same ones he must have taken from the hospital. 

“Oh, hey, baby,” he said, smiling at him. “How was your mom when she left? She seemed stressed.”

Jisung groaned, leaning against the doorway. “I mean, you know how she is. She’s super worried. But I’ll be fine.”

“You should call her every day like she asked, okay?” he said, eyeing him pointedly as he fluffed the pillows. 

Jisung could not wait to get into bed, so much so that he almost completely missed what he said. 

“I will. But seriously, I have you, and if for some reason I have to go back to the hospital, it’s only a few minutes away.”

Minho tried his best not to frown, but it didn’t seem to work. 

“Babe,” Jisung whispered, grabbing his crutches and making his way to the bed he’d missed so much. “I’m going to be fine. Promise.”

Minho sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed, his gaze drifting to the window as the pale moonlight shone through the glass. 

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Jisung confirmed. “So you, my mom, Chan, and Changbin don’t have to worry. I’m going to heal quickly, get all my memories back, and we’ll be completely fine.” 

Minho nodded softly, and Jisung sat down next to him, pulling him into his arms. He relaxed into Jisung’s embrace. He felt a little cold, so Jisung laid them down and pulled the blanket over them.

“I’m supposed to be comforting you,” Minho murmured.

“Well, you’ve been taking care of me for weeks now. I don’t know how you haven’t passed out from exhaustion yet.”

Jisung knew he’d barely been sleeping, and he hadn’t really seen him eat much. But Minho never really had an appetite when he was stressed.

Minho let out a small chuckle. “I’m fine.” 

“You’re not fine. You always say you’re fine, but I know you’re not.”

Minho always hid his feelings, holding it all in, but Jisung knew how to read him. If he was angry, he’d breathe deeply through his nose and brush it off. If he was upset, his lips would press together in a thin line before he forced a smile.

He reached up, cupping Jisung’s cheek. “I just want you to be okay.”

“I am okay,” he assured him.

Minho exhaled softly. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

But Minho still looked upset. 

“Do you remember what you said when I came back to the cafe the next day after we met?” Jisung asked, trying to change the subject and lighten the mood.

Minho smiled, gazing into his eyes. “I think the second you walked in, I said, ‘Hey, pretty boy.’”

Jisung chuckled, running his fingers through Minho’s hair. “I can’t believe that was six years ago now.”

“And I’ve cherished every moment since,” Minho said, taking his hand and pressing a kiss to his wrist.

Jisung’s heart fluttered. Even after all this time, Minho still made his heart race like crazy.

“You really thought I was pretty?”

Minho looked at him, deep into his eyes, something knowing in his gaze.

“You know I did. You know I do.”

Sometimes Jisung still couldn’t believe that the hottest guy he’d ever met in his life was his, and that he thought he was beautiful. 

Maybe that was why he got so jealous. Because why would Minho fall for someone like him when he could have anyone he wanted?

“Hey,” Minho whispered. “You’re the prettiest boy to ever come into my cafe. And it’s still true to this day.”

Jisung flushed, and instead of spiraling in his insecurities, he took Minho’s chin between his fingers and kissed him deeply. He’d missed him. For days, he hadn’t been able to kiss him like this, trapped in that hospital room. But now they were alone, in their apartment, and nothing could tear them apart.

“Jisung,” Minho murmured against his lips as Jisung tried to shove his tongue in his mouth. “Take it slow.”

“No,” Jisung whined. “I want you.”

Minho’s sharp breath didn’t go unnoticed. 

“Baby, not with your broken leg.”

“I can handle it.”

Minho shook his head, making Jisung groan in annoyance.

“I can’t wait twelve weeks to have you, Minho.”

That sad smile was back on his lips, and Jisung wanted to wipe it away. 

“Just not tonight,” Minho said, kissing his nose. “Not on your first night back. I don’t want to make things worse.”

Jisung smirked. “Maybe it’ll make things better. Maybe I’ll remember something. I’m sure we had mind-blowing make up sex after our fight, right? Maybe it’ll spark my memory.”

Minho smiled again, rubbing his knuckles over his cheek. 

“Jisung,” he said carefully. “What if we just forget about what happened?” 

Jisung pulled back, giving him a curious look.

“What?”

“I don’t want you to hurt. And I don’t think remembering any of it will be helpful to you.”

He couldn’t help but get a little mad.

“Well, it already hurts. I hate not knowing what happened. I need to know. It’s not fair that everyone else knows but me when I’m the one who was in the accident.”

Minho frowned this time. “Baby—”

“Look, babe,” he said, grabbing his hand. “I know you’re worried. I know you are. But we’ll be okay. My head will heal soon, and even if we said some shit—I know I’ve been unreasonable in the past, and I’m sorry. But I love you, and that’s not going to change.”

Minho closed his eyes, but he didn’t say anything. 

“Can we cuddle?” Jisung asked, deciding to let it go for now. 

“Of course we can.” 

Jisung shimmied down the sheets the best he could to press his head against Minho’s chest. The steady beat of his heart was faint, but he listened to it, holding him closer as Minho ran his fingers through his hair.

“I love you,” Minho whispered. “I want you to know that I will always love you, Jisung.” 

Tears welled in his eyes, and he felt a little choked up as he said those words. 

He loved him too—more than anything. Maybe this was a new path for them, a chance to remember how deeply they loved each other. And Jisung wouldn’t let anything tear them apart this time. Not his insecurities, not Minho’s habit of holding things in. From now on, they’d be honest, listen to each other without jumping to conclusions, without holding back important words, and the things that mattered most.

“I love you too. Always.”

May 15th, 2026

“I did it!” Jisung screamed as he ran across the parking lot. “I did it, Minho! I did it!” 

Minho opened his arms wide as Jisung slammed into his chest. 

“I’m so proud of you, baby!”

When Jisung pulled back, he held up the keys for him to see.

“You’re looking at the newest licensed driver on the road. Goodbye passenger seat, and hello race car driver.”

Minho chuckled. “Okay, Mr. Race Car Driver. Let’s make sure we have our seatbelts on and fastened before transporting the precious cargo.”

Jisung raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m a race car driver, not a delivery driver.”

“Well, the only way I’m getting in that car is if the driver complies with all the rules of the road.”

Jisung smirked. “I promise to keep you safe. I’ll check all my mirrors and strap you to the seat.”

Minho rolled his eyes and kissed him, deeper than Jisung expected. He wrapped one arm around his waist, tilting him back slightly, forcing Jisung to hold onto him tighter. 

“You’ll strap me to the seat, huh? That sounds fun.”

Jisung chuckled softly when Minho nibbled on his ear.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Minho kissed his lips again. “Oh, I would love it.”

“It’s been a while since we’ve fucked in the car,” Jisung said, waggling his eyebrows. “Maybe we can make it last more than three minutes this time.”

Minho threw his head back, laughing. “I don’t know. It has been a while since I’ve gotten to touch you, so I might finish even quicker.”

“It’s been two days.”

“Two days too long.”

Jisung shuddered when Minho kissed his neck again, but they were in public, and they couldn’t just fuck in the car in the parking lot—even if the idea of riding Minho in the front seat had crossed his mind.

He quickly shook his head. “Come on. Let me cart you around for a bit.” 

Minho smiled. “Okay, fine. I’ve always wanted to be the passenger princess anyway.” 

“Don’t lie. I can see you shaking in your shoes,” he accused, walking towards the car. “You don’t trust me?”

“I trust you!” he said, running after him. “Kind of.”

“You’re the one who taught me to drive, so shouldn’t you believe in your student?”

“You wanna play teacher-student now?” he teased, grabbing his waist. 

“Oh my god, you’re crazy.”

“Don’t pretend like you wouldn’t love it.”

“Would you just get your ass in the car?” Jisung smacked his shoulder, making Minho laugh. 

“Yes, baby. Whatever you say.”

Jisung jumped into the driver’s seat, excited to finally be legally on the road.

Minho climbed in too, buckling his seatbelt. “So where are we going?” he asked. 

“You wanna get sushi?” Jisung asked, starting the car.

“I couldn’t think of anything better.”

July 2nd, 2026

When Jisung got up, Minho was already in the kitchen. He struggled out of bed, not wanting to bother him, and needing to learn how to get into the wheelchair on his own. His head hurt, and the nurse instructed him to use the wheelchair whenever it gave him trouble, so he wouldn’t collapse and make things worse. 

After he plopped into the seat, he wheeled himself into the kitchen. 

Minho was just standing there, his back turned to him. 

“Morning.”

Minho glanced over his shoulder, his gaze softening immediately the moment he spotted him. 

“Morning, baby,” he said. “You should’ve called me to help.”

“Nah, I got it,” he replied, wheeling over to him. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked, sounding worried, probably because he was in the wheelchair again and not just the crutches.

“I’m fine. My head just feels…well, I think I remembered something.”

“Really?” Minho turned again, his gaze back on the window. 

“I got my driver’s license,” Jisung said, looking out at whatever Minho was staring at. “In May. You took me, and I passed.”

“You remembered?” Minho asked, something off in his tone. 

Jisung nodded. “Yeah. It came back to me last night.”

Minho didn’t turn to look at him. He suddenly seemed upset, letting out a soft sigh. 

“What’s wrong?” Jisung asked.

“What? Nothing’s wrong.”

“You just sighed through your nose. You do that when you’re mad.”

Minho turned again quickly, leaning down to cup his cheek. 

“I’m not mad. I swear.”

“Then how come every time I remember something, you get all weird like that?”

Minho frowned. “I’m just worried.”

“Why? Maybe if you just tell me why you’re so worried about it, then—”

“I can’t. The doctor said we shouldn’t.”

Jisung rubbed at his eyes in frustration. “Fine. But I’m not even trying to remember these things. They’re just coming back to me.”

Minho carefully patted down the hair that stuck up on Jisung’s head, tucking a few stray strands behind his ear.

“Do you remember what we did that day?”

Jisung took a breath. “Yeah. We got sushi, and you let me drive all over the city. We were singing, having fun. Then we were driving home, and…” he trailed off, wincing when his head started to ache. 

“Hey, don’t push yourself,” he whispered.

He could hear it. The yelling, loud in his head.

They had another fight. He was sure of it. He remembered Minho’s face, hurt and offended.

“Dammit,” he groaned, rubbing his temple. “We got into an argument. Again.”

Minho’s solemn expression made his heart ache. 

“I—I said something awful, didn’t I?” Jisung asked.

He gasped as the pain in his head intensified. 

“Baby—it’s okay. You don’t have to—”

But it was there.

Chan had called while they were in the car. He’d invited Jisung to a concert, backstage VIP. An old friend from college who’d actually made it pretty big. Someone who had confessed their love to Jisung years ago, even though he’d never shared those feelings. He’d been dating Minho at the time, but that didn’t matter, obviously, since he confessed anyway. 

When Minho found out, he’d just breathed through his nose like always, not saying anything more about it. He pulled Jisung in, slotting their lips together in a deep, possesive kiss, even biting his bottom lip and leaving a mark. 

So when Jisung agreed to go, Minho’s eyes had widened in hurt and betrayal. They argued the entire way home.

Those feelings were obviously gone now, since they hadn’t seen each other in years—but Minho disagreed. 

The words they’d said came rushing back.

“Why would he invite you backstage if he still didn’t feel like he had some kind of chance?”

“Because it’s been years, Minho. We haven’t talked in years. It’s just a VIP ticket for a concert.”

“I would really prefer you not go.”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“If you want to go, fine.”

“Oh, so now you’re mad at me?”

“I’m not mad.”

“Bullshit.”

“I said I’m not mad. Do whatever you want.” 

“It sucks when your feelings are dismissed, doesn’t it? How do you think I feel—especially because the guy who wants you is your best friend, but I’m just the crazy, jealous boyfriend every time I think he’s overstepping.”

“I have never once said that.”

“At least I’m not staying in the same room as him. But who knows, maybe he’ll invite me.”

After that, Minho didn’t speak for the rest of the car ride home. He even slammed the passenger-side door and stormed into the apartment. Before Jisung could even apologize, Minho had shut their bedroom door.

Jisung grabbed a blanket and slept on the couch with frustrated tears in his eyes. 

He remembered—the pain, the regret, the heartache. 

“Minho,” Jisung whispered. “I’m sorry. I never…I never should have said that. I would never—seriously. I was just…”

He was just mad and jealous. He would never cheat on him. He wouldn’t even think of it. There was no one else in the world he could ever love like he loved Minho. 

“I know, baby. I know,” he said, cupping his cheek. 

“I love you and only you.”

Minho smiled. “I love you too. Forever, okay?”

Jisung kissed him deeply. He tried to remember if he’d apologized, but it was too much. His head was hurting, and honestly, he didn’t really want to remember their argument anyway. 

After Minho kissed the top of his head, he made himself a cup of coffee.

Jisung raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you drinking coffee again?” 

Minho froze. “Oh, yeah.”

“Really? Why? Since when?” 

Minho had given up coffee years ago after realizing he relied on caffeine too much. He must’ve been exhausted lately if he was going back to it—but Jisung couldn’t blame him.

“Um…I’m not sure. Recently.”

Pain seared through Jisung’s brain, making him groan. The smell of coffee made him remember the soft kisses on the back of his neck. Minho would wake up, brew a pot, then, as he waited, he’d slip back into bed and nuzzle into him. But Jisung couldn’t pinpoint those moments, or when they had started.

“Are Chan and Changbin coming over today?” Minho asked. He could tell he was trying to change the subject, probably worried that if they pushed his memory any further, he might pass out from the pain.

“Yeah, I think so. Chan said they would stop by this afternoon.”

Minho nodded, glancing out the window. “The weather is nice today,” he said, sipping his coffee.

“If you want to go for a run, babe. I don’t mind.”

Minho smiled at him. “I don’t want to leave you here all by yourself,” he said, something broken in his tone as he spoke.

“I’ll be okay. I’ll stay in the wheelchair. I’m not gonna get hurt. And my friends will be here in a bit to help if I need anything.” 

Minho’s expression changed, and Jisung wished he knew what was going on inside his head. 

“Babe,” Jisung said softly. “I’m okay.”

Minho finally looked over at him with a smile. Instead of saying anything, he just pressed another soft kiss to his head. 

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Jisung grabbed his hand. “Take your time. Get some fresh air. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Minho kissed him over and over, like once he left, he might not see him again. Jisung’s heart clenched. He didn’t have to worry like that. He’d be fine. Maybe it would take a bit, but he’d get back to normal as soon as he could.

He sighed, glancing out the window. It really was a beautiful day. A part of him wished he could go with him, breathing in the fresh air, heart pounding, laughing as he struggled to keep up.

July 22nd, 2021

“I can’t—keep up—go on—without me,” Jisung gasped, almost falling to his knees as he slowed to a walk. 

“Oh, come on, Jisung. We’re not even halfway done.”

Jisung’s lungs felt like they might pop if he ran for another second. “Not even—are you insane? We’ve been running—for like forty minutes already.”

“I thought you wanted to start working out with me? You gotta build up that endurance.”

Jisung could barely even walk, his lungs burning and thighs twitching. 

“Your endurance—is too much for me.”

Minho laughed. “Heard that one before.”

Jisung smacked his shoulder. “You’re crazy. I swear.”

He placed his hands on top of his head, trying to open his airways. 

“Need me to carry you?” 

“You’d really—carry me all the way home?” he asked between gasps.

They were about eight kilometers away. There was no way Minho could carry him that far—even if he insisted he wasn’t heavy. 

“It’ll be great for a full-body workout.” 

Jisung rolled his eyes. “So that’s why you wanna carry me.”

“And because I would carry my princess anywhere if he asked,” he said, tapping under his chin. 

His heart fluttered when he gave him that charming smile. They were both sweaty, but neither of them cared as Jisung hopped on his back. 

He kissed Minho’s neck, smirking when he felt him shudder. 

“I’m ready. Let’s go.”

“Yes, Princess.”

July 2nd, 2026

“Have you been getting around okay?” Chan asked, fixing up the bed for him.

Changbin was in the kitchen, making him a sandwich while Chan helped him in the bedroom. 

“Yeah. I can get in the wheelchair no problem now. Going to the bathroom isn’t too bad. And my head is what it is.”

Chan gave him the softest smile. “That’s good. Don’t forget you can call us whenever you need anything.” 

“Thanks, Chan.”

Jisung was still in his wheelchair after promising Minho he wouldn’t try to walk around when he wasn’t there. He hadn’t returned from his run, but that wasn’t surprising, since he usually ran for hours when he was stressed. 

Chan sat on the edge of his bed, glancing at him carefully. 

“Have you remembered anything else since you’ve been out of the hospital?”

Jisung ran a stressed hand through his hair. “Yeah, a few things. But Minho has been so weird about it.”

Chan just blinked at him. “Minho has…wait, what do you mean?”

“Every time I try to remember something, he gets all upset. Like, he tells me I don’t have to remember anything. I don’t know what happened, obviously, and I know we were going through some shit, but I want to remember.” 

Chan stared at him, the emotions on his face confusing and unreadable. 

“He’s telling you this?”

“Yeah, he keeps saying maybe it’s better to just forget. Like, okay, for example—I remembered Taejun invited us to the concert and Minho and I had argued about it, and he clearly doesn’t want to fight about it twice, which I totally get, but…I don’t know, I just feel frustrated not knowing everything.” 

Chan was still looking at him, his eyebrows furrowed. “And…when did he tell you this?”

“This morning. He’s out for a run right now. But he should be back soon.”

Chan nodded this time, but he had that same stressed look Minho had been wearing these days. 

“What else has he said?” Chan asked. 

“I mean, not much else. We’re just trying to get through it day by day, you know?”

Before he could say anything else, Changbin called them from the kitchen, letting them know that lunch was ready. 

Chan stood from the bed, but Jisung grabbed his wrist.

“Hey, maybe you can talk to him,” Jisung said, biting his lip. “I’m kind of worried about him. He’s been taking it pretty hard since I’ve been in the hospital. He’s clearly upset about everything, but you know how he gets. He won’t tell me even if I ask—especially because he can’t even really tell me. And I just need him to not worry so much.”

“Okay, um…yeah, okay.”

“Thanks, Chan. Seriously. Minho loves you, and I think it would help if he heard from you that everything will be okay.”

Jisung swore he saw tears in his eyes.

“I will. I’ll tell him,” he said, sniffling and rubbing at his face.

“Guys?” Changbin called again. “Did you hear me? Lunch is ready.” 

“Yeah, thanks Bin. We’re coming,” Jisung said, squeezing Chan’s wrist. 

His heart ached, having to just watch his friends and family take the brunt of the emotional damage while he remained unaware of the events of the last few months. It was killing him, and it was clearly putting strain on everyone.

He wheeled into the kitchen, feeling Chan behind him, helping push him along. They ate lunch, and Changbin had to get to work, so they couldn’t stay long. Minho still wasn’t back, but Chan promised he’d call and talk to him, which was enough to put a small smile on Jisung’s face.

He waved as they left, then opened the window to feel the beautiful weather on his cheeks as he waited for Minho to return. He was taking longer than he expected, but he didn’t mind, hoping his workout would help him feel better.

He fell asleep next to the window, the sun on his face and the smell of flowers in the air—hydrangeas. 

He saw Minho outside, planting the beautiful flowers in pots on their balcony. They were Jisung’s favorite. He remembered Minho spending hours on the small terrace, making sure they would bloom beautifully.

He wasn’t in his wheelchair. There was no cast on his leg, and he could walk again. 

Minho looked over at him with a wide smile, those gentle eyes making Jisung’s heart flutter. 

“Pretty flowers for my pretty boy.” 

Jisung tried to take his hand, but he couldn’t reach him. He was just out of his grasp. Minho floated off the balcony as Jisung moved closer, his body becoming translucent and drifting further and further away. Jisung called out to him, but Minho just smiled, waving as he disappeared.

Jisung jolted awake, sweating profusely after having left the window open. It was dark now, and when he looked over his shoulder, Minho was sitting there, freshly showered, and watching him sleep.

“Hey,” he whispered. “You okay?” 

Jisung was still in the wheelchair, his back cramping as he shifted awkwardly, having slumped from falling asleep. 

“Yeah. I just…ugh, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” 

“That’s okay. You need your rest,” he said, brushing his hair off his sweaty forehead. “I’m sorry I took so long. My energy felt faint today, so I was gone longer than I expected.”

Jisung quickly shook his head. “No, babe, you’re completely fine.”

“How about we get into bed?” Minho asked as Jisung yawned. 

“Please,” he said, rubbing his sleepy eyes. 

Minho helped him wheel into the bedroom and grabbed him a change of clothes. 

“Would you like to wear my shirt?” he asked. 

Jisung nodded quickly, taking the shirt from the bed where Minho had placed it. He slipped it on over his head, breathing in Minho’s vanilla, musky scent.

When they slipped into bed, Minho wrapped his arms around him, spooning him from behind and pressing a soft kiss to the back of his neck.

Jisung’s eyes fluttered closed as he embraced him. His touch was gentle, and Jisung rubbed his arms, his skin cold. After long runs, he liked to cool off under a freezing cold shower. He tried to warm him up, pulling the blanket over them.

“The flowers look beautiful, by the way,” Jisung said, rubbing his thumb over his wrist. 

“Do you like them?”

Jisung nodded, shuddering when he felt his lips on his neck again. 

“I love them.”

“They’re wilting, though,” he whispered. “I’m trying to keep them alive, but they’re dying. I don’t know what to do.” 

Jisung turned slightly, catching Minho’s worried expression.

“We probably haven’t been watering them enough. It’s been pretty hot,” he said. 

Minho blinked at him with sad eyes. “Yeah, maybe.” 

“Now that I’m off work for a while, I can water them,” Jisung offered. “Don’t worry. I won’t let them die.”

“What if it’s too late? What if they don’t have the strength to recover?” 

Jisung kissed his cheek. “They will.”

“But what if they don’t? What if they die? I don’t…want them to die.”

“Babe,” Jisung whispered. “If they die, we can plant new ones.”

Minho sighed. “Would you be happy with different flowers? Even if they’re not hydrangeas—would that be okay?”

“Well, they’re not gone yet, so we don’t have to worry about that right now.” 

“But would you be happy?” he asked again, a little desperate. “I know they’re your favorite, but if they wilt…I just want you to be happy.”

“I will be. Even if we plant something else, and even if it’s not my favorite flower, I’m certain I’ll find love in them.” 

“Promise?”

Jisung smiled. “I promise, babe. So don’t stress. They’ll recover, and everything will be fine. And besides, they’re just flowers.”

Minho nodded and buried his face in the back of Jisung’s neck. He felt him breathe in deeply, and Jisung’s heart ached when he realized that running didn’t ease his worry at all.

He squeezed him closer, arms tightening around Jisung’s waist. Minho’s grip was weak, probably exhausted from his workout, but Jisung held onto him anyway. He wouldn’t let him go, especially when they needed each other the most.

His breath was soft against his neck, tiny, even puffs as he fell asleep, holding Jisung as closely as he could, like if he let go, he would disappear. 

Jisung closed his own eyes, hoping that Chan would reach out to Minho soon. If he couldn’t talk about it with Jisung, afraid of hurting his health, then he needed to get it off his chest with someone else.

He just wished, more than anything, that his memory would return, because whatever had happened seemed to be tearing Minho apart, something he was keeping locked deep inside, no matter how much it hurt.

October 2nd, 2025

When Jisung got home from work, he noticed the back patio was open. He quickly set down his bag and stuck his head out to see Minho with a tiny shovel, a few pots, and some flowers waiting to be planted.

“Hey, babe,” he said, leaning in the doorway.

Minho quickly turned, and Jisung smiled when he saw the dirt on his cheeks. 

“Oh, hey—shoot, is it really six already?” he asked, brushing his hands on his pants that were now stained.

“Whatcha doing?”

Minho stood, making his way over to him and planting a kiss on his lips. Jisung hummed into it, happy they were about to spend the weekend together. Minho had off from work for a few days, and Jisung had promised to be home early so they could be together before Minho left for another trip next week.

He was off to Paris, and Jisung desperately wished he could get the time off, but it was impossible. So they were spending a romantic weekend together, and then Minho would FaceTime him when he got to the Eiffel Tower.

“Sorry, I meant to start dinner before you got home, but I guess I got a little distracted.” 

Jisung looked behind him, noticing the messy patio littered with dirt, flower petals, and gardening tools. 

“I can see that.” 

“You know that flower shop near the cafe?” he asked 

“Of course.”

“Well, they were having a sale on some flower seeds. And these are the ones you really like. So I just thought, wouldn’t it be nice to have them on our balcony?”

Jisung’s smile widened, and he leaned in to kiss his dirt-covered cheek, not even caring if he got some on his lips.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

“And now my pretty boy can have all the pretty flowers he wants,” he said, slipping his arm around his waist and making him giggle.

“Oh, stop,” he blushed, still never getting over the fact that Minho thought he was the beautiful one.

Minho kissed him again and again until Jisung was pressed up against the sliding glass door. He leaned his head back with a soft groan as Minho kissed down his neck. Their neighbors probably wouldn’t be happy with them having sex on the patio, but Minho’s lips always made his head feel a little fuzzy, his rationality disappearing. 

When Minho finally pulled back, Jisung couldn’t help but let out a disappointed whine. 

Minho chuckled. “I have to start dinner,” he said, pressing a palm to the front of Jisung’s filled-out jeans. “But I’ll take care of you later. Promise.” 

“Tease,” he mumbled. 

“Don’t pout—even though you’re cute when you pout like that,” he smirked, leaning in to bite his bottom lip. 

Jisung pushed his shoulder, rolling his eyes. He then grabbed his hand and pulled him inside. 

“I’ll start dinner. You go wash up.”

“Try not to burn the apartment down, okay?” he teased. 

“If I can’t start a boiling pot of water, then we have a problem.”

“Well, last time you spilled it all over the floor and burned your hand when you tried to grab it.”

He was right. And it was incredibly embarrassing.

“Go shower—I’ll be careful this time.”

Minho reached out to tickle his waist. “If you wanna get in with me, we can just make dinner after?” he suggested.

Jisung bit his lip. A nice hot shower did sound enticing. And Minho pounding him until his head went completely empty was even more enthralling.

He quickly tore off his shirt, throwing it onto the couch, making Minho’s smirk widen so much it looked like it would split his face.

Even after all these years, he still couldn’t resist him. He craved his lips, needed his touch, and yearned for the soft words he whispered in his ear.

They were still lovesick idiots, even after all this time. And according to their friends, arguably even worse than before.

But Jisung loved Minho.

And Minho loved Jisung. 

As time passed, their love only grew stronger.

July 3rd, 2026

Jisung froze when his phone rang. He was surprised to see the name pop up on his screen. Honestly, he thought about ignoring it, but he sighed, answering it and pressing it to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Jisung,” Hyunjin said, his voice a little unstable. 

“Hey, what’s up?” 

“Nothing—I…just wanted to call, to see how you were doing?” 

Even if Jisung hated that Hyunjin had a very obvious crush on Minho, it was nice of him to call. Their relationship wasn’t the best, and maybe it had even been worse back then, the two of them completely clashing when they first met. But he was Minho’s best friend, so Jisung knew he had to try to make an effort.

“Oh, you know—I’ve had better days. But I’m recovering.”

Hyunjin cleared his throat. “Yeah, I heard you’ve got a pretty bad bump on your head.”

“Yep. Four months of memory just—poof,” he said, trying to let out a chuckle, but it fell flat. 

“I’m…I’m really sorry.”

For some reason, those words felt heavier, a little deeper than just a typical sympathetic apology. 

“It’s okay. I mean, I don’t even remember what happened, so…” he trailed off with a shrug. 

If Hyunjin wanted to say more, he decided not to. 

“Jisung, I know…we haven’t always gotten along. But if you ever need anything…” 

“Thanks, Hyunjin. Minho and I really appreciate it.”

It was quiet again for a prolonged moment. 

“Yeah,” he said, his voice cracking. “Yeah, of course.”

After he hung up, Minho walked into the kitchen with a few flowers in his hand, ones he was trying to salvage from his little garden

“Who was that?” he asked, putting them into a vase on the counter. 

“Um, it was Hyunjin, actually.”

Minho froze for a moment before turning around, a surprised expression on his face. 

“Really?” He gently played with the wilted leaves. “What did he say?”

“That he was sorry about what happened. And that if I ever needed anything, I could call him.”

Minho gave him that unreadable frown again. “I know that you two haven’t always gotten along—”

Jisung chuckled, interrupting him. “Funny, he said the same thing.” 

Minho gently took his hand. “But you can rely on him.”

Jisung could see the uncertainty in his eyes as he spoke those words. 

“Minho,” he whispered. 

“I just want you two to like each other.”

Jisung’s heart clenched. He could see the turmoil on Minho’s face, like he was trying to decide if it was fair for him to even say that.

“Babe, I…” he took a deep breath. “Look, even if we don’t get along, I know he’s your best friend, and I promise I respect that.”

All he could do was act civil. He knew they would never be friends, especially with Hyunjin’s deep feelings that Minho still couldn’t see. 

Minho’s frown deepened. “He knows how much you mean to me, Jisung. All I’ve ever done was tell him how much I love you. From the moment we met, he knew how happy you made me.”

Jisung remembered the day they met, when Minho introduced them. He’d never forget the look on Hyunjin’s face. Like he was smiling because he had to, not because he wanted to.

Before Jisung could say anything, the pain in his head split his brain. 

He wasn’t in his wheelchair, so he quickly stumbled to the ground. His elbow smacked against the kitchen table, and he let out a yelp.

“Ow, fuck!” 

“Baby—shit, Jisung.” 

Minho rushed over to him, immediately kneeling beside him to help him sit up. 

“What happened? Are you okay? Is it your head?” he asked, the words flowing out in a panic. 

Jisung grabbed his head, both his elbow and skull throbbing. 

“Yeah—it hurts. I just…”

Something was fuzzy in his memory. He could see it, but he couldn’t quite make it out. 

But then it cleared.

Hyunjin. He’d come over to their apartment. Minho wasn’t home from work yet. He was furious.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Jisung.”

“Oh, I’m an idiot? How dare you come into my home and say that when you—”

“Yeah! You’re a fucking idiot for thinking Minho would ever love anyone other than you! It’s been you! It’s always been you! And if you think Minho would ever give you up for anyone or anything, then quite frankly, you don’t fucking deserve him!”

Jisung screamed, and Minho’s eyes went wide. 

“Jisung, hey. What’s going on? Can you talk to me?” 

His head was pounding. It hurt so badly he thought he was going to throw up. But the memories kept coming. The angry words. The clenched fists.

“I know you have feelings for him! And you’ve done everything you can to try to take him from me!”

“Oh my god, how fucking stupid are you?! I’m so sorry I had to watch the man I fell in love with completely fall in love with someone else! I don’t want him, Jisung. Because Minho loves you. You mean the damn world to him! Why the fuck would I want the guy I’ve loved for years to break up with the only person I’ve ever seen make him so fucking happy?”

Jisung tore his hair out, tears spilling past his eyes. He could barely breathe, the frustration suffocating him. 

They broke up. Not just some silly argument this time—but a complete break. He’d kicked Minho out of the apartment. 

Minho’s light touch brought him back to the kitchen floor. 

He glanced up with a heavy heart, the worry written all over Minho’s face.

“Jisung, please. Let me help. Talk to me.” 

“We broke up. Holy shit. We…we broke up.”

Minho’s face fell. “Baby.”

“I went to the concert with Chan. And when I got home, you and Hyunjin…you were…” 

They were on the couch together, Hyunjin asleep in Minho’s lap. Jisung was drunk, and he completely lost his shit.

The only thing was, he couldn’t remember if they’d gotten back together after that. He was trying. He was trying so hard to remember Minho coming back the next morning, the next day, the next week—but there was nothing after that.

“I can’t—fuck, I’m gonna be sick. I’m—” 

It was too late for him to get up, emptying his stomach onto the floor.

“Oh, honey,” Minho said, holding back the hair on his sweaty forehead. 

He coughed, his throat burning, his body shaking. 

Jisung started to sob. “We—we broke up. We didn’t—we never got back together, did we?”

“Hey, settle down. Just breathe, okay?”

He grabbed Minho’s wrist, his cool skin a striking contrast to Jisung’s burning body. 

“No. Tell me. Tell me, right now,” he demanded. “Did we get back together or not?”

Minho just stared at him. He didn’t answer.

Tears flooded down Jisung’s cheeks. 

“We didn’t. We—we fucking broke up—we—didn’t—” 

He could barely breathe, and his head was throbbing, which made him cry even harder. 

Minho wrapped him in his arms, fingers threading through his hair. “Shh, hey. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Jisung clung to him, sobbing into his chest. “That’s why—you didn’t want me to remember. Because we aren’t together. We aren’t together anymore.”

Everything hurt—his body, his mind, his heart. He couldn’t believe this. All this time, Minho had been pretending while he got better—because he didn’t remember that everything between them was over. 

Jisung wasn’t sure how long they sat on the floor, but when he finally pulled back, Minho gently wiped his cheeks.

“Let’s clean you up and get you into bed,” Minho said, wiping the corner of his mouth. 

He helped him stand, and Jisung hobbled over to the counter to grab some paper towels. 

“Baby, I can do it—”

“No. I—I got it,” he said, already feeling embarrassed enough. 

Minho hesitated, but stepped back, letting him clean the floor until it sparkled again.

After he was done, Minho gently took his good elbow as he helped him off the floor. Jisung could barely meet his gaze, even though he could tell Minho wanted to see his eyes.

“I’m just gonna…change and brush my teeth,” he said. 

Minho nodded. “Okay. Take your time. I’ll be out here.” 

He sat on the bed, and Jisung gently closed the door behind him. His shoulders shook as he sobbed again, sliding down to the floor. 

The pain in his head was excruciating, and the ache in his heart was unbearable. He cried into his arms, trying not to make a sound.

He just wished the rest would come back. If he was already this broken, there was no way it could get any worse.

September 14th, 2022

“Minho, I can’t see.”

“Yes, that is kind of the point, my love.”

“Isn’t it not the best idea to blindfold the clumsiest guy you know?” he asked as Minho tried to guide him. 

“Did you just admit you were clumsy?”

“No.” 

Minho chuckled. “Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall. We’re almost there.”

“And where exactly is there?” 

“Oh my god, you’re so impatient. Just keep walking,” he said, and Jisung could practically picture him rolling his eyes with that pretty smile.

It was his birthday, and Minho had just treated him to the best sushi he’d ever had in his entire life. It was perfect, and Jisung had a few glasses of wine, so taking away his ability to see probably wasn’t helping his stumbling. 

They both laughed when they tripped over a chair, and when Minho grabbed both of his shoulders, Jisung clapped his hands together.

“Are we here? Are we here?”

He gasped when Minho pressed his lips to his neck, kissing gently up to his ear. “We’re here.”

Minho slipped the blindfold off, and Jisung’s heart swelled. 

It was their bedroom, but it was lit with candles, and beautiful pink flower petals scattered across the bed. A bottle of wine and two huge slices of cheesecake were waiting for them. Jisung squealed in excitement.

“Babe, this is—”

“Happy birthday, my love,” he said with the biggest smile. “It’s from your favorite place, and the bottle of wine is the one you liked from your last birthday. I was thinking we could watch that dating show you like too.”

Jisung turned and wrapped his arms around his neck, kissing him with the biggest smile. 

“You are—” he kissed him, “—the best—” another kiss, “—boyfriend in the entire world!”

Minho chuckled, slipping his hands around his waist. 

“I just wanted to give the birthday boy a special day.” 

Jisung smiled. “It’s been perfect.” 

“And I have one more gift after dessert,” he smirked. “Honestly, it feels more like a present for me. But I saw it, and I thought of you.”

Jisung tilted his head. “What is it?” 

“I guess you’ll have to find out after dessert.” 

Jisung bounced on his toes. “Can we eat now?”

“Sure, baby. We can eat whenever you’d like.”

Jisung didn’t waste a second grabbing the cheesecake off the table and throwing open the container. Minho stifled a laugh, but Jisung never messed around when it came to cheesecake.

After he was stuffed, and Minho had given him half of his own slice to finish, they laid back and watched an episode of his favorite dating show that he had convinced Minho to love too. Before they started the next one, Jisung pushed himself up onto his elbows.

“Didn’t you say I had one more gift?” 

“It’s in our bathroom,” he said, tilting his head towards the closed door. “In the closet.” 

Jisung raised an eyebrow, but slid off the bed and padded over to the bathroom door. He opened it, flipped on the light, and when he looked in the closet, his arms fell to his sides.

He immediately poked his head out, and Minho was lying there, propped up with his hands behind his head, with the most devious smirk he’d ever seen.

“You’re out of your damn mind,” Jisung said, crossing his arms over his chest, a light blush dusting his cheeks. 

“What? You don’t like it?” 

“Like—why would I—”

“I thought you’d like to be my pretty boy tonight.”

Jisung’s flush darkened. 

“Minho,” he mumbled, flicking his gaze away. 

“Try it on for me.” 

He hesitated for a moment but then shut the door, trying to ignore Minho’s little chuckle. He took a deep breath before grabbing the black lingerie set from the closet. 

This was crazy. Minho was completely insane. 

They’d never done anything like this before. But honestly, it was turning him on like crazy. He reached out, his shaky hands brushing over the soft fabric. He couldn’t lie, it was really pretty, the mesh top laced with flower patterns. 

He bit his lip, slipping off his clothes, and carefully pulling on the corset. He shuddered at the way the thong fit snug between his cheeks, then he pulled up the garters around his thighs, clipping the straps into place.

When he caught himself in the mirror, he wanted to put all his clothes back on and hide in the closet.

There was no way he could go out there. He looked ridiculous. 

“Jisung? Baby? Do you need my help?” Minho called, making his heart race. 

“N-No, I’m—almost done.”

He took a deep breath. There was no reason for him to be nervous. It was just Minho, his boyfriend of three years, who loved him more than anything in the world, and never made him feel anything less than perfect. 

So he grabbed the handle and opened the door, even though he couldn’t make eye contact, keeping his gaze on the floor. 

“Holy shit,” Minho whispered. 

“I know. It looks ridiculous, right?” he chuckled, completely embarrassed. “I’m just—I’m gonna take it off—”

“No, no, no, baby,” Minho rushed out, swinging his legs off the bed. “Come here.”

Jisung bit his lip, his eyes still down as he slowly walked over to him. 

Minho quickly took his hand, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it. 

“You look so beautiful,” he said.

“Stop,” he mumbled. “I look stupid.”

“No, I’m so serious. You’re so fucking pretty—so pretty for me.”

He wished the floor would just swallow him up. But he took a chance and let his gaze travel up, his heart slamming against his ribs when he saw the intense, captivated look on his face. 

“Really?” 

“Yes, really. Just look at you,” he said, taking both of his wrists. “I wanna fuck you so bad in this.”

Jisung’s breath hitched, hearing the desperation laced in his words. 

“Min…I don’t kno—”

“Be my pretty birthday boy tonight. Let me make you feel so good.”

Jisung swallowed thickly. Fuck, he wanted that so bad. Minho knew how to make him feel like his body was floating on cloud nine, and since it was his birthday, he knew he’d find a way to make it extra special. 

“Okay,” he whispered. 

Minho didn’t waste a second, pulling Jisung into his lap and kissing him so hard he saw stars. He was already losing his head, mind muddying. But Minho would take care of him, just like he always would. 

“Tell me—” Minho kissed him, “—that you want me to fuck you.” 

Jisung whimpered, knowing Minho liked words, liked his consent. 

“I want you to fuck me,” he begged, holding tightly onto his shoulders. 

“Gonna make you cum hands-free. No touching—what do you think?” 

Jisung wasn’t sure he would survive tonight. 

“Yeah, I want that.”

“Then what should my good, pretty boy say?” 

“Please,” he whined. “Please, Minho?”

“My god, you’re so perfect.” 

Jisung whimpered as Minho wrapped his hand around his neck, his nails digging lightly into his skin as he brought their lips together. He gasped into his mouth when his other hand gripped his ass, giving it a light smack.

“Kinda want you on your knees, though. I wanna see your pretty ass.” 

Jisung shuddered. “Okay.”

Minho chuckled. “You’ll just do whatever I say, huh?” 

Jisung nodded quickly. He liked it when Minho took control. He liked it when he didn’t have to think. 

“But it’s your birthday,” he smirked. “So you should tell me how you want it.” 

He hesitated for a moment before flicking his gaze to the side. 

“I…I want you to fuck me in your favorite position.” 

Minho’s eyes widened a little. “Mine?” 

Jisung bit his lip. “Yeah. I want you to really like it. I want you to go a little crazy for me.” 

He wanted Minho to lose it tonight. He was usually good at holding back, not wanting to hurt him, not wanting it to be too much. But Jisung needed to feel beautiful tonight, to keep those nagging insecurities away.

“Baby,” Minho whispered. “You know I always go crazy for you.” 

“I know…but I know you hold back. I don’t want you to hold back.” 

Jisung noticed Minho’s throat bob aggressively. 

“Jisung—”

“Fuck me hard.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, worry in his voice, but also a hint of excitement.

He was too sweet. But Jisung wanted it—needed it. 

“I can take it. And it’s my birthday,” he mumbled. 

Minho took a deep breath before placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. 

“What have I ever done to deserve such a beautiful boy like you?” 

Jisung shrugged. “I’m the lucky one. I’m getting dicked down daily by the hottest guy I’ve ever met with the biggest cock I’ve ever seen.” 

Minho let out a loud laugh. “You’re cute as hell—come here.” 

Minho kissed him over and over, deeper and deeper. He kneaded the skin of his ass, and Jisung couldn’t help but rut against him, trying to get some friction on his cock trapped beneath the pretty black fabric.

He gasped when Minho messed with the flimsy string that split his cheeks.

“How can I even pick a favorite position?” he teased, nipping at his neck and making him whimper. “I love fucking you in all of them.”

Jisung’s body trembled as Minho sucked on his skin.

“I love bouncing you in my lap—facing me so I can see your cute cock, or turned away so I can watch your pretty ass take me so well, feel you tighten up when I slap your ass and make it red.”

Before he met him, Jisung never knew someone could have such an honest, filthy mouth. And he never knew how much he’d love it, even if it made his whole body flush red.

“I also love fucking you from the side—slow, deep thrusts. I like it when you kiss me over your shoulder. I love pushing on your belly, feeling me in there.”

Jisung gasped when Minho smacked his ass harder. 

“My god, don’t even get me started on having you on your knees. You pant like a dog in heat, wiggling your little hips for it. I love pounding you until you cry because you can’t take it.”

If he kept this up, he was going to cum pathetically already. 

“But one of my favorites is making love to you face to face. I love kissing you. I love it when you wrap your legs around me. I love it when you pull me closer, like you can’t get enough. I love telling you I love you, because fuck, I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Jisung whined. “I—I love—oh, fuck.” 

Minho slipped his fingers down to his cock, teasing the tip.

“So if you want me to choose, I think maybe it’s a four-way tie.” 

Jisung’s eyes rolled back. He wasn’t sure if he could take that much, but he would sure as hell try. 

“I can take it. You can…fuck me all night if you want.” 

Minho bit his lip so hard that Jisung thought it might bleed. 

“Perfect,” he whispered. “So damn perfect.” 

Jisung squeaked when Minho suddenly lifted him, then tossed him gently onto the sheets. He spread his legs, making him flush, feeling exposed and bare, even if he technically still had underwear on.

“Pretty boy,” he said, making Jisung shiver as he ran a finger along his cock. “I knew it would look so fucking good on you. I almost got too excited in the store, thinking about your pretty cock behind this sheer lace.”

Minho’s words were on a different level tonight. But Jisung couldn’t deny his racing heart. He always made him feel fluttery. 

“Now, let’s see what we have here,” he said, slipping the thin strap between his cheeks to the side. 

Jisung’s heart thumped wildly. He would never get used to it. Whenever Minho stared at him in his most vulnerable place, he couldn’t help but lose his cool a little.

“Pretty hole for a pretty boy.”

“Minho,” he whined. “Don’t say that.”

“So pretty,” he said, ignoring his embarrassed plea. 

Jisung gasped when Minho pushed back his legs and ran his tongue along his entrance. 

“Min—holy fuck.”

He reached out, grasping Minho’s hair and tugging with accidental force. The last time Minho had eaten his ass was when they were hammered, and honestly, Jisung felt way more sensitive now with a clear head. 

“Fuck,” Minho growled. “Maybe I’ll just eat you out all night. Make you cum on my tongue.”

He was going to die. He was going to die on his twenty-second birthday from his boyfriend giving him the best, mind-blowing sex that threatened to destroy him physically and mentally.

Minho shoved his tongue in deeper, and Jisung whined and whimpered until Minho had to pull back and shush him. 

“You really want our neighbors to hear how good I make you feel?” he teased, making Jisung quickly slap his hands over his mouth.

A muffled moan escaped him as Minho kissed over his sopping wet hole. 

“I don’t mind if you scream for me. Let them know, baby. Let them know just how good it is.” 

But Jisung couldn’t do that. It would be insane, and the last thing he needed was his neighbors to file a noise complaint after they just moved in.

He kept his hand pressed over his lips until Minho finally pulled back, his mouth glistening, spit dripping down his chin.

“We’re keeping this on, is that okay?” Minho asked, snapping the straps and making Jisung whimper. 

He nodded quickly. If Minho wanted to fuck him with it on, then he’d let him. He’d honestly let Minho do anything. He trusted him more than anyone in the world. He knew he would always make sure he felt good.

“Don’t move,” he demanded, slipping off the bed for a moment to grab what they needed. 

Jisung trembled, eyes on the ceiling, trying not to lose his cool and cover himself with the blankets. He heard Minho rustling around in the drawer before carefully kneeling back between Jisung’s legs.

He bent down to kiss his knees and thighs, making the hair on Jisung’s body stand up.

“Ready?” he asked, and Jisung heard the cap of the lube open and close.

“Yes,” he whispered, clenching his fingers in the sheets. 

He threw his head back, his body tensing when Minho slipped a finger inside.

“Relax, baby,” he cooed. 

“S-Sorry.”

“Never be—I just don’t want you to get hurt,” he said, pressing another kiss to his knee.

Jisung nodded and closed his eyes, letting Minho stretch him in the perfect way he knew how. He’d laughed once when Jisung told him he had magic fingers. Honestly, the number of times Jisung accidentally came just from Minho opening him up was embarrassing. But Minho reminded him every time how much he loved his sensitive hole. 

By the time Minho had three fingers in him, he was moaning and whimpering like crazy. He instinctively spread his legs wider, making Minho chuckle.

“That’s it—show me more,” he encouraged him, making Jisung’s heart race.

He loved to tease him, to break through his humility, to have Jisung begging and whining with an empty head, knowing he never would if he had a grip on reality. But Minho took him to a different world, one where only Minho and pleasure existed.

“I want you to cum in that pretty lace,” Minho said, hooking his fingers and making Jisung jerk his hips. But Minho grabbed him, holding him down as he pressed against the spot that made him see stars.

“Babe—that feels—”

“Good, right? You like it like this—my fingers deep right here, forcing you to take it.”

Jisung shuddered, and before he could even warn him, his cock twitched against the scratchy lace at the tip of his cock, spurting into it. 

“That’s right, pretty boy. Cum for me.”

Jisung whimpered so loudly it was pathetic. But the way Minho could make him cum untouched felt like a beautiful blessing. Minho was fucking him with four fingers, slipping another in while he was cumming inside his lace panties.

When he was finished, chest rising and falling rapidly, Minho slowly withdrew his fingers. Jisung watched as he took off his shirt, making him want to reach out and touch him. He loved Minho’s body—just as beautiful as his face.

An involuntary whimper left his lips when he stripped off his pants and underwear, his heavy cock making Jisung’s mouth water. Jisung loved Minho’s cock, so much that he was a pathetic slut for it. 

Jisung reached out, fingertips tracing the head, and he smiled when Minho let out a desperate breath.

“I need you now,” he said, crawling between Jisung’s legs. He slid his cock between his cheeks, coating it with the leftover lube and spit that drenched his hole.

Minho leaned down to kiss him as he teased his rim, the drag of his cock warm and electric, making his body jolt. Jisung wrapped his arms around his neck and his legs around his waist, pulling him closer, needing to feel him inside.

“Beg me,” he whispered against his lips. “Beg for it.”

Jisung didn’t even hesitate, his head was empty enough that he didn’t care how embarrassing or pathetic he sounded. 

“Fuck me. Please, fuck me. I want your cock, please. I need—ah!”

Minho pressed the head of his cock inside, and Jisung’s hands and feet trembled around him. His head sagged, letting out the deepest breath as he slowly pushed in. 

“So fucking tight.”

Jisung shuddered, already clawing at his back. He was halfway in, but he felt so full already. 

“So big,” he whispered back, making Minho slam their lips together. 

He moaned and whimpered as Minho bottomed out, rolling his hips and making Jisung feel crazy. 

“Holy fuck,” he whispered, leaning back a little to look at him. “My pretty boy.” 

As soon as he said those words, he started fucking him like crazy. Minho’s stamina was insane, and Jisung had a hard time keeping up. But he’d try his best tonight, because the way Minho looked at him was driving him wild. His eyes stayed fixed on the lace on his body, grunting with every thrust, swearing as he fucked him deeper.

He hooked his legs over his shoulders, and Jisung had to grip the headboard just to keep some stability.

“Dammit,” Minho growled. 

Jisung glanced at him, noticing his frustrated expression. 

“What’s—what’s wrong?”

“I’m gonna fucking cum already. You’re too hot.”

Jisung’s eyes fluttered shut, those words making his heart hammer. 

“Well, good thing—you’re gonna fuck me all night,” he murmured. 

Minho’s hips moved faster, and Jisung gasped when he leaned down to cup his cheek. He opened his eyes, meeting Minho’s devious smirk.

“Tell me where you want me to cum,” he demanded. 

Jisung whimpered when he squeezed his cheeks, slipping his thumb past his lips, waiting for an answer. 

“In—inside.”

Minho’s smirk widened. “That’s right. I’m gonna make a mess of you,” he growled before kissing his lips. 

Jisung pulled him closer, yanking him hard and deep inside.

“Oh, fuck,” Minho whimpered, his hips pressing as far as they could before he gave a few erratic thrusts. 

Jisung hadn’t even realized he’d cum again, drenching the lace even more. 

He felt Minho twitch inside him as they kissed, his small hip rolls making Jisung’s head feel fuzzy.

“I love you,” Minho moaned into his mouth. “God, I love you so much.”

Jisung felt tears welling up, the overwhelming pleasure and Minho’s sweet words always getting to him.

“I love—I love you too,” he breathed out between the desperate kisses Minho gave him. 

He whimpered when he felt his cock harden inside him again. 

“Gonna fuck you all night, baby,” he whispered, kissing his neck as he pulled them both onto their sides, cock still buried deep. 

Jisung gasped when he slid a hand under his knee, pressing his hips forward and somehow forcing his cock deeper. 

“Please,” Jisung whispered, giving Minho the green light to pound into him again. 

He was exhausted already, but every time Minho whispered how perfect he was, how beautiful he looked, and how much he loved him, it gave him strength. 

He knew Jisung’s body well. Minho would always take care of him.

And it wouldn’t be the first time they made love until the sun came up.

July 4th, 2026

Minho left early in the morning. He kissed Jisung’s cheek and promised he’d be back soon, but didn’t say when. Maybe it was for the best, because right now, he needed to be alone, to figure out his memory and sort his thoughts. 

He got out of bed and made himself a cup of tea, trying not to cry again. He’d cried all night from the pain in his head and the ache in his heart. Minho had held him the entire time, kissing the back of his neck over and over, trying to comfort him. But he never said a word, like he knew that no matter what he said, things wouldn’t change.

Jisung pulled out his phone, deciding to call Chan—because he needed to talk to someone about this. 

“Hey, what’s up?” Chan asked, breathing heavily, loud clanking in the background. 

“Sorry, are you at the gym?”

“Yeah, but it’s cool. Do you need me to come over? Is everything okay?”

Jisung bit his lip. “No, everything is…well, actually everything isn’t fine, but—”

“Ji, I can be there in five minutes.”

“Chan, I’m okay. I just…remembered something last night.”

There was a short, quiet pause on the other end.

“What did you remember?”

Jisung let out a shaky sigh, like the words didn’t want to leave his lips. “Minho and I broke up.”

He heard Chan’s uneven breathing over the line. 

“And I know we didn’t get back together.”

“Jisung,” Chan said softly. 

“We went to that concert at the beginning of June—and when I got home…” He stopped, jaw tightening. He didn’t want to think about it again, knowing his head would start to hurt.

“I told him everything would be okay if I remembered. But…it’s not just the memories that are coming back, Chan. It’s the feelings, too. I was so upset. I was so fucking angry. How could he do that when he knew how I felt about them together? Regardless if nothing happened—what if something did next time?”

He clutched his chest, all those emotions he’d forgotten returning in full force. 

“Jisung, Minho loves you,” he said. “I know things were hard, but Minho loves you more than anything in the world.” 

Jisung broke into painful sobs. He couldn’t hold it in any longer.

He knew that, but…

“I don’t know what to do. What am I supposed to say when he comes back?”

“When he comes back from where?” he asked carefully. 

“He left this morning. He didn’t tell me where he was going. He just said he’d be back soon. He probably thinks I’m upset all over again—and I kicked him out when we broke up. This is why he didn’t want me to remember. He wanted to pretend everything was okay when he knew it wasn’t.”

Chan hushed him gently, probably because Jisung was starting to spiral. 

“Hey, why don’t I come over for a bit?” he asked. 

Jisung sniffled. “No, I’m fine. Really. I just need to clear my head. It hurts so fucking much. I’m gonna go lie down and wait for Minho to come back.”

Chan let out a short, worried breath. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah. I’m sure.” 

He knew Chan was nodding even though he couldn’t see it.

“If you need me, call me,” he said, his voice stern but caring. 

“I will. I promise,” he replied, wiping his tear-stained cheeks.

“Jisung, I know you’re upset, and I know you’re frustrated that we can’t tell you everything—but Minho loves you. He loves you so much. Trust me when I say that’s what you need to remember.”

Jisung’s heart clenched. He knew Chan meant well, and he loved them both, but he didn’t walk in on the love of his life with the guy who had threatened their relationship. He didn’t see the way Minho’s hand rested on Hyunjin’s shoulder as they had passed out on the couch. He didn’t understand the pain inside him, having to go through it again, reliving the hurt all over. He didn’t have to deal with his ex-boyfriend holding him from behind, pretending like everything was fine and normal, not even knowing they were no longer a couple. 

He knew that Minho loved him. He knew he did. But he needed time to process this. 

“I know, Chan. Thank you. And I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me for anything. I just…I want you to be okay.”

Jisung smiled for the first time that morning. “I will be.”

When he hung up, he sobbed into his tea. His heart ached, and he wished his memories had never faded. Everything would’ve been easier if he had known their relationship had ended.

After crying over his broken heart for way too long, he noticed the hydrangeas were wilting. He got up and grabbed the watering can Minho had bought, trying to bring them back to life. The blue petals had already started to droop, but he carefully watered them anyway, hoping his small effort would fix them.

There was no way he would let them die. 

When he finished watering the plants, just that small activity had him feeling exhausted. He plopped onto the couch and turned on the TV, his heart clenching when he put on his favorite show, wishing Minho was there beside him, cuddling him and laughing at the silly parts. 

He cried again, silently this time, tears rolling down his cheeks as he waited for Minho to come home.

But he never did.

February 20th, 2020

“Man, it’s freezing.” Jisung shivered as the snow slowly fell from the sky. 

“Oh, here—” Minho said quickly, shrugging off his jacket. 

“No, you don’t have to…do that,” he mumbled, heart fluttering when Minho draped it over his shoulders, his sweet scent surrounding him.

“I don’t mind. I know it’s cold. I’m sorry I brought you out here.”

Jisung immediately shook his head. “Oh, no. It’s totally fine. I wanted to come. I love the snowfall. It’s so romantic.” 

He flushed as he said those words, especially when Minho smiled widely.

“I think so too.”

It was silly how fast his heart was racing. They had just had their first date, and Minho had suggested a small walk in the park. Warmth spread through him as Minho took his hand, a soft blush dusting his cheeks.

They walked as the snow fell, and Jisung couldn’t help but glance at Minho’s rosy cheeks and pink nose. He was beautiful in every way, and Jisung never thought he’d fall in love this quickly. 

They had been talking for a couple of weeks, and Jisung wanted to ask if he wanted to be his boyfriend tonight—if he could find the courage.

“The cherry blossoms bloom here in the spring,” Minho said as they walked along a path of barren trees. “This entire walkway is lined with them. It’s so beautiful.”

“Really?” 

Minho nodded, then slowed to a stop.

When Jisung looked over at him, his cheeks were even pinker. 

“If it’s okay, I’d like to come here in the spring with you—as your boyfriend.”

Jisung’s breath hitched. Those words made his heart flip. He couldn’t believe he’d beaten him to it, but a wide smile spread across his face.

“I—I would love to,” he breathed out, squeezing his hand. “To be your boyfriend—and to come back here with you. Both. Yes.”

Minho chuckled, tugging him closer. 

“You’re really cute.” 

Jisung’s heart slammed against his ribs, and when Minho leaned in like he was about to kiss him, he closed the gap first.

He tasted sweet, his lips so soft Jisung thought it was a dream, that he’d wake up and find that this date with this beautiful man wasn’t real.

But as Minho kissed him deeper, snow gathering on their shoulders and making them shiver, he realized this was real.

“You’re freezing,” Minho whispered as Jisung’s teeth started chattering. “Let’s head out. We’ll come back when it’s warmer.”

Jisung smiled when Minho kissed the tip of his cold nose. 

“Yeah, okay,” he murmured. 

And he couldn’t wait to see the cherry blossoms with his boyfriend in the spring.

July 5th, 2026

They needed to talk. Minho had returned, but he seemed weak and tired. If he had come to bed the night before, Jisung hadn’t noticed, too exhausted from crying to even wake up. 

When he walked into the kitchen, Minho had his hands on the wilted petals. Even though Jisung had watered them, they still weren’t recovering.

“Hey,” Jisung whispered, hobbling over to him.

Minho was staring out the window with that pained expression, one that suddenly made more sense now than it had all week.

“Hi, baby.” 

Jisung’s heart clenched. All the rage, anger, and pain faded away after hearing Minho’s sweet, soft tone. 

“Where did you go?” he asked, sitting down at the table while Minho kept his gaze on the city skyline. It was early, the pink of the horizon bleeding into blue like a watercolor painting beneath the hydrangea petals.

“Um, I’m not sure. I walked around for a bit. Visited my mom.” 

“How’s she doing?” 

She’d visited him in the hospital, but she’d been in hysterics. Minho had explained that she wasn’t a fan of hospitals and had just been overwhelmed with worry—which he completely understood. 

“She’s okay, I think. She seemed tired.” 

“Well, maybe we can take her to dinner soon. That would probably cheer her up.” 

He froze when he realized what he’d said. They weren’t together anymore, so going out to dinner with his mother probably wasn’t something one did with an ex-boyfriend.

But Minho just smiled. “I think she would like that.”

Jisung sighed, rubbing a stressed hand through his greasy hair. 

“We should talk,” he said, knowing they couldn’t keep avoiding it.

Minho nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

Jisung wasn’t even sure where to start.

“I know…I know you didn’t tell me we broke up because the doctors said not to discuss my memories, and honestly, looking back on it, I probably would have had a mental breakdown,” he said, playing with his fingers in his lap. “But how could you…kiss me like nothing was wrong? How could you sleep in the same bed as me, knowing that?”

Minho’s frown was deep, causing wrinkles on his face. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Jisung scoffed in frustration. “Min—I don’t want you to be sorry. I just—I want to know why you pretended like this isn’t completely fucked up.” 

He didn’t say anything. He just glanced back towards the window.

“Minho, talk to me,” he demanded. 

“I love you,” he whispered. “I just wanted you to know that I love you.”

Jisung sighed, his head starting to hurt again. 

“But that doesn’t change what happened. I know I said we would be fine, but…” 

Minho had never reached out. They hadn’t talked in weeks. He’d given up on them. It was over. 

The pain in his brain intensified. 

“Ow, ow,” he whimpered, holding his head in both hands. 

Minho quickly turned, rushing over to kneel in front of him.

“What’s wrong? Is it your head again?”

Jisung winced, giving a small nod. “Yeah.”

Something was there. But it was fuzzy. Something painful. 

“You don’t have to remember anymore, okay?” he said, extremely worried. 

Jisung clenched his teeth. “Why do you keep saying that?”

“Because it won’t help. Remembering won’t help.”

“What are you trying to hide from me?” he snapped. “All this time you’ve been lying to me—so what happened?! Tell me what happened! Just fucking tell me what—”

His words cut off as the pain was so intense he slumped in his chair, his head hitting the table. 

“Jisung? Oh no, are you okay, baby? Talk to me.” 

Minho’s voice sounded distant, like it was coming from underwater. His ears were ringing. There was something loud in his head. Everything hurt. His entire body ached, and his brain felt like it was on fire.

And then everything went dark.

June 16th, 2026

It had been two weeks since he’d heard from Minho. Two weeks since he’d kicked him out. Two weeks since his life felt empty. He’d never felt so fucking lost before. His heart was broken. Nothing felt right. After six years, everything was gone. But if Minho had decided he didn’t even want to try to explain, then it was over.

Hyunjin had come over to his apartment yesterday, and Jisung’s neighbors probably thought they were rude and insane, screaming at each other back and forth at ten at night.

But he didn’t want to hear it from him. He was tired of thinking that one day Minho would leave him for someone else—especially if that someone was Hyunjin. Because Minho could say it as much as he wanted, there was nothing between them, but Jisung couldn’t shake the anxiety that maybe there was. Hyunjin was beautiful, smart, and shared Minho’s love for cooking. They had been friends longer than Jisung had even known him, and in moments like this, Hyunjin always made him feel like he understood Minho better, like he knew what was best for him. It made Jisung wonder, deep down, if Hyunjin was better for him after all. 

So when he saw them cuddled up on the couch in their apartment, it hit him hard that maybe they should just be together—because how could Jisung compete with a guy who was perfect for him? It was just a matter of time. 

It was a bit late, just past nine, and Chan had invited him over, knowing he was depressed about the breakup. All he’d been doing for two weeks was cry into his pillow, put on a tough face at work, and try to get through the days. He’d been with Minho for so long that he didn’t even feel like himself without him.

Everywhere he looked, something reminded him of him. When he got home after work, he’d still be waiting to see his face after opening the door, before it hit him all over again, and he’d break down, realizing he wasn’t there—and he wasn’t coming back.

This had been the longest he’d gone without contact with him, and he really thought it would get easier, but every second that passed felt more and more painful. In a way, it felt like the world had stopped around him, like his life couldn’t continue without Minho’s sweet smile to get him through the day.

But he had to move on, even if it felt impossible. 

He hopped down the steps of the apartment and headed to his car, glad he’d gotten his license so he could go places whenever he wanted. It was nice to just drive sometimes, to put on music, sing as loudly as he wanted, and clear his head. Even though last week, when he put his playlist on shuffle, there were too many songs that reminded him of Minho, so he slammed his hand on the volume and rode the rest of the way home in silence.

Before he could open the driver’s side door, someone called his name.

He gasped, freezing mid-step.

When he looked up, all the air left his lungs. 

Minho—his hair a mess, dark circles under his eyes, and wearing Jisung’s white hoodie. 

“Wh—what are you doing here?” 

He quickly checked his phone. There were no messages from him. 

“I’ve been out here for a few hours,” he admitted.

Jisung just stared at him, the pain, anger, and sadness filling his heart all over again. It had been two weeks. He hadn’t heard from him in two full weeks. 

“I wanted to…see if you wanted to talk.” 

Jisung’s jaw clenched. “Now you want to talk?” 

“I know I should have reached out earlier—I just…I’ve been trying to get my head together. And I wanted to make sure I said everything I needed to say.”

Jisung’s heart ached. He knew what this was about. He was about to officially break things off.

And Jisung didn’t want to listen to a single damn second of it. 

“Well, I’m busy right now,” he said stubbornly, reaching for the car door again.

“Jisung, please. Just—”

“I said I’m busy. I’ll call you in, like, I don’t know, a week or something,” he said, trying not to sound like he was completely broken. 

He closed the door and started the car, but before he could pull off the street, Minho hopped into the passenger seat.

“Get out,” Jisung warned him. 

“No. I want to talk. Please, just—let me talk. You don’t even have to say anything. Just…please.” 

Jisung sighed deeply, shifting the car into drive.

“Well, you have until we get to Chan’s apartment, and then you can walk home on your own.”

Minho nodded. “Fine—that’s all I’ll need.” 

Jisung’s heart raced as he pulled onto the road, waiting for him to speak.

“I’m sorry—you were right. Hyunjin…he does have feelings for me.”

Jisung’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, so hard he thought his knuckles might split.

“He confessed the day after you kicked me out. I was…confused, and hurt because he never told me—and because I never believed you when you said it, over and over.”

Jisung pressed harder on the gas. He needed to get to Chan’s, and he didn’t care if he was speeding. He didn’t want to hear this. He should have never let him in the car.

The bitterness in his heart climbed up his throat. 

“Perfect. Now you two can get together. How great that you’re finally realizing it,” he hissed. 

His eyes flicked to the side, catching Minho’s stunned expression.

“No, I love you,” he said immediately, turning towards him, not even buckled in. “I miss you so much that I’m going insane.” 

Jisung wanted to roll his eyes. If he’d missed him so much, then maybe he should have called. Maybe he should have fought to stay. Maybe he should have said those words that night instead of leaving with Hyunjin and breaking his heart.

“Stop. I don’t—I don’t even want to hear it.”

“You are the love of my life. Forever and always, and I can’t live without you, Jisung.”

He was crying. Jisung wasn’t even sure he’d ever seen Minho cry before. It was rare. He was always so strong, even when they watched sad movies together, even when Minho’s childhood cat passed away.

But Jisung couldn’t. He just couldn’t. 

“Do you even know how fucking frustrating it was, knowing your best friend was in love with you, and I had to just deal with it?” he snapped, tears falling down his own cheeks. “Because every time I brought it up, you made me feel like I was insane, or overreacting, and even down to the very end, you still didn’t believe me. Not until Hyunjin had to come right out and fucking say it, after we broke up!” 

The rage surged through his body. “What happened? Did he kiss you? Did you kiss him? Was he thrilled that we finally ended our relationship? I’m sure he tried like hell to convince you that he was better for you. And fuck, maybe he’s fucking right!” 

“No, baby. None of that is true—”

“Don’t fucking call me that!” he yelled, ripping his gaze away from the road. 

“Jisung—”

“I’m done! I’m not going to be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t trust me! Someone who thinks I’m this crazy, jealous, insecure asshole! I don’t want to hear your excuses. I don’t want to hear it anymore! We’re done, and I’m not changing my mind!”

Minho’s face twisted with anguish, tears dripping from his eyes. 

But then he looked over Minho’s shoulder, his eyes widening at the bright lights.

Before he could even gasp, everything went dark.

July 5th, 2026

Jisung gasped. His head was pounding. He had passed out, but he was coming to. 

The lights of the cars, the warm liquid running down his neck, the pain in every nerve of his body.

“Jisung? Baby?”

Minho’s voice was soft and gentle in his ears. 

“Min—Minho, we…” He swallowed thickly, his voice hoarse, the words stuck in his throat. 

“What’s wrong, my love? Can you talk to me?” 

Tears welled up as his eyes darted around the room. He remembered. That night, he’d accidentally run a red light while arguing with Minho in the car. They were hit from the passenger side, the impact sending the car rolling—once, twice—before it skidded off the road.

There had been glass everywhere. The smell of gasoline and burning rubber. The taste of blood on his tongue. His vision blurry through tears and shock.

“Oh—oh my god,” he whispered, his hands shaking violently. 

He looked over at Minho, and that pained expression made him break.

“We…we were in an accident. It was—it was my fault.” 

“No, baby. It wasn’t your fault,” Minho said quickly, grabbing his hand. 

“Don’t—no, it was my fault. I wasn’t looking when I was driving. I wasn’t paying attention. I was—I was—” 

He let out a pained groan as his head throbbed so intensely he thought he was going to be sick.

“Jisung, listen to me. It was an accident. We were both upset. I was distracting you. I was at fault too.” 

The memories flooded back. Broken glass. Bent metal. Pain. Blood. There was so much blood. 

The bluriness completely cleared. 

And he remembered…

“Wait,” Jisung whispered, his voice shattering. “I remember…you were unconscious.”

He could see him. Minho’s body was slumped and unmoving. His limbs weren’t supposed to bend that way. The panic that had torn through him.

“Minho—babe—no, please…”

He’d reached for him. He’d taken his hand. His fingers were stiff.

“Minho—how are you…” He looked him up and down. “You don’t have any broken limbs. You don’t have any scratches on you. But I saw you. You were in worse shape than I was,” he said.

Minho gave him that sweet, familiar smile.

“I don’t want you to remember that, okay? I don’t want you to remember me that way.”

“No,” Jisung’s bottom lip wobbled. “No, no, no.” 

“Hey, shh, don’t cry, baby. Please, don’t cry.” 

Jisung sobbed, crying harder than he ever had before in his life as Minho held him.

“No, Minho. No, please, no—this can’t…this can’t be happening.”

Minho carded his fingers gently through his hair. “I know. It’s okay. I promise, no matter what, everything will be okay.”

Jisung pulled back, shaking, and he felt like he was losing his mind. 

“Please, you can’t be…please, tell me this isn’t real.”

Minho cupped his cheeks, his light touch tearing at his heart. “What’s real is my love for you, Jisung. I need you to promise me that you’ll remember that. That’s all I want you to remember.”

Jisung held onto him tighter, but he could feel him slipping away.

“No, don’t go. Please don’t go,” he begged. 

“I don’t want to leave either,” Minho whispered. “I don’t want to leave you, baby. But I…I feel weak.”

“What do you mean? Please, just wait—you can’t—”

“You’ll remember for me, right?” Minho smiled again, the same one Jisung had fallen in love with years ago, spreading across his lips. “Say you’ll remember.”

“I’ll—I’ll remember, Minho. I promise, I’ll remember, but—”

Minho leaned in and kissed him, but this time it felt like nothing more than a light breath against his skin. Jisung’s eyes fluttered shut at the gentle touch, tears sliding down his cheeks.

And when he opened them again, Minho was gone.

March 25th, 2023

“The weather is getting nicer,” Jisung said, stepping out onto the patio. 

“It’s trying, for sure,” Minho replied, following after him. 

“Do you think we can go see the cherry blossoms again this year?” Jisung asked as Minho wrapped his arms around his waist. 

Minho pressed a soft kiss to his neck. “Of course. I want to see the cherry blossoms with you every year from now until forever.”

Jisung giggled. “Forever is impossible, babe.”

“What? You don’t think we’ll be together forever?” he asked, feigning indignation. 

“I didn’t say that. I just mean—well, forever isn’t real, you know. Everything comes to an end,” he said, leaning into his chest.

Minho hummed. “I think my love for you will last forever—lifetimes even.”

“How is that possible?”

“Because I love you too much for it to be enough for one lifetime,” he said, making Jisung smile but roll his eyes. “I think even in the next one, I’ll remember this love, and I’ll somehow find you again.”

Jisung looked at him over his shoulder, that sweet smile making his heart melt.

“That might be the most romantic thing someone has ever said to me,” he admitted.

“It better be,” Minho smirked, kissing his lips. “No one loves you as much as I do.”

Jisung cupped his cheek, returning the kiss slowly, wishing this feeling would never fade.

“Let’s be together forever then,” Jisung said. “I don’t want these moments with you to end.”

Minho smiled against his lips. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” he whispered, feeling lucky to have met him, happy that he walked into that cafe over three years ago and found the love of his life, his soulmate, the person he never realized he had been waiting for.

July 5th, 2026

Jisung had immediately called Chan. He was hysterical and couldn’t even get proper words out for the first few minutes of the call. 

But as soon as he told him he remembered the accident, and that Minho had been in it with him, Chan was already on his way.

He helped Jisung into the car, and explained everything on the drive to the hospital.

The driver of the truck that hit them only had minor injuries, but Minho and Jisung were rushed to the hospital.

Minho was in a coma. He’d been in critical condition after the accident. He was still in the hospital, fighting for his life every day.

Jisung sobbed into his hands. Chan cried silently beside him as Jisung struggled to even breathe. Chan kept apologizing for not being able to tell him sooner, but Jisung couldn’t even speak.

Everyone in the waiting room looked at them when they arrived. Jisung was crying—frantic, almost falling as he rushed in on his crutches, half-screaming, rushing out desperate words. 

But he didn’t care. Jisung needed to see him. 

They moved as fast as they could down the hallway, and when they finally reached the room, Jisung nearly fell to his knees. 

There he was, connected to a bunch of tubes and monitors, a slow, steady beeping filling the room. His eyes were closed, his face was bruised, deep cuts lining one side of his cheek.

He looked so broken.

Jisung cried so loudly he was sure the entire hospital could hear him. Chan tried to console him, but it was useless.

“It’s my fault. It’s all—all my fault.”

He grabbed Minho’s hand, cold, soft, and stiff, squeezing it, trying to force some warmth into him.

“I’m sorry. Minho, I’m—I’m so sorry. I’m so—so fucking sorry.” 

Even the nurses watched with tears in their eyes as he held on, begging for none of this to be real.

He stayed by his side all night, refusing to leave even when Chan suggested he go home and rest. But he couldn’t leave him. He couldn’t let go of his hand.

He pulled up a chair and sat with him, crying endlessly until he fell asleep, his head resting on the edge of the bed.

He dreamed of Minho’s smile—his pretty face. And even in his dreams, he was crying for him, his heart aching as he tried to reach for him, but something kept pulling them apart just before their fingers could meet.

He stirred when he felt fingers carding through his hair, slowly waking him. When he blinked his eyes open, he gasped.

“Minho,” he panicked, but he was instantly shushed. 

“Hi, baby,” he whispered. 

Jisung looked from his side where Minho was standing, and then to the bed where Minho laid, unmoving. 

“What—what’s going on?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. 

Maybe he was finally losing it, his brain injury worse than anyone thought.

“I’m not quite sure,” Minho sighed. “I’ve been in this weird limbo for a few weeks now, and my body feels weak.”

Jisung’s eyes widened. “Wait, weak? What do you mean you feel weak?”

Minho took his free hand, squeezing softly, but Jisung could barely feel anything at all. 

“It feels like the longer I stay here, the harder it gets. Like I don’t have the energy to hold on. There’s something…that’s been calling to me, but I didn’t want to leave you yet. Not until you were better.”

Tears welled up in Jisung’s puffy eyes again. 

“You can’t go, though. Please, Minho, you can’t go.”

Minho quickly cupped his cheek. “But you remember now.”

“Yes, I remember. But I didn’t…what I said in the car. I didn’t mean any of that. I was just angry. I didn’t mean it. I miss you too. I love you too. We’re supposed to—supposed to be together forever,” he sobbed. 

Minho smiled, that sweet, perfect smile Jisung couldn’t live without seeing. He pressed their foreheads together as Jisung cried, Minho holding on as tightly as he could. 

“I wanted you to know how much I love you. I was afraid you would forget. I wanted to be with you, to remind you that even if I’m not here to tell you, that you are so beautiful, that you’re the light of my life. So now…I think it’s time for me to go.”

Jisung’s heart broke. “No. Don’t go. Don’t fucking go, Minho.”

“Remember,” he whispered. “Remember, forever. Just like we promised.”

“No. I—I love you, Minho. Please. No, don’t—”

The beeping on the monitor flattened, and Jisung’s heart dropped into his stomach.

“Help!” he screamed, scrambling out of his chair to slam his hand on the emergency button. “Something’s wrong! Please, someone help him!”

Nurses rushed in, pushing him back, and he didn’t even realize he’d fallen to the floor. His hands flew to his hair, trembling violently as he started pulling at it, wishing he would wake up. 

This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be real. He couldn’t be losing him. 

“Clear,” the nurse said.

They tried to bring Minho back. But it wasn’t working. 

The flatline kept ringing in his ears.

“Please, oh my god—no, Minho, babe, please don’t go. Please don’t leave me. Please. I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry,” he sobbed, rocking where he sat on the floor.

“You can’t go. I’m sorry for kicking you out. I’m sorry for not listening. I know you love me. And I love you. More than anything. I can’t—I can’t let you leave me. Please, don’t leave me, Minho. Please, I’ll never take our love for granted ever again. Never.”

He cried and cried until his throat hurt. His hope dwindled as the nurses panicked, and Jisung couldn’t believe he was about to say goodbye to the only man who ever made him feel like life had a beautiful purpose.

But then the monitor started beeping steadily again, and the nurses let out a deep breath.

“Stable. He’s stable.”

Jisung sobbed into his arms. 

“We’ll monitor him for a while, but his heartbeat is normal, vitals are normal—it must’ve been something unusual. We’ll run some tests.”

When the nurses left the bedside, Jisung scrambled back to him, grabbing his hand again.

“Don’t go. Don’t scare me like that again. Don’t you fucking leave me, do you understand?”

And Jisung knew it was impossible, but he thought Minho squeezed his hand back for a split second, like he heard him, like he knew he was there, like he was promising.

Jisung held his hand the rest of the night, refusing to let go, watching over him, like Minho had done for him.

July 12th, 2026

Jisung visited the hospital every day. He only went home to change, shower, and water the hydrangeas Minho had planted. They’d come back in full bloom, and Jisung picked a few, hoping Minho would like them.

When Chan drove him back to the hospital, he walked in, kissed Minho’s cheek, and placed the flowers on the windowsill.

“He’s looking better today,” Chan said, brushing the hair softly from Minho’s eyes. “It looks like he’s got some color back in his face.”

Jisung nodded. “The nurse said he’s doing better. They still don’t know if or when he’ll wake up, but…” He trailed off with a shrug. 

“He will,” Chan reassured him.

Jisung wiped his eyes, not even realizing he’d teared up a little. After he pushed the flowers into the sunlight, he let out a shaky breath and turned to his best friend.

“Chan, if he doesn’t…wake up—”

“Jisung, don’t talk like that,” Chan chided gently. 

He took a deep breath. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, of course.”

He glanced at Minho, his chest slowly rising and falling, moving with the steady beeping of the machines.

“Do you believe in ghosts?” 

“Ghosts?”

Jisung hesitated before nodding. 

“Chan…he was with me,” he admitted. He knew it sounded insane even as he said it, but there was no way it hadn’t been real.

“Who was with you?” 

“Minho,” he told him. “Every day since I woke up in the hospital.”

Chan sighed. “Jisung, the doctor said you were just having issues with your amnesia—like you thought he was there, but it was just a memory.”

“No, Chan. It wasn’t a memory. He was there.”

Chan blinked at him this time. “Ji…”

“No. I swear. I know it sounds absolutely crazy. But he was with me. The night we almost lost him, he told me he felt weak. He said that he had to go, and then his heart gave out. He said that…he just wanted me to remember that he loved me. He didn’t want me to remember that I…” he trailed off, taking in a sharp breath, tears on the edge of his voice. 

“Hey,” Chan said, reaching out to rub his shoulders. “It’s okay.”

“I’m afraid he’s not going to wake up. I haven’t seen him since. I miss him and I just want him to tell me everything is going to be okay, but…he’s gone. And I’m not sure he’s ever coming back.”

Tears escaped his eyes, and he honestly wasn’t sure how he still had any left to cry.

“Minho is strong,” Chan said, squeezing gently. “And if he hasn’t given up yet, I don’t think he plans on giving up any time soon. We both know how determined he is. And we both know he would do anything to be with you.”

Jisung wiped his eyes. “I wish I had just told him I loved him that night.”

“What?” Chan asked, brushing away the stray tears on his face. 

“In the car, before the accident. I was so mad. I was caught up in my own insecurities while he was telling me he loved me. And I wish—I wish I would’ve just told him I loved him too.”

Chan frowned. “Oh, Jisung.”

“I hate—I hate that the last thing I ever said to him was that we were over. I yelled at him. He was crying. I was such a—”

He broke off into sobs, and Chan pulled him against his chest. 

“He knows. Even if you never said it, he knows.” 

Maybe. But the last words he said to him were still heavy and bitter on his tongue. Even if Minho somehow knew, he would never forgive himself. He’d live in regret forever.

When they pulled apart, Chan tried to smile at him. 

“How about I get you something to eat? Do you want sushi?” he asked, tapping lightly under his wet chin, trying to cheer him up.

Jisung shook his head. “You don’t have to do that for me.”

“Yes, I do. So tell me what you want.”

“Well, there’s a place that Minho and I go to all the time near our apartment,” he mumbled, his eyes drifting over to the man he loved lying in bed.

“Perfect. I know just where that is. I’ll be back, okay?” 

It was already seven, and Chan should’ve gone home for the evening after everything he’d done for him, but before Jisung could tell him he was fine, he was already out the door.

Jisung sighed and pulled up the chair to sit with him again, taking his soft hand. It looked small in his grasp as he squeezed his knuckles, desperately wishing he would wake up.

July 15th, 2026 

When Jisung blinked his eyes open, his neck felt stiff. He stretched, still holding onto Minho’s hand. He squeezed gently, glancing at his face, and reached out to brush the hair out of his eyes.

“Morning, my love,” Jisung whispered. “How are you today?”

Maybe he sounded silly talking to him, but he swore Minho could hear his voice. 

“I think your mom is coming to visit today. And Chan is gonna bring us dinner.”

He picked up the brush from the bedside table and ran it gently through his hair before kissing the top of his head.

“I don’t want to go. But I just have to go home and shower, and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Leaving him felt impossible. He was terrified that if he left the room, Minho might leave him forever. It was enough to make him never want to go anywhere at all. But he needed to bathe, and he needed to water the flowers.

He gently tucked the blankets beneath his arms, careful not to disturb the lines, tubes, and wires attached to his body. 

“I’m gonna bring more flowers today from the patio. They’ve been blooming beautifully ever since I’ve been watering them,” he told him. 

Obviously, he was met with silence, but he pressed a kiss to his forehead before grabbing his crutches.

“I love you. Forever, okay?” he whispered, just in case those were the last words he’d ever get to say. 

His heart ached as he left the room, but he wouldn’t be gone long. 

He met Chan outside the hospital, hobbling over to his car. Chan helped him in and gave him a soft smile when he got back into the driver’s seat.

“How’s he doing today?” 

“He’s good I think. But I want to be quick just in case. I don’t want to leave him any longer than I have to.”

Chan nodded, starting the car. “Yeah, of course. I totally get it.” 

Having Chan help him shower to make the process easier was a little embarrassing, but he was respectful, keeping his eyes on the ceiling and quickly stepping out when he wasn’t needed anymore.

Jisung got dressed as fast as he could with a broken leg, then crutched out onto the patio to grab a few more hydrangeas. He breathed in deeply, their scent comforting, and he really hoped Minho would like them.

Chan drove him back before heading to work, and Jisung seriously owed him for everything he’d done lately. 

“You’re my best friend, Ji,” he said before flicking his eyes away. “And I almost lost you. So I don’t mind. Whatever you need, seriously.” 

He knew Chan was taking everything hard. He was the one who had called Jisung’s phone when he was late that night, his world shattering when the police told him what had happened.

“I love you, Chan.” 

They hadn’t always said it before, but things were different now. 

“I love you too. I’ll see you after work.” 

It was hard to carry the flowers while using his crutches, but he managed to make it the entire way without dropping them. 

When he walked back in, he smiled, seeing Minho still lying there, his heart still pumping, according to the machine. 

“Hey, babe. I’m back.”

He made his way to the windowsill, adding a few more hydrangeas to the pot. He smiled, happy with the way they looked.

“Aren’t they pretty?” he asked. “They really recovered so well. I told you they would.”

When Jisung glanced over at him, he dropped one of his crutches to the ground. 

Minho’s eyes were open. They slowly fluttered as he looked at him, and Jisung gasped so loudly he was sure everyone in the building heard him.

“Minho? Oh my god, Minho,” he rushed out, quickly dropping to his side and grabbing his hand, ignoring the pain in his leg. “You’re awake. Baby, you’re—oh my god, you’re awake!”

Minho blinked rapidly, but he couldn’t say anything with the breathing tube in his throat. But he squeezed Jisung’s hand, and Jisung completely lost it, tears falling uncontrollably as he screamed for the nurse. 

Minho started grunting in frustration, and Jisung just held his hand tighter. 

“They’re coming, babe. I know,” he said, his voice so shaky he almost didn’t recognize it. 

When the nurses rushed into the room, the relief filled him. 

“Mr. Lee—hello, honey, one second. We’re going to take out your breathing tube, okay?” she said, carefully pushing Jisung out of the way. 

His heart ached when he coughed and spluttered as they removed the tube. 

“Okay, there we go. That’s better, right?”

Minho breathed heavily, blinking over and over. 

“Minho—do you know where you are?” the nurse asked, just like she had asked Jisung when he’d woken up. 

“Jisung,” he said, his usually soft voice raspier than he’d ever heard it. 

“Jisung is right here,” she said. “Can you tell me where you are?” 

Minho winced, like he was trying to move, but he couldn’t. 

“Looks like…a hospital.” 

“Do you know how you got here?” 

Minho clenched his eyes shut. “Well, I’m assuming it can’t be good.” 

Jisung shook his head. Even in the hospital, after being out for weeks, he was trying to crack jokes. 

“Can you tell me the last thing you remember?” she asked. “Who you were with, where you were?”

Minho nodded. “I was with my…” He trailed off, eyes flicking to Jisung, his eyebrows furrowing. 

“Your boyfriend,” he said. “You were with me.” 

Minho blinked at him, something heavy in his eyes that he couldn’t quite read. 

“I was with my boyfriend. We were…going to our friend’s place. But…that’s all I—fuck, why can’t I move?”

The nurse nodded. “You were in a coma for the last month. You were in an accident. Do you remember what happened?” 

Minho shook his head. “I don’t think so—I just remember being in the car. We were talking and then…that’s it.” 

Jisung frowned, squeezing his hand. 

“Your muscles will need some time to recover. Since you’ve been immobile for a while, you’re going to have to build up your strength. Are you experiencing pain anywhere else right now?”

Minho shrugged. “A little. My back and my legs.” 

The nurse nodded. “Okay, we’ll get you something for that, and then we’ll try to help sit you up. I’ll be right back.” 

When the nurse left the room, Minho immediately reached for him. Jisung quickly took his hand, letting out a soft sob.

“Minho—”

“Baby, are you okay? Your leg—what happened?” 

Jisung couldn’t help but laugh. He was the one who had just come out of a coma, and he was still worrying about him.

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice still trembling with tears. “I promise, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

Minho struggled to reach up and cup his cheek, and Jisung couldn’t stop another sob from escaping him. 

“I’m so sorry,” he rushed out. “I got us into an accident. I wasn’t paying attention. I did this to us.” 

Minho slowly shook his head. “No—no, Jisung. It’s okay—”

“You were trying to tell me that you loved me. You were telling me you missed me. And I was being stubborn. I yelled at you. I said we were over, but I didn’t mean any of it. I don’t want to lose you. I can’t—I can’t lose you, Minho. You mean everything to me,” he cried, the words spilling past his lips. 

He threw himself into his chest, sobbing as Minho tried to rub his back with weak arms. 

“Hey,” he whispered. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay.”

Jisung could hear the tremor in Minho’s voice, like he was trying to hold it together. He was probably confused, because the last time they had talked, Jisung had told him they were surely over.

The nurse was definitely giving them a moment, because she hadn’t returned yet. When Jisung pulled back, Minho tried his best to wipe the tears from his face. 

“I love you,” Jisung said suddenly. “I love you so much.”

The tears in Minho’s eyes finally fell. 

Minho rarely cried. 

“I love you too, baby.” 

Jisung leaned in and slammed their lips together. He knew Minho was exhausted and weak, but he needed him. He needed to feel his lips. He needed to kiss him—the real him. 

When Minho whimpered, Jisung quickly pulled back. 

“Sorry. I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” he worried, cupping his cheek. 

“No, it’s not you. I just…my body just hurts in general right now.” 

Jisung sighed. “Yeah, I felt the same way. I had a really bad head injury, and—no, I’m okay now, I promise,” he assured him as Minho’s eyes widened with the news. “I lost my memory for a bit, but it’s back now.” 

“You lost your memory?” he asked. 

He nodded. “I couldn’t remember anything that had happened since our anniversary back in February.” 

Minho’s expression turned pained, making Jisung shake his head again. 

“But I’m okay now. I remember everything, and I’ve been waiting for you to wake up because I needed to tell you I love you.”

Minho smiled softly, trying to brush his hair off his face, but struggling. He winced again, and Jisung gently took his hand and placed it back on the bed.

“Hey, let’s take it easy, okay? I don’t want you to overdo it.” 

“I won’t overdo it,” he argued softly. 

“You are the king of overdoing it, especially when you’re asked to relax.” 

Minho chuckled. “Maybe you’re right.” 

Jisung kissed the top of his head. “We can talk more later. I just…want to hold your hand right now. I want to make sure this is real.” 

If it turned out he was dreaming, he wasn’t sure he could handle it. Tears welled up in his eyes just thinking about it all being nothing but a dream again, an apparition, a figment of his imagination.

Minho gave him that soft, sad smile. “Okay, baby. I’m right here. We’re right here,” he assured him. 

He squeezed his hand the hardest he could, and Jisung laid his head on the chest, listening to his heart beat. 

This was real. Minho was real and here this time. 

He had to be.

July 16th, 2026

“It’s nice to see you up and moving again,” Changbin said, placing a hand on Minho’s shoulder.

Chan was crying in the corner of the room, completely losing it when Minho lifted a hand to give him a small wave. Jisung couldn’t blame him, he was the same way every morning, still afraid that when he woke up, it would somehow all fade away and Minho would be gone again.

But thankfully, Minho squeezed his hand and pressed a reassuring kiss to his lips until he calmed down enough to accept that this was, in fact, reality.

“I wish I could say it feels good, but the pain and being unable to move is pissing me off so bad.”

Changbin chuckled. “You sound just like Jisung when he woke up.”

“Well, you know the saying—if you spend enough time with your lover, you start to become more like each other every day,” Chan added, wiping his cheeks.

“Am I really that stubborn and whiny?” he teased, glancing in Jisung’s direction.

“Hey,” Jisung pouted, lightly smacking his shoulder. “I’m not whiny.”

“Sure, baby. Not at all.”

Jisung smiled and rolled his eyes, squeezing Minho’s hand. He refused to let go of it at all. Even when the nurse came in, he stayed stuck to his side. But he couldn’t help it.

“What’s the recovery time looking like?” Changbin asked. 

Minho sighed. “They said it could be months. But hopefully sooner.”

“If you need anything, we’re here,” Chan said. “Both of you—whatever you need, just call us.”

Minho smiled. “Thanks, you guys.” 

There was a soft knock on the door, and everyone turned to see Hyunjin standing there with a Get Well Soon! balloon in his hands.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “Is it okay if I join?”

“Yeah, of course. Come on in,” Jisung said, gesturing for him. 

Minho’s smile softened as he looked at Jisung before turning back to his best friend, whose eyes were red-rimmed eyes. 

Hyunjin placed the balloon next to the hydrangeas on the windowsill before stepping closer to Minho’s bedside. 

“Hey,” he said again, tears already falling down his cheeks. 

“Hey, Jinnie.” 

“I’m so—I’m so glad you’re okay,” he whispered. 

“I’m okay,” he assured him. “I’m okay now.” 

“Both of you—I’m just—so happy that—” He cried, his words cutting off as he sobbed even harder. 

Jisung reached for his hand, squeezing gently. 

Minho must have noticed, because tears started flowing down his own cheeks, but he quickly wiped them away.

“We’re good—no more crying, okay?” he said with a small, shaky laugh.

Jisung knew it was hard for him to be emotional in front of others. His heart squeezed with heavy emotions when Minho got choked up.

“Hey, how about I grab us something to eat?” Changbin offered, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m sure Minho’s tired of hospital food.”

“God, yes please,” he laughed. “Seriously, anything would be amazing.” 

“I can come with you,” Hyunjin offered, aggressively wiping his wet, messy face.

After they took Minho’s giant order of sushi, Chan ended up going with them, needing the extra hands. 

When they were alone again, Minho leaned back and let out a soft sigh. “So…are you guys…cool?” he asked carefully, like he was afraid to say the words.

Jisung nodded. “Yeah—yeah, don’t worry. We’re okay.”

“If it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll do something about it. We won’t hang out alone anymore. I’ll tell him that we—”

“No, babe. I don’t…I don’t want that,” he interupted him.

“I don’t want to hurt you like that ever again,” Minho said, his eyes broken. “You were right—about a lot of things. I should’ve listened and set a boundary. But I just…I’m sorry, okay?”

Jisung shook his head quickly. “You don’t have to be sorry anymore. I know you love me, and I love you, and Hyunjin…he apologized too. For everything. And I think we’re all okay now. So don’t worry about any of that.”

More tears slid down Minho’s cheeks, and Jisung couldn’t help but smile a little, gently wiping his face.

“Fuck—no more crying. I mean it,” he demanded, like he was scolding himself. 

Jisung chuckled. “It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to be emotional. You can show me that side, you know.” 

Those words must have broken through him, because a few sobs escaped Minho’s lips.

But Jisung just held his hand. 

“I just—love you. And I—I’m sorry. I’m just—”

Jisung shushed him softly. “It’s okay. Don’t be. We’re okay. I love you too.”

Minho reached for his cheek, and Jisung leaned in, helping him press their lips together. 

“I love you,” he whispered. “I love you so much.”

Jisung’s heart tugged, but he kept strong, holding it together for him this time. 

“I love you too.”

October 25th, 2024

“Happy Birthday, Minho!” 

Minho’s startled face and small yelp made Jisung laugh.

“Holy shit,” he breathed out. “I almost pissed my pants, you know.”

“That’s good,” Chan said. 

“The surprise was successful then,” Hyunjin added. 

Jisung ran at him, throwing his arms around Minho’s neck and landing a fat kiss on his cheek. 

“Happy birthday, babe,” he giggled. “I know you don’t like loud, sudden noises, but whispering it just doesn’t have the same effect.”

Minho smiled, wide and sweet, slipping an arm around his waist. “Did you organize all this for me?”

Jisung shrugged. “Well, I had some help. Chan and Changbin helped. And Hyunjin picked up the decorations. Your mom even made the cake.”

Jisung could practically see the happiness sparkling in his eyes.

“We got you some presents and some liquor too. It should be a fun night.”

“Thank you,” he whispered. “I love you so much.” 

“And what about us?” Changbin asked, raising an eyebrow.

Minho laughed. “I love all of you. If you want me to get all mushy though, I’m gonna need some alcohol first.”

“I’ll get you something,” Hyunjin said, heading off with Chan to make a few drinks.

Before Jisung could dash off with them, Minho pulled him back in.

“Are you guys getting along?” he asked, with sudden worry on his face as he glanced towards the kitchen where Hyunjin was.

Jisung let out a soft sigh. “Yes, we are. I even asked him to help plan your party,” he told him, making Minho’s smile somehow even wider.

“I know you guys have your differences, but…thank you for doing this for me. I would love it if you two could be friends. Because you both mean a lot to me.” 

Jisung’s heart squeezed. “I know, babe.” 

If Hyunjin could just apologize for being a dick all the time and stop trying to steal his boyfriend away, then it would make that a bit easier. But he pushed that aside for today.

“Seeing you guys together with smiles is the best gift I could ask for.” 

Jisung shrugged. “Well, we spent the entire day together, and we didn’t even fight once. I actually…had a good time.”

If Minho’s smile got any wider, it was going to split his lips. 

“Come here,” he said, pulling Jisung in, making him bite back a whimper when he pressed kisses to his neck.

“What? That tickles!” 

“I just want to kiss you until I can’t kiss you anymore.” 

Jisung flushed, his heart always racing whenever Minho said things like that. 

“We can kiss later,” Jisung smirked. “When we’re alone. Just you and me.”

“I might eat you up before then.”

“Knock it off,” he chuckled, pushing his shoulder. 

“Nope. You’re too cute, getting everyone together to celebrate. I can’t take it. I need to eat you.” 

Jisung laughed loudly as he really tried to eat him, nibbling on his neck and ear.

“Someone is going to see us and think we’re weird as hell!”

“So what? It’s my birthday. I can devour you in public if I want to.”

“I think in both ways, figuratively and literally, that is against the law.”

Minho smirked. “Yeah, but I know how to get away with it.” 

It took Jisung a minute to pry Minho off him, but he knew that if he didn’t, Minho might actually try to take him in the middle of his birthday party. 

Jisung intertwined their fingers and pulled him towards the door. “Come on. Let’s go celebrate. You only turn old once,” he teased. 

“Oh, you little brat,” he laughed, smacking his ass before joining the rest of their friends and family.

July 17th, 2026

Jisung hummed as he fixed the flowers on the windowsill. 

“Those look pretty,” Minho said, making Jisung glance over his shoulder. “Almost as pretty as my pretty boy.” 

Jisung flushed as Minho reached out his hand. He took it, hobbling over to the chair and sitting next to him. 

“They were dying,” he said, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles. “But I fixed them.” 

“Yeah?” 

Jisung nodded. “I was really worried they wouldn’t survive.”

Minho smiled, cupping his cheek. “But you saved them.”

Jisung kissed him deeply, needing him close. Since yesterday, it had been hard to keep his lips off him, even though he knew it was stealing from Minho’s small amount of energy.

“Actually,” Minho said against his lips. “I feel like I had a dream about that.”

Jisung pulled away quickly, his eyes going wide. 

“A dream?” 

“Yeah,” he said, eyebrows furrowed. “We were in our bed at our apartment, and I was worried about the flowers I planted. I think we talked about it—”

Jisung gripped his hand tightly. “You were worried they would die. You said you were worried I wouldn’t like other flowers.”

Minho blinked at him, mouth opening and closing before he cleared his throat. “Yeah. How did you…?”

“Because—because Minho, I don’t think that was a dream.”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “Was it before the accident?”

“No. It was a little over a week ago.”

He stared at him this time. “But I was…in a coma,” he said, clearly confused. 

Jisung knew it didn’t make sense. He kept it to himself, because he had convinced himself he’d just gone crazy. 

But if Minho remembered too…

“Have you had other dreams?” he asked anxiously. 

“Um,” he glanced up at the ceiling, like he was trying to recall. “Maybe? I’m not sure.”

“Can you try to remember for me? Maybe about the hospital, or at our apartment?”

Minho nodded, and Jisung noticed his closed eyes moving like crazy behind the lids as he tried to pull out something—anything.

“Okay, ah—I think I had a dream…we were in the kitchen. We were talking about my mom.” 

“What about her?” Jisung pressed. 

“I felt like she was upset for some reason. I was worried, and you told me—”

“That we should all go out to dinner soon. That it would cheer her up,” he finished for him. 

Minho’s eyes opened so slowly, and it was a bit scary seeing the nervousness in them.

“Jisung,” he whispered. “What’s going on?”

Jisung took both of his hands, squeezing gently. 

“I think—okay, this is gonna sound a little crazy,” he said, holding onto his hand even tighter. “But I think you were actually there.”

Minho slowly shook his head. “Baby, that’s just not possible.”

“No, like—you were there. You even remember it. You were with me the entire time, trying to protect me from what happened. You kept telling me you loved me, and that I should remember that, no matter what happened.” 

Tears welled up in Jisung’s eyes again. Minho’s soft smile, his worried tone—he was actually there. 

Minho just blinked at their intertwined fingers, eyebrows furrowing, like he was trying to make sense of everything. 

“You were afraid of leaving me behind without me remembering how much you loved me. You told me over and over again. You said it was okay if I didn’t remember the bad things that my brain erased, because all that mattered was that you loved me.”

“I really…I really thought those were just dreams.”

Jisung rubbed his wet face. “You said you didn’t want to go. You said you felt weak. I was afraid—I was afraid I would never get to talk to you again.”

Minho’s eyes widened. “I remember…you were crying. You were so upset. I didn’t want to leave you, but…something was calling me.”

Jisung nodded quickly. “Yes—yeah, you said something was calling you.”

Minho held his head, like he was trying to remember, like there was something there.

“I don’t know what it was. I just knew I didn’t want to leave you, but I had to. I didn’t really have a choice. But I told you…that I…”

“That you loved me. To remember. Forever.”

Tears dripped down Minho’s cheeks. 

“Forever. Yeah, I…I wanted you to know.”

Jisung collapsed into his chest, holding him so tightly it almost hurt.

“I love you. I love you, Minho. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, babe. I’m so sorry,” Jisung repeated over and over hysterically.

“No, baby. Don’t cry anymore. Don’t be sorry. We’re here, now. We’re okay.” 

But Jisung sobbed and sobbed, his tears uncontrollable. His heart ached, thankful that they were both here, but haunted by the memories of almost losing each other. 

When he pulled back, Minho kissed his forehead. “I love you too,” he whispered. “I want you to know that—forever and always.”

Jisung sniffled with a small smile. “I’ll remember.”

September 1st, 2026

“Babe?” Jisung called into the bedroom.

He walked in to find the sheets empty and blankets strewn across the bed. He hadn’t heard him get up, so he quickly rushed to the living room. 

He wasn’t there either, and Jisung wondered how he’d managed to sneak out of the apartment without him hearing the door. To be fair, he had been singing to himself, so he wasn’t exactly paying attention.

It had been a few days since they’d brought Minho home from the hospital. After being in a coma for almost a month, it had taken him a while to recover. Jisung had been there every day until he was able to walk again, holding his hand as he slowly rebuilt his strength.

When they got home after his discharge, Minho broke down in Jisung’s arms. The relief of finally being home, the frustration of recovery, and the overwhelming thankful feeling of being together again.

Jisung’s heart ached, knowing it had been three months since Minho had slept in their bed—well, physically, and not counting Minho’s out-of-body experience-like dreams.

They were still trying to make sense of Minho’s dreams and Jisung’s visions while he was in a coma at the hospital. Even if they never fully understood it, they had promised each other, one thing—to never leave each other without saying I love you ever again.

“I just think my love for you is that strong,” Minho had said, smirking as he kissed his lips. “Not only will it last a lifetime, but it defies impossibility. I wanted to be with you, to make sure you recovered, just in case I didn’t wake up.”

Jisung kissed him back even deeper, those words making his heart flutter, wishing he could have more of him. But Minho’s energy still wasn’t fully back, and he didn’t want to push him—even though he missed his touch like crazy. 

Jisung walked back into the kitchen, his eyes flicking to the window and noticing Minho on the patio. He quickly hopped to the sliding door, slipping out with him. 

“Hey. I didn’t realize you were up,” he said. “Whatcha doing out here?”

Minho glanced at him over his shoulder, and Jisung saw the hydrangeas in his hands. 

“I was just thinking that maybe I should plant more flowers. Maybe at the cafe,” he said. 

Jisung came up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist. “That sounds like a good idea.”

“Also, maybe we can go on a trip. It’s been a while since we’ve gone somewhere together. And there are a few festivals in town we can go to soon. There’s also a new restaurant down the street, maybe we can—”

“Hey,” Jisung interrupted, feeling his body start to shake. “Let’s take it slow, okay? You still have a few weeks before you’re back to normal.”

Minho sighed. “I know—I just…”

“What is it, babe?”

“I miss you. And I keep…those dreams keep coming back to me, and I just…I feel like this deep pit of anxiety whenever I wake up, like I’m afraid of losing you, and—”

“Minho,” he whispered. “It’s okay.” 

“I know,” he said, his voice trembling, like he was holding back tears. “I know, but I can’t help it.”

“I love you,” Jisung assured him, knowing that their breakup and the accident had taken a toll on him. He couldn’t help but feel guilty, like it was all his fault. But Minho told him not to think that way, even though the nagging thoughts were hard to ignore.

Minho squeezed his wrist, and when he turned around, there were tears in his eyes. 

“What’s wrong, hon?” Jisung asked, feeling worried. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Yeah, of course. Always.”

Minho knelt down in front of him, gripping onto his wrist even tighter. 

“Babe? Careful, your leg is still—”

“Jisung,” Minho said, interrupting his worry. 

“Yeah?”

“Will you marry me?”

He froze, eyes widening and his mouth falling slack. 

“Will I—wait, what?”

Minho slid his grip to intertwine their fingers. 

“I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, however long that might be. And I don’t want to waste another second.”

Jisung’s blood was rushing in his ears. Minho was smiling at him, that sweet, loving smile that made his heart flutter. The one he fell in love with.

“I know this is sudden, but…” He lifted Jisung’s hand, and in his palm was a small hydrangea flower, tied into a ring with its own stem. “I need you by my side. I can’t live without you. I don’t want to live without you.”

“Minho…”

“So will you marry me?” 

Jisung couldn’t help the small sob that left his lips. “Yes—yes, I’ll marry you. Of course, I’ll marry you.”

Minho smiled, slowly slipping the makeshift ring on his finger, the pretty blue petals flourishing. 

“I’ll buy you a real ring,” he said quickly. “I promise. I was just thinking when I woke up that I wanted to ask you.”

Jisung wiped his tears and pulled Minho up from his knee, crashing their lips together.

When he pulled back, he shook his head. “Ring or no ring—all that matters is that I love you, and you’re here with me.” 

Minho’s gaze softened, and he pressed another sweet kiss to his lips. “I love you too—forever, yeah? Now and even in the next life, even if we don’t remember each other, I’ll still love you.” 

Jisung smiled through his tears.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered. “I’ll remember.”