Chapter Text
On a normal day Seungmin was expecting a just as normal phone call. Instead, his heart gets stuck in his throat when he picks up that call.
…
Seungmin doesn’t know what compels him not to peck Minho’s lips as the first thing to do when he enters the ward. Instead, he scans Minho all over, taking note of the few bandages, a couple peeking from under his clothes, without lingering on his eyes, the concern simply not allowing him yet.
He walks closer to Minho and gently, lest Minho is hurt there too, puts a hand somewhere in between the back and the side of Minho’s neck. Minho flinches slightly at that and Seungmin’s thumb subconsciously leaves a single caress on the skin under it as Seungmin finally peers into Minho’s eyes, concern and worry all over his own features.
Until it all melts into a frown just as he’s about to ask how he’s feeling.
Minho is looking at him…questioningly. He’s leaning away from Seungmin and his shoulders are a little scrunched as if trying to get rid of Seungmin’s touch on his neck, his eyes guarded and confused, eyebrows furrowed
In that particular moment Seungmin can barely notice all the details, too shaken up from the events and still trying to let relief replace the panic. The most he can see right now is that Minho is somewhat uncomfortable; he guesses it’s because his hand might be pressing on some bruises even if Seungmin hasn’t put any weight on it. He pulls his hand away and fixes Minho’s bangs on his forehead. They didn’t particularly need fixing, Seungmin just wanted to feel Minho. Just as he’s about to finally say the question that he hadn’t let out earlier Minho speaks up first, “Excuse me, could you- why do you keep touching me,” he fully leans away from Seungmin now, saying in a clearly displeased tone.
Seungmin’s hand stills mid air, where Minho’s forehead was just a few seconds ago. He rolls his eyes, a smile tugging on his lips, and barely stops himself from giving Minho a light punch on the arm. “It’s not-” his words get lost in his throat when he finally starts noticing the little details: Minho is now sitting as far away from Seungmin as he can manage, his arms are against his chest and abdomen, not folded but protective; he looks almost angry, features scrunched, eyes guarded, eyebrows furrowed.
The blooming smile on Seungmin’s face falls a little with every detail that comes to his attention. He pulls his hand back, “Hyung, is everything- are you ok?”
Minho’s frown deepens. He blinks repeatedly and tilts his head, “I think you have the wrong person,” his tone just slightly lighter.
Seungmin’s jaw drops. He opens and closes his mouth repeatedly, trying to peer for any indication that this is a terrible prank. He doesn’t find any. He gulps, his eyes darting all over Minho. “Hyung,” he says in a small voice, “I,” he starts but isn’t really sure what to say, “I really don’t think it’s the time for jokes. I was so worried-” he leans in again only for Minho to dodge him.
“I agree with you, I don’t think it’s the time for jokes either,” Minho glares.
Seungmin’s hand retreats and his mouth goes dry. There’s a pause before Seungmin dares to say anything, “You don’t,” he starts with a levelled voice but finishes with almost a whisper, “You don’t remember me?”
“Am I supposed to?” Minho counters defensively.
Seungmin scoffs, not purposefully trying to be mean but really what else is he supposed to do when his husband is asking him if he’s supposed to remember him. Seungmin gulps and passes a hand on the side of his face trying to make sense of everything that’s happening. The anxiety that had started to subside with the sight of Minho awake and sitting is clawing its way back into Seungmin’s chest, pounding its fists against his ribcage, pounding so hard its trembling reaches his hands.
“Did you hit your head?” he looks back at Minho, “You did hit your head,” his eyes on the bandage around Minho’s head.
Seungmin licks his lips though his throat remains dry. He doesn’t understand if his mind has gone blank or if it’s simply too full with the events that are unfolding but it’s not working, he can’t figure out what he’s supposed to do.
He turns to Minho again, takes a deep breath and says, “Hyung, I’m Seungmin,” he doesn’t know how to continue. Even just saying this sounds so absurd to him because what does it mean when he’s telling his husband his own name.
Just as he’s about to declare his status as Minho’s spouse to Minho himself, a nurse enters. She approaches Seungmin, “Are you Mr. Lee Minho’s guardian?”
Seungmin nods.
“Mr. Kim Seungmin?” she asks for confirmation.
“Yes, that’s me.”
“There are a few forms for you to fill,” she gathers a few papers from the file in her hand and hands them to Seungmin.
Seungmin is barely managing not to crumple the papers in his hand. He clears his throat, trying to gather himself.
The nurse says something but Seungmin doesn’t register. His breath is stuck somewhere in his throat and Seungmin doesn’t know what to do. He’s about to let the nurse know about what just happened when Minho speaks, “I don’t know this person,” he’s frowning at the nurse.
She frowns back, “Are you patient Lee Minho who came in for a car accident?”
Minho nods. She checks the band around his wrist for confirmation and turns to Seungmin instead, “Are you Mr. Kim Seungmin?”
Seungmin nods, his throat too full with his breath that refuses to leave, insisting on staying stuck in his throat.
“Can I see a document? Your ID card?”
Seungmin’s trembling hands let the papers fall to the floor as he hastily reaches for his wallet. He hands the card to her and bends to pick up the papers again.
She carefully checks his ID card before handing it back to him, “You are indeed Mr. Kim Seungmin.”
He nods jerkily.
“No,” Minho sounds frustrated, “You don’t understand. I don’t know a Seungmin at all,” he enunciates his words carefully, as if saying it more clearly could make it clearer.
Seungmin takes a step to stand in front of Minho, facing the nurse, “He doesn’t recognize me,” he says quickly, the anxiety conspicuous in the little tremble in his voice, “He doesn’t remember me,” he continues, desperate.
The nurse finally understands, “I’ll get the doctor, though it might be a while.”
To Seungmin’s, “Thank you,” she smiles pitifully at him and leaves.
“What do you mean I don’t remember, I don’t know you,” Minho says from behind him. He sounds irritated and it angers Seungmin, Why is he irritated.
Seungmin turns to face him, “Shut up,” Seungmin exclaims, not shouting but his tone still hard, “I have proof I know you,” he suddenly feels the weight of the ring on his left hand, “Do you have proof you don’t know me? No, you don’t!” he’s starting to breathe heavily and his voice is getting higher and higher, “Because you forgot me! You forgot me. Do you even know who I am to you?! Do you know what you call me?! No, you don’t! Because you forgot me!” he finishes. His lips are quivering now and his eyes are obviously wet; he gasps, trying to hold the sob back. He can barely see the outline of Minho sitting on the bed through the tears pooling in his eyes, let alone the expression he wears. But just seeing him sitting on the opposite side of the bed, as far from Seungmin as he can manage to is reason enough for the first tear to fall.
He presses his palms to his eyes and turns away from Minho. He keeps wiping his eyes but the tears keep falling. So he gives up and lets them fall freely.
Seungmin cries. Minho lets him cry in silence. He doesn’t caress the back of his head, doesn’t pull him to nestle in the crook of his neck, doesn’t whisper little reassurances in his ear, doesn’t tell him ‘I’m here’, doesn’t tell him ‘cry all you want, my shoulder was made for you anyway’, he…doesn’t do anything, he lets Seungmin cry, alone, without offering any comfort.
Perhaps that is what sets the nail in for Seungmin, the fact that Minho is right there, right next to him, watching Seungmin crying instead of trying to fondly offer comfort. So Seungmin cries harder.
He doesn’t know how long he cries but he eventually stops. He wipes his face, takes a deep breath and turns towards Minho with a glare. He sniffles, “How old are you?”
Minho raises a mocking eyebrow, “Aren’t you supposed to know, shouldn’t you at least know how old I am?”
“I perfectly know how old you are, it is you, I’m afraid, who doesn’t,” Seungmin replies in the same tone.
Minho scoffs, “Well, I’m not comfortable telling you anything about myself until it is confirmed I actually know you.”
Seungmin rolls his eyes, “Have it your way,” he mutters as he takes his coat off and sits on the chair next to the bed.
Seungmin is busy rummaging through his bag to find a pen to fill the forms the nurse handed him when he hears Minho’s annoyed voice, “Yeah, I will have it my way because it’s hard to believe I would know anyone as irritating as you.”
It’s Seungmin’s turn to scoff, “It’s hard to believe I married someone as irritating as you,” he mutters to himself.
“What are you muttering now,” Minho continues with the same tone.
Seungmin finally retrieves the pen, looks up at him with an obviously fake smile and says, “I said, Mr. President, please ensure your safety before you let your husband try to figure out how much of your memory you have lost.”
Minho stares at him with a dumbfounded frown, “What?”
“What,” he says without looking up from the papers he’s filling.
“That was the most absurd sentence I have ever heard, I don’t know where to start.”
“Oh, great. You’ve returned to an age where you can’t even do basic listening comprehension or perhaps where you can’t recognize sarcasm.”
“I just…” he trails off, “How old do you think I am?”
“I know how old you are, I don’t need to guess it.”
“Ok, then what is it.”
“Why would I tell you when you don’t tell me.”
Minho sighs in annoyance and crosses his arms, “I’m trying to have an actual conversation with you, as irritating as you might be.”
“I’m trying to get this done, why don’t you wait for the assurance of my identity anymore, Mr. President.”
“Oh my God, can you stop being annoying for a single second.”
“I’ll stop being annoying when you stop being annoying.”
“For crying out loud I asked you how old I am!”
“27. Now please let me read these papers to ensure your safety, Mr. President.”
“So the sarcasm was in the president part?” Minho mutters, trying to make sense of this whole situation, “That means…” he turns a little pale.
Minho turns to look at Seungmin’s ring finger and there is indeed a ring shining on it and he pales further. He then looks at his own and sees none and sighs in relief, some colour returning to his face.
…
Faltionic amnesia. Minho holds the paper with the diagnosis of it in one hand and a plastic bag with the belongings they took off him to do all his scans that contains a watch, a phone and a ring in his other hand. The ring matches with the one the stranger that brings him home is wearing. It’s a wedding ring, Minho assumes. Since not only the stranger’s fleeting sarcasm but also the doctors and nurses confirmed it after checking into his documents.
Minho is 17 but they tell him he’s 27. Minho doesn’t even live in Seoul but they tell him he does. Minho says he isn’t married but they tell him he is. Minho says he wants to go home and he’s brought to the stranger that is his supposed husband and given his discharge papers.
The stranger brings him home, all the while glowering at him, sending taunts that he doesn’t even understand his way. It almost looks like he’s sulking but Minho can’t know for sure. There’s no way for him to know.
The stranger enters into an unfamiliar driveway, opens an unfamiliar door, helps him him take off the unfamiliar jacket and the unfamiliar shoes, puts unfamiliar slippers in front of him to wear, guides him into an unfamiliar living room, tells him to sit on an unfamiliar sofa, puts an unfamiliar glass of water in front of him and tells him to drink up in a way that indicates a familiarity Minho can hear but can not feel. It makes him uncomfortable, the thought that all of this is more familiar with him then he is with all of this; it makes him uncomfortable knowing that the sofa he’s sitting on might have a corner that is silently reserved for him and he can’t even start to guess which corner it might be, that the entrance door might know more of his current daily routine than he himself does, or that the glass in his hand knows more of his current skin then he does, it all makes him terribly uncomfortable. How is he expected to act when he’s given to a stranger who claims to know more about him than he himself does and put into the house of that stranger of which he doesn’t even know the distance from the home he remembers because he doesn’t know where they are. How is he supposed to act. He doesn’t know. So he just awkwardly takes a sip from the glass in his hand and refuses to meet the scrutinising eyes of the stranger.
“So,” the stranger starts, “as you have received confirmation you might finally believe that I am your actual lawful husband, “ he sounds a little smug for some reason.
Minho doesn’t reply, doesn’t even meet his eyes.
“This is our house. Well, we’re still paying off the mortgage but y’know it is still pretty impressive we can afford even this much in this economy. It’s really bad, the economy I mean,” the stranger, Seungmin trails off and gets a little hesitant; he seems to be thinking of what to say and when he finally finds something he continues, “We’ve been married for only two years as of now. But we dated for 5 years before that. So we’ve been together for 7 years,” he nods to himself in thought and then suddenly fully turns towards Minho and says, “You know we got to know each other at 18. Only a year after 17. It makes me think you did this on purpose, are you doing this on purpose? Like this is so annoying. Do you think it makes sense that you forgot your own husband? Like everything?”
Minho can tell he’s not trying to accuse him or blame him but is just…throwing a fit? He doesn’t know how he knows but for some reason he can tell. It makes him uncomfortable.
When Minho doesn’t reply, Seungmin rolls his eyes at him and clicks his tongue, “I’m not gonna let this slide once you remember, I’m telling you now. I’ll make you sleep on the couch, not even the guest room will be allowed,” Seungmin threatens, like he usually threatens. It is one of those useless, meaningless threats in name that both of them know is just there for the sake of it. Neither of them has ever slept on the couch, or even any place other than their shared bed, not even once, at least not because of fights.
Minho doesn’t retaliate, doesn’t say something like ‘You can try.’ or even ‘I’d like to remind you that I paid this month’s mortgage. Henceforth, the house belongs to me this month. As the owner of the house I shall only sleep in the master bedroom.’. He doesn’t say anything at all, doesn’t even look in his direction.
Seungmin clears his already clear throat and tries to alleviate the awkward atmosphere, “Uhm well, you must be tired. I’ll show you the bedroom so you can rest,” he gets up and waits for Minho.
Minho holds the papers and the plastic bag and follows Seungmin.
Seungmin walks around the house and into the room with familiarity, the same familiarity that Minho also should have. But all such thoughts immediately disappear when Seungmin points to the bed and says, “You sleep on this side, I sleep on this one. That door-”
“We sleep together?” Minho can’t help but to lose some of the colour on his face.
Seungmin turns to him, stunned. He composes himself and nods stiffly, “We’re married,” he says as if that justifies everything, as if he’s saying something as obvious as ‘The day is bright and the night is dark.’.
Minho fidgets in place, not knowing how to say or even what to say. He opens his mouth and closes it repeatedly, trying to find the right words but then Seungmin speaks first, “You can sleep in the guestroom if you’d like,” he says in a small voice, as if even he himself doesn’t want to hear those words, “Until your memories come back anyway,” he finishes more firmly.
Minho nods, “Yes, please.”
Seungmin almost flinches at the formality of his words. He walks a lot more slowly, a lot less assuredly to the guest room. He shows Minho the guest room and leaves to get Minho something to eat.
Minho hesitantly sits down and opens the plastic bag to retrieve his phone. It’s locked, obviously. He doesn’t remember the password, obviously. He lets it fall on the bed out of frustration and sighs. Perhaps Seungmin knows the password but he cringes at the thought of him knowing the password. He gets up to find some clothes to change into but there are no clothes in the wardrobe and he doesn’t want to go back to the previous room so he sits back down and sighs in frustration yet again.
It takes Seungmin a while to return with the porridge that he puts on the bedside table for Minho. Minho thanks him briefly and Seungmin glances at the phone on the bed. He points to it and says, “The password is 75369,” then he picks it up, unlocks it, scrolls through it, turns the screen to Minho and says, “This is my number,” he shows him a contact saved as ‘ASeungmin’. Minho grits his teeth in irritation but only nods.
“You can also unlock it with your fingerprint,” Seungmin continues.
That catches Minho’s attention, “With my fingerprint?” he blinks his eyes.
“Yeah,” Seungmin shows him with his own fingerprint on his own phone.
Minho tries it on his phone as well and is fascinated.
Seungmin chuckles, “It even has facial recognition but you don’t have that turned on.”
Minho nods though he doesn’t fully understand. He looks at the wallpaper and gets a little excited, “Is this my cat?” he asks hopefully.
“Kinda?” Seungmin replies, “It’s the stray cat you feed every evening. It only lets you pet, I haven’t been able to give it even a boop until now,” he then turns to him fully as if remembering something, “I’ve seen it cheating on you twice already though,” he leans in as if he’s telling a secret, “You know that grandma that lives at the end of the street?”
Minho doesn’t know.
“I’ve seen the cat being all snuggly with her. I thought she only liked you.”
Minho nods awkwardly, “Then, today, did the cat go hungry?”
“I checked while I was cooking but it’s not there. But I don’t think you have to worry. Who knows how many dinners that cat manages to have with that cute little face. There was this time we saw it eating nextdoor and then it came straight to our house and whined as if it hadn’t eaten in days,” Seungmin still seemed flabbergasted by the cat but he was also obviously fond.
“So it won’t go hungry, right?” Minho takes a bite of his porridge.
“Most probably it won’t,” Seungmin then turns silent and inadvertently stares at Minho, at how he refuses to meet his eyes and how his everything is a clear indication of his uncomfort.
The thing is, Seungmin has never needed the world for himself, he has never wanted it. Besides, he's not really fond of the world either. If he doesn't have something, he can never lose it.
It's why he refuses to see Minho as his world. Because really, Minho isn't his world. Because Minho, Seungmin is terribly fond of him. So Minho isn't his world but he is the comfortable weight of a ring around Seungmin's left ring finger, he is the cold coffee Seungmin unfailingly gets to drink in the mornings no matter how late he might be running, he is the warm dinner Seungmin gets to eat in the evenings, he is the quick peck that lands on his lips in the doorway when Seungmin is putting his shoes on and if his lips are out of reach then the crown of Seungmin's head, he is the breath that brushes against Seungmin’s neck as he sleeps at night, he is the hand Seungmin’s hand unconsciously reaches for, he is the shoulder Seungmin cries on, he is the neck Seungmin nuzzles in, he is comfort and he is affection and he is warmth and he is not the world. Because Minho is not part of the world, he is a part of Seungmin, he is the permanent ring mark on Seungmin’s left ring finger despite it having been only two years since the ring lays there.
And just like there is a ring mark on his finger, there is one on Minho’s finger too. But unlike Seungmin’s finger, there is no longer a ring on Minho’s finger to cover the mark.
Seungmin had glanced at Minho while Minho stared at the ring in the plastic bag as they were driving home, Minho had touched the ring through the plastic. But he hadn’t put it on, hasn’t put it on.
And the thing is that it doesn’t really matter, not right now. Because all he wants to do is pull Minho into his arms, caress his hair and tell him that it will all be alright, tell him that he can take his time, tell him that Seungmin is and will be patient, tell him that he is still just as much a part of Seungmin as he has been, tell him that there is no way Seungmin is going to be disappointed by this absurd situation, tell him that Seungmin is going to love him through it, tell him that he trusts Minho, he will trust Minho no matter how this situation develops, tell him that they can pull through this together.
But the thing is, the actual thing is, that all of this would provide comfort to a Minho who remembers, not to one who doesn’t. Because there is no way the present Minho would find his touch comfortable or his words comforting; he can barely meet Seungmin’s eyes, even when he does they’re brimming with unease.
So what will it even mean to the present Minho if he tells him that everything will be alright, that together they will manage, that Seungmin will still love him through it and trust him through it. It will mean nothing, or maybe it will increase the unease in his eyes instead of decreasing it.
So what exactly can he do in this absurd situation where he can not provide comfort to his comfort, what can he do when he himself is probably the biggest source of discomfort for Minho.
He almost wants to caress the corner of his eye and ask him, “What can I do to ease you right now?” But there is no way he can do that because there is no way he can leave if Minho asks him to.
So he doesn’t pull Minho into his arms, doesn’t caress the corner of his eye, doesn’t even reach for him. He just says, “It will be alright,” he tries to make his smile as reassuring as he can, “You will be fine,” he stops there.
He wishes Minho a goodnight, tells him to call him if he needs anything and closes the door behind him when he leaves the room.
Seungmin never knew he could feel like he was losing the world despite never wanting it in the first place, despite not once equating Minho to his world. Because perhaps, when you lose a piece of yourself, the world you co-existed with till then becomes a little uninhabitable, becomes a little duller, a little more degraded.
But Seungmin has not lost his world, or even Minho; Seungmin has not lost him, not in a way he can truly call a loss or claim to have lived a loss. He is on the verge of it, there but not quite, there but not really; perhaps it is only a matter of time until he will be there but he simply refuses to be there but not yet.