Missing Spots and Bobby Pins
-San x Reader
-Angst, Happy ending
-TW: mention of car accident, amnesia, hospital
-An accident turned his life upside down. San thought everything was finally returning to normal yet he couldn't help but chase the missing spots in his life.
There was a particular feeling San was looking for the moment he stepped foot in the place he had yearned for the past 3 months. 3 long months laid in the cold, hard bed and breathing in the sterile air of the hospital. He had been longing for the warmth and coziness of his own bed, of his own home. He had been counting down the days, body aching but he pushed through physical therapy just to shorten the days heâd get to be home. Yet as the front door creaked open, San was suddenly hit with a foreign feeling that made the hair on the back of his neck raise in caution.
The air was stale. The kind of stale that made his brain nosing for a spot of molds or stains that had been left uncleaned for too long. His mind searched the familiar furniture basking in the golden sunlight of a warm afternoon, yet it was like someone had put a cold, blue filter over his eyes. He was so sure this was what he had wanted all the restless nights laying in his hospital bed. This was his house, his key worked, his friends walked in as if they had been coming and going for years. Various pictures of himself and his friends, his family were still on the shelves. Bright smiles on the colorful frames greeting him as he plunged himself into the icy cold atmosphere of the living room. Wooyoung had carried the random knick knack he had somehow accumulated in the few months he made the hospital room his home down the hallway, no doubt putting them away safely in his bedroom. San was still hesitating by the doorway, eyes trying their best to study the stillness of the room. Everything looked familiar. Everything was just as he left it, albeit a bit dusty from the weeks of silence. Yet why did nothing feel the same. That particular feeling San was looking for was nowhere to be found. Everything was so cold, sterile, and uneasy as if he had just stepped into a morgue. Seonghwa came up behind him, a gentle hand on his shoulder and San felt as if a ghost had just come to rapture his soul to the netherworld. The older man asked if he was alright and he nodded. Nodded because he didnât even know where to begin or what he was even feeling. How can he accurately describe the queasiness in his stomach and this restless feeling in his heart. He didnât know either how to explain this alienness he was feeling even though he recognized every nook and cranny of the place. He didnât want his friends to be concerned, to bring him back to the hospital again because an unfamiliar home was still better than the hospital.
Hongjoong called out from the kitchen, urging him to sit down for a meal. San glanced up at the clock seemingly thundering with each tick of the second hand. 7:30 PM. There was an urgency in his chest to do something but he couldnât recall what. That was normal now. San had made peace with the fact that he might not remember everything and that uncomfortable feeling of not being able to remember was something he had to be okay with. What else could he do? It wasnât like he wanted to get into that accident or to hit his head so hard he was in a coma for almost a month. He didnât ask either to forget a big chunk of his life when he had finally woken up. As he sat down at the dining room table, his hand moved to pull the chair right next to his own out of habit. Yeosang sat down with a quick thank you and a protest was teetering on Sanâs lips. Why did he want to protest against Yeosang taking that seat? He couldnât remember why but he knew he had pulled that chair out for someone else. As Jongho plopped a big plate of food in front of his spot and urged him once more to eat, San forced a smile on his lips before slowly digging in. Mingi was still rushing about the kitchen, hands busied with this and that making a big ruckus. A big cuss left his lips as he touched the hot kettle, frustration earning a small chuckle from the other boys who had now settled into the dining table. Confusion fell endlessly from Mingiâs lips and San had begun to urge him to ask for help from⌠From who? A name was just there, on the tip of his tongue yet as soon as he began verbalizing it, it was gone. Frustration vexed in his head through another round of headache, as if someone was jackhammering at the wall partitioning his memories. Who was he about to tell Mingi to ask for help? Who else would know this kitchen as well as he did? As far as he could remember, he lived here alone before the accident. San shook his head with a small smile on his lips when he caught the 7 pairs of eyes strained on him, almost as if they too were waiting for that name to come from his lips. Yet when they all came to the common realization that they too were just chasing a ghost, they all quietly returned to their food. The boys ate in silence. In some ways, San was thankful for that. He just needed company without the endless questions of whether or not he remembered some random facts.
When dinner was all tucked away and the boys were satisfied with the amount of food their best friend had consumed, they finally let San head out to the living room. Yunho had pulled San into a game of Mario Kart, Jongho and Yeosang joined, turning it into a huge chaotic match. They played till nearly midnight, Seonghwa was busy cleaning and dusting the house even though they all urged him to come play a game. Hongjoong too joined in, although the boys were giggling about how he was just in Seonghwaâs way. San smiled up at his friends. They had been best friends for so long but his memories vaguely recalled the shy whispers and not so secretive hand holding the days leading up to his accident. He can very clearly remember the way Hongjoong wrapped his arms around an exhausted Seonghwa camping by Sanâs bed. He swore he saw the smaller man pressing encouraging soft kisses to Seonghwaâs soft skin when he thought San was too tired to pay attention. Mingi called out to their friends still cleaning⌠Well, Seonghwa was cleaning. Hongjoong was more so just shuffling about awkwardly. Mingi told them it was okay to be a little more obvious, which earned a big side eye from the older men. Everyone burst out in laughter and San too found a chuckle rumbling in his chest. Yet just as soon as that little bit of happiness emerged in his heart, a sudden ear piercing ringing took control. Flashes of a smile, bright sunlight, soft hands fighting his own large one for the broom⌠Images flashed across his mind like some happy compilation before a tragedy in a movie of a tragic love. That voice, so clear in his mind calling out his name. He couldnât quite place it but that feeling, the feeling he had been looking for echoed in his heart though it was so brief, so momentarily it left him numb. When he had come to, his friends had now gathered around him. Jongho had a firm grip on his body as Wooyoung and Yunho gently patted his shoulders and back. They were concerned. San understood but he didnât want to keep being looked at like a vulnerable child that couldnât function on his own. So he smiled, feigned excuses about too many activities for the first night home. He had a feeling his friends didnât believe him but they all quietly whispered to let him rest. It was already ticking 1AM afterall.
One by one they filed out of the house. Each hugged him as if he was standing in between the veil of life and death. They told him theyâd come by tomorrow whether or not he wanted it and San just thanked them. Where would he be without all his friends and how grateful he was that they all stuck through with him. There was a strange look in Yeosangâs eyes, like there was something he wanted to remind San of but he held back. Hongjoong just looked⌠sad. He had been looking at San like heâd disappeared any second now. San had thought it was just because Hongjoong had been regarding himself as the dad of the group, taking care of all their needs without ever saying anything. Yet when San had mentioned how grateful he was to have such a beautiful group of friends that would do everything for him, there was an inexplicable sadness that swallowed Hoongjoong up. It had mirrored that odd look so obvious on Yeosangâs features so perfectly, almost as if they had rehearsed it. San wanted to shake them by their shoulders and tortured it out of them but he knew they were holding back for his sake. So he said his goodbye, promising to text the group chat the second he woke up.
The peculiar feeling he was searching for had been forgotten for the last few hours was now very obviously missing. As he clicked the door lock, San let his eyes fall over the house that was by no means large⌠Yet there was a vast emptiness that San couldnât explain. For once San was glad his body was exhausted. Even if his mind was still racing against the stream of mismatched memories, out of place and out of time, his body was tired enough that he might actually sleep tonight. San shuffled down the hallway toward his bedroom for the first time in months. He let his hands run along the length of the wall as he passed by, glad he was once more home. Yet as his finger reached the edge of a picture frame on the wall, that sinking feeling was once more so heavy in his chest. San looked up at the series of pictures strewn strategically to cover the span of his wall like a museum. His childhood pictures, family pictures, friend pictures, Taekwondo tournament pictures, graduation pictures, vacation pictures⌠He smiled up at all the familiar faces, thankful he had so many people in his corner. Then he saw it. The empty spots. He tried to convince himself it was just spots he hadnât filled up yet. But the longer he stared, the more out of place they became. Something was here, intentionally here. The slight outline of the frame was stark against the dustiness surrounding it. If there was one thing that so perfectly captured what his mind was like this very moment, it was this. All his memories, laid out of order, so obvious yet there were those missing spots. They werenât large. Just holes here and there, a blurry face, an echoing voice, a warmth he missed. They werenât large at all yet the weight of them was dragging him to the depth of hell that he couldnât remember what was there. They were like a blackhole, unassuming and stagnant. Yet the more he tried to look into them, the bigger they became sucking away all his happiness and security.
As San stood there staring up at those missing photos, he felt that ringing creeping up in the back of his brain. He better get ready for bed before he passed out right there on the spot. He forced himself to look away, to stop searching for the ghost of something he wasnât even sure was real. But it was like a car wreck, morbid but he couldnât help but look and pray that things will turn out okay. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as his reflection stared back at himself in the mirror. He looked haggard. The San from his memory had been so happy, cheeks full, muscles toned but most of all, his smile had reached his eyes. San gave a half assed grin and felt empty. He went on to brush his teeth, wash his face, shower and it sounded silly but he was happy he hadnât forgotten how to keep up with his hygiene. Refreshed, he reached up to wipe the steam from the mirror and was glad the man staring back now had a bit more color to his cheeks. Muscle memories told him to open up the cabinet behind the mirror so he did. Various bottles of skin care and hair care strewn about the cabinet. There it was again⌠The empty spots. San shook his head, trying his best to push away that nagging feeling biting in the back of his mind. Yet as he reached for the lotion, his fingertips brushed past that coldness. It scared him, not because it was a strange feeling or something gross. It scared him because it felt familiar, too familiar. He reached for it, eyes closing as he brought it up closer to his face. A bobby pin? Eyebrow furrowed, he was completely thrown off because why would he need a bobby pin⌠He searched about the cabinet. There, another one tucked behind the bottle of hair serum he didnât remember buying. Then another one, fell in between the crack of the hand soap and faucet of the sink. He ran to his bedroom, ignoring the rib sticking pain in his abdomen and the advice to avoid sudden fast movement that his PT had told him. San rummage through the dresser, the closet, the desk, the bed, under the bed⌠For every empty spot he found, there was another bobby pin. It was as if all these missing spots in his house, all these missing holes in his memories had materialized themselves into the tiny bobby pins that had scattered around every single room in his house. San didnât know why but he began to hunt them down.
By the time the clock had reached 3:17AM, he had a healthy pile neatly laid out in the middle of his bed. He sat there, eyes burning holes into the little metal pins that should mean nothing but he felt like they meant everything. As San stared about the room that should be warm, should be cozy, he felt nothing. It was his home but currently it felt like nothing more than four walls, floor, and a ceiling with some furniture in it. He couldnât ignore the silhouette of missing items any longer. There was clearly a picture frame on his nightstand. There were clearly clothes in half of his closet. There was clearly someone in the spot right next to him in bed⌠It was driving him insane. Then he thought about the quiet whispers and hushed conversation between Hongjoong and Seonghwa as the taller man was rushing to wipe down every surface in his place. Why did he suddenly begin cleaning at nearly midnight as if he was Cinderella doing her best to make it in time for the ball. So he rushed out, eyes frantically searching for any spot that hadnât been clean. He mentally cussed himself for not questioning it earlier because when Seonghwa cleaned, even hell would sparkle. His body crashed about the room, pain emanating from where he couldnât even tell anymore. San flipped over every piece of furniture, books thrown from their shelves, His body dropped onto the floor out of exhaustion, his throat constricting, heavy gasps, desperate for oxygen. Tears had begun welling in his eyes out of desperation, out of anger. His hand went up to his chest, the pain that was searing his skin was not one he had earned from the accident. It was the one he felt after his first love had cheated on him. It was one that he had felt when he had to part way with his college girlfriend when she left overseas. It was one that he had felt during his hospital stay but he couldnât remember why. A scream tore through the stillness of the house. San was at his breaking point. His hands went up to slap his head furiously, over and over again. How could he be so useless, so goddamn useless he couldnât remember someone that left him paralyzed with just a pile of bobby pins and empty spots scattered about his home. That person wasnât even here and he could feel the viscousness of yearning, of missing a ghost choking him. Most days San was happy he had woken up from the accident. He was happy to see the smile on his parentsâ face, on his siblingâs face, and on his friendsâ face. Yet he couldnât help but let his eyes searched just beyond their shoulders, in the background, out of the corner of his eyes. Something was missing but he blamed it all on being in a coma. Then there were days, days like this very moment where he felt so helpless. It was as if someone tied all his limbs up with invisible string. The more he struggled the tighter it got. There was a cage over his heart and his soul was withering away longing for something that was just a blurry figure in his memories. Moments like these made him wish he hadnât walked away from the accident. He screamed and wailed but that only made his frustration worse for he didnât even know what name he should call out for. Then he saw it. The tiniest sparkle just in the corner of his eyes. He grasped onto it, like a tiny flame of hope, like a life jacket thrown over his body while he was lost in the stormy sea. Crawling on his hands and knees, San frantically searched every fiber of the rug covering the expanse of his living room. He ignored the searing pain in his knees and the aching that was settling comfortably in his chest. He couldnât stop now, not when he was so close. Then he saw it. One tiny earring, so small yet it felt like he had found water in the vast, searing emptiness of a desert. He put it up close to his eyes, studying the small ruby set in gold, dainty next to a delicate star.
There it was again. That voice, so soft, so sweet echoing about the room. San searched the empty walls in panic, chasing that feeling he had been looking for.
âItâs fine, baby. I can just buy you another pair.â His voice, piercing. He shut his eyes, fearing any distraction would erase all the progress he had made.
âNo⌠San~â The way that voice had whined his name felt like a warm apple pie in the slight bite of Autumn weather. It felt like a warm hug on a frigid winter night. It felt like holidays spent with loved ones. It felt like home. San began to chase the memory, the blurry figure mirroring the franticness he possessed just a second ago as it searched the room. âI know you can buy me another pair. This one is special though.â
âHey, loveâŚâ The memory version of himself had just closed his arms around the shivering figure, San too closed his arms around his own body. He could feel it, home. It was home. The figure immediately let its head fall into his chest, immediately stilling in his hold.
âI hate myself, how could I be so careless.â
âBaby, no, donât do that. Things happened. Itâs just some metal and rock, we can get new ones. Donât beat yourself up over this.â
âMetal and rock⌠It was the first ever gift my amazing boyfriend gave me. I canât replace 7 years worth of memories.â Eyes strained, San was so lost in that little whine, the little pout⌠Wait, the pout. He still couldnât make out every feature of the figure but that pout, how could he have forgotten that pout.
âYou still have one of them, that gotta count for something right? And as long as we have each other, memories are never ending.â As the memory of himself pressed a small kiss on that adorable pout, San felt it. The soft kisses of a lazy Sunday morning. The passionate kisses of late nights entangling in blankets. The comforting kisses after a long day of work. The loving kisses in the quiet moment of being home cooking dinner together. All the emotions were like steroids to his heart and soul, he was so overwhelmed but San couldnât let go. He was clinging on to this memory like a lifeline.
âI love you so much, San.â
âI love you too, sweetheart.â
As the memory closed out, the echoing in his mind was now filled with âI love youâ. The first time he had said âI love youâ. The desperate âI love youâ after an argument. The lustful âI love youâ as he drew out another moan. The gentle âI love youâ when things were quiet against the pattering raindrops against the window. They were all echoing, playing all at once in his mind, tearing into his skin. San was choking, gasping for air but he was right where he wanted to be. 7 years worth of love was crashing down on him, cracking his bones with its weight. Flashes of body parts, of features, of voices, of smiles were once more haunting his consciousness. As the voice faded out, San once more laid abuse on his tired mind, willing it to come back. Then he saw it. The box that Wooyoung had settled down earlier before rushing his personal things into his bedroom. What did he say it was again? Personal effects? Right, his things that the police had collected from the pile of twisted metals that was once his car and given back to his family after the accident.
Never before had he felt such conviction in his heart as he rushed to open up the box laid neatly in the corner. San didnât even know what he was looking for but just that his heart would know. Various pens, mints, sunglasses, random knick knacks that had previously occupied his car laid messily inside the box. He dug through reckless abandon as he searched aimlessly. Then a sudden pang ripped through his heart and it nearly felt like his life was nearly ending for a second time. Face pale and skin clammy with cold sweat. His fingers shakily reached out to the tiny box hiding just beneath his blood stained sweater⌠Though the box lay lifeless, San couldnât help but hesitate to reach for it as if it was a monster resting peacefully. The sigh that had been heavy in his chest the entire night finally being exhaled into the cold air of 4:35AM. He had to do it. This was the piece of puzzle that he had been searching for. One step forward then two steps back, nearly 5 minutes had passed before his fingers ghosted against the blue velvet fabric covering the tiny box. His mind was screaming for his body to move with haste yet his heart was losing courage fast. He knew what was in the box. His soul knew with utmost certainty that his life, his future was contained neatly in the tiny thing held so tightly in his hand. YetâŚWould it make any difference if he opened it up? What difference would it make really if he couldnât even remember whose hand was the ring supposed to rest upon?
For the first time since arriving home, San let his weary body rested upon the couch he had so carelessly pushed aside not long ago. He held the box up in the air, moonlight enveloped the velvet in its silvery wisp. It had been nearly an hour now since he found the key that could unlock the dark pit of his life. He was scared. San was so fearful that this anticipation bubbling in his chest would vanish the second he opened the little thing up. What if he opens it up only to find nothing, feelings numbed just as they had been since he opened up his eyes to the cold light of the hospital. What if this nightmare never ends and he would have to live the rest of his life without that sweet voice and delicate smile. What if he never recalls the person that had loved him so much a mere earring sent them into a frantic fit? Thousands of scenarios were flashing through his mind, all the ways his future could play out and it all led back to one thing⌠The ring inside that box. He was so close to having the family he always wanted. So why, why was life so cruel to rip it away from him like this. The tears that should have fallen long ago finally welled up in his eyes as his fingers moved to creak open the box⌠If the emotions that had come to him when he recalled the kisses and the âI love youâ were rain to a drought, this was a flash food, a hurricane, a tsunami washing over every fiber of his being. San was overwhelmed, so overwhelmed that he had fallen off his couch onto his knees. The flashes of body parts, of features, of voices, of smiles were strobing through his mind just as it had but this time⌠This time all the pieces finally connected as he clutched the diamond ring sparkling so brightly in the moonlight close to his heart. Suddenly the fear that had weighed down his body when he saw the bright headlight of the car that had nearly stolen his life came back like flood waves. He was fearful, so, so afraid but it wasnât death he was afraid of. He was afraid of never seeing you again. He was afraid of never being able to give you the life he had promised so long ago. He was afraid of making you cry. A loud sob tore through the silence of the house as all the memories that had been missing came rushing back. It was true what they said, that life would flash before his eyes once he was on deathâs door. Except for San it wasnât life that had flashed before his eyes, it was your love. Your love didnât make him feel invincible or that nothing could ever go wrong. He knew that wasnât realistic. Your love was the kind of love that was steady and warm. The kind that he knew even on the worst days of his life, it would lift him up from the depth of hell and hold him tightly. It wasnât that he would be invincible, it was that being loved by you made San feel like he could face any trial, any tribulation head on without fear. Life could still hurt him but it didnât matter if he could go home to you at the end of the night. He called out to you, once, then twice, then the pain that had been masked by all the adrenaline coursing through his veins finally came through. He cried out in pain, in happiness, in missing you.
He found you.
Just then his phone rang out, loud and piercing. San struggled his way over, pushing his body far past its limit as he saw Seonghwaâs name flashing brightly on his screen. Seonghwa always knew, call it higher intuition or whatever but any time one of the boys were in trouble, Seonghwa always knew. His vision went white with pain as his index finger barely made contact with the phone screen. Your name was the only thing he had muttered before the world went dark. Frantic calls of his name fell from the speaker but San was gone, exhaustion finally caught him.
The next moment he opened his eyes, the sight assaulting bright light of the hospital room was once more what greeted him back to life. San groaned, body felt like he had gone through a wood chipper. Yet as he struggled to sit up against the protest of 7 boys nearly screaming at him to lay back down, there was a strange clarity in his heart. San stared wide eyes at the boys hanging on by a thread, bated breaths beaming back at him. He could tell there were so many questions they wanted to ask him but alas, Seonghwa had shooed them all away. Reluctantly, one by one they left the room. San watched on, wincing as that familiar blinding headache once more tore through his head. Seonghwa rushed back to his side, still silent yet eyes strained on Sanâs every movement.
âStop staring at me like Iâm going to drop dead any second now, HwaâŚâ San chuckled, taking a glass of water from his friend that was still staring at him with. Perplexity was plaguing his sharp features.
âDo you remember anything from last night?â He asked with an almost impossible carefulness, as if one wrong word would finally crack his best friend.
âYea. I called you, right before I passed out, right?â San chuckled, he was forgetful but he wasnât THAT forgetful.
âRightâŚâ Seonghwa gritted through his teeth. Wrong answer. That wasnât the answer Seonghwa was looking for.
âIs⌠Is there something I should remember?â The clarity that had been so warm and cozy was now being replaced with uneasiness. As he studied Seonghwaâs expression, San felt like something big had happened. Something big enough to rattle his usually calm friend to the core. He had only seen his friend this bothered twice⌠Once when Yeosang had gone off the grid after a particularly hard stretch at work, and the second was playing out right in front of his eyes this very second. âSeonghwa⌠If something happened last night, you need to tell me right now.â
âThink, San. What were you doing before you passed outâŚâ San was frustrated. He was so tired of all the half truth and hidden words. He knew his friends meant well but sometimes San wished theyâd just come right out and say whatever it was that had them avoiding his eyes. None of them knew how unfair it was, to live a life that everyone else seemingly knew more details than he did.
âI showered, went through my luggagesâŚâ What was that? Just there, flashing through his mind like static.
âI know it hurts when you push it but I really need you to think. What did you do after that?â Seonghwa let his body crash onto the edge of the bed, hands reaching out to hold Sanâs, squeezing so hard his fingers were digging harshly into his skin.
âI found your bobby pinsâŚ?â The memories of himself digging through his entire room suddenly came flooding back. Why did he do that? Why was he so sure those tiny pins belong to seonghwa? âTheyâre yours right?â When his eyes finally lifted to meet his friends, Seonghwa was slowly shaking his head. âIf theyâre not yours then who? No one in our group had hair long enough to use those stupid things. They were everywhere, like goddamn glitter. Just tell me what you saw when you came over last nightâŚPlease.â Anger was slowly surging in his heart, bubbling so close to the surface San felt like he was teetering on the edge of throwing up all the food he had eaten the night before. âPlease!â
âWhen I came in, your living room was a mess. Everything was thrown everywhere. It genuinely looked like a tornado had gone through.â The more he listened, the more confused he became. Why would he disrespect his friends like that? They had all spent so long cleaning up his house to prepare for his return. âI called an ambulance for you. When I went to your room to pack you some clothesâŚâ Seonghwa's voice trailed out, ominous, as if he was about to speak of some forbidden tale.
âWhat? What is it? Just spit it out, Hwa. At this rate, Iâm never going to remember anything if you guys all tiptoed around me like Iâm made of glass.â He knew it wasnât kind to blow up this way when all his friends wanted was to help but San was beyond his breaking point. His body was healing but his mind was slowly deteriorating. He couldnât take it anymore.
âI saw the pile of bobby pins you left on your bed. San⌠None of us had ever stayed at your house long enough to leave bobby pins everywhere. Who do you think those belong to?â The reminder of what he had left behind had San stammering in confusion. âIt wonât mean anything if I tell you what happened. We tried that, we tried telling you everything you were missing but it meant nothingâŚYou have to remember it yourself.â Seonghwa too was desperate, San could tell very clearly by the way his brows furrowed and how his lips were being chewed to shreds.
Shower. Bobby pins. Luggage. Closet. Living room. Like a mantra, San muttered it to himself over and over until he was nothing more than a madman repeating things without any result. The words themselves began to lose meaning. The clarity that had steeled so strongly in his mind was nothing more than static. It was as if his brain was switching between channels, doing its best to hone in on the missing spot in his memories but all he was getting was the buzzing of statics. Missing spots. As he thought about all the missing spots in his memories, the image of the gallery wall in his hallway came rushing back.
âSeonghwa, did you remove pictures from my wall while you were cleaning?â At the mention of missing frames, Seonghwa lit up. It was bright, hope was at the edge of his smile as he leaned in closer.
âIt wasnât me. Those frames were gone long before we came. Think, San! Youâre almost there. Who would remove the pictures?â
âI-â baffled, San once more repeating his mantra in his mind, this time the missing pictures were included. âWho asked you to clean up the house when I got home?â The memory of Hongjoong aggressively whispering as Seonghwaâs quick hands dusting every surface of the living room came rushing back. The slight feeling when Yeosang had jumped into the chair he had pulled out at the dining table, the name that was teetering on the tip of his tongue when Mingi was struggling in the kitchen⌠They all came back just as the nauseating feeling in his heart.
âThe same person that had taken those pictures. The same person whose name you said last night on the phone with me.â Seonghwa could see it, his friend was so close to the conclusion he had come to all on his own the night before. Just a bit more and he could finally let go of all the things he had held himself back from saying. âSan, I know you can do it. You did it last night all on your own.â
San tried, he really tried but all he saw beyond his friendâs hopefulness was the bright light of the other car before his life was turned upside down. The warm feeling of blood dripping down his forehead as he laid there, being held up only by his seatbelt was still so real. Muffles of passerby calling out to him, telling him to hang on and that help was coming soon mingled with the siren of the first responder echoed still in his mind. He remembered the noise, that god awful metal crunching noise as the firefighters tore the car apart to get him out. He could lose his memories a million times over and he could never forget that noise. Yet beyond all the chaos, beyond the shouting of the nurses and doctors, just at the edge of pain and discomfort there was something so warm and fuzzy. His vision was blurring and darkening but he remembered seeing the flashes of the light on the ceiling of the hospital hallway as they rushed his gurney to the operating room. Just as the night before, he held onto that feeling. San was slowly beginning to understand why he kept looking beyond his friendsâ shoulder, searching the space out of the corner of his eyes. He was slowly understanding because as afraid as he was thinking back of that night, he could feel a presence so bright and happy, like a guardian angel soothing his pain away. He held on and shut his eyes, his hands holding onto Seonghwaâs tightly. Whispers of his name began to color his memories golden. âSan. San, baby.â That feeling he had the night before was clear now, his heart finally locked onto the channel he had been aimlessly searching for. Even as cold as the hospital was, as cold as his limbs were from the blood loss, his hand was never cold. His hand was never cold because you were always there with him. You were the anchor that steady him, the thread that guided him back from deathâs grip. Your endless calling of his names, the kisses you laid on his skin, the way you never let go of his hands. You held onto him in the vast ocean of hurt. You were the one constant in his life. You were the missing spots and the bobby pins were the keys to remind him that he can always come back to you no matter how far, or how long he had been lost.
âThe ring! Whereâs the ring?â
San shot up from his bed. Nevermind the pain, nevermind that he had just scared his friends shitless. He found you, again. He found you. Seonghwa rushed to grab his bag, frantically shoving the small box into Sanâs shaky hands. Neither breathed, eyes strained on the small box. They shared a hopeful look before Seonghwa gripped Sanâs shoulder for support. San hadnât even realized he had been holding his breath but as he nodded to steady his own nerve, a long sigh of relief finally exhaled.
âHwa⌠Whereâs Y/n?â As his eyes studied the ring he had spent so long dreaming up, San finally felt all the pieces of his life connected. All the longing, the feeling of missing home, the feeling of the vast emptiness in his life, they were all you. âOh my God. Y/n⌠whereâs Y/n?â The moment your name came tumbling out from his lips, that head splitting headache was once more badgering in his brain. He had to persist, had to. He found you, again. There was no way he would let you slip out of his fingers one more time so he repeated your name, over and over. When the rest of the boys returned, they all stared at him in shock. Shock because he truly looked like an insane person repeating your name over and over again⌠Shock because this was the first time they had heard him say your name out of his own volition in over 3 months. They all rushed forward but Seonghwa signaled for them to stay silent. The 7 boys watched on as San continued his mantra, as if he could manifest you out of thin air if he said your name enough times. Then suddenly a string of numbers fell from his lips, over and over again. They all stared at each other in confusion before Wooyoung pulled out his phone to type in the numbers.
âShit, heâs saying Y/nâs phone number.â San was still sitting there, wide eyes in shock watching as all his friends crashed into each other in a chaotic mess of hugs and tears.
âWhereâs my phone? Why donât I have Y/nâs pictures in my phone?â His hands frantically patted around his beds, clutching the phone Jongho had just rushed into his hands. The unfamiliar background staring back at him like a bad omen.
âYour phone broke, San. We tried to repair it but it had cracked nearly all the way through. Your parents got you a new phone. We couldnât get into your account to restore anything. We didnât want to force you while you were weak so we left your phone as is.â Hongjoong explained.
âThen⌠How come she hadnât visited me at all? Is she mad at me?â The thought of you being angry with him was far worse than any pain he felt. You would never leave him, not when he was in such a state. What could he possibly have done that had driven you off this way?
âSan⌠She did. Slept right beside you the entire time you were in the coma. She wouldnât leave. We had to physically drag her away from you just to get her to eat.â
The boys took turns explaining the missing months he had spent in the hospital. You were a wreck, far worse than anyone couldâve anticipated. The first night you sat in front of the operating room, the entire 7 hours long it had taken the doctors to bring San back to life. Everyone tried but all their words fell on deaf ears. It was as if your soul were tied to Sanâs, physically grounding you the hard plastic chair of the waiting area. They wished they could say that the first few nights were the hardest, but that wouldâve been an egregious lie. The entire month San had spent laying there in silence, faith unknown, was just as hard on you as when the police had called to inform you of his accident. You didnât eat, you didnât sleep. You held onto his hands and spoke to him as if it was just another casual conversation youâd have at home. You were glued to his side and no one could tell you otherwise. Eventually, all the boys had enough. They called for your friends and together they more or less dragged you out of the room. Although by this point, it didnât take much effort because you were nearly as weak as San was. You cried and begged but when they had reminded you of how upset San would be to see you in this state, it was like a cold glass of water to your face. How could you wish for San to return home if the home he needed was wasting her health and life away sitting by his bed. So you finally listened and slowly returned to your daily routine, but not before everyone had promised that San would never be alone.
As San listened on, he couldnât help but feel his heart shattered in millions of pieces. He was hurt but you too were breaking in your own way. Then what shouldâve been a happy day turned awry. The call that San had woken up came on an unassuming Wednesday afternoon. You had rushed to his hospital room, heart drumming with excitement and happiness. The boys were all gathered in front of the hospital bed and the sound of laughter was crisp against the sweltering heat of a summer day. It all came crashing down when you called his name and all he had to return was a vacant âwho are you?â. Wooyoung had thought San was joking. He was truly angry, sincerely upset yelling at his friend who was still staring blankly at the stranger standing in front of him with tears welling up in her eyes. He had shouted, how cruel could San be when you had nearly thrown your life away just to be here with him. Then as seconds turned into minutes, the realization that this was all very real came down hard. Stories after stories, pictures after pictures, they all crowded the bed in some sort of sick and twisted show and tell. Hope was worn precariously on their sleeves as they all did their best to help him remember. You just sat there, in the same chair you had occupied in all the days when he was deep asleep, exhausted, hurt, and silent. You told Seonghwa you wanted to be angry, but you didnât even know where to find the energy to be angry. Why you? Why out of everyone in this world, the only person he couldnât remember was you? They didnât know what else to do. The doctors had no answers, no one had any answers. So you did the only thing you could do, be the constant in his life. You showed up each day, hope in your eyes and love in your smiles. You doted on his every need and all that did was make San feel guilty. So he told you to leave. You didnât listen at first, of course. The boys too were adamant about you keep coming by, that things would change eventually. Yet they could all see it, the weariness in your smile and how hope was slowly dimming in your eyes. Then they arrived one day to the sound of yelling. You stood there, hopeless and tears streaming down your face, features haggard. San was frustrated, as he had been, but that day was different. He was yelling at you to leave, that nothing would change even if you keep coming for 5, 10, 100 years. You were nothing but a stranger pestering him to remember something his heart clearly didnât want to. That had cut deep, not just for you but for everyone else. They all admired the love you had for San and the way San loved you back. Yet that love was now could be seen by everyone but him. When he looked at you, he genuinely felt nothing but pity⌠Pity that you had looked at him with nothing but hope. Pity that when he looked back at you, all he saw was a stranger. All he felt was guilt when you had cried because you meant nothing to him and beginning to wear him out. San told you to give up because whoever you were looking for had died.
The boys were so angry, San could tell even now that they were still angry. They had let him know it wasnât him they were crossed with. They were upset over how unfair life had been, how everything was such a mess. Yet what could they do if he physically cannot recall the best part of his life. He hadnât asked for this and they knew it, no one did. It was just an unfortunate situation that was out of everyoneâs hands. They didnât blame him, but it changed not the fact they were still hurt hearing those words. There was nothing for them to do but to stand by and watch as San pushed away the one person who will always have his back. The youngest of them all were still very much hurt by the way he could barely look at San. Tears were hot on his cheeks as he continued to listen to the cruel words he had said to you. Suddenly it all made sense, the empty spots on his walls, in his closet, on his bed. You tried your best to be his constant but he didnât let you. So you did the best thing for him, even if it meant ripping your heart from your chest. San sat there disheartened, clutching the box that was supposed to be the key to his future. Seonghwa recalled the last conversation he had with you, how you had asked for a big favor and how apologetic you had been. He hadnât realized how serious the situation had been until he arrived at your shared home with San to see nearly half of everything had gone missing⌠Pictures, mugs, decorations, clothes. You had begged Seonghwa to help you clean up and replace the missing pictures on the wall and he had resisted. He didnât want to erase you completely from sanâs life but you had reminded him that the accident already did. All he would be doing now was cleaning up to prepare San for the best possible life without you. You both held each other and cried until there were no more tears to cry. Even deep in your own hell, you had repeatedly comforted Seonghwa. You had asked him to tell the rest of the guys that it was good enough that San remembered his family, remembered all his friends. It was good enough because you knew San was in good hands. Then you left.
Seonghwa had every intention to clean up and replace the missing pictures that night, he really did. But between Hongjoong arguing with him about how wrong all of this was and San nearly fainting again, he didnât have the chance. They all had left the house that night with heavy hearts. The last time they had gathered was when San asked for help to plan the proposal. Their last dinner together was so hopeful, forever was right there so close they could all taste it. Looking down at the ring sitting in the little box instead of your finger, San understood why Yeosang and Hongjoong had looked so sad that night. He was hurt, yes⌠But not knowing had protected him from all the emotional turmoil everyone else was going through. The world continued on for everyone else while he was blissfully ignorant of all the pain. It had taken San all his strength to not break down in front of his friends. All the emotions they had experienced over the span of months was coursing through his veins all at once, all within the last hour. As San glanced up at the men who had supported him not just physically but emotionally through the roughest time of his life, he was thankful. So thankful to have friends who would keep not just him but the love of his life safe. He whispered a tearful thank you to each one of them, knowing he could never give them back enough. As they watched him type out the string of numbers he had been muttering like an insane person not long ago, they quietly took their leave. The next part heâd have to do himself. Whatever the outcome might be, theyâll be just outside waiting to support him. For now, for just this little bit of the journey, San had to do it alone. Shaky fingers barely hitting the call button, San considered abandoning his phone even before the line could ring. Yet the moment he heard your voice so clear, nothing mattered anymore.
âHi, sweet girlâŚâ The second those words had left his lips, San could feel his heart healing. It felt right, being able to say those words to the love of his life.
âSan?â Your voice barely a whisper, he wondered if you were afraid he might disappear again.
âYea, baby. Guess what? I found your earring!â
The line went quiet and for a second he thought you had hung up. All the things he had said, even if he didnât know what he was doing, even if it was all because of his condition, you still bear all the burden and all the hurt. He wouldnât blame you if you never look at him again. It hurt to see the pain in his friendsâ faces as they recalled the heavy words he had thrown at you. He felt ashamed that he could ever talk to you that way. He had hurt you when all you wanted to do was help, when all you wanted to do was give him the home he had longed for.
âSweetheart?â
Then he heard it, the way his name sounded so sweet, falling so desperately from your lips. You were crying and he too couldnât contain his own tears. For a long while, San sat there listening to you cry over the phone, soaking in the way you were calling for him over and over again just to hear him answer you. He wanted to ask you to come back but he was too fearful still, so he just whispered âI love youâ over and over again until you replied with the words he wanted to hear the most since he found you again.
âI love you so much, San. Wait for me.â
He urged you to take your time, that heâd be here waiting his entire life if it meant youâd be back in his arms again. He had made you wait for far too long and it was now his turn. When his friends had returned, San was a sobbing mess. Gibberish falling from his lips in between little cries of your name. Somewhere in between the 5th time he had repeated your name in desperation and Jongho giving San about every object in the room out of confusion, Yunho had figured out he wanted one of them to accompany you on your way here. So he turned to leave, already on call with you and San nodded fervently, thanking his friends endlessly. They all gathered around him, happy tears dotting their cheeks as they recalled the happier days. They all promised to help you move back into your shared home if San never scared them like this, ever again. It was an easy deal to agree to so they all shook hands in agreement, finally feeling the lightness and hope for the future.
Reposting because the site glitched and only posted half the text đ
