It took him a moment to regain his balance, reaching out blindly to steady himself as he came into awareness. As always, there was a disorienting moment that forced him to take stock of where he was and what was going on. The clinic, Zhou Mi and Kyuhyun saying goodbye... He was in a memory, that was right, Donghae’s memory. Looking around, he saw that he was standing on a sidewalk of a provincial suburb, and his hand was resting on a parked car. Eunhyuk glanced around for a sign that might give him a sign of what province this was, scanning his surroundings. From the car models and the clothes on the people walking past, they had to be pretty far back in the past, at least a good decade, maybe more.

The houses running in even rows next to him had carefully painted fences, the sidewalk dotted with half-melted slush. The air was crisp and cool; it was early winter but the snow had decided to stay away for a little longer. The trees around were dark and growing bare, and Eunhyuk felt a sudden nostalgia for childhood. He looked down and found that he was wearing a very warm jacket and a long red scarf – Donghae’s subconscious was reacting to the memory. Eunhyuk was quite pleased to find that he could pull it down to get sweater paws. Something shifted on his head, and he reached up and found a ridiculously large fuzzy hat.

“Your subconscious has a weird sense of fashion,” he said, adjusting it so that it sat much more snuggly. He couldn't help the comment; it was like when they'd gone grocery shopping: there was just something easy about Donghae. “Does this look like a dead animal on my head?”

“A little?” Donghae hazarded, wearing a much more respectable blue coat and scarf. He was poking one of the fences as though trying to see if it would disappear if he touched it. 

“Well, it’s warm,” Eunhyuk admitted, checking his appearance on the side of the car, “The barbarians had the right idea.”

“How are we cold if this isn’t real?” Donghae asked suddenly, now poking Eunhyuk as though to check that he was real.

Eunhyuk steered the finger away. “It’s…complicated. Think of it like vivid dreaming.”

"And my subconscious?"

"Well, this is your memory of what occurred and to put it one way...you have a measure of control over what appears. It's your version of the events." He pursed his lips, "Probably wasn't supposed to tell you that, but it's not really official. You could say that we don't entirely how the brain reacts to this technology. It's just something I've observed over time." 

"Gee, and you didn't mention that during the safety briefing?" Donghae joked, looking intrigued by the thought. 

At that moment, a little boy with hair that was slightly too long for him ran past his legs, carrying in his arms a poorly wrapped present, blue backpack bouncing with his movements. He couldn’t have been older than seven, stubby legs pumping as his breath came out in white clouds. There was something weirdly familiar in the droopy eyes and naturally befuddled expression. Eunhyuk blinked before it twigged. “Donghae?”

“I was adorable,” Donghae said in surprise, staring at his child-self with wide eyes. “Damn, I was cute!”

Eunhyuk had to privately agree, even if child-Donghae clearly needed a haircut. “You had a mullet,” Eunhyuk said with a small grin. Donghae pouted. They watched child-Donghae approach one of the houses that had a grocery-store-bought paper chain spelling out Happy Birthday taped to the front door. Hopping to reach the bell – Donghae had not been blessed with height at any point in his life, apparently – he waited excitedly until another boy pulled the door, shivering at the blast of cold air. 

This boy had dark hair and a bright smile, a lean, energetic look, and rather big eyes. He grinned broadly at the sight of Donghae, dashing across the damp ground in bare feet to unlock the gate. Child-Donghae’s entire face lit up, and Eunhyuk quietly wondered if the present Donghae would ever look that happy, and what had changed to make him look so melancholic. Why would Donghae not explain why he wanted these memories erased? Why did they even contain? Present-Donghae was staring at the little scene with nostalgia, smiling softly to himself. “Hyung, finally!”

“That’s Minho,” Donghae whispered. “Wait… Can they hear us?”

“This is a memory,” Eunhyuk said, “You can’t really interact with it – not technically. It’s possible, but you’re really just interacting with your subconscious memories of the person, not the person themselves.”

“Uh…”

“You’re talking to yourself.”

“Oh.”

The two little boys entered the house, Donghae and Eunhyuk following after. The living room was decorated for Minho’s birthday party, and Donghae happily greeted the other children that were talking, playing and eating amongst themselves. Minho was clearly a popular kid, and Eunhyuk had to keep shifting as kids ran around him. He had nothing against children, but a sensible number was all he could take. He felt a sudden pity for his kindergarten teacher, who'd probably been driven crazy by how much energy he'd had as a kid. Slightly crooked paper chains and party hats were taped to the walls, and a woman who bore a strong family resemblance to Minho was carrying out plates of snacks and sweets for the overexcited children. “Minho, did you go out in the snow without your shoes on? You're tracking water all over the house!"

"Sorry Mum, had to open up for Donghae!" the younger boy said brightly.

The woman turned and smiled. "Oh, I see now. You're finally here, Donghae.”

“Sorry Mrs Choi, I had to help my dad with something,” Donghae said, looking down at his toes as he shrugged his coat off. Minho took it from him and placed it in a pile of others. 

“Don’t worry, come on, join everyone, dear. Minho, I want to wash your feet right now.”

“Hyung, just put your present in the back with the others! We’re going to open them soon. I'll be back right away!”

Child-Donghae nodded, heading off to one of the other rooms. Since the real Donghae was following after, Eunhyuk figured it was important to the memory, and trailed them. They were in a back study room, a sturdy wooden bookshelf crawling across three of its walls, leaving only a small gap for the window. In the centre was a table and an easy chair, both stacked with birthday presents. Some of the boxes were huge. Lucky kid. A little uncertainly, child-Donghae walked over, clutching his own much more humble gift, and carefully set it down in an empty spot. He gave it a light pat as though to make sure it was fine, and then stood.

As he turned to go, he seemed to peek at one of the gifts. Glancing at the doorway, he bent down to inspect it more closely. What was he doing? “I’m not trying to steal it!” present-Donghae cried.

Eunhyuk raised an eyebrow. “I…never said you were?”

Now it became clear what child-Donghae had spotted. The wrapping on one of the presents had torn, possibly because of rough handling, exposing the wing of what looked like a toy airplane. Hesitantly, child-Donghae’s chubby fingers fastened around the wing. Out came a beautiful model airplane. Carefully made of painted wood and fit together with great care, child-Donghae’s eyes practically sparkled at the sight of it. Gasping, he lifted it up into the air, twirling it around over his head with over-the-top glee. As he jumped up, his foot knocked against the chair, making him stumble.

The toy fell from his grasp and smashed onto the floor. One beautiful wing broke off with a sickening snap. Child-Donghae choked back a gasp, staring down in horror at what he’d done. The toy lay sadly on the carpet, crippled forever. Present-Donghae reached out plaintively, as though trying to fix the toy, or perhaps to offer some form of comfort, and then remembered himself. He withdrew his hand slowly, as though burnt. You couldn’t alter something that had already happened, Eunhyuk thought to himself. The most you could do was convince yourself it had never been. 

And some people wanted something altogether more permanent than just self-delusion. 

With frantic, frightened movements, child-Donghae stuffed the toy into his backpack, on the verge of tears. Footsteps were approaching. Donghae looked up in terror. Minho and the rest of his friends thundered into the room. Not a second too soon. The little boy clutched his backpack close to his chest, looking as though he were about to be carted off by the police at any moment. “Time to open presents!” Minho cried, “Mum, Dad, I’ll open yours first, okay?”

Child-Donghae’s face went white as Minho reached for the very same package that had held the toy airplane. The other boy’s brow furrowed in confusion. He turned it over and shook the box, tearing apart the wrapping. “It’s empty and broken open,” he said slowly, “Why’s it like that?”

Minho’s mother took the box from him, pinching with anger as she saw what had happened. “Did someone take it?” Minho asked, sounding more hurt and confused than accusatory. He glanced around the room, looking like he didn't dare believe it.

“Donghae was the last one in the room,” one girl said haughtily.

“I-it was like that when I g-got here,” child-Donghae replied, glancing away.

Eunhyuk gaped at the adult Donghae, who looked like he wanted to crawl underneath the table. “I didn’t mean to do it!” Donghae babbled, “I was just really nervous and I panicked and I didn’t want Mrs Choi to hate me and all the other kids and I really thought –”

“I’m just surprised you could remember something like this,” Eunhyuk said, “And that you kept the plane for years, and still feel bad about it.”

“I committed a crime!” Donghae nearly wailed.

“You were what, six? Kids do dumb things and then grow up and realise that it was wrong and change. I’d be surprised if Minho can even remember this,” Eunhyuk said soothingly, privately adding I’d be surprised if he even cared by this point. What a softhearted guy.

On paper, he would have claimed that he’d been trying to calm a distressed patient. After all, a peaceful mind was a good mind, wasn't that right? In reality, it was more of the fact that Donghae looked genuinely distraught about what his child-self had done and Eunhyuk couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him. He much preferred Donghae look dopey rather than utterly wretched. 

By now, Mrs Choi had convinced her son that it had all been an elaborate trick and the real present was Mr Choi’s football jersey that Minho had always wanted. Th