Fresh out the oven people. 

Once again, thank you to readers all new subscribers! I'm really flattered by all your comments and subscriptions! Thank you for all the love and encouraging words! 

LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE. *CHU*

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THIN AIR – CHAPTER 16

Seunghyun's hands shook, balling into fists that crumpled the photograph. "I'm asking you... What's this? Where... Where did you get this?" 

Jiyong crouched before him, "Baby, that's us..." He swallowed, finding it hard to speak. "That's us, before the accident."

Seunghyun flinched, darting out of the chair and inching backwards as Jiyong reached to touch him. His breathing grew ragged, the headache was growing worse. "No, I don't... I don't understand..." 

"Hyun..." Jiyong stood with him, hands reaching for his face. 

"Don't!" He yelled, backing away. 

"Seunghyun... Please, listen to me..." Jiyong begged, tears falling from his eyes. "I'll explain everything..." 

"Explain?" He clutched the items in his hand, shaking his fist at Jiyong. "How do you explain this Ji? When I don't..." His tone fell flat, idle hand pressing against his forehead. He felt dizzy, suffocated; angry and confused. "I don't know this... You, how could you have?" He sank to his knees, everything, everything was caving in. "What's going on?" 

"Hyun..." Jiyong scrambled beside him, wanting to hold him. "Please Hyun..." 

Seunghyun snapped up, eyes red as he focused on Jiyong. This boy he had come to love was all at once foreign to him. "Don't touch me..." His voice broke and he moved away from him. "Don't... I don't know you."

Jiyong let out a pleading whimper, "don't say that... please..." 

"I don't know who you are... I don't know the man in this picture..." He held his head in his hands, "I don't know who I am..." 

"Hyun... Let me explain... Please... Please just let me explain..." 

Seunghyun shivered at the cold hands on his cheeks, he didn't recognize the touch anymore. Nothing made sense; nothing belonged. "Stay... Stay away from me..." He managed. "I can't do this..." He got up to stand, staggering as his head swam. He heard Jiyong call out to him, his voice echoing on the insides of his head. He brushed off the boy's hold on his pant-leg, dropping the photo together with the ring. It fell in a clatter into the floor and Jiyong made a dash for it, holding it to his chest like a child finding a treasure. The sight still broke his heart and it would have seemed so precious... But now it was only too strange... too unfamiliar. He backed towards the door, the petite boy on the floor, on his knees begging him to stay. Seunghyun refused to understand, he couldn't. 

"Don't... Hyun, don't leave... Please let me..." The boy was gaining difficulty breathing, eyes swollen; cheeks stained with tears. 

"I can't..." He was at the doorway, his own tears blurring his vision. "I'm sorry, I can't... I have to go..." 

"Hyun!"

He refused him the last look, running down the stairs just as Jiyong got up to go after him. He heard the crashing of objects and of the small body crumbling at the stairs and he just ran, willing his limbs to go faster. He needed to get away, he needed to get as far as he could. The outside air hit him like a slap across the face and he fell to his knees at the pavement, sobbing uncontrollably. Where was he going to go from here? Where did he belong? Who was the man in the picture? And Jiyong... Why, why couldn't he remember? 

"Hyun..." Jiyong sat at the top of the stairs, exhausted and wheezing. "Seunghyun..." The coughing began, violent and painful. The boy clutched at his chest, whitened hands grappling for the rail to pull himself up, wasted limbs refusing to cooperate. He gasped for air, black taking over his vision, head swimming. Another wave of coughing took him, the stitch in his side drawing tension like a band that threatened to snap against his ribs. Every breath grew sharper and shorter, until Jiyong could no longer hear himself. He dully registered the onsets of a violent chill that ate into his core before his body gave out and darkness swallowed him. 

He was woken a few hours later by a pair of strong hands. "Boy! Hey boy, you alright?" Brown eyes flew open in fright before recognizing the owner. He immediately sat up, the wheezing starting again. The blonde gave the man a blank stare, lips white and trembling. "Hey kid, you don't look so good, you need me to call an ambulance?" The gruff man asked, "Where is your friend?" 

At that his tears fell and Jiyong gathered into himself shaking violently. "He... I... He's gone... He's gone..." 

"Hey kid," the man had a worried frown, holding Jiyong by the shoulder. 

Jiyong shot up, standing up and faltering against the wall. "I'm fine..." He rasped between coughs. He dashed into the room to collect his bag and items, biting his lip to stop himself from crying aloud. "I have to go..." He said, briefly pausing to bow. Nausea hit him and he lurched over, cupping his mouth. The man yelled at him, helping him stand. Jiyong weakly pushed him away, refusing his offer to take him to the hospital. "I really have to... go..." He repeated, tumbling down the stairs and out of the building. 

He arrived at Seunghyun's apartment, barely able to keep himself from fainting; opening the door to darkness. Jiyong slumped to his knees, droplets of sweat mixed with tears falling to the floor. "Seunghyun..." He cried, knowing that the older man wasn't home, knowing there would be no answer. He was seized by a wheezing cough again, unable to stop, blood staining his chin. hands and shirt. Jiyong struggled to take in air, but the coughing grew worse, loud and labored, the pain escalating. His vision darkened steadily as he brought up vomit and more blood. The boy fell to his side in a heap, strengthless; chest heaving. A name slipped his lips briefly before everything died down, the room spinning into a quiet spiral. 

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"Hey mister!"

He felt a hand course his cheek, and took a deep breath. "Jiyong..." He stirred to wake, disturbed by the touch of cool fingers on his skin. A lazy smile played on his lips, "five minutes love..." 

"You've had more than five minutes I think." 

The voice was clearer now, pitched higher than he remembered. A nail prodded the sides of his face, scratching it and Seunghyun cracked an eye open. Red nails... and too long to be Jiyong's. He turned to his side lazily, surveying his surroundings, finally setting sight on the figure before him, a young girl, with jet-black hair and too made-up face. No, definitely not Jiyong. His eyes widened, remembering the events of before and he stretched to sit. Jiyong wasn't here, because Jiyong wasn't who he thought he was. Everything had been a lie, and he had shut him out, shoved him out of his life. "Where the am I?" He asked aloud, rubbing the hangover from his temples. 

"You don't remember?" 

Her words hit him and he straightened, jaw clenching. "Actually I don't." 

The girl looked at him inquisitively, not understanding the severity of the man's words. "So you stumbled in here, ordered and drank enough to feed a family of five, passed us a card that would probably never see its limit and you don't remember?" 

He stretched, reaching for a crumpled pack of cigarettes, lighting one. "No, I don't, get me another round?"

"Look," her expression softened, clearing the empty glasses from his table. "You look troubled, but I'm on till morning and I don't really fancy having to see you home so..." 

"Cut it, just bring me another." He snapped. 

"Mister, you've had a lot..." 

"You know the card, just bring it." He said, refusing her the conversation. He pressed his head back against the bar top, frigid and feeling too broken. The girl sighed, replying him with a warning look before shifting back into the bar to prepare his drink. 

The first thing that came to his mind was his smile, gentle and welcoming; even honest. Seunghyun clutched the glass in his hand tight, feeling the strain in his fingers; surely they would turn up white. Honesty... He hated that word now, he had thought Jiyong was honest, that his family he treasured was honest. It seemed like he was a marionette in a cruel show, his strings were cut and he was the last to know. How much were they hiding from him, how much of his past had been pleasantly skipped through. Why hadn't they told him about Jiyong? The glass came into contact with the table in a loud slam; the taller man finishing the bitter alcohol in a gulp. It burned on the insides of his throat, making way down to his stomach, settling there uneasily. His hand shook when he brought it to his head, running it through thick hair. He had been living a lie, walking on a thread that was carefully fabricated. 

Why did he have that picture? That ring? The bond that was strong enough to make him feel like what he had with Jiyong pale in comparison. The person on his boyfriend's mind... All along, it was him. All along, Jiyong knew. Had he made sure their paths crossed on purpose? What role did Jiyong play in his past? Was the boy really the person he thought he was? He let out a pain-filled laughter, letting his head lull back. He laughed until his sides ached and the tears fell. All along Seunghyun had thought that it had to be fate. Now he didn't know what to think anymore. He was a stranger in his own world, an outsider looking into a mirror that had fogged and cracked. His laughter died down and he slumped back into his arm, yelling for another round of drink; not caring about the curious glances that were thrown in his direction. Well, at least on the bright side he now understood the void that was there when he woke from the accident. He now knew it wasn't that bull they called PTSD, that there was something genuinely missing from him. Something he thought that Jiyong was able to fill. He loved him; he still loves him; if only he wasn't part of some huge ing lie, the biggest loophole that he had been left out of. 

Hours later, the handsome man stumbled out of the bar, arm slung around the waitress, her lithe frame shuddering under his weight. Her hair brushed against his cold cheeks, she was so close that he could smell her, all designer perfume and makeup. "Get me a cab." He mumbled as she steadied him into a bench. 

"What? Don't you want me to take you home?" 

Seunghyun scowled at her, pressing a hand against his burning forehead. "I'm not in the mood for a one-night stand." 

The girl shrugged casually, red lips curling into a smirk. She sidled next to him; hand on his thigh, giving him a tight squeeze, near his crotch. Seunghyun hissed in response, swatting her hand away. "Really? Your body says otherwise..." 

"Don't ing touch-" she silenced him, pressing against his lips for a kiss. He let out a moan, as she straddled on top of him, dark black hair obscuring his vision, long nails scratching his cheek. In his minds eyes, he saw a smaller, paler boy, eyes shining as he smiled and kissed him passionately, claiming caresses over his body. Jiyong... Seunghyun ran a hand over the small of her back and she pushed up to him, her s against his chest. Suddenly he stopped, turning rigid under her ministrations eyes wide open. A tongue slipped past his with a throaty moan and Seunghyun pushed her away. "Get off me," he spat. 

The girl let out a whine, and Seunghyun cringed,  "Oppa, It was just going to get good..." 

He pulled her off, "Go." The girl pouted, trying to curl her arm around his. "Go!" He yelled, "I think I'll get that cab on my own. Just go." 

She relented, sighing deeply. "Well if you say so..." She stood up to leave. "You would have had the best night, but goodbye." 

He staggered to his feet as she turned to leave. "The best night..." He mumbled, a cold laughter escaping his lips. How was this going to be the best night? He hailed a cab, wiping remnants of her lipstick on the back of his palm. Jiyong would probably have gone to his apartment looking for him. How many calls had he made by now, and how many voice messages, texts... For a moment his heart clenched uneasily, thinking about how afraid and alone the boy would be. A tear slid out against his will, and he decided against going home, directing the driver to a hotel instead. He had to be away from everyone, but mostly Jiyong. He would stay there, until his mind cleared, until he figured out what to do, until he knew the next step to take. 

He crashed onto the bed in the hotel, not bothering to turn on the lights or change out of his clothes. Seunghyun curled into a ball, unable to control the shaking as the sobs came, wrecking his body. It was painful, difficult and hard to breathe. The room spun along with his vision, dust specks becoming silver spots against the window. He remembers watching a view of the night sky like this with Jiyong, in his apartment. He remembers wrapping his arms around the boy, Jiyong sighing into his embrace. He remembers everything since the bridge and none before. He slammed a palm against his head, ignoring the pain of the headache. Think, Choi Seunghyun, think! Think if you know the touch somewhere; think if you recognize the warmth. If he loves you so much and if you loved him too you must know... he must be in there somewhere. He isn't someone who just waltzed into your life. He loves you, he loves you. Think... Damnit think! Please...

"Please..." He begged into the cold night. "Please remember..." Seunghyun repeated images in his head, hoping that something out of the ordinary would come out. Hoping to find a boy with red hair somewhere in his memories. If he could recall, he could figure out what Jiyong meant to him and he could run into those arms again, unashamed and unafraid. The more he tried, the more his mind churned out empty spaces. The headache grew, nails raking the insides of his skull, ghosts wanting to claw their way out. His sobbing grew weaker as his breathing evened, tired mind giving way to a restless sleep. Seunghyun tried to fight, but it was futile and useless. He was already too worn out. The man shut his eyes against his will, hands clamped tight in his hair. A breath passed, and then another... Until the slow hum of sleep was all that filled his ears. 

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Jiyong didn't know how long he had passed out for. He collected himself slowly, the pain still reverberating in every part of his body. He had no concept of time or of day as he lifted himself off the floor, arms shaking with the effort it took. He noticed a patch of red and realized he had dirtied the floor, the pungent smell of acid juice and blood returning to his senses. The blonde used the wall as support to stand, stumbling over the chairs at the dining table as he searched for a washcloth. Jiyong returned to the spot on his knees and began robotically cleaning up, wiping up the stains on the floor, his movements slow and stoic. His eyes stung but there no more tears left to accompany the trembling in his lips. Jiyong kept an iron grip on the fabric, fingers knotted beneath it, bruising them red against the floorboards. It was until he felt the pain in his hands that he stopped, unblinking, checking the condition of the floor. It was clean now; the bloodstains and vomit had been removed. There was no trace that he had been here. The blonde got on his feet and dragged himself into the kitchen for a plastic bag, dropping the dirty cloth in it. He picked up his bags from the floor, the apartment suddenly unwelcoming to him, cold and empty without Seunghyun. He contemplated leaving his keys behind. Knowing Seunghyun, he would have guessed Jiyong would return to the house and would have avoided coming home. It wouldn't have made a difference if he took or left the keys. Should he text him to let him know that he would give him the space he needed? Should he tell the man that if he wished to, that Jiyong would remain far enough and just a call away? A dizzying sensation took him and he swayed, back against the doorframe, wheezing. He shut his eyes until his breathing calmed, objects still swaying in his vision. Jiyong backed away to the corridor, letting the door slip shut behind him. 

A call from an unknown number woke him. He had stayed home for the last couple of days, making random calls to Seunghyun's number, leaving messages to the phone that was turned off. He had barely gotten out of bed except to take a shower and try to eat. But the food always went untouched, the boy in his feverish state not able to find an appetite. Jiyong put the phone to his ear, blurting out the first name that came to his mind. "Seunghyun?" 

The voice on the line cleared his throat, "Mr. Kwon? Mr. Kwon this is Doctor Lee." 

Jiyong rolled on his stomach to peel himself off the sheets into a sitting position, coughing as he did so. He brought a hand to his clammy forehead, breathing heavily into the line. "Yes..." 

"The results of your tests are out, if you would like to make a trip down?" 

He wheezed, shutting his eyes. It took effort to stay awake and focus, even speaking was difficult and straining on him. "Is it bad?" 

"I think it would be better to discuss further when you're here."

A small chuckle shook him and he had to calm down to breathe regularly. "It's bad isn't it?" He asked, coughing again. 

"Jiyong are you alright?" The doctor asked, a tinge of worry in his voice. 

"Honestly..." Jiyong winced, a shiver passing through his body. "No... It hurts to breathe... And I think I've been running a fever for awhile..." 

"Are you at home?"

A cough followed by a gasp of pain. "Yes... Yes I'm at home." 

"Stay there, I'm getting an ambulance to pick you up." 

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"Oh my! You're awake! Let me get Doctor Lee!" 

Jiyong managed a brief nod at the nurse before she left, frowning as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes. He recognized the pristine walls and the disgustingly pale blue robe he was dressed in. A twitch of his left finger brought to his attention that he was hooked to an IV bag. The last thing he remembered before he passed out was the doctor telling him that an ambulance was on its way. 

"Jiyong." The doctor entered without knocking, stepping with ease beside the bed, files in hand. Jiyong greeted him in a raspy voice, throat dry. "How are you feeling?" 

"Better? I guess..." He trailed off, scratching at the bruise around the IV tape. 

"You were dehydrated when we found you," the doctor explained "and it's good that the fever has gone down."

"Thanks..." He looked up and offered him a smile. "You mentioned the tests?" Jiyong saw the doctor's eyes flinch and the older man took a minute to compose himself, taking a seat beside him. Doctor Lee opened his mouth, meaning to postpone the results but the blonde stopped him. "It's okay," the smile not leaving his lips, "it can't get any worse right?"

The older man nodded, "Right," he flipped the file open. "As we suspected, the bloody cough isn't a good sign. The results of your scope showed abnormality in your lungs." He looked at the boy to catch his eye. "Jiyong, the accident from before, the injury you took to your chest and lungs was substantial." Jiyong nodded, lips clamped tight, hands threaded together to keep from shaking. "The scope found left over shrapnel bits lodged in your left lung, that's what's causing the bleeding."

"What?" Jiyong's head spun at the last part of the conversation, suddenly tense. "Didn't we remove all of it? And aren't most internal injuries supposed to come up within a three to sixth month period? It's been what, three years?"

"Most." The doctor corrected him. "In rare cases like this, it can take years to even show up."

"What's going to happen?" 

"Right now we can't operate on you." 

"Why not? I mean just open me up again, fix whatever that's wrong and close me up! I mean, no big deal right? A couple more painkillers and morphine and I'll be good as new!" He undid his hands, now clenched at his sides. Eventually he couldn't stop the shaking. 

"Jiyong, there's enough damage done already. You made it, barely. Its dangerous if we open you up again. You have to understand the complications and risks involved. From the position of the shrapnel now, I’d say you're below a twenty." 

Somewhere in between, Jiyong's thoughts floated, he only caught bits of what the doctor said. "How long?" Doctor Lee was caught off guard, staring at the boy mouth slacking. A cold smile played on his lips, "I mean if I'm bleeding out I can't possibly have forever right?" 

"It's hard to say... For now possibly four months... five," he paused when Jiyong let out a brittle laugh, quickly adding, "It could get better…" The boy only nodded, eyes staring blankly at his hands. He understood the words that the doctor left out; it could also get worse. "The combination of your asthma and the damage sustained is not a good thing. Nothing strenuous Jiyong, don't get worked up and plenty of rest. I know you're not planning on staying in bed all the time but at least try to stay out of the cold and watch your health." 

"Doctor... Can you increase the pain meds? It's taking longer to work than before..." 

The doctor shook his head grimly, "it's all I can give you for now, and you’ll have to-" 

Jiyong cut him off smirking, " it right? I know..." A shaky breath, "I know." 

"Please don't do anything funny by trying to increase the dosage of your meds. Its already the best for you." He checked something on the paper. "If you come running to me earlier for your prescriptions I would know." 

"I'll remember that."

The doctor turned, standing up. "You're in here for the rest of the week, get some rest; you look like you need it." He shot the boy a meaningful look, "do me a favor Mr. Kwon? You're a good kid, don't check out on me earlier than expected." With that, he left the blonde to his thoughts. 

After dinner Jiyong got permission from the nurse to head outside for a walk with a firm promise 'to stay warm'. He lugged a mousy blanket over his shoulders and took a slow stroll out, pulling his IV stand along. He found his favorite spot empty and took a seat on the open bench, turning his phone over and over in his spare hand. He remembers sitting here to watch the sunsets while he was at the later stage of his recovery, sometimes sketching, sometimes crying. His fingers moved to unlock the phone, going to his recent call list, dialing the first number; the only number he saved. He was greeted by the painfully familiar voicemail message and patiently waited for the beep to pass. "Hey..." He began, "Hyun... Seunghyun, I... You're still not talking to me huh?" Thin fingers toyed with the blanket, a sigh escaping into fog against the night sky. "I just wanted to..." He laughed, "I'll give you all the time you need, I know it's hard, trust me baby, I know." His breath hitched in his throat, "I just... When you're ready, call me? I'll explain everything. I'll tell you about your past, about us." A tear slid out his eye and Jiyong let his lids flutter shut. "I'm not trying to push you, I just..." He took a deep breath as he trembled, "I really miss you." He stayed silent for a while, holding the phone away as he choked back the sobbing that ensued, cupping a hand over his lips. Before Seunghyun, Jiyong had no fear of dying. He always thought that he would live alone and die alone. But once he had found someone to care for, something to live for, every thing changed. Things got different the moment you realize that you could possibly love someone with your entire life, and that you would give everything to make him happy the way he made you happy. When his perspectives toppled over, he was willing to brave anything to protect that fragile light. This was a hurdle Jiyong knew he couldn't scale. But every part of him surged with the knowing that even if he would end up bleeding and broken; he would take on this battle or die trying. The fear was much worse when compared to his parents leaving, to Seunghyun forgetting him. He was scared, so scared that they were running out of time; that he was running out of time. I don't want to leave you... "I love you, bye."