First of all I would like to thank the people who did not comment and mention Suho. I pleaded over and over for people not to say his name in the comments, but in the excitement a few of my readers did. I really appreciate the comments, but I don't want the twist I worked so hard to hide be broadcast to everyone. I'm sorry if I seem harsh, I just really reaaaally didn't want anyone to find out. So if I downvote your comment it's not because I don't like you, I love all of my readers!  Also, if you were one of the people who wrote me a lovely comment, thank you so much! But if in that comment you mentioned the name Suho at all, I please ask you to delete it if possible. It's because I really don't want other readers to see them. They should absolutely not know Suho exists, so they can be just as surprised as you were. Please forgive me!

"What's the greatest chapter in your book? 

Are there pages where it hurts to look?

What's the one regret you can't work through?

you got it, mine would be you."

Sunlight hung in the air, it clung to each sparkling dust speck, forming a cluster of stars. The walls were smooth and bare like a blank canvas. The window was a glass mouth that breathed out clean, crystal sunshine. Outside the sky was an illustrious ocean, dripping with bundles of wispy clouds, pure as fresh fallen snow. It cast a glow on her finger attached to the grey heart rate monitor. The machine in the corner beeped steadily; a constant, safe sound that lulled the children of the hospital to sleep each night. The green waveform bounced and peaked on the screen, as comforting as the arms of a father. The air smelled sterile, as it always did in hospitals. Not exactly fresh, but not dirty. There was only a subtle sour scent of chemicals in Baekhyun's nose, laced with the purity of fresh flowers.

Miyoung opened her eyes.

Baekhyun half-laid, half-sat with his head in the blankets. He was a hunched over disregarded toy, sleek black hair fanned out like a bird showing off it's feathers. Shallow, light breaths swept in and out of his partially opened his lips.  Long, white fingers were set atop Miyoung's small hand, propped upon the contraption that held her finger. The tranquility of sleep had left Baekhyun's expression childlike and vulnerable, all the hardness and emptiness gone from his face. Only when he slept did he let go of all his worldy bearings, of all his sins, regrets, lies, and promises. Byun Baekhyun was many things, but in that moment beneath the spring sunlight, he was beautiful.

Confusion passed over Miyoung's face. So many memories bounced around her head, flashing across her eyes in no particular order; unaligned and blinding. When at last they came to a stand still, she shook the hand beneath Baekhyun's gently, "Baekhyun--"

He stirred, sweeping his hair across the sheets, his eyebrow twitched. 

She smiled, and shook her hand again, "Hey, Baekhyu--"

Then he was unfamiliar. Something surged in her heart, a sensation of fury so powerful and tangled she couldn't understand. She furrowed her eyebrows, taken aback with her sudden fear and anger.  Drawing her hand out from beneath his, she glanced around to call for help. He can't be here. She doesn't want him here. Where's the nurse? Where--

Miyoung jumped back when Baekhyun's eyes fluttered open with juvenile innocence. Lifting his head slowly, his half open brown eyes turned to Miyoung, then widened, realizing she was awake. He sat up, patting down his ruffled hair with embarrassment. Shyly he looked up and smiled, but the joy on his lips dropped when he instead saw a petrified statue before him. 

"Why are you here?" Miyoung asked, though something told her she knew. She definitely knew.

He tilted his head, inky tendrils of hair slipping across his eyebrows. His loose black shirt hung about his collarbone.

Miyoung clenched her firsts, anger growing and twisting in just by the sight of him. Black, poisonous words threatened to push through. Something darker wanted to attack him, wound him so that he would bleed as much as she has. 

The words she whispered penetrated like knives:

"Speak."

Baekhyun flinched, then smiled slightly and raised his eyebrows as if unsure of what she wanted.

Her words dripped with venom, "I know you can."

He opened his mouth reluctantly, expecting the unseeable force that closed his throat to stop him as it always did, shutting off his voice and his words like he knew he deserved. How dare he speak when he had taken every word yet unspoken away from another? How dare he find happiness when he had ended the existence of another's? The demon inside had always bound his words and tied them down. 

But this time they came easily. Cracked and unsure as a child taking it's first steps, the word fell from his lips.

"Miyoung."

Miyoung smiled a wrinkled, pained, awful smile that punched Baekhyun in the stomach and made it hard to breathe.

"There it is," she whispered, though she didn't know why or where the words came from. Why did she hate him?

And more importantly:

why did she love him?

"I don't know why you came here," she said, the throbbing in her chest forcing her to avert her eyes, "but you need to leave."

"what?" Baekhyun breathed.

"Where's my phone?" Miyoung swiveled her head around, patting the blankets in her search, "where is it?"

Baekhyun's hand appeared below her eyes, holding the phone flat as if feeding an animal. She glanced up at his unreadable expression, then took it. 

"Why do you have this?" she peeked up at him uneasily, and then tapped the phone. Her finger swiped the screen, trying to scroll through her contact list that consisted of three people: Baekhyun, Baekbeom, and Kai.

"What's wrong with this?" she frowned at the screen and tried to refresh it once more, but to no avail. Instead she tapped the number in manually, and held it up to her ear, biting her lip. moved as she inaudibly mumbled the same words over and over, "answer, answer, answer."

Beep. Beep. Beep. The number you are trying to call has been disconnecte--

"Disconnected?" she stared blankly and dropped her hand from where she had been chewing on her nail. 

Miyoung startled when Baekhyun spoke, "who are you trying to call?"

"None of your business."

Baekhyun frowned at the dismissal and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. 

"What kind of act are you trying to pull?" 

Miyoung's heart dropped. She froze with her finger hovering above the keypad, then she took a deep breath, "What?"

"You know who I am, don't you?"

"Sure," she countered, going back to the phone though her hands were shaking, "the guy who fixed up my feet."

Baekhyun's heart dropped. "...Your..your feet?"

"I had the weirdest dream," she mumbled, "It's not real, though. Can't be. I just need to call Suho.." she clicked her tongue at the phone, "why isn't this working?"

"Miyoung?" he raised his voice a little to call her name, "who are you trying to call?"

"I said it's none of your business," she retorted, "I don't owe a stranger like you anything."

"It's me...Baekhyun."

Something shuddered in Miyoung's dust-covered heart. Recognition briefly crossed her eyes, then flitted away as if it had never been.

"I don't know you."

"Yes you do."

she shook her head, "No, I--"

"At the coffee shop," he stood quickly, remembering his evidence, and pulled a wrinkled, ancient piece of paper out of his back pocket, then dropped it onto the sheets in front of her, "you gave me this."

Scrawled in what was definitely Miyoung's handwriting was her name, black and clear against the glossy white receipt paper. 

Something shuddered again, but she shook it off, "Yeah, so what? I did it so you could contact me to pay you back."

"No," he shook his head, "No, it's not just that. You know me." Baekhyun stood and reached forward to touch her, but Miyoung saw his movement and reeled back, repulsed, and more so confused as to why she was repulsed. For a moment he stared soundlessly, then attempted to reach her once more.

"Don't touch me!" she slapped him away, the pitch of her voice peaked on the last syllable.

"Miyoung, what's wrong?" Baekhyun asked, and Miyoung shut her eyes tightly, "why are you acting like--"

"-Can you just leave?" she half-demanded, half-pleaded as her eyes shot open. A ring of tears lined the bottoms of her large doll eyes, and she clenched her white teeth. 

At first, he stood quietly, watching her and reading her. His eyes flickered back and forth over hers, and he felt deathly still. The light from the window highlighted all of her soft edges and plastic flesh. Something was seriously wrong. Backing up one step, Baekhyun bit his lip, and nodded.

"Yeah," he whispered, forcing his eyes to remain on the floor, "yeah, I can leave. Sorry."

He turned away, in a deep breath. Something was so very wrong with leaving. As if him leaving now would mean him never coming back.

But he coached himself along. 

Just one step.

Good, now two.

One more and then it's four.

His legs were made of stone, his heart screamed and tore at his chest, wanting to stop this insanity, wanting to stop him from going any further towards the door. He reached it regardless.

shy words broke the silence from behind him, "Wait. I'm sorry, I--I just need to be alone, I'm not sure what's happening, I--....What did you say your name was again?"

He swallowed, keeping his head down, "Baekhyun."

"Baekhyun," she repeated, the name like poetry on her tongue, "right."

The door slid open and he stepped out, "goodbye."

The door shut behind him, and his legs he had tried so hard to keep straight buckled beneath him. His back hit the cool plastic and he crumpled to the floor. He choked back a disgruntled whimper and pulled his knees to his chest, then buried his head in his arms. Stop, stop, stop, he growled at the persistent tears that pushed through his eyes and became inky black spots on his shirt. 

"Baekhyun?" the voice was nasal and annoying. He didn't look up.

"Hey," it came again, this time accompanied by a swift kick to his side, "Byun Baekhyun is that you?"

With a snarl he his head up, and glared at the nurse with short brown hair. She stumbled back at the sight of his wet eyes, the shimmering trails of tears still glossy on his cheeks. 

"What?" he growled.

She jumped back again, "you can talk!"

"I could always talk," he smirked, an ugly expression wet with tears, "What. Are you scared I'll go and tell everyone how truly awful you are now?"

The nurse scoffed and surveyed the hallway for any onlookers, then leaned in. Her sharp and clearly reformed by surgery nose reminded Baekhyun of a witch's. Her slanted fox eyes glinted viciously. 

"Listen here," she whispered, "you gave me a lot of trouble. Like, a lot. A ton, actually. And yes, I hated you for it. You, sir, are the worst patient I have ever had to deal with in my entire career."

He set his head back on Miyoung's door, staring at the nurse with lifeless eyes, "good to know."

"But," she straightened, and then smiled. For the first time, she didn't look like an evil witch. Her fox eyes were round, bright, and clean. Her bobbed hair was meticulously styled with love and consideration for the handsome young doctor she'd followed since middle school and through medical school in the hopes that someday, maybe someday, he'd notice her.

Smiling, she finished with, "you aren't too bad."

"what?"

Reaching into the pocket of her pink smock she pulled out a tissue and held it out to him, "you don't deserve to cry either, remember that."

The second his fingers touched the soft tissue, she smiled once more and then trotted away. He watched her as she slowed beside a tall doctor with clean cut black hair and a charming dimple. The tall doctor ruffled her hair and she beamed like a child. 

"That idiot," he laughed and dropped his head, the tissue with his thumb, "she should worry about herself."

"Okay, so." 

Miyoung spoke to herself outloud in the back of a taxi cab, scribbling onto a notebook she'd gotten from a convenience store next to the hospital. The tip of the newly bought pen was already dented with teeth marks from Miyoung chewing it nervously; she could never beat that old habit. 

"I was with oppa in the car, then I was at the hospital...then what? I swear Suho wasn't in the accident though..He wasn't at the hospital..."

"Ma'am," the cab driver cut in.

"Huh?"

"We're here."

"Oh," she climbed out of the cab and handed him a few bills, "keep the change."

The apartment complex was tall as the sky, different rooms on different levels glowed with mistmatched light like a christmas tree. The sky was colored purple and orange as the sun set over the top of the concrete buildings of the city.

Miyoung clambered up the old stairs breathlessly, clanking up them two at a time. Excitement raced in her chest. She would come in quietly, and Suho would be sitting at his desk like he always was this time of night, or sleeping with all the sheets kicked off and hair a wavy mess. She couldn't wait to see the look on his face when she jumped on him, or hear his persistent screams as she wrapped him in a head lock. 

As silently as she could, she punched the code into the lock of their apartment. Suho was the one who had set it. She wanted it to be the air date of the first pororo episode, or the date they moved in. He set it as her birthday. The door barely creaked as she gently pushed it open. All the lights were off, which meant he must be sleeping. That, or he was planning to scare her too.

"Suho," she whispered as she kicked her shoes off in pure darkness and stepped onto the wood floor, "where are you?"

No answer. She flicked the light switch on. The room was covered in a thick layer of dust, and each piece of furniture was dulled in color by the fuzzy grey material. 

"What the heck?" she thought aloud, "I swear I cleaned this two days ago. Did Suho leave the window open?"

Miyoung slid her finger across the sofa, collecting the dust on her skin, "Gross! why didn't he clean this?" she turned her eyes towards the closed bedroom door, "I'm gonna get him for this."

"Ha!" she slammed open the door and hit the lights, stomping her feet to make the intrusion even louder. But the room was completely vacant. The bed was made exactly to Suho's liking, with the blankets' edge folded over exactly two finger lengths and the pillows fully fluffed. He made it himself every morning with meticulous care, always throwing a fit when she did it wrong. 

Miyoung frowned when she noticed the bed too was covered in dust, as if it had been empty for months, as if no one had ever lived there. 

"Okay," Miyoung swallowed the sense of discomfort in , "this isn't funny anymore. Where are you?" 

After dropping her bag on the bed, she returned to the living room. She checked the bathroom, and walked through the kitchen, but there was only so many places to hide in the small two room apartment. At last she dropped onto the couch and set her head in her hands. 

"You're scaring me," she whispered, "first your phone is disconnected, and now this."

Her eyes fell on a cheerful picture taken at an amusement park, both Miyoung and Suho sported ridiculous cat ear headbands. Suho beamed proudly in the picture with his arm around Miyoung, making a peace sign that poked into her round cheek. She pouted beside him, angry at being persuaded to wear the stupid headbands. 

Her eyes landed on Suho again. Something flashed in her mind. She blinked and the image vanished. 

"Huh--"

Then it was back in full color. The smiling picture of Suho burned into a nightmare. Heat singed Miyoung's exposed skin, Suho blurred in and out of focus on the driver's side, skin ashen and shining from sweat. Blood streamed down his cheeks. A man appeared in the window. Banging and shouting in words that made no sense. Save him, she said, save him first. But he didn't. He saved her first. She felt the man's arms around her, carrying her to safety when her mind screamed for her to go back. Get Suho, get suho, the words hissed and steamed in but couldn't escape. Then darkness.

"What happened..." Tears poured down Miyoung's wide eyes. She sat motionless on the soft green leather of the couch. 

Miyoung laughed drily and wiped her eyes hastily, "Why am I crying? This isn't like me," she stood up and ran her hands through her hair, "Suho?"

The quiet sound of wind drifted through the empty rooms.

"Suho?" she called again, trying to keep her voice steady. Her legs were rigid as she began to search the apartment again, upturning cushions, opening closets, and throwing back curtains.

"Suho this isn't funny," her voice cracked and she coughed to hide it. She sat at Suho's desk and turned his laptop on. Hurriedly she typed in Suho's username and password, then opened his email. There were rows and rows of unopened messages, all titled things like 'where have you been, buddy?' or 'haven't heard from you, what's up?'. Miyoung's eyes moved along the rows, all the way to the right, where she found the sending date. 2014. All of them 2014. What kind of prank was this? Miyoung shot out of her seat and slammed the screen shut.

"Suho this isn't funny!" her voice was a shrill, and she raced into the bedroom. Sheets flew as  tore them off the bed, "Suho?" her voice rose in panick as the closet door thwunked against its frame while she searched inside. 

Miyoung dropped in the center of the room, collapsing into a folded up pile of bones on the dusty floor. The scene that lay before her was from a disaster movie. It must've been a hurricane that snatched every shirt from the rows of open drawers and them about the room. Maybe it was a tsunami that washed the wrinkled sheets into torn piles on the floor. Perhaps a tornado, she thought at the unhinged door hanging in the empty closet, and the shattered glass covering a framed photo of two smiling people.

A disaster, she thought. Some tragedy that had swept through this apartment and taken with it every happy memory. And she felt like she was breaking. The pieces inside her were all unaligned, as if some part of her had been severed in her sleep, and now she awoke not knowing what was missing. 

"Suho," she called the empty rooms, her voice shaking and desperate. Miyoung tilted her head back and cried harder than she's ever cried. Sobs quivered her body and caught in her chest, forcing thick, gasping coughs out of , allowing her to taste the salty tang of tears on her tongue. 

"N-no," she shook her head, drops of sadness flying off her glistening cheeks, "I'm not alone. Suho wouldn't leave me alone," she croaked, and her fingers found one of his shirts on the floor and clenched around it. Automatically she brought it to chest and tried to breathe, but there was no comfort. Time had worn away at the once warm and comforting smell of the person she loved, and the cloth was as empty and void of his presence as the apartment itself.

"Are you really gone?" she sobbed into the fabric, "there's no way," now shaking her head, "No way no way no way. It was just yesterday, he was here!"

His smiling face burned into the back of her eyes.

"You said--" she sputtered between ragged sobs, her frantic eyes searched the room for an answer, "you said you'd never leave me alone. You promised you wouldn't leave like mom or dad! You...promised."

The world did not answer her. The only noise was the sound of one single promise being shattered into a million pointed shards.

Miyoung's blurry, tear-filled, out of focus eyes centered on a bright red calendar sitting neatly atop the rummaged through and lopsided bedside table. It clearly said June of 2013. How could a year pass in a day? It was yesterday, the memory was clear in her mind. She went to the nightclub with his CD's, wearing her favorite white dress. It was their anniversary, the third precious year with Suho. They were going out to dinner, she was running late because she ran into someone--

The name stopped her crying. It froze each tear like ice on her cheeks, and dulled the tumult of city sounds outside her window. 

"Baekhyun."

I'm so very sorry it took so long for this chapter to come out! I had finals two weeks ago and last week was my first week of summer so I was really busy. I tried to make this chapter heartfelt but as always I feel like something's missing >.<"" Yes if you're wondering Miyoung's memory DID go back to the state it was in at the time of the accident. Meaning she doesn't remember anything that happened in between. Or does she? I guess you'll have to keep reading to find out! 

ALSO BAEKHYUN CAN FINALLY FREAKING TALK. You have no idea how hard it was trying to develop a character for someone who can't hardly even express himself. 

As always, thank you so much for reading. And just to remind you please go back to the top of the chapter and read my insert up there one more time in case you forgot. Please comment and subscribe, it makes me feel a great deal better about continuing this story. THANK YOU!

~Violet