"Sir, I can't tell you that information."
   "It's part of my life, don't I deserve to know?"
   "Others have a right to privacy, as well. I'm sorry, sir."
   "Is there anything you can tell me about the other people involved? At all?"
   "Sir, I can see here, in your records, that you were in a coma and sustained an extensive amount of brain damage in the accident, however, you did not receive adequate follow-up care. I can also see that this isn't the first time you've called this number. I would recommend yo-" Sehun hangs up. Doesn't want to hear it. Closes his eyes and can feel the green upholstery under his fingers, turns his head to admire the darker green metal. It's a beautiful car, but the road is a little too busy, a little too slick from melted snow, a little too- light green grass. They've crashed. His head hurts, a lot. His neck too, and he can't quite focus his vision. He's talking to someone, he thinks, or maybe to himself? The voice sounds like his, but a little different. Just different enough. Is he talking to a real person, a boy his age also involved in the crash, or himself, someone inside his own head? Is this someone he met, or something he created? Smoke whirls at the edge of his vision. Sirens. A dim ambulance ride, before a long, unnatural sleep. Did any of these memories actually happen or is he trying so furiously to fill the gaps that they feel that way? He cuts his hair short and can't keep his hands off the scar. His mouth is sticky and bright from sweets. Reliving the incident again and again, he combs through every second of corrupted data, separates what he knows is real and tries anything to prove the rest, needing it all to mean something so badly that he refuses to let go, refuses to participate in the life he could have now.
   For days, he's been trying to sleep, with no success. His life lacks meaning, and he feels his heart drop when he imagines never dreaming again, never understanding who or what he is. Never knowing if it's someone he can be with in real life, someone who was there and would understand what he went through, or if he's created a world for himself that is unattainable. Delusional.
   He looks down at his phone. Sees the number on the screen already and presses call thinking it's the first time today.