Author's note:

time for a change of POV! :)

((some chapters/parts will be in Minhyun's POV, and some in Jaehwan's. Gonna be switching back and forth throughout the story ^_^ ))

Kang Daniel – 56 years old

After ten jobs as a Sigmund Corp employee, Jaehwan thought that he’d get used to the emotional turmoil that came with the occupation.

He never really got used to it.

There was a reason why clients asked for a doctor’s help in the first place. Perhaps there was a past regret that hurt too much, or an unfulfilled dream, or a traumatic and hurtful experience that they would rather have replaced with a happier one. Clients had many reasons to request for a memory alternation.

Whichever the reason was, it would eventually lead to Jaehwan entering a client’s memories that were filled with an assortment of things. Sometimes the memories were bright. Sometimes they were painful.

He would have to wander around those memories for the sake of helping the dying patient. He had to be professional, he knew. Sigmund Corp doctors weren’t allowed to let their personal feelings get in the way of the job. (“A little empathy is fine,” the instructors had told them. “But too much would only serve as a distraction. Don’t get too emotional.”) Doctors were also constantly reminded to not get attached to their patients.

But...

He couldn’t help but let himself feel what the patients feel. He couldn’t help but feel the hurt that the patients felt. He knew fully well that he had to be professional, but it was harder than he thought.

How he wished he could just say “ you, empathy”, but in reality, he could only do the opposite. After finishing a job and having to see another client lie lifelessly on their bed, he would need some time to check himself and make sure he was okay.

Well... Jaehwan felt that he had become a little more accustomed to the occupation compared to how he was during his and Minhyun’s first job. Now, that first job had turned Jaehwan into an emotional wreck, trapped in a daze that lasted for weeks. He remembered skipping meals and locking himself up in his room, refusing to meet another client. He also remembered how Minhyun practically begged the Sigmund Corp director to give Kim Jaehwan more time to recover.

Jaehwan eventually did recover— but not fully. He would still feel the ache in his heart whenever he recalled their first client. And, on his worst days, he would feel tears gathering at the corner of his eyes.

But nevertheless, he had grown a little more accustomed. So when he finally got back on his feet for the second job, he had steeled his heart and prepared himself. He and Minhyun had succeeded in fulfilling that second patient’s final wish, but with heavy hearts.

Jaehwan convinced himself that it wasn’t as bad as the first time. He would get used to it.

He continued to convince himself for the next jobs that were to come.

And now here Jaehwan stood in Kang Daniel’s memory, surrounded by gravestones and autumn leaves.

He would try not to delve in emotions. Don’t get attached, his instructors would also repeat. Just finish the job.

Minhyun’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“Let’s go, Jaehwannie.”

Jaehwan turned to his friend with a firm nod.

They avoided the autumn leaves strewn all over the ground as they walked. They were invisible again, so any crunching noise under their feet would have been risky. This caution lasted until they came to a halt a couple meters from their patient, who was still gazing at the gravestone in front of him.

The two doctors waited. Daniel said nothing, just holding tightly onto the bouquet of white carnations in his hand.

A few minutes passed like that, giving Jaehwan time to notice the small details.

Daniel looked slightly younger, though strands of gray still evident in his hair. Wearing a thick black jacket, he still shivered when a strong breeze hit.

Jaehwan also noticed the empty patch of grass beside Seongwoo’s gravestone.

It must be the reserved spot that Jisung had talked about, he thought. Daniel already reserved a spot to be buried next to Seongwoo’s grave for when he...

Jaehwan didn’t want to finish the sentence.

Next to the empty spot was another gravestone, a smaller one. And next to that were more and more gravestones.

Finally Daniel spoke.

“Hi, Seongwoo.”

He spoke in a low and quiet voice, but the two doctors could hear him clearly in the empty cemetery.

“It’s been a year since you’ve gone, and...” Daniel paused, staring at his late husband’s name engraved on the stone. “I’ve been trying to keep going, but it’s hard sometimes.” The carnations shook slightly in his grasp. “Remember when we went to the sea together? On that impromptu car drive.” A sad smile came to his face. “I don’t know why I keep remembering that. I don’t know why I’m even mentioning it now, but...”

The following silence was accompanied by a heavy wind.

“On that night,” Daniel continued. “Why did you look so sad?”

Jaehwan felt a shiver run down his spine. From the corner of his eye, he could see Minhyun tense up.

“It’s not just that night,” Daniel said. “But many other times as well. I’d catch you staring at me with this sad look in your eyes. I’d ask you what was the matter but you’d smile and always tell me that everything’s alright. Why? Why did you look at me like that?”

There was no trace of anger in the man’s voice. None at all. But it was obvious and easily heard— the confusion and pain in Kang Daniel’s words. Jaehwan wondered if the memory would end there, with the heavy silence draping over their shoulders. But Daniel once again opened his mouth, sentences tumbling out from between his lips.

“I miss you. I miss your smile. I miss waking up to your annoyingly good-looking face.  I miss how you’d always make me laugh with your jokes. I miss having you beside me, Seongwoo.”

Jaehwan felt his throat close up as Daniel bent down and carefully placed the flowers on top of Ong Seongwoo’s grave.  For a few seconds Daniel just stayed that way, as if lost in his own thoughts.

Then he stood up again and began walking towards the cemetery’s gates.

Jaehwan was staring at the white carnations when Minhyun tapped his shoulder. The younger man nodded and they both began following Daniel, whose eyes were still cast on the ground.

The two doctors could hear the sound of cars honking amidst the heavy wind that continued to blow. Dry autumn leaves crunched underneath Daniel’s feet as he walked.

Finally they found themselves in a nearly empty parking lot. Daniel retrieved the keys from his pocket and unlocked the door to his small, white car.

Jaehwan felt another tap on his shoulder. He glanced up to see Minhyun pointing towards the vehicle.

“Look,” the older doctor said.

And Jaehwan did look.

Finding mementos could truly be a hassle sometimes. If they were tiny objects, it could take a doctor hours to find it, thus taking a tremendous amount of time just to get to the next memory. But if a doctor was lucky, there were occasions where mementos would be huge and easily spotted.

This was one of those moments.

Kang Daniel’s car slightly flickered. It was slight, yet due to the size, it was very obvious and impossible to miss. Both Jaehwan and Minhyun placed the palm of their hand on the car’s trunk, just as Daniel opened the door and slipped inside.

Before the older man could begin to drive off, Jaehwan closed his eyes, his voice soft and clear.

“Activate memento.”

---

Kang Daniel – 55 years old

The darkness shouldn’t have become something the young doctor was used to, yet that was exactly what happened when they entered the next memory.

Jaehwan blinked a couple times, adjusting quickly to the lack of light. The bright scenery that had accompanied the previous memory had actually surprised him. He had indeed become accustomed to the dim of Daniel’s small house by the sea.

And here they were again, at that certain spot. The two doctors removed their hands from the car and waited.

A second passed when the vehicle’s door flung open. It was sudden enough to cause Jaehwan and even Minhyun to flinch.

Kang Daniel exited the car, his eyes seeming to shine under the light of the full moon above. He stared at the view in front of him, breathing heavily. Then he began walking, his eyes glued to the sea and the sky, not caring if he stumbled over the uneven ground.

Jaehwan and Minhyun silently followed as Daniel continued to trudge on to that certain spot where his house would eventually be built. The tall grass touched his black pants and white dress shirt, tainting it with dirt. Daniel didn’t mind. He just kept on going, as if in a trance.

It took a few minutes. But soon, sand was under their feet, the sound of waves roaring in their ears.

Daniel staggered in his steps. His legs seemed to give out from under him, causing him to fall to his knees.  He stayed like that, breathing more heavy, eyes still on the view in front of him.

And then he began to cry. It started with silent tears beginning to stream down his face, and then a choked sob escaping his lips. Then he was bent over, hands over his eyes as harsher sobs wracked his body.

Jaehwan wished he didn’t have to see this. He could feel his own heart clenching, his throat becoming even more closed up. He vaguely remembered his instructors telling him to not get too emotional and to just focus on the job—

There was a squeeze on his shoulder. Jaehwan blinked, snapping out of his thoughts.

Minhyun didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. Hand on his friend’s shoulder, Minhyun gave him another comforting squeeze.  

With the older doctor’s help, Jaehwan calmed himself down. Trying to keep his voice steady, he said, “This must be the night of Seongwoo’s funeral.”

Minhyun nodded and answered softly, “You’re right.”

“It’s a full moon,” Jaehwan observed.

“Yes, it is.”

“I think...” Jaehwan paused. “I think we can safely assume that Daniel’s desire to go to the moon has some sort of connection with Ong Seongwoo.”

Minhyun nodded again. “We can.”

But something felt off. Maybe it was the months of memory alternation and wish granting experience, but... Jaehwan knew that there had to be something else. But what? What else could there be?

Or maybe he was overthinking it. There was also that possibility.

There was only one way to find out. They had only just begun their memory leaps. They had to dig deeper. Had to go farther and farther into Kang Daniel’s timeline.

Jaehwan began walking towards Daniel, Minhyun’s hand dropping to his side as it slipped off the younger doctor’s shoulder.

If Daniel was paying attention to the details, he would have seen the footprints in the sand, making their way towards him. But he didn’t. Eyes still covered by his hands, Daniel continued to cry.

In front of the older man, Jaehwan crouched down to his eye level. If he wasn’t invisible, maybe he could have locked eyes with Daniel. Maybe he could have given a comforting pat on the shoulder, or maybe even a hug.

But this wasn’t the time nor place to do so. The doctors would stay invisible even in the next memories, unless it was absolutely necessary for them to interact with Daniel or the people around him.

So Jaehwan did what he could. He spoke, his words silent and falling without a sound on Daniel’s ears.

“You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you? You’ve suffered, and it must hurt right now.” Jaehwan watched as Daniel gave no response. “But me and Minhyun-hyung are here. We’ll help you. We’ll do whatever we can to help you. Just... Just wait for us.”

Minhyun joined him by his side. “The next memento,” he said quietly.

Jaehwan didn’t even see it at first. It was a small pink plushie lying near the grieving man's feet. The young doctor recognized it as Apeach— the pink peach character that fans said resembled Daniel.

Daniel must have carried it with him, dropping the plushie when he began to break down.

As Jaehwan wondered just how important the small doll was to Daniel, Minhyun began preparing the memento. It didn’t take long, as three seconds passed and a familiar beep filled their ears.

Daniel’s shoulders still shook with sobs, and Jaehwan felt the determination burning in his own chest.

No matter what happened, he was going to help Kang Daniel. No matter what it takes.

He softly touched the doll with his fingers. “Minhyun-hyung. Let’s go.”

Jaehwan felt the older doctor’s hand next to his own. "Hang in there, Daniel,” Minhyun said, closing his eyes as he activated the memento.

---

Kang Daniel – 55 years old

They were in a room.

A white room with a bed and wide windows, the blinds drawn shut.

It was true that Jaehwan’s eyesight returned much quicker than Minhyun when they entered a new memory. Even so, the younger doctor needed at least a few seconds for everything to come back in sharp focus.

But even before he regained his complete ability to see, he already knew what kind of room they were in.

The scent was all too familiar. He had been in these kinds of places far too often.

With one inhale of the sharp scent, Jaehwan knew that they were in a hospital room. Not only that, but his ears picked up on the sound of a cardiac monitor.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Soon his eyesight returned, and he immediately glanced at his wristwatch.

The screen indicated that Kang Daniel was still at 55 years old. Which meant that the memory they now stood in happened months before the last one... Or maybe weeks... Or maybe days...

Or...

Jaehwan looked up.

By then, he had already seen Daniel’s broad back often enough to recognize it. Daniel was seated on a chair beside the bed, holding hands with the patient.

From the place where he stood by the door, Jaehwan couldn’t see the patient’s face clearly.

“We’re in a hospital, aren’t we?” Minhyun asked.

Jaehwan glanced up at his friend, who was still blinking with a frown on his face. “Yeah. You still can’t see, hyung?”

“Everything’s still blurry,” the older doctor grumbled. “What do you see?”

“Kang Daniel. And a patient on the bed. We need to get closer, though. I can’t see the patient’s face. I can just see Daniel’s back.”

“Give me a second. Still can’t see. I don’t want to crash into anything.”

“No time for that,” Jaehwan said. “I’ll guide you.” He walked forwards, grabbing onto Minhyun’s hand and pulling him along.

Jaehwan circled around the bed, heart hammering against his chest. He already had a solid guess on who the patient was. Who else could it be except—

“Ong Seongwoo,” Jaehwan said, breath caught in his throat.

Gaunt yet handsome, Seongwoo had fair black hair with strands of gray. Even though most of his body was covered by the blanket draped over him, his long legs and perfect proportions were evident. Gaze fixed on the man seated in front of him, Seongwoo clutched weakly at one end of the blanket while his other hand held onto Daniel’s fingers.

Loud ticks could be heard coming from the wall clock as the two men spoke in low voices.

“Don’t cry,” Seongwoo said weakly, a smile on his face.

“I’m not crying,” Daniel answered, voice shaking.

Seongwoo chuckled. “You should be smiling. Like this guy over here.” With an unsteady hand, he grabbed onto the Apeach doll from the table by his side. He held it out to his husband, as if comparing the doll’s bright bunny-tooth smile with Daniel’s sad grin.

“I’m smiling,” Daniel said, trying to pull on a brighter smile. “See?”

“Looks just like you,” Seongwoo commented.  Daniel's grip on his hand grew tighter. “Niel, even if my heart fails to function properly, just know that it still continues to beat for you.”

Daniel rolled his eyes, tears starting to brim at the corners. “Why do you have to be so cheesy at times like this?”

“You like it when I’m cheesy though,” Seongwoo replied with a smirk.

Daniel laughed. “You know me too well.”

Holding the small doll must have been a difficult feat for Seongwoo. His arm flopped back down on the bed, the peach plushie landing on his chest with a soft thud.

“You okay?” Daniel said, trying to hide the worry in his voice.

“I’m fine.” Seongwoo smiled. “Hey, Daniel...”

“Yeah?”

“Do you remember when we first met?”

Daniel nodded. “Of course, I do. I was told to meet the model who was going to star in my new music video.” His eyes glazed over, as if getting lost in the memories. “My manager contacted your manager. In the end it was agreed that you and I meet in a café. And so I went there by myself, and I laid eyes on the most beautiful human being I’ve ever seen.”

“Now who’s the one being cheesy?”

“You like it too.”

“You know me too well, Kang Daniel.” Seongwoo laughed. It was a light laugh. “What else do you remember?”

“I remember us talking for hours. You had two cups of coffee. I bought a bagel but I never ended up eating it because I was enjoying our conversation too much.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“We talked until the sun went down. I remember wanting to see you again right after we said goodbye.”

“Aww.”

“Oh, admit it. You wanted to see me just as much as I wanted to see you.”

There was a pause. The clock continued to tick. Then Seongwoo nodded. A small, sad smile lingered on his face. “You’re right. I really missed you.”

A silence. Daniel bit his own lip, as if steadying himself. Then he spoke.

“I love you.”

With the strength that he still had in his thin fingers, Seongwoo squeezed his husband’s hand. “I love you too, Daniel." He mustered another smile. "I love you to the moon and back.”

Jaehwan wasn’t sure how many hours passed. Or if an hour even passed at all. The concept of time was rather hard to grasp when you’re a Sigmund Corp doctor.

But what he was sure of was the sound of a long, never-ending beep piercing through the night. He was sure of Daniel calling out Seongwoo’s name. He was sure of the nurses that entered the room with sympathetic expressions. And Jaehwan was sure of Minhyun pulling him by the hand, telling him that they needed to move.

The memento was a knitted scarf. It hung on an empty chair near the end of the room.

Wrapping the scarf around his and Jaehwan’s intertwined hands, Minhyun said with a soft voice, “Activate memento.”

---

Kang Daniel – 44 years old

“Hi, father. It’s me, Daniel. There are a lot of things that I want to tell you.”

Kang Daniel stood in front of a grave again, but a different one this time. It was also a completely different cemetery on the other side of the city.

The sky was dark, signaling nightfall. The bright city lights could be seen in the distance.

Daniel stood there in the empty cemetery, holding hands with Ong Seongwoo.

From a safe distance, Jaehwan frowned. It was always weird to see someone who he had just seen pass away... suddenly up and walking like this. Not only that, but Seongwoo looked significantly different. His cheekbones were less prominent, his face looking less gaunt and more filled. He stood strong and healthy, the knitted scarf wrapped comfortably around his neck.

The gray was gone from both his and Daniel’s hair, and it was then that Jaehwan noticed how young Daniel looked. Like Seongwoo, Daniel’s face was more filled, the shadows gone from underneath his eyes. He looked bright, cheeks slightly pink from the cold winter night. It seemed as if the coats that he and Seongwoo wore didn’t do much against the freezing air and snow.

Jaehwan could also feel the cold. He shivered, turning to look at his friend.

The white snowflakes stood out against the black of Minhyun’s hair. He also shivered; face looking as pale as ever.

“H-H-Hyung,” Jaehwan stuttered, teeth chattering.

Without a word, Minhyun nodded. He let go of Jaehwan’s hand and quickly pressed a few buttons on his wristwatch.

Seconds passed and warmth returned to both of the doctors’ bodies, no longer feeling the cold despite the snowflakes still falling on them.

Jaehwan let out a sigh of relief. “We really need to have a word with the science department. Whose bright idea was it to have body warmth synchronize with the weather in memories?”

“A certain someone we know,” Minhyun said, also questioning that certain department at Sigmund Corp. “At least they gave us the option of turning it off.”

They focused back on their client, able to easily hear his words despite being meters away.

“A lot of things,” Daniel continued, puffs of breath hanging in the air as he spoke to his father’s gravestone. “I’m acting in more movies with Seongwoo. I’m also still making choreo, though I’m not as flexible as I used to be.” He chuckled. “Age gets to us all, huh?”

Seongwoo held tightly onto his husband’s hand, not saying a word as Daniel talked excitedly.

“I’m doing great, so you don’t have to worry about me. I also... I also wanted to thank you.” Daniel’s tone softened. “Thank you for adopting me back then. I was a lonely boy at a lonely orphanage, and then you came like a superhero. Thank you for training me and helping me reach my full potential. I still remember how happy and proud you looked when I finally debuted as an idol.” Daniel smiled. “Thank you for taking care of me all these years, father.”

And he was done.

A cold wind blew in their direction, causing Daniel to shiver like crazy and eventually throw his arms around Seongwoo’s body for warmth.

“You’re like a big clingy teddy bear,” Seongwoo said with a laugh.

“It’s freezing! Freezing!”

“Let’s go home, then. I’ll make hot chocolate." Seongwoo patted the younger man's hair affectionately. "Or we can stop by somewhere and get a drink.”

Daniel grinned at the suggestion. “Both options sound great.”

“You go first, though. I want to say a couple words before we leave.”

“Okay! I’ll see you in the car!”

Daniel waved as he ran off towards the cemetery’s gates. Seongwoo waved back, smiling brightly as he watched Daniel go.

When his husband was finally out of sight and out of earshot, the smile melted off Seongwoo’s face. He turned back to the gravestone, and Jaehwan felt a shiver run down his spine yet again.

The look in Seongwoo’s eyes... It wasn’t grief. Nor was it sadness or anything that conveyed a similar emotion. Instead, Seongwoo’s eyes burned with what appeared to be anger.

Anger.

He was looking at the gravestone as if it was the most hateful thing on the planet.

Jaehwan glanced at Minhyun, whose eyes were also wide with surprise upon seeing the sudden change in Seongwoo’s expression. Then he focused on the view in front of him again, of the man alone in front of a gravestone.

The two doctors waited with bated breath, keeping quiet even though Seongwoo couldn’t see nor hear them.

“I’ll never forgive you.”

The words rung clearly in the night. Seongwoo spoke with a voice so firm and so sure that it was impossible to mishear or misinterpret.

“What you did was unforgivable. No matter how many years have passed. Or will pass. Time won’t change the fact that you did what you did.”

Seongwoo’s hands were shaking. And it wasn’t because of the cold.

“I sound like a horrible person, don’t I? I’m saying such things to someone who already passed away. But...” Tears started to fall from Seongwoo’s face, one by one. “How could you? How could you do such a thing? How...?”

The snowflakes continued their descent, showering the gravestone and the flowers spread below it.