It came in waves.

First, he could only hear the smallest of murmurings, the softest of sensations against his skin. They pulled at his floating consciousness, acting as a sort of tether. Everything was dark. He knew he should open his eyes, but he just… couldn’t. He wasn’t sure if it was because it was too hard for him to, or if he just didn’t want to.

He wasn’t sure what was waiting for him when he opened his eyes, why they were even closed in the first place. But, as the tethers became stronger, tugged at more and more until he felt his soul become grounded in his body once more, he knew he needed to.

Don’t leave me. I love you, aga. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do without you.

This voice, in particular, always managed to strengthen the ties to this place. He isn’t sure why, who it belongs to, but he feels he should blame it somehow. After all, the more present he becomes, the more aware, the more pain he’s in.

He has no idea where he’s been all this time, or even how long he’s been like this, but he knows that it had been so much easier, so much more peaceful.

He feels like he should blame this voice, somehow, for forcing him back here, but he doesn’t feel the slightest bit angry. Instead, he understands, and is willing to do anything for this mysterious voice that reaches to him through the never-ending dark.

 

Two weeks. It’s been two weeks since Kihyun’s breakdown, and he just doesn’t know how much longer he can do this. The others come by on their usual rounds, checking up on him and forcing him to eat or change clothes or even to take a sleeping pill. Hyunwoo keeps him updated on what the doctors are saying but don’t have the heart to tell him, but Kihyun can tell the older is still holding out on him.

It seems Minhyuk knows something, too, judging by how he avoids Kihyun’s gaze. Usually, the slightly-older has some trite gossip he’d picked up when passing by the nurse’s breakroom, but he hasn’t had anything for a while.

Kihyun guesses he’s heard something about Hoseok’s condition that he won’t be able to keep to himself if directly asked, but he isn’t willing to take the chance to find out.

The passed couple nights, Kihyun’s awoken at some ungodly hour, thinking he’s heard something, felt something. What, he doesn’t know. He always watches Hoseok with a hawk-like gaze after waking up, thinking that it’s somehow the older talking to him, reaching out to him. But, of course, there’s no sins of such a thing when Kihyun looks.

 

“—okay, Kihyunnie?”

Kihyun breaks his scrutinous gaze on his husband at hearing Hyunwoo’s voice directed at him. His eyes flick to the doctor, and he can’t help but grip Hoseok’s hand almost protectively. He meets Hyunwoo’s gaze, a conflicted light to his eyes.

“Sorry, hyung,” Kihyun says, his tone strained, “what was that?” Hyunwoo shifts on his feet at this, his own eyes falling to the floor.

“I said,” he begins, “that we think you should get out. You haven’t left this hospital room for more than a couple hours ever since the accident. Maybe try going to see your parents? You haven't seen them since you got out of the ICU." Kihyun immediately begins shaking his head, looking back to Hoseok's tranquil expression.

"I couldn't do that," he argues, confused as to why Hyunwoo would suggest such a thing. "What if he wakes up while I'm gone? What would he think if he woke up here, all alone? The last thing he'd remember is watching that truck barreling towards us. He'd be terrified, panicked. I have to be here to explain everything to him, to apologize." He's vaguely aware of Minhyuk making a soft noise of sympathy, but he doesn’t pay it any mind. All their voices turn into mere static as he stares at his love.

Hyunwoo, however, sighs defeatedly. He looks to Minhyuk for help, who’s usually a pretty good voice of reason for the shorter, but it seems as if he’s not having much luck, either.

“Hoseok wouldn’t want you to punish yourself, Kihyunnie,” Minhyuk tells him, though it’s obvious Kihyun isn’t listening. “It was an accident. He knows you wouldn’t do anything to purposefully hurt him. You need to stop punishing yourself with this waiting game.”

“Meaning what?” Kihyun suddenly snaps, his head jerking in Minhyuk’s direction. “Meaning I should just give up? That I should give up on him, that I shouldn’t wait for him anymore? What? Should I just pull the plug?” His tone is pissed, filled with more anger than any of the others have heard since Hoseok was hospitalized. It shocks them all, and they can’t help but shift uncomfortably on their feet.

“What if Changkyun were the one lying here, not Hoseok?” Kihyun continues, seemingly on a roll. “What if you were in my shoes? Would you just give up after nearly seven months of waiting? Would you want me telling you to give up?”

Minhyuk instantly begins to fume, his hand holding Changkyun’s gripping it tightly in defiance as he steps forward, ready to rip Kihyun a new one. As he parts his lips to speak, though, a different voice comes.

“Uhhhn…”

Minhyuk raises a brow, glancing at the others to see who had made the noise. Jooheon and Hyungwon merely look back at him with equally dumfounded expressions, and Kihyun’s silently looking to Hyunwoo for an explanation.

There’s a sharp intake of breath, sounding as if it’s coming from behind Kihyun.

Kihyun glances back at the door, his heart stilling for some reason. He raises a quizzical brow much like Minhyuk had, pursing his lips.

Then, the hand in his grips back. It’s a weak hold, meek and small, but it’s unmistakable.

The man’s eyes widen as he looks down at his husband. He holds his breath, not even daring to blink as the comatose patient stirs meekly underneath his covers.

Kihyun bolts up, tears b already as he waits with bated breath.

 

It came in waves at first, yes. The small tugging sensation keeping him grounded was only every so often, but it finally grew into a full-on, ever-present pull.

He doesn’t know how he’s managed it, but he’s finally gathered the strength to pull himself back. With his fingers tingling with the pain of a thousand needles pricking them, he curls his hand around the tether as tightly as he can. He tries to use his voice, does his best to utter out a single word, but he can barely manage a grunt.

His heart quickens its pace, feeling as if it’ll break through his chest with how hard and fast it pounds.

Light suddenly floods his vision, scorching white light that’s impossible to process. He blinks repeatedly, trying to adjust. A face swims into his sight, a face crying and smiling and looking at him like he’s the frikkin’ messiah.

“Hoseok…?” the face asks, and he feels himself frown before he can even think to.

“Who?” he asks, his voice barely audible over the roaring in his ears. The face’s smile falters, and a chuckle is forced passed its lips.

“Very funny, aga,” the voice says, though it clearly isn’t amused. “Nice to know after making me wait and worry this long you’ve still got a sense of humor.” His frown grows, and his brows stitch together as he tries to think. His head hurts, aches with a dull thud that makes it too hard to think.

“Sorry,” he mutters faintly, “but, who are you?” He blinks once, then twice, and then suddenly the first face is replace by someone different. A pointed light is shined into each of his eyes, and the second face is firing questions at him about what his name is, how many fingers he’s holding up, what year it is…

Only, there’s one problem. He can count the fingers fine, but who he is? What year it is?

He has no idea at all.