"...I don't know, but it's just ridiculous," Yunho snorted while shaking his head. "I woke up the other day and there was some kind of 'toadstool' in my head... Well, I mean, the word - by itself - came up all of a sudden, and I have no idea what it's related to."

"It's really weird. I can't even guess, to be honest," Junsu scratched the back of his head and smiled awkwardly.

"And it leaves a feeling so... warm, you know. I can understand it when I remember enoki or oyster mushrooms - maybe I started eating them with pleasure before I lost my memory, but toadstool..."

"Maybe it's just a coincidence? Everyone gets strange things in their head sometimes, for no reason, let alone someone who's been injured."

Pressing his lips together, Yunho fell silent.

It didn't feel like a random weird thing. But really, who knew how badly his brain had been injured, spitting out stupid things?

He had almost recovered by now. Aside from the bones fusing together, even the sensitivity on the left side of his body had returned to normal. His head hadn't been dizzy for a long time, and he wasn't feeling sick from any movement. But his memory... Oh, he still hadn't come to terms with that.

And it bothered him more than anything else, strained him to the point of impotence, but he couldn't remember anything but the toadstools - and where could he find an explanation for that? How could deadly poisonous mushrooms have anything to do with him? When he'd gone to the clearing among the trees to rescue himself, there had been only sweet-smelling wildflowers and mint - barely audible, really, but no mushrooms growing nearby, and yet somehow they seemed to have a connection. But what was it?

He scrolled through the memories, stumbling over the white spots, and the longer it went on, the more pointless and futile the attempts seemed. He tried to concentrate on the toadstools, thought and thought - why the hell were they there? But all he got in return was a headache that shot through his temples.

Junsu looked at him with sympathy, unable to do anything to help. He could see how desperately Yunho was trying to do everything in his power to regain control of the part of his life he had lost, but it was like trying to draw water through a sieve. He wanted so much to support his friend, to find some words of comfort, but the mysterious "Toadstool" remained a mystery, without the solution of which it was unlikely that peace could be found.

"You're getting out next week, aren't you?" he suddenly changed the subject, switching gears once and glowing with anticipation. "Just before your birthday, right?"

Yunho nodded.

"Great! We'll pick you up with my friend on the fifth then, stay with us for a while," he said and wiggled his feet like a child. "I talked to him, he doesn't mind at all. We're only home in the evenings now, and Yoochun's a party animal, so we won't see each other much. We have a free couch in the living room anyway, it's comfortable, honestly. It's wide. We'll celebrate your birthday on the sixth, and then..."

"Junsu-ya, thank you for the offer, but I can't just accept it... You do a lot of things for me even without it."

"Like what? Like coming over to check up on you?"

"That's actually a lot. You're my friend. You're the best friend I ever had. But that doesn't mean you have to help me at the expense of your comfort."

Junsu, who had been staring at the floor, looked up sharply. All the artificial cheerfulness had vanished from his face, and he looked at him furtively, full of seriousness and as if not resentment, but...

"When you took me into your home after my father kicked me out the door, did you think you'd be uncomfortable? When you stood up for me at school, were you doing me a favor or trying to help me? When I was lonely, were you there because it's your responsibility as a friend, or were you just trying to comfort me?"

"You know the answer to that," Yunho himself was forced to lower his eyes. Junsu sighed.

"Then just accept that you're not the only one who can help. Sincerely. Hyung... I missed you terribly after my parents made me move out, they threw away my old phone, no contacts left... so I'd have my head on straight. I just thought that one day I'd come back and find you and be able to talk to you like I used to. If it makes you feel any better, think of it as me doing this for myself. Even my own brother will never be closer to me than you... I missed you so much... Hyung, just stay with us until you settle down. We won't bother you, and you won't bother us."

Just like that, he disarmed Yunho with just words. To be honest, it was Yunho who should have asked him for permission to stay for a while. His aunt had offered, but she wasn't willing, it was obvious. There was no place to go back to.

Getting up from the bed, Yunho came closer and hugged him, shrunken and distraught. Junsu had always been something bright and cheerful for him. A person who was supportive, energizing, positive thoughts, always by his side. To see him so upset - and about what! - he didn't want to.  And he certainly didn't want to be the cause of that person's sadness.

"I wasn't thinking, I'm sorry," he whispered softly into his ear, cradling him with one arm, the other ruffling the blond hair on top of the boy's head. "I really need your help, Junsu-ya. Thank you."

On February 6th, he woke up on the couch to the sound of clapping and the congratulatory song of his new neighbors. Yoochun was a simple guy who accepted him without question, and he acted as if they'd known each other for at least a couple of years.

It was a weekday, Junsu had taken the day off, and they just walked around town until evening, talking about this and that. Laughing, they ate ice cream, which made their hands even colder - it was freezing outside. In the evening, they watched a new thriller at the movie theater. For their evening meal, Yoochun had brought baked chicken, vegetables and cake from the café where they both worked. As he blew out the candles, Yunho squeezed his eyes shut and earnestly asked the one who grants all birthday wishes to find his important forgotten something.

*

"So, meet everyone," Yoochun pushed his friend into a room full of people. On the table, besides the appetizers they had prepared earlier in the café, were numerous bottles of alcohol, "Wonshik, Gaeul, Yunho, Raim, Doyoung, Seonho. Junsu you already know somehow, if I remember correctly".

The guy, who stood out from the others with his blond disheveled hair, just rolled his eyes, which made Yoochun smile and continue:

"Everybody, this is my friend and boss, Jaejoong. Please love and applaud, welcome glass of soju for our chief!"

Yoochun's excited buddies rushed to the glasses and bottles, except for one. Two, to be exact: Junsu, who drank nothing stronger than fermented juice, and the guy to his right, who smiled as the show went on.

Yoochun fit perfectly into the chaotic atmosphere, feeling like a fish in water, even though he had recently complained that he wanted to spend the day in peace and quiet.

Jae downed the offered cup of soju in one gulp, wincing. The company hooted and hollered and clapped him on the back. The "chief" was quickly surrounded by noisy guests asking questions, especially three pretty girls. They made flirtatious eyes at him, turning this way and that, causing Jaejoong to smile awkwardly and shift his gaze to something less provocative. The alcohol slowly warmed him from the inside out, even though it was just a warm June night.

He didn't like parties. Especially with strangers.

When the attention cleared, he slipped past the table to Junsu, the aura around him and his friend was much more pleasant, as if they were in another world, calm and peaceful.

"Oh, Jae-hyung!" Junsu smiled warmly. "This is my close childhood friend Yunho. He got over the flu a while ago, and his voice hasn't recovered yet, so don't be surprised - he can't really talk these days."

"Nice to meet you," Jaejoong held out his hand.

The guy stood up and returned the handshake with a nod and a wide smile. He whispered:

"Hi," barely audible, just with his lips. When Jaejoong noticed the small mole above them, almost in the corner, he felt a shiver run through his body.

As if from the depths of his mind, something shot through his mind. A mole... His Person also had a mole above his lip. He couldn't remember anything above it: no eyes, no nose, nothing, and he couldn't pay much attention to the shape of those lips either, for lack of clear memories.

He shook his head and smiled.

Facial moles were common. Besides, if this person was the same one, wouldn't he recognize him? Even if he wanted to forget, he would still give himself away with a look or a gesture, but Yunho - that was his name, wasn't it? - had definitely seen him for the first time.

Angry at himself for looking for his Person in everyone he met, Jae returned to the clamor of the party, trying to keep his mind off of it. This was what he'd come for, after all! He had another glass of soju with the others, helped cut the cake for Yoochun, even sang a song with him in the house karaoke, and then he ran out in a minute, dried up like the countless empty bottles on the table, and sat down in a chair in the corner of the room to watch.

The spectacle of the unfolding night rush seemed so strange, so far away from him, as if he was behind an impregnable wall in his loneliness, and even the cheerful voices and laughter of his friends, which merged into a general cacophony of sounds, strangely reinforced the inner separation, reminding him how far away from them he was now. Even though he was physically close to them.

His gaze slid from one to the other, catching a couple's drunken declarations of love, their argument, the end of the appetizers, Yoochun's happy face with his buddies, and finally back to Yunho. The guy, just like himself, sitting comfortably in a chair, but on the other side of the room, nodded silently at the chirping of one of the girls who had earlier tried to make small talk with Jaejoong.

Against his will, his imagination began to paint pictures in his mind, as if it were really Yunho's hands, now holding a glass of something pink - juice? - that had once fed and clothed him. It was as if the mole at the corner of his lips didn't seem familiar, but that it was the very mole of his Person. It was, wasn't it? Jaejoong, losing control under the influence of alcohol, imagined that this man would suddenly look at him, remember him, call him Toadstool, and he would feel better. Jae didn't even care if they kept in touch in the future or not, he just wanted to know that he hadn't disappeared without a trace.... That would be enough.

Forgetting himself, he continued to stare at Yunho, long and openly, not distracted by anything else. At some point, apparently sensing the gaze, he turned his head and met Jae's eyes.

Sobering.

Trying not to look like a madman or something, Jaejoong smiled awkwardly and retreated quickly. Slipping past the dancing acquaintances, he made his way to the kitchen and tried to find coffee in the cupboards. The night had been noisy and exhausting.

"That's because you've gone completely sour," Yoochun patted his friend on the shoulder, breaking out of the raging mass of humanity that had merged into a single solid blur in his tired eyes and followed him, "and the opposite was intended."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ruin your party."

"Who said you ruined it for me? Jae, don't be silly. I know you feel bad, I shouldn't have made you come here in the first place. I meant well, but it didn't work out."

"No, I'm just, um... tired, I guess."

"No wonder, you've been working all day, you should have taken a day off! I know it's easier to forget, but your body and mind will soon say goodbye."

Jae grinned. He had to turn his best friend's birthday into another psychological session...

"I'll take it," he promised, "I really will. I'll have the whole day off. And now they're coming for you."

Catching his breath, Yoochun let his friends lead him away.

Anyway, the party ended, leaving behind a sore head and another upset. No matter how hard he tried, Jaejoong couldn't get the mole he saw on Junsu's friend's face out of his mind. As Jae lay in his bed at home, drunk and pissed off, he carefully warned himself whenever his thoughts returned to it, because he couldn't. If he kept this up, he'd soon have a team of guys around him based on their facial pigmentation - isn't that idiotic?

Snorting, twisting, and growing more frustrated, he finally fell asleep, dreaming again of his Person's voice promising to always be there for him.

*

Hearing his decision, Junsu hung his head dejectedly. Yoochun nodded and just spoke respectfully:

"Whoa, this is cool."

In the six months since his release from the hospital, Yunho seemed to have finally returned to normal - well, except for the memory loss. He got a temp job again, paid the guys part of the rent, wanted to rent a place of his own, but suddenly it occurred to him: no one canceled the army.

His age was perfect for it, and besides, it's not like he was busy with anything important in his life. Dreams of a more prestigious job were shattered by his lack of education, of starting his own business - well, he wasn't sure if he was ready to do something so complicated yet, so the decision to do his duty before getting involved in all this adult life came with some harmony of its own.

Eighteen months isn't a lot of time, but when you're only in your near twenties and don't know what the future holds, it's more than enough time to think things through

The service began in August.

To be honest, Yunho was eager to join the army, not only to make up his mind about his plans and goals, but also to achieve a certain spiritual balance. He sincerely believed that under the conditions of strict limits and rules, he would forget, stop thinking about something important that had slipped out of his mind at the moment of the accident, and stop longing for that "something important".

Because all this time - almost a year since October - he always wanted to go somewhere, but there was no specific point on the map. Something was tearing at him, empty, itching under his skin, whatever he was doing was monotonously calling somewhere inside. Eventually he began to feel guilty - just like that, unclear to whom or what.

And Yunho was angry with himself. He couldn't remember anything new, and he was angry about it. The guys who served with him in the army in the first days even decided that it was better not to touch him at all - he looked so intimidatingly serious. Then time put everything in its place.

Regular training and a strict daily routine consumed every last drop of energy, and it was impossible to think long enough for the obsessive thoughts of getting his memory back to fade into the background. Yunho was completely immersed in his new life. Shaping himself from the inside out, patching up holes with new memories, shaping himself on the outside as well. He was only reminded of the old injuries from the accident by the nagging pain in his leg and arm when the weather turned bad.

In the evening, his head would ring hollow, allowing him to sleep soundly. Had he forgotten about the toadstools? No. Had he stopped calling on his lost memory? The answer was the same. It was just that all those experiences were now background noise.

It was so much easier.