Sneak quietly into the kitchen, as if there were someone else in the house besides him, turn on the light, brew a strong coffee. No sugar. Put the cup on the table, go to the window, notice that the moon is unusually beautiful tonight, sigh heavily. Watching a lonely snowflake go by.

Forgetting the unlucky coffee a thousand times, staying up half the night, wandering somewhere in the labyrinth of thoughts, trying to put everything in its place, to put the puzzle together, but nothing works.

Stops trying.

It was exactly two years ago...

He grinned, trying to swallow a hateful lump in his throat, catastrophically short of air. Night melancholy, damn it... He takes the cup and sips a little, adding a few spoonfuls of sugar, trying to dissolve it in the long chilled liquid. Not to sweeten it, but to sweeten his own bitterness, his own sourness.

It seems to soften a little.

Outside the window is the same calm twilight cold that dominates the soul, but the difference is that the weather will change with time - nothing will affect the desires of nature, but feelings do not change, on the contrary, months pass and he is more and more freezing. And this feeling is so disgusting that he wants to howl, to scream hoarsely and call for help, asking for mercy, tearing his ligaments, will someone answer?

"Save me..." he breathes out hoarsely, his lips curving into a smile.

He can't sleep, can't eat, even though he promised - and who heard his promises? Or live. Is there an end to this? He is wounded, his heart suffers, and there is not a single person around, not one. Why?

Step by step, wherever he goes, loneliness follows him. It follows him like a cat following a mouse, spying, waiting to free its claws when he thinks, "It seems to be getting better. It's going away". But it doesn't go away - he's still floundering in the same swamp, he can't reach the shore, he's not even halfway to his own goals, let alone searching for a missing person.

No matter what his surroundings, no matter how much jokes, alcohol, and merriment hang in the air, he wants to burst into tears on any more or less familiar shoulder, but he holds himself back, sometimes leaving bruises. He can't. He's cried it all out in the intervening years. It's better to sit like this through the night, until the pain, reaching into the farthest cells of his soul, fills the room, until his heavy hand knocks on the table and sets a nearly full cup with sugar floating on the bottom, splashing dark puddles around it.

Until his eyes close hopelessly, trying to hide the tears that come.

"I can't do it alone, you see? I'm trying, but I can't. Won't you share my sadness? You promised to be there for me, I remember."

And he knows that he would have shared it, he definitely would have shared it, but the circumstances are clearly not in her favor. Where is his Person now, is he even alive? All Jaejoong could do was send thoughts and pleas to someone whose name he didn't even know. And it was all useless. No answer. He's got the wrong number.

The days of his new life grew longer and longer. The world was falling apart around him. Or was he falling apart?

He laid his head on the table, blinked a few times, closed his eyes again and remembered... Memories are like stains from long ago, they are almost impossible to get out, they become more and more embedded, create bizarre patterns, write their own history. Memory, like mockery, allows him to remember a little more of his forgetting, but never anything specific, like a face or a name or anything else.

But old memories come back to him in great detail, and they make him want to hurt himself.

Like a snowflake floating weightlessly outside the window, he should melt before reaching the ground and be reborn in a new form, start living again. To shake off everything that hurts, that is unnecessary and empty, to let go, to break the frames, to breathe free air into my lungs, to let it out and to close my eyes with pleasure. And the snowflake...

He must have imagined it.

"There's half a fall left before winter."

 

*

 

There was nowhere to go, not even back to the generously offered army leave - he actually had twenty-eight days off, but he hadn't taken a single one in over a year. For many reasons. This time he'd been persuaded by his comrades: to clear his head, to taste freedom again, to become a regular civilian for a while, maybe to prepare for the upcoming demobilization - most of the military service was already behind him.

Yunho wandered through the sleeping city in the early morning, still dark and a bit frosty. His aunt knew about his two days off, of course, and had offered to stay with them, knowing that they would have to squeeze the whole family into the small apartment again.  But Junsu knew about it, too, and without a second thought he invited him with a cheerful voice - it had been a long time since they'd seen each other. Yunho thanked his aunt and promised to visit her, but went in another direction.

As he left the bus behind, he wondered what would come next.

There was still half a year to go. For about a year, he had successfully ignored all thoughts of his future life, avoiding everyday topics in any way possible. His superiors had suggested that he join the army because Yunho had successfully integrated himself into the army life, but he was in no hurry to accept the offer out of desperation. The army was not so tough, but he, who was once on the verge of death, wanted to do something that would bring joy to everyday life.

Something bright and cheerful, something that would never bore him, for which he would gladly set the alarm clock in the evening, and in the morning, instead of turning it off irritably and falling back to sleep, he would get up cheerfully and burst into the new day, kicking down the doors with one of his legs. Or two at once - to be so eager to do his job.

And that it would take all his thoughts away, not allow him to think again, just like the army did. So that the loneliness that devoured him at night would finally shut up and fade into oblivion.

Yunho looked at the snowflake that flashed in front of his nose and realized that he must have imagined it, because ....

"There's half a fall left before winter."

 

*

 

"...because it's irresponsible!"

Junsu, who had barely crossed the threshold of the cafe, stumbled into Jaejoong's fatally indignant scolding, so he glanced over at Yoochun and asked with just his lips:

"What's going on?"

Well... nothing good.

They had just prepared the paperwork, they had just gotten their license, and with a little more time, their cafe would have become a restaurant. The rating was exemplary, in time enough budget to hire a team of two employees - a cook and a waiter - to take shifts and rest. Guests were satisfied and recommended the cafe to their friends as "a cozy little place with just great food, service and live music".

Convinced by their own experiences, some very influential guests believed in them, so much so that after talking to the owner, they generously offered them a chance to make a reputation for themselves.

"Do you remember, about a month and a half ago, some guests ordered the organization of a birthday celebration?" began Yoochun. "An out-of-town banquet, press, big guests, big money..."

"And big trouble?"

"Looks like that," he nodded. "The organizers we've been working with for the past year suddenly decided to end their activities and announced it last night. In the mail, can you believe it? Thanks, at least they had the conscience to return the money. I don't know what the hell happened and I really don't care... The birthday is in two days. The location is rented, but..."

"And we have no place decorated, no events prepared, no cake, no music - well, I can play, but... "Junsu sighed heavily, realizing that his music alone wouldn't save the day. "So all we can do is feed them..."

"That really , I'll tell you something. Jae's been working like hell on this restaurant for two years... We just started getting reviews and real profits, and these guests... You know, the ratings would have gone up if they had stayed happy, and now..."

Jaejoong was still trying to prove something to the person on the other end of the line, but the conversation was clearly not working.

"He called several agencies, but no one will agree to work on such a deadline. We could cite the partner's incompetence in front of the client and even get away with it... but Jae feels bad about spoiling the party for them. Me too, but..."

Yoochun shrugged as the gears in Junsu's head spun through all the possible options. A problem can't be left to chance, that's true. But if none of the major holiday agencies would agree for fear of missing the deadline and getting a minus one star and a negative review - which was also understandable - then...

Hell, that's right!

"Hyung, stop!" he suddenly jumped up and rushed towards Jae, snatching the phone away from him and ending the still pointless call. "I know what to do!"

"Well, that sounds better," Yoochun hummed to himself as he the coffee machine, then added louder, "Let's talk things over quietly. Jae, double espresso?"

Receiving an affirmative nod, Yoochun just threw in at Junsu's questioning look:

"Don't look at me like that, I know what you're going to have: more cream, less coffee, half a can of sugar, and the thick foam should be half a foot above the cup."

For which he used to get slapped with his own towel.

He just couldn't deny himself the pleasure of teasing their youngest, having gotten used to the teasing and Junsu's reaction to it over the years. Usually he'd hit him with something light that he had at hand while pretending to be angry, sometimes he'd run after him and end up laughing - no silly offences. There was a special charm to this routine.

He actually drank his coffee with almost no coffee at all, and it was sweet to the point of being too disgusting - according to Yoochun, of course, who strongly disliked sugar in that drink.

"We need a reliable agency, right? One that's willing to take risks," Junsu listed as they finally sat down at a table - it was still twenty minutes before opening time. Today wasn't their shift at all, but with the unfortunate banquet looming, their presence was a necessity. "An agency that works not for profit, but for the good memories of its clients."

"There is no such agency," Jae shook his head.

"Actually, there is," the boy smiled enthusiastically, running his fingers through his blond hair. "I was talking to a friend of mine the other day, and he mentioned that he's finally found something he enjoys doing - organizing events. Decorating, entertaining, filming and everything else. They opened recently, the team is small, and their own clientele is a bit specific, mostly children's birthdays, so this agency is not really known, but ..."

"But we have no other choice."

"Hyung, I can promise you they'll do everything to the highest standard. This friend of mine... he's kind of a perfectionist."

"Where did you learn such clever words?" grinned Yoochun, squinting his eyes, but a promising look from Jaejoong made the topic go no further. Obediently, Yoochun pulled a conciliatory chocolate bar out of his pocket and handed it to Junsu, who didn't refuse, which meant that he had already forgiven him for the teasing. Nice...

Nice, except that he felt damn sorry for Jae.

He had a hard time lately. Everything was going downhill: repairs were postponed, plans were ruined, the cafe's profit was decreasing again and the money was barely enough to cover all expenses - he hadn't even told his friends that yet. The thing for which he had started this great game of restaurateurs did not come closer every day, but seemed to disappear over the horizon.

Sometimes he felt like giving up.

He had high hopes for these clients - they were not the last people in the big city, if they put in a good word about this place in their circles... things could change a lot. Jae had such high hopes for this... ....

"Junsu-ya," he slammed the palms of his hands on his knees and stood up resolutely, "call your friend. If he agrees and can help, then meet him as soon as possible and give him the specifications, we can't wait any longer. Yoochun-ah, get two or three more people for the kitchen tomorrow, we need help with the main menu. I'll take care of the cake... no pastry chef in his right mind would make a cake like this in a day and a half."

And Jaejoong even took a pastry class last year.

 

*

 

Offering to ask his friend for help, Junsu was sure in advance that he would not refuse.

He took all the documents with him and went to his office, just a few minutes away on a parallel street. Yunho had not had time to tell him where he had opened his agency - he was so busy, and now he had an excuse to visit him. Humming the melody of a song he had heard everywhere lately, Junsu crossed the threshold of the skyscraper and went up to the fifth floor.

Yunho met him at the door of his office, dressed in a suit and looking like he had just come from the hairdresser's.

"Whoa, hyung! I didn't even recognize you!" he exhaled enthusiastically and Yunho laughed, put his arm around his shoulders and patted him on the back.

"Haewon said it's best to say goodbye to the T-shirts. If I don't look like the boss, we won't get any jobs."

Haewon - Junsu met her at the reception - offered them drinks and, after listening to their wishes, disappeared, waving her blonde locks, dyed as bleached as his own. He looked around the office, a small office with a few small rooms, everything he needed and nothing superfluous. Bright and cozy.

"And how did you get everything organized so quickly after the army?" the young one questioned. "It's been what, a few months?"

"Almost five. If you know whom to pay..." Yunho hummed and opened the folder he'd brought with. "I'll tell you all about it later. So, what do you want to talk to me about? An event? In two days?"

"Well, if you count today..."

Scratching his head in confusion, Junsu began to tell what he himself had heard an hour ago, of course covering the order that had come in a month earlier. Clients, famous in business circles, who believed in them, the agency that had closed the day before and left them to their fate - he had told it all as it was, without embellishing anything, because the last thing he wanted to do was to fool his friend. Even if his other friend was now huffing and puffing, trying to find out something about the cake.

And what Junsu had admired about Yunho since his childhood - and what he honestly hoped for now - no challenge made him tremble with fear or doubt, but rather fueled his competitive spirit and made his eyes sparkle with anticipation. After listening to all the gloomy prospects, Yunho still replied quite cheerfully:

"You can count on us."

With everything settled and good news, Junsu returned to the cafe and stopped at the bar.

"We can breathe out, right?" asked Yoochun, looking at his satisfied smile.

"Yup. Yunho-hyung agreed, and besides, we already sent a person to the location to take care of the decorations. Now hyung is contacting the musicians and... Anyway, everything will be fine."

"I hope so," the waiter sighed doubtfully - time was still running out... but the mountain fell off his shoulders anyway.

He had managed to find two cooks to prepare the food for tomorrow's feast, and Jae was working on the biscuits for the cake, which was large and complicated, so no one would risk getting under his feet for the rest of the day or the next morning. They left the cafe to the two employees, praying inwardly that everything would work out, and went back to Yunho's office on Jaejoong's instructions.

 

*

 

Fortunately, there were only a few customers in the cafe the morning before the event - for the first time, they were glad about that. After talking to Yunho earlier in the day, Junsu was reassured that they were on the right track. The decorations would be ready by the evening, the band, though little known but very atmospheric, would be there, the photographer and videographer had been found without any problems, as well as the host of the event, who was famous for improvisation, and they needed just such a person - in a word, they seemed to be saved.

"I think they should definitely be introduced," Junsu smiled, watching from the corner of his eye as Jae flew around the kitchen, cursing himself and everything around him. "Yunho is like our Jaejoongi-hyung, a bit weird... You know, he told me once that he remembered a toadstool after he lost his memory. You can't even think of it on purpose, 'toadstool'! And he doesn't understand how—"

"Wait."

Yoochun suddenly glanced in his direction, dropping the sticks that jingled metal across the table.

"Did you say 'toadstool'?"

"Toadstool," the boy replied with a shrug. "That's a bit odd, isn't it? I was surprised too."

"I remember he called me Toadstool. I must have been so pale," Jaejoong's words from long ago came to mind. Yoochun swallowed and was silent for a moment. He asked a clarifying question:

"Junsu-ya, Yunho-hyung... He had an accident around the time we met Jae, right? He lost his memory after that, right?"

"Well, yeah," the guy stretched out thoughtfully and tilted his head to the side. "I saw him in the hospital about two weeks before Jae, I guess. And...?"

Yoochun's heart jumped into his throat, pounding feverishly.

It can't be. It can't be, can it? There aren't many other people who would bring up toadstools... out of the blue, just like that.

It's a stupid coincidence.

"What the hell is a coincidence?!" - He hissed at himself and jumped out of his seat, pushing his chair back noisily. Gently pushing Junsu out of the way, he whispered to him:

"You know, it doesn't seem like Yunho-hyung remembered the mushrooms at all."

He wanted to go straight to Jae, feeling like he was on the verge of a discovery, but stopped before he'd even taken two steps. The lunch he and Junsu had enjoyed was quickly forgotten. Deciding to give himself some time to think, Yoochun turned in the opposite direction and opened the locker, trying to find some calming herbs. Once found, he brewed some tea and asked again:

"Definitely 'toadstool', right?"

"Yeah, right," Junsu rolled his eyes and followed him impatiently. "What's wrong?"

Picking up the cup, Yoochun shook his head and smiled faintly.

"Everything is fine... Let's go make the chief happy."

Amidst the incessant "happy?" and "say something!", he tried to think of the right way to present this information. Should he say it now, or was it a bad idea to risk it before an important event? What if this was just a misunderstanding? What if he'd made the correct comparison? But it was just... Jaejoong had tortured himself so much, wanted to find his Person so badly, that he had finally lost hope and become dejected. And the calming tea had already been brewed.…

"Jae," he called to his friend, making up his mind.

"Hmm?"

"We need to talk."

Jaejoong put the knife down and turned around. Sighing, he asked piteously:

"Urgent? I don't think I'll have time for anything until tomorrow."

"And I don't think that it's so important anymore. You should... sit down or something."

Yoochun was a master at scaring people, and he looked the same: anxious, his eyes glowing feverishly. For some reason, Jae thought that Junsu's friend had refused to work with them on the eve of the deadline, or had simply failed to comply with it, and his heart sank.

"How bad is it?" he asked despairingly, but Yoochun shook his head:

"I'm not saying it's bad, it's just... I can't even be sure, but it's all coming together so well, and... Jae, don't get too excited, I'm not..."

"Just say it."

"Well, it seems..." he was silent for a second, unsure of the right way to say it, but after hesitating, he said, "It seems that your Person has been found, Toadstool."