The first thing Hoya sees when he opens his eyes is a blank canvas, white and empty, and Hoya wonders if it's ever going to be filled with color, if someone will create a picture on the vacant space, engraving memories and emotion deep into the surface.

He blinks and his eyes focus against the pale, bare exterior, and as everything comes into view the white of the surface looks sickly now. Hoya turns his head away and another white canvas appears, and he's darting his eyes in every direction to realize that they're all around him. White walls, encasing him, stuck in a big box of that same sickly, blank color and he recognizes it as a room.

His hearing is fading in slowly, and suddenly he hears a faint beeping sound to his left. He shifts his gaze to a box next to him where the sound is coming from, something that looks like some odd machine and there's a strange zigzag line going through the screen in the middle of a bunch of numbers and it only makes Hoya confused. His body feels a bit itchy and he looks down to find that he's wearing a long piece of clothing. He scrunches his nose in dissatisfaction because the cloth is rough and the white and blue pattern against it makes his eyes hurt. His forehead feels a bit constricted and he brings up his free hand to the top of his only to be met with the feel of more cloth, and he catches on that it's a bandage. There's a bandage around his head. But why?

He shifts, looking back up as his eyes travel upwards to a clear, hanging bag also next to him, holding in a clear liquid, so much that it looks like the bag could burst. He trails his gaze down a long tube coming from it until it reaches right next to him, against more white that Hoya sees is his bed. The tube continues to snake its way on his pale blanket until it stops at the front of his hand. He takes a closer look, and realizes that there's something thin and metallic going into his hand and his eyes go wide at the fact that there is something piercing into his skin and he doesn't feel any pain.

He does feel, however, the shift of cloth against his other arm and he swears he wasn't the one who did that. He turns to his right only to find a messy mop of dark hair, and the thing is shifting again and suddenly Hoya can see the side of a face resting atop a pair of arms, propped against the side of his bed. Broad shoulders, deep blue t-shirt, sharp jawline, full lips, closed eyes; Hoya takes in everything he sees. He notices something against the person's cheek, a damp trail going down their face, coming from their eyes that look a bit puffy. Were they crying?

Then, Hoya decides that it doesn't really matter because he registers that there is a complete stranger next to him and suddenly all his realizations process in his mind that he is trapped inside a room with machines around him and something injected into his hand with a stranger next to him and what is going on? His head is spinning and he's about to panic because he's scared, terrified, because he doesn't understand what's happening or what's even happened to himself. His bare feet feel cold and he uncomfortably shifts his feet around in his blanket.

He wants to run. He wants to get out of here. These sick, pale walls makes him want to throw up and the beeping from the machine seems like it's getting louder and louder as it rings through his ears. Hoya grabs for the thing in his hand, ready to pull it out so can run freely as his fingers tighten against the thin metal. Just one swift motion and he can get away.

"Howon-ah, don't touch it."

He immediately halts at the sound of the voice and turns his head to where the sound came from to his right.

"Don't touch it. You need it."

Hoya hears it again and looks to see the stranger's head tiredly lift up from its position. The person's eyes open slightly, half-lidded and tired looking, and Hoya can only sit in silence because he realizes this stranger is actually talking to him. His fingers slowly unwrap themselves around the metal as he stares intently at the man next to him.

“Why? Does it hurt? Are you okay, Howon?” he hears the man speak again and notices how quiet and straggled it sounds. 

Hoya would reply to the other’s questions, but he replays it again in his mind and raises an eyebrow because what’s a howon? 

“What’s wrong?” the man asks, noticing the other’s puzzled expression.

Hoya stays silent for a moment, thinking, before he looks back at the man straight in the eye and asks, “Howon? What is that?”

The man only stares back and his eyebrows crease together. “Howon.” His voice sounds more forced than before. “Lee Howon… Hoya… That’s… That’s your name.” There’s a hint of panic in his voice and his statement only makes Hoya even more confused.

“It is?”

The other’s eyes go wide and his back straightens abruptly. “Howon-ah, this… this isn’t funny. I’m really worried right now and it won’t help if you’re playing some dumb game with me.” 

“What are you talking about?” Hoya responds because this guy is really starting to weird him out.

“This isn’t funny!” The man yells, suddenly standing and towering over the side of the bed as Hoya flinches at the sudden action. “Howon, I almost lost you. I was so worried. Please, just… just stop this stupid joke already.” Hoya feels the other’s hands grip tightly on the sheet of his bed. 

“Howon…” His fingers lock tighter and his eyes look glassy, filling with tears that threaten to fall. “Howon-ah, don’t you remember your own damn name?!” Hoya flinches again at the rising of the other’s voice and everything is starting to scare him again. His heart is beating rapidly again, his breaths become short and fast as the panic starts to come back and suddenly the beeping from the machine seems to speed up and it feels like the sound is pounding in Hoya's ears. 

The man’s fingers lose their grip against the sheets. He stares at Hoya, guilt flooding his face. He immediately takes Hoya’s face into his palms and calms him down, whispering “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over again as his tears start to fall. “Howon, please,” the man chokes out. “You can’t forget.” He takes Hoya’s free hand in his and squeezes it lightly. “Please. Tell me. Tell me you at least remember this: do you know who I am?”

Hoya scans the other’s face, looking deep into the man’s pleading eyes, and he can only answer in silence.

“Please remember. Don’t you remember me? I’m Woohyun. Nam Woohyun. Your Woohyunnie.” The man breaks down and cries harder. “Don’t you remember?”

Hoya stares deeper into the other’s eyes and tries, desperately tries to remember, because he feels that somehow this person in front of him is someone important. But he can only shake his head.

“No.”