He remembers it about ninety percent.

They were sososo happy, he remembers, and they joked and teased and slept and they had fun, and he was next to Myungsoo, and he was happy too, even though Sungjong was next to Myungsoo too, but who cared, because they were all happy, and Sunggyu said don’t forget to wear your safety belts, they’re important, and everybody nodded ,and nobody did.

Of course nobody did. Not even Sunggyu did.

But that’s not important now Myungsoo is important Kim Myungsoo Myungsoo Myungsoo your best friend is important don’t cling on your memories like a whiny , a voice inside him says, and Sungyeol stops. Of course he does, because the voice is right. Once in a while, the voice will appear, just like that, every time he thinks about it, the incident he shouldn’t think about but still does.

Airplane crash airplane crash airplane crash. Who cares even.

He sits there, idly, at one of the broken wings ( symbolism), and looks out, at the desert, at the yellow haze, emptiness, sand.

The sands seem to scream Kim Myungsoo.

Sungyeol looks out, his eyes full with sand, his hands numb, his body numb, his head burning from the sun, his feet full with blisters, and his heart still beating warmly (maybe a bit too warm), and his head still thinking of the boy who likes to take shots.

(He wonders if he would take pictures of the desert, now.

He probably would.)

-

Sungyeol doesn’t dream since It happened.

He can’t – how is he supposed to? Myungsoo might come at the night, which makes sense because at night it’s cold and not as unbearable hot as at days, and it’s just mere logic.

But Myungsoo isn’t smart. At least he wasn’t when they shot Ranking King.

Sungyeol hopes he has become smart, now.

(He has to.)

-

Sungyeol stopped counting days, or rooting for anybody to come along.

The place they crashed is crappy, he realizes – sand everywhere, how is somebody supposed to land here? By another plane crash? And what if he doesn’t speak Korean? Sungyeol’s screwed, then, because his English is just as good as do you hear me and paradais and I love you. But you can’t really say I love you to a stranger.

(Except if that stranger is Myungsoo. Or L. Who cares.)

He stopped hoping for any other member to come. Why would they? It’s their crash place, after all. (If they’d been smart, they would come, they really would. But none of them is smart. Sunggyu isn’t, Dongwoo is an idiotic genius, Woohyun – Woohyun is a topic way beyond stupidity, Howon is just ambition, give or take a bit knowledge and Sungjong is stupid on a level everybody else is. Of course Sungyeol is the smartest of them all. He is Brain King, after all, and Knowledge King. And since Myungsoo is his best friend, he has to be smart, too.

He just has to.)

But what Sungyeol doesn’t realize is: They all moved on, start surviving on their own, and the thing is, the most stupid of them all is still Lee Sungyeol, because he is ridiculously attached to his best friend, Kim Myungsoo.

(He somehow hears a laughing stop hurting me, back then when Sungyeol hit him with a mere paper.)

Stop hurting me, he says and thinks that it might reach the stupid Myungsoo.

(But they are just mere thoughts, aren’t they?)

-

There is a shadow, one day, a shadow completely fictive, and Sungyeol knows this, and yet, he accepts it with arms wide open.

The shadow looks like Myungsoo. It comes closer, and it gets the features of Myungsoo.

The shadow becomes Myungsoo.

(And Sungyeol becomes the shadow.)

"Where were you," Sungyeol says, his voice is rough, faint, almost non-existent. It’s not even a question, though it’s supposed to be one.

"I searched you," Myungsoo answers (no it’s a shadow shadow shadow, his mind thinks, but his heart, his heart is somewhere else.

The heart becomes the end of the mind.)

"You’re stupid."

"I know. Forgive me."

Sungyeol doesn’t reply (and doesn’t know why.)

"You…you love me, right? You care for me, right?"

"Are you supposed to sing Be Mine now?" Sungyeol doesn’t remember the lyrics to Be Mine anymore (is he supposed to?), but he remembers that they say right a lot.

"This is our own upbeat love song."

Stop that .

"Hyung. Hyung. Let’s get away from here. You found me, we can be happy now. Please stop staying here. You might die."

"I would die because of you," Sungyeol answers and means it that way.

"Me too, hyung."

No you wouldn’t you would either die because of your ing camera or because of your career Myungsoo because I’m not the type who would kill anybody.

"I will die because of you."

"I know. I’m sorry."

"Take me away from here," he whispers.

"What?"

"You heard me."

He’s only your imagination, his mind says.

"I don’t care," his heart answers.

"Stand up, then. I won’t carry you all along."

Sungyeol stands up – it feels wrong, somehow. He wants to sit back again. He really wants to. But now he stood up already – there is no turning back.

You wanted to do it, anyways.

"Come with me."

Sungyeol’s like the kid who learns only now how to walk, and Myungsoo is his teacher. Isn’t it supposed to be the other way round?

He takes a step.

I love you, Myungsoo.

Another.

I will always protect you.

And another.

(And doesn’t realize that he loses his memories, step by step. He ignores it.)

I will always be on your side. We promised it.

(next step.)

Did we? I can’t remember. I think we did. And if not, we did now.

(next.)

Where do I know you from?

I will protect you anyways.

I’ll find you.

Are you Myungsoo?

Who am I even?

I’m searching for Myungsoo. Do you possibly know him?

Me? I’m a member of Infinite.

Our debut song? Um, I don’t know.

What? Debut song? What debut song? I’m not an idol.

I’m still looking for Myungsoo.

Why? Because I do.

-

He arrives at a city, full with dust and sand and emptiness. Sungyeol assumes it’s normal, that cities are like that.

(It isn’t.)

He searches for Myungsoo (and doesn’t know how he looks like), he goes up to every building which is empty anyways, but he still looks for Myungsoo (and doesn’t know how he looks like), and goes to open places which should obviously be crowded, but are empty, but he still chases memories (which are non-existent) and for Myungsoo (and doesn’t remember any kind of interaction between them).

It’s fine, though.

This is life, and this is my life goal, Sungyeol thinks (he can’t even remember his name), and continues his search.

-

He meets another boy, then, a boy with six fingers on the left hand and five on the right. (No, that one is definitely not normal; Sungyeol’s got five on both, and somehow he knows that everybody has just ten fingers. It’s not supposed to be eleven.)

"Who are you?" Sungyeol asks. He receives a grunt from the other boy. Sungyeol looks at the other from head to toe, and he looks handsome. But who is he even to decide this. (Sungyeol does, though.)  He has a nice, sharp face, dark, black-hole like almond-shaped eyes, and sort of thin lips.  His body is well worked out, but his clothes are ridiculous.

Something about this boy is wrong. Or it feels too familiar, the scent. Sungyeol can’t decide.

He suddenly jumps onto him (the foreigner, not the other way round), his body over Sungyeol’s, and grunts again, once, twice, thrice, and Sungyeol looks at him in unblinking eyes.

"Who are you?" The eyes are shockingly deep, way too deep, black holes in a white galaxy (in a white galaxy full with bruises and scars, Sungyeol realizes) and the voice is so shockingly rough and deep and beautiful.

"I don’t know. What about you?" Sungyeol asks.

"I’m L."

"L? Is that all?"

"Yes."

"Fine then, L-ah." Sungyeol smiles, and the hardness in the black holes disappears (is it because of the smile? No don’t get ridiculous.

But why does he smile even?)

He goes away from him (the warm feeling disappears), and looks at him, and his eyes are somehow brown now, not the hard strong black.

"I’m-I’m sorry," he chokes out. "It’s just – it’s just that-that I haven’t met a human for a long time, it feels unfamiliar still, and-and-"

"It’s fine, really." (Why does he smile even? He doesn’t know him. He doesn’t. He’s a stranger.)

"Okay." He sits down right next to him, and says, "I…um, I think I’m becoming more and more animal by the day."

"Hm," is all Sungyeol replies. "I’m looking for Myungsoo."

"Save me from it."

"From what?"

"From insanity. Today. Okay?"

"I’m-I’m just looking for Myungsoo."

"Then I’m Myungsoo from now on."

"What? You can't be Myungsoo. You aren't Myungsoo. You're L. You said you're L."

“So what? Can’t I have multiple names? Myungsoo L. L Myungsoo. I just added Myungsoo now.”

Sungyeol laughs again, and it seems fine, this time. This kid has some sort of adorability, it’s ridiculous.

“Because when I’m with you, I feel more human.” L looks down, his face a bit of red.

Sungyeol laughs again. “It’s fine.”

And so they set off, as two strangers trying to find their place.

(But their place is right there where their heart is.)

-

They don’t find much to eat; sometimes L will find something with expired date, and they would eat it, and vomit afterwards and starve more. They both know they don’t have much to live if they continue living that way, but who cares.

They sleep on the plastered streets, look at the starlight and tell stories. Usually Sungyeol would tell them, stories where only L is the male lead, because you’re handsome, L-ah, and a story of another girl he would usually give the name Hana. L would usually dislike all of his stories, saying that they’re unreal and that she is stupid or nag on every single line Sungyeol is saying, but that’s fine for both.

One day, L tells the story, and gives the elder the name Yeol-ah.

“Yeol-ah?”

“Yeol means ten, right? And you are ten out of ten points in my eyes.”

“Stop that , seriously. Do you like me or what?”

“I owe you my humanity, that’s why.”

“Psh. I still search for Myungsoo.”

“I told you that I am Myungsoo.”

“You just set that one up!”

“So what, Yeol-ah? I set your name up right now, too.”

It would always end in conversation which neither had a beginning nor an end, just them talking about random stuff, and anything but food. Because if they start talking about food, they would both be reminded by their stomachs that it’s empty, and they don’t like it. (Neither Yeol, nor L.)

So they talk.

It’s their way of escaping gravity, somehow.

-

They stay at one place now.

Both realized that it’s stupid, stupid to wander and to see other places, when every other place is the desert, too.

The only places that aren’t deserts are their hearts.

-

Yeol has found out that L doesn’t remember a thing (and definitely not how he got that ivory finger, but I like it though, Yeol-ah, it looks sassy, he had said to him), much like him, but that he started remembering a lot more since he met Yeol, he had said.

“Like, I remember that we were on a plane, you and I and some other guy,” he said to him one night (they only talk at night; it’s too hot at days to talk, actually.). “And we held hands and you screamed and I screamed and everybody screamed, wait no, one didn’t, he yelled everything’s gonna be alright, and I remember how I thought, no it’s not we’re going to die.” He looks at the elder in wide eyes. “Do you remember something like this, too?”

“Erm, I don’t,” Yeol confessed, “but it’s fine that we have memories together! It’s cool! Maybe we have more memories together!”

“Yes! That’d be cool!” L answered brightly, shining more than a thousand stars.

“Or do you know what? Let’s make memories together from now on! You and I, okay?”

“Okay.”

They hold hands, then, and it’s just as warm as Yeol has in mind when they first met.

-

One night, he has a dream.

He dreams about a stage, him standing in front of thousandths of girls screaming and waving gold light sticks. He looks down – he wears some red clothes, ridiculous red clothes. Stage clothes, Yeol realizes. Stinging with their tags all over the place. It’s hot – definitely hot because they (they?) danced a lot, and the spotlights are beaming cruelly, like the sun, and there’s sweat all over his body.

And then there is this backhug, suddenly, and it’s warm (it should be cold) and it’s annoying.

Myungsoo-yah, he thinks, and looks at the camera and looks at it, just looking. He doesn’t look at the handsome, younger boy who backhugs him, though.

“Hyung,” Myungsoo whispers, “Sungyeol-hyung.”

Sungyeol laughed. Stop that .

He wakes up, then, sweat on his palms and on his forehead and everywhere else, and he looks at L – no. This isn’t L. Or at least, his real name isn’t L.

And then Sungyeol realizes – he’s Sungyeol, and this is Myungsoo.

His memories stream like the sweat on his palms, sticky, ugly, painfully.

And the airplane crash.

“Myungsoo,” he whispers to L – no, Myungsoo – and Myungsoo looks at him.

“What is it, Yeol-ah?”

“Not Yeol-ah. Sungyeol-hyung. I remember everything now. You’re Myungsoo.”

“I said I am Myungsoo!”

“You are Myungsoo. Kim Myungsoo. Stage name L. And I’m Lee Sungyeol.”

“Stage name?”

Sungyeol ends up telling him everything that night. And Myungsoo nods and says, “aha,” and sometimes he laughs, but he has a stern expression most of the time.

“Let’s go find the others!” Sungyeol beams. “I mean, they’d get lost and-“

“So what?” Myungsoo replies finally.

“What, so what? We are Infinite! We’re seven, not two!”

“We aren’t infinite. I’m Myungsoo and you’re Sungyeol.”

“You don’t even remember a thing!”

“Do you remember what you said? Let’s make memories together. So all I ask for is, don’t break the promise. We might as well get swallowed by the stars, become a part of the black sky, just like that. Let’s just be two strangers, from now on, with the names Myungsoo and Sungyeol. The end.”

“But…”

(Why is he hesitating?)

Myungsoo grabs Sungyeol’s hand, then, stands up (and forces Sungyeol to do the same) and they set off.

“You know, people will write stories about us,” Myungsoo begins with his raspy voice, “stories about you and me and how we have gone astray from Korea or from society in general, and the authors will either make us suffer or make us happy together, but you know, they’re not even wrong. We suffer because we lost the ones we love, but we’re happy because we have at least each other. And they’ll end, just like that, and all tears will end, just like that, and… and in the end, we will be all happy with a bittersweet edge. I think that happiness is the best happiness.”

“Bittersweet happiness?”

“Yes.”

“I like bittersweet chocolate, but I can’t say if I like bittersweet lives, or endings, or stories.”

Myungsoo chuckles. “For now, we should be happy that it’s at least a sweet attached to the bitter.”

a/n: SAY WHAT YOU WANT BUT I CALL THIS WORK. LOL.