𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐮𝐳𝐳𝐥𝐞𝐬 | 𝐡𝐡𝐣

one.

Jolting up with a sharp breath, he hisses and tried to bring his hand to cover his eyes from the blinding light. Feeling a tug, Hyunjin blinked rapidly, feeling the cord stuck to his finger through a clip. Touching his hair with his other—shaky—arm, he notices it's probably grown out, his blonde tips and his dark roots are to his shoulders.

What am I doing in a hospital...? He thinks, weakly detaching the clip from his finger and pulling the white blanket off his legs—albeit with some difficulty. Forcing his legs over the bed, he groans in pain. His legs seemed thinner than they should be, and he felt skinny all around, the muscle mass he'd once had—not that he remembered it—gone. Wobbling to stand, he tries to stumble towards the room's door.

Swinging the door open to read to your favorite patient, you gasp. "You—you're awake!" Quickly pressing the emergency button to call a doctor, and rushing to the boy's side, holding him up and hoisting him back onto the bed. Wide-eyed, you observe him. You'd seen his face countless times, but you'd never had the pleasure of seeing his deep, velvety October eyes. He was easily one of the most beautiful men you'd ever seen, if not the most. His peach, flawless skin, thick, luscious russet brows, and tall, slim body. You were almost jealous of how great he looked after waking up from a year-long nap.

Furrowing his brows at you, he stared, "Who're you?" Slurring his words, he rasps out of his husky voice in confusion.

It was an understandable question, he'd just come out of a year-long coma and had never met you before going down. In all honesty, it would've been odder if he had recognized you.

Clearing your throat, you gulp, "I'm [L/N] [Y/N], you don't know me... I just read to you a few times a week during the time you've been asleep," Scratching your neck in nervousness. Rubbing your forearm, you hesitantly meet his eyes, fingers gripping your skin when your breath is caught in your throat at the contact, "... D'you know who you are?"

He quirks his brows, immediately bringing his wrist to his eyes, scanning the wristband for a name. Hong Gildong, a lump forming in his throat at the words—rising when he realized, he only remembered what he hoped was his first name. "I-I don't... My first name is Hyunjin I think, but I'm not sure of that either..." you fail to note the slight hostility in his voice.

Nodding, the two of you sit in silence as you wait for the doctor—it didn't usually take this long for one to arrive, so you weren't exactly sure what to do.

Hearing the door click and three sets of footsteps frantically enter and a corresponding number of gasps fill the silence before they were shuffling around monitors and supplies to run tests. Being shoved out of the room by one of the nurses, you comply, not wanting to start a commotion as soon as he'd woken up for the first time in the majority of a year.

Seated in front of the room, you flick your head up, standing when the doctor gives you a curt nod to enter. It was odd, anxiously waiting to speak to somebody you didn't know the first thing about. The reality of it all made your stomach turn in discomfort.

"He's got amnesia. We're not sure when his memories will reappear—or if they ever will. For now, we're running his face through the system again to see if there are any matches to recent missing person cases," the doctor—Bang Chan, a doctor you'd gotten quite acquainted with—informs you.

You frown, staring at the long-haired brunette, "I'm so sorry, Hyunjin... But why are you telling me this, Chan? I'm not family and I don't know him in the slightest..." your voice questioning and apologetic at the same time.

Seating himself on the edge of Hyunjin's bed, he begins, "[Y/N], you've been volunteering here for years, and you've spent the most time with him out of everyone. You know basic procedures and have proven yourself trustworthy and reliable countless times. After talking with Hyunjin, he agreed to stay with you, hesitantly. It will only be temporary—if you're okay with taking him in for a while."

Your eyes widened, your throat dry and an overwhelming feeling of pressure builds up in your chest. You couldn't. You were a volunteer, and you had a job, you didn't have the time! Chan knew you well, didn't he? He knew you'd never back away from helping someone in need.

Opening your mouth to decline, your heart drops at the sight of Hyunjin. He stared at his hand, his honey eyes lost and face confused, one arm wrapped around his waist, the other in front of his face and legs bent at the knees in a fetus position. He looked vulnerable, lonely, and even if you hadn't spent more than an hour with him awake, you could see the pain in his eyes.

Giving up your decision, you release a breath you hadn't known you were holding, nodding at the doctor. "Of course. You know I can't turn away from helping people," a slight sigh in your voice as you sit beside Chan. Curse him for knowing you sucked at saying no. "When is he getting discharged?"

"In about a week, maybe even a few days before that. He needs physical therapy to learn how to walk again," Chan smiles, passing you a short stack of paperwork, "You need to fill out an application to be his emergency contact, let me know when you're done, and I'll get it processed as soon as possible."

Nodding your head at him, you press the stack against the wall to fill out the papers. Digging your hand into your purse, you groan when you realize you don't have a pen. You glance at Hyunjin, noticing the table beside him. Sneaking towards it and grabbing a pen, you begin to fill the blanks in.

Hyunjin stared at his hand, focusing on the creases, a distant look in his eyes. "Why did you agree? You don't know me."

Startled, you jump, a hand on your chest where your heart is. It was a valid question, really, because there was no reason for you to take him in. Feeling nervous, you rack your brain, your hand subconsciously fiddling with the hem of your blouse. "I don't know you, but I'd like to. I've spent every day of the past year reading to you, telling you stories, and checking up on you. I think it'd be nice."

Hyunjin hums, his tone neither opposing nor accepting. Staring at his pale hand, he shakily encloses his palm with his other—barely able to lift it from his waist—holding it to his chest, a feeling of loneliness and anxiety settling in the pit of his stomach. Squeezing his hands into fists as best he can, he breathes. It's dry, unstable, and scared, but it's also comforting when the warm air brushes against his cold fingers.