✓ TOO REAL TO DENY | SUNGHOON

44 - A Face In The Crowd

Y/N'S POV

The world is a blur of unfamiliar sounds and indistinct shapes as I slowly resurface from the depths of unconsciousness. My mind feels like a tangled mess of confusion as if I'm trying to piece together a puzzle of missing pieces. Where am I? What happened? Questions flood my mind, but my body feels heavy, unresponsive. It's a struggle to open my eyes, the dim light in the room causing a sharp pain in my head. My vision gradually clears and I can see the outlines of faces hovering over me. 

They're shouting, the people around me. Each sound pierces through the fog in my mind, pulling me further from the darkness that had enveloped me. I try to focus, to piece together the fragments of reality around me but the more I try to, the more those fragments slip out of my grasp like sand through my fingers. My mind is a blank page and I can't seem to find the words to fill it. Oblivion is holding me by the throat and I'm nothing but a soul without a past, without a grasp on the present. I'm trapped in a silent world and the silence is suffocating. 

"Y/N, can you hear me?" Slowly, I turn my head towards the woman looking at me with her heart in her eyes. It takes a moment for her face to come into focus, but when it does, recognition washes over me like a wave crashing against the shore. It's my mother. I remember her, how can I not? The way she always smelled of fresh-baked cookies and the warmth of her embrace after a bad day at school. I'm not sure why her eyes are filled with tears and an undeniable sense of relief. I'm not sure why her voice sounds both desperate and hopeful.

Last week, we spent time together when I visited my hometown. We even made plans to go shopping this weekend. But now, her presence here, in this sterile hospital room, tells me that something has gone terribly wrong. "Mom." Hearing my own voice is strange as if it belongs to someone else. It's weak and raspy, barely audible even to my own ears. But it's enough to draw her closer, her hand reaching out to gently touch my cheek, her fingers trembling against my skin.

"Oh, thank goodness. Thank goodness you're awake." I don't understand why she's so relieved, why tears are streaming down her cheeks. I try to speak again, to ask her what's happened, but my throat feels dry and scratchy, making it difficult to form words. Panic starts to bubble up inside me as I realize I can't remember anything. "Call the doctors! Please tell them she's awake!"

The old woman holding my hand looks at me the way you'd look at a lost child who's finally found their way home. It's my grandmother, of course, I can tell from the way her eyes scan my whole face as if trying to memorize every detail. She would always do that, checking if I gained weight, if a pimple popped up somewhere on my cheeks, if my hair looked neat enough. Though right now, it doesn't look like she's worried about my appearance. For the first time in my life, my grandmother is overcome with emotion, her stern facade crumbling before my eyes. "Y/N, my dear child. Thank goodness you're awake. Thank goodness."

Was I sleeping for too long? Was I injured? Maybe. From the bandages around my head and the way I can't move my body, it seems likely. Before I can do anything, a bunch of doctors hover around me, their white coats making me feel small and vulnerable. Everything feels surreal, like I'm watching a scene from a movie rather than living it. They begin to ask me a series of questions - my name, the date, where I am - and I struggle to answer each one. I know nothing apart from who I am. That, if nothing else, is something I can cling to.

"Do you remember what happened?" I stare at the doctor who asks me the question I've been trying so hard to avoid. I don't remember. I don't remember what happened and something is wrong with me. 

"I..." My heart races in my chest, and I struggle to find the words to respond. "I don't." His face turns into a mask of concern, and I can see the worry etched into his features. His brows furrow slightly as he exchanges a glance with the other doctors in the room. 

"Uhm," He frowns, looks down at his cardboard and clears his throat. "You've been through a traumatic experience. It's not uncommon for patients to experience memory loss in such situations. Your mind may be protecting you from recalling the events until you're ready. In any case, we have to do a few more tests and see if any underlying injuries or conditions are contributing to your memory loss." I nod weakly, feeling overwhelmed by the weight of it all. Traumatic experience. Memory loss. Tests. The world spins around me, and I struggle to make sense of it all.

They check my vitals, inspect the bandages around my head, and ask me more questions, each one feeling like a test I'm failing. And before I know it, it's only me, my mother, my grandmother and the stranger who keeps looking at me from across the room. Is he a doctor? A nurse? I can't tell, but when my gaze drops to his clothes and they're stained with blood, my heart skips a beat. The sudden realization that the blood might be mine is a big, heavy weight hitting me over and over and over. My gaze flickers up to his eyes and they're the most intense shade of brown, almost like he's searching for something within me. It looks like he's been crying, or maybe he's just exhausted. There's something familiar about him, something that tugs at the edges of my memory, but I can't quite grasp it. 

I can't understand why his eyes are filled with guilt, remorse, desperation - and I can't help but wonder what role he played in whatever happened to me.

"Y/N," My mother's voice breaks through the silence, drawing my attention away from the stranger. She looks at me with both hope and worry. I'm the focus of their attention, the center of their concern, and it's overwhelming. "You remember us, right? I'm your mother and this is your grandmother."

"Yes," I manage to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper. "I remember you." Relief washes over my mother's face, and she reaches out to take my hand in hers, squeezing it gently. 

"What about Sunghoon? You remember him, right?" I glance back at the stranger whose name appears to be Sunghoon. It feels familiar on my tongue but I can't quite place where I've heard it before. Who is he to me? Why does he look at me like he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders? I want to ask him who he is but the words stick in my throat like a lump of lead. The disappointment and confusion in his eyes make my heart drop to the lowest pit of my stomach. I want to reach out to him, to comfort him, but I don't even know who he is to me.

"I... I'm not sure." My words must have hurt him so much because the next thing I know are tears falling down his cheeks. I'm not sure why, I'm not sure what I've done to cause him such pain, but it breaks my heart to see him like this. His shoulders slump forward, and he turns away, unable to meet my gaze.

"It's okay-" His voice cracks but all he does is nod, as if trying to reassure both of us. "I'm glad you're awake, Y/N, I really am. Don't worry about me, just focus on getting better." His words are a soft plea as if he's begging me to forgive him, to understand him, to remember him. Something tells me he's more than just a face in the crowd, more than just a stranger in this room. 

"Did you... save me?" I hear myself say and I can clearly see the way his body stiffens, the way he inhales sharply before turning back to face me. "The blood on your  clothes... is it mine?"

The silence that follows my question is deafening but when he breaks down, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs, guilt grips my heart. I never meant to cause him this much pain, and yet here he is, breaking apart before my eyes. I can't help but wonder what have I done to make him this miserable. Though I also wonder if he's in pain not because of something I've done. I can't help but wonder what he had done to feel this devastated.