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13

Mingi was halfway to the hospital when he realized that coming directly to the hospital--where his lover was being treated--after having sex with another man while his lover was in a coma did not sound like an ideal scenario. Especially when he had mistakenly taken the wrong jacket and his body still smelled of the sex he had just had about two hours ago.

Mingi should have gone home first and changed his clothes.

He could have also picked up some clothes for his lover.

Mingi imagined Yunho wouldn’t be comfortable with just a hospital gown. First, Yunho had a better fashion sense than Mingi and wouldn’t settle for just any old clothes. Second, Yunho wasn’t comfortable with revealing clothing, really. Mingi should have gone home and brought Yunho’s favorite sweatshirt.

But he was almost at the hospital. It was too late.

He might as well continue.

Check the situation.

Make sure his lover was okay.

Mingi thought that at the very least, he should stop by Yunho’s favorite curry restaurant and get him something to make him feel more comfortable.

Yunho might be a lab worker, but he was never comfortable in a hospital.

Fuck it. Visit Yunho, make sure everything is okay, and that there are no other side effects besides his body reverting to being a teenager.

Then he could go home, bring things that would make Yunho comfortable. Maybe a bouquet of roses.

Who knows.

Mingi had never been considered a romantic partner before.

Usually, it was Yunho who initiated the romance between them, from birthday traditions to Valentine’s Day celebrations.

Yunho believed in memories. In the treasure of life as remembrance.

Yunho had a collection of polaroids, photos of their time together that he carefully arranged in albums. He couldn’t freely share their moments with the world via social media. But his scrapbook was enough for him. Sometimes he made Mingi write sentimental things. And for Yunho, Mingi was willing to try.

Yunho had been unconscious for a few weeks, and Mingi’s life was already starting to fall apart.

Mingi smiled to himself at the memory of the polaroid album in their home. A home that might now be dusty because there was no Yunho to take care of it.

Mingi really wanted to go home now, get Yunho’s sweatshirt and his favorite polaroids. Capture their new moments after this.

But he had already arrived.

Mingi got out of his car and ran. He didn’t need to ask the receptionist again, because even though he had never visited, he knew exactly where Yunho’s room was.

Mingi stopped in his hasty steps when he saw San waiting for him in front of the elevator.

“Mingi,” said the young man, with eye bags as large as Mingi’s at the moment. This young man was really waiting for my lover faithfully, Mingi thought. Was he jealous? Of course. But on the other hand, he was grateful someone was there for Yunho when he was too cowardly to face another nightmare.

“I’m going to be straightforward with you, the doctor hasn’t finished examining Yunho thoroughly. I don’t know,” San paused, “I don’t know how to put it.”

Mingi stood in confusion. A million worst-case scenarios about Yunho’s health were spinning in his mind.

“He’s still very weak, so try not to ask too many questions.”

Okay, Mingi thought, that’s something standard. Again, Mingi might not be a good lover. But that didn’t mean he didn’t have the common sense not to interrogate someone who had just woken up from a coma.

“Okay,” said Mingi quickly. He just wanted to see Yunho, see his lover open his eyes.

San looked nervous. But then he nodded and led the way to Yunho’s room.

“Falkner,” San greeted one of the large guards in front of Yunho’s room.

The guard opened the door for them, and Mingi saw him. The plump face of his lover, who was much younger than the face that was so familiar in his memory.

He looked different, but also so the same at the same time.

Then they locked eyes. And in that moment, Mingi knew something felt wrong.

Yunho’s gaze didn’t feel familiar, didn’t feel like he recognized Mingi.

It was like looking at a stranger. “San, who is this?” said the young man with Yunho’s face.

Mingi wasn’t stupid.

He had certificates to prove he wasn’t stupid.

But life had made a fool of him with hope. Punished him with loss.