---
The lights dimmed.
The crowd hushed.
And the spotlight hit center stage.
Eun Jae-hyun stepped forward, gripping the mic with trembling fingers. He looked out over the crowd—but not to see them.
He was looking for someone.
Someone he'd stopped hoping would come.
---
MINWOO
I didn't mean to be there.
I wasn't supposed to be. I'd told myself I wouldn't go. That he didn't need me anymore. That he'd chosen silence over everything we'd built.
But when the curtain rose, I was in the back row. Hoodie up, limping slightly, blending into the shadows.
The minute he opened his mouth to sing, I forgot how to breathe.
---
JAE-HYUN
The song was new. Unfinished. Raw. Just me, my voice, and the ache in my chest.
I didn't sing it for the fans.
I sang it for the boy who left without slamming the door.
The one I let go because I was too scared to ask him to stay.
---
The melody rose. Something soft. Fragile.
Almost like an apology whispered through chords.
And somewhere, far back in the crowd, Minwoo's lips parted in disbelief.
Because it was their song.
The one they never finished.
The one with a bridge that only made sense when Jae-hyun's voice cracked on the word "stay."
---
Then everything shattered.
A loud, jarring creak above the stage. A scream from backstage.
Someone yelled—
"THE RIG'S COMING DOWN!"
Jae-hyun barely turned.
He didn't even have time to react.
The stage light—massive, metal, and blinding—snapped free and came crashing down in a blur of sparks and panic.
---
The moment felt like it froze.
The audience gasped.
Hana screamed.
Jiho was already climbing the edge of the stage.
And Minwoo—
Minwoo ran.
Crutch abandoned. Pain forgotten.
He climbed over the barrier, limping hard, pushing past staff and chaos until he reached him.
Jae-hyun wasn't moving.
Blood pooled beneath his temple, trickling down into the collar of his shirt. His eyes were open—but unfocused.
Minwoo dropped to his knees, cradling his face.
"Jae? Jae-hyun? Jaeyoung! Please—look at me."
Jae-hyun blinked slowly.
Then winced.
"…Jiho?"
Minwoo's heart stopped.
"No, no, I'm—Jae. It's me. Minwoo."
Jae-hyun looked confused. His brows furrowed. Then he flinched back, suddenly afraid.
"I don't… I don't know you."
Minwoo froze. "Jae…?"
Jae-hyun tried to sit up but hissed, hand flying to his head. "Where's Jiho? He's my boyfriend—he'll be looking for me."
The world spun.
Minwoo felt like the ground had vanished.
Because Jae-hyun wasn't just injured.
He'd forgotten.
And in the place Minwoo used to be—
Was Jiho.
---
HOSPITAL ROOM – HOURS LATER
Minwoo sat in the hallway, leg throbbing. He refused to leave.
Inside, Jae-hyun rested on a gurney, bandaged and drowsy. Doctors said he had retrograde amnesia—recent memory loss, triggered by head trauma.
The last full memory he had?
Sometime during his second year of high school.
Right before Jiho confessed.
Long before Minwoo ever walked into his life.
---
When Jiho arrived, Minwoo almost didn't let him in.
But Jae-hyun's voice called from inside, soft and trusting.
"Jiho?"
Jiho stepped past him.
Minwoo didn't follow.
He stood outside the room, hand clenched to his chest, as Jiho walked to the bed, sat down beside Jae-hyun like he belonged there, and took his hand.
And Jae-hyun—smiled.
Like he remembered.
Like he loved him.
And all Minwoo could do was listen as Jae whispered:
"…Don't leave me again."