---
MINWOO
I didn't cry when the doctor said "amnesia."
I didn't cry when Jiho sat beside Jae-hyun's hospital bed and held his hand.
I didn't cry when Jae-hyun smiled at him like he'd been waiting for him all this time.
But that night?
When I went home?
I collapsed into the hallway of my apartment, back against the door, knees drawn to my chest—
And I cried until my throat went raw.
---
He forgot me.
Not just the moments, not just the music.
He forgot us.
The nights he waited outside rehearsal just to walk me home.
The unfinished lyrics scrawled in the margins of my notebook.
The way he used to whisper "Don't run" into my shoulder, like I was a ghost always on the edge of disappearing.
I wanted to be selfish.
I wanted to scream.
But more than anything, I wanted to believe—
That some part of him still knew.
---
JAE-HYUN
I stayed in the hospital for two nights.
Everyone told me to rest. To heal. To give myself time.
But nothing felt real.
The room was cold. Too white.
My chest ached—not from the fall, but from something I couldn't name.
Jiho was with me most of the time.
He was kind. Gentle. Familiar in a way that should have brought comfort.
But whenever he smiled, something inside me… flinched.
---
He told me we used to sing together.
That we were childhood friends.
That we dated quietly, secretly.
I believed him.
Why wouldn't I?
Except—
Sometimes I'd hear music in my head. A chord progression I didn't recognize.
Or a lyric—half-finished—"stay, even if it hurts"—and it would leave me breathless, like a memory I couldn't reach.
---
JIHO
Being with Jae-hyun again should've felt like winning.
But it didn't.
Because every time he looked at me, it wasn't love I saw in his eyes. It was confusion. Guilt. Obligation.
I told myself it would come back. That he just needed time.
But I'd seen how he looked at Minwoo before the fall.
And now?
He avoided even saying his name.
---
MINWOO
I didn't go to the hospital again.
What would I even say?
"Hi. I was the one who taught you how to write harmonies by feel."
Or maybe:
"I kissed you in the storage room between soundcheck and panic."
Maybe just:
"I miss you more than I know how to explain."
But he wouldn't remember any of it.
He'd just smile politely.
The way strangers do.
---
Instead, I threw myself into the only thing that never forgot me.
Music.
I spent hours at the studio alone.
Even with my leg still recovering, I dragged myself there—day after day. The staff stopped asking if I was okay.
I wasn't.
But I didn't need to say it out loud.
You could hear it in the songs.
---
HANA
I watched the two of them fall apart from opposite ends of the room.
Jae-hyun: quiet, disoriented, but not happy.
Minwoo: loud in his silence, a storm contained in headphones and half-played chords.
Jiho held on like someone gripping glass with bare hands.
It was all going to shatter.
---
SCENE – STUDIO LATE NIGHT
Minwoo stood in the booth, hoodie up, headphones on, mic live.
He started singing—not for the album. Not for anyone else.
Just for him.
His voice cracked on the third line.
He didn't stop.
The chorus came, raw and low.
> "I loved you loud but you forgot the sound..."
"Now you're silent and I'm drowning in what's gone..."
He ended the track with a whisper.
> "If this is goodbye, at least remember the song."
When he looked up, he realized someone had been watching.
Hana stood by the door, arms crossed, trying not to cry.
"He asked about you today," she said softly. "Didn't say your name. But I could tell."
Minwoo didn't respond.
His fingers tightened around the mic.
---
JAE-HYUN – LATE THAT NIGHT
He lay awake in his hospital bed.
Staring at the ceiling.
Hearing the melody he couldn't forget no matter how hard he tried.
And in his chest—
A hollow ache he didn't have the words for.
He turned to Jiho.
"Did we ever… sing that song together? The one that goes, 'stay, even if it hurts'?"
Jiho paused.
"No," he said. "I don't think so."
But Jae-hyun frowned.
Because somewhere deep inside—
He knew he had.