Chapter Text
once, keonho loved seonghyeon enough to forget himself.
he just didn’t remember that part anymore.
the feeling remained, though.
it followed him quietly through normal days.
it lingered in strange places.
the narrow street behind campus where ivy climbed old brick walls.
the convenience store near his apartment that sold bad coffee and strawberry gummies.
the park by the river where benches sat crooked beneath trees.
none of those places meant anything, at least not logically. still, sometimes he’d stop there without knowing why, staring too long at nothing.
like his body had arrived before his memory could.
his friends called him dramatic and keonho let them.
it was easier than explaining because how could he explain missing something he couldn’t name?
he noticed it mainly at night, his room stayed dim except for the light from his phone, shadows stretching across the walls while he scrolled through photos he didn’t remember taking, and those pictures annoyed him, not because they were suspicious, but because they felt personal.
a rainy sidewalk.
half melted ice cream.
a blurry sunset over the river.
and again, that dark sleeve.
always half hidden.
someone cropped out so carefully it almost looked intentional.
sometimes keonho zoomed in, sometimes he told himself to stop being so weird, yet neither helped.
he should’ve deleted them months ago but instead, he kept them, like proof of something he hadn’t figured out yet.
spring arrived slowly.
warm air replacing cold one afternoon at a time.
keonho liked spring.
usually.
this year it only made him restless.
he found himself walking more, wandering without purpose after class.
the city looked softer this time of year, trees growing greener, cafe doors left open, music spilling into streets.
but somehow, he ended up by the river again.
he had no idea as to why he kept coming back here, the benches were uneven and the path was crowded.
still, something about it settled him.
he bought coffee from a nearby cart and walked slowly beneath the trees.
that was when he saw him.
at first, nothing happened.
just a stranger sitting on the grass with headphones around his neck and a sketchbook balanced against his knee.
dark hoodie.
messy hair.
head tilted down.
quite normal.
keonho would’ve walked past.
then the stranger looked up.
and everything inside him went strangely still.
it lasted maybe two seconds.
their eyes met.
the stranger froze.
not dramatically.
just enough for keonho to notice, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.
keonho looked away first.
weird.
he kept walking.
but halfway down the path, his chest tightened unexpectedly.
he glanced back.
the stranger was still looking.
seonghyeon knew immediately.
it was the way keonho slowed.
the way recognition flickered where it shouldn’t.
his stomach twisted.
he hadn’t expected this.
hadn’t expected him.
not here.
for months he’d been careful, careful enough that their lives stayed separate. that had been the point.
forgetting wasn’t supposed to hurt forever. eventually, things were meant to settle, except nothing had settled.
and seeing keonho now, alive and real and standing twenty feet away felt dangerously close to reopening something he’d spent months trying to bury.
he looked different.
not completely.
same eyes, same habit of holding coffee like his hands were cold but looked older somehow, or even tired
and seonghyeon hated himself for noticing immediately.
keonho glanced back once.
their eyes met.
then he walked away.
seonghyeon waited until he disappeared around the path before breathing properly again.
he should leave.
instead he stayed there for another hour staring at an unfinished sketch.
because his hands had started shaking too badly to draw.
that night keonho dreamed about him.
except dreams were becoming complicated.
they never made sense anymore.
sometimes they felt less like dreams and more like misplaced memories.
in this specific dream, summer light spilled across a room, someone laughed - soft and familiar. keonho sat beside them on the floor, close enough that their knees touched.
he couldn’t see their face.
every time he looked directly, the dream blurred, but he remembered warmth. the feeling of leaning comfortably into someone.
then—
a voice.
quiet.
“you trust me too much.”
keonho woke before he could answer, his room sat dark around him.
he stared at the ceiling.
annoyed.
because the voice lingered.
and somehow he knew it belonged to the stranger by the river.
that should’ve been impossible.
he saw him again three days later.
same river path.
same hoodie.
this time he was sketching.
keonho should’ve minded his business, but instead he slowed down beside him.
the stranger noticed.
their eyes met.
awkward silence.
then, “you keep showing up.”
the words surprised both of them.
the stranger blinked.
“so do you.”
keonho almost smiled. thats fair.
up close, the stranger looked younger than he’d expected.
tired eyes, pretty hands smudged faintly with pencil.
something strangely familiar about the way he held himself.
keonho nodded toward the sketchbook.
“what’re you drawing?”
the stranger hesitated.
then turned it slightly.
the river, trees, people walking, its pretty good too, honestly, really good.
“nice.”
“…thanks.”
another pause.
keonho should leave, except he didn’t.
“i’m keonho.”
the stranger looked at him too long.
not rude, just startled.
like the introduction mattered more than it should.
—“seonghyeon.”
and the second he said it, something inside keonho twisted.
not pain, not recognition.
it was just sharp enough to steal his breath.
he covered it quickly.
“nice to meet you.”
the lie sat strangely between them.
because for reasons neither could explain, it didn’t feel true.
the first conversation lasted twelve minutes.
the second lasted an hour.
after that they stopped pretending coincidence had anything to do with it.
keonho told himself he only returned because seonghyeon was easy to talk to, which was true.
mostly.
seonghyeon spoke quietly. sometimes awkwardly, he listened more than he talked, and when he laughed, he ducked his head like he regretted making noise.
keonho liked that, more than he should’ve.
still—
something felt off.
not bad. just strange.
every conversation carried familiarity neither of them acknowledged.
they skipped past small talk too quickly, fell into rhythm too easily.
one evening they sat beneath trees sharing convenience store snacks.
keonho reached automatically toward seonghyeon’s drink.
stopped halfway.
“…sorry.”
seonghyeon looked down at the can.
then back at him.
his expression did something unreadable.
“it’s okay.”
keonho pulled his hand back.
“habit, i guess.”
seonghyeon smiled faintly.
“yeah.”
habit.
the word lingered too long.
seonghyeon knew this was dangerous.
he just kept failing to stop.
he should’ve left after that first meeting.
instead he kept coming back.
because being near keonho still felt unfairly easy.
and maybe that was the problem.
nothing had changed.
keonho still talked with his hands when excited.
still got distracted halfway through stories.
still complained dramatically about bad coffee.
and seonghyeon—
god.
he still looked at him too long, it scared him sometimes, how quickly old feelings had resurfaced, as if they had never disappeared at all.
except now they existed beside guilt.
because keonho didn’t remember.
and seonghyeon did.
every version of them lived inside him.
late-night walks.
shared hoodies.
their first kiss beneath summer rain.
the argument.
the curse.
forget me.
seonghyeon had carried all of it alone, which made this feel cruel.
still he couldn’t leave, not yet.
because somehow, impossibly, he was falling for him again too.
but this version hurt differently.
softer.
slower
it grew in the time they spent together, in long talks and moments that stayed with him after.
the kind of love that arrived quietly enough to deny until it was already there.
one evening, rain pushed them beneath the awning of a closed bookstore. they sat close together, watching the street shine under the rain.
“you hate rain?” seonghyeon asked.
“a little.”
“you liked it before.”
the words slipped out too quickly.
silence.
seonghyeon froze.
keonho looked over.
“…before?”
his stomach dropped.
rain tapped softly overhead.
“i mean,” seonghyeon said too fast, “you seem like the type who used to.”
used to.
keonho studied him.
something unreadable passed over his face.
then, “that’s weird.”
seonghyeon forced calm.
“what is?”
“feels like you’ve known me longer than you have.”
his chest tightened.
neither spoke.
rain filled the silence.
then quietly, “does it bother you?”
keonho looked back at the street.
“…no.”
and somehow that answer frightened seonghyeon more than if it had.
keonho didn’t understand why that answer felt important.
maybe it was the way seonghyeon looked at him after.
not relieved.
not happy.
just quiet in a way that made something in keonho ache
rain slowed to a soft drizzle, soaking the street in a dull shine while they stayed under the awning longer than necessary
usually keonho hated awkward silence, but with seonghyeon, it felt different.
not awkward. just full.
he leaned back against the wall and watched cars pass.
“you draw every day?” he asked eventually.
seonghyeon looked down at his hands.
“mostly,” seonghyeon said.
“you’re good at it,” keonho added.
“thanks.”
“seriously. i’d frame that river sketch,” keonho said.
a faint smile tugged at seonghyeon’s mouth. “that sounds fake.”
“wow. okay,” keonho scoffed lightly. “you say that about everything.”
“that’s not true,” seonghyeon replied.
keonho tilted his head. “you literally called convenience store ramen life changing.”
“because it was,” seonghyeon said.
that earned an actual laugh.
quiet and short, but real.
keonho liked that sound more than he should have.
the realization unsettled him, not because liking someone was strange, but because it felt strangely familiar.
the rain slowed.
people started filling the sidewalks again.
still neither of them moved.
then seonghyeon spoke.
“you should head home.”
the words were gentle.
keonho frowned.
“are you kicking me out?”
“it’s late.”
“and?”
seonghyeon looked away.
“you have class tomorrow.”
keonho stared.
“how do you know my schedule?”
silence.
not long.
but long enough.
seonghyeon blinked once.
“…you mentioned it.”
did i?
keonho tried remembering, maybe he had, he talked too much sometimes.
still, something about the answer sat strangely with him.
he let it go. for now.
“you’re avoiding the question,” he said.
“what question?”
“why do you always act like you’re about to disappear?”
that startled him.
keonho regretted it immediately.
too blunt.
too personal.
but seonghyeon didn’t look offended.
just caught off guard.
rainwater dripped softly from the edge of the awning.
finally—
“do i?”
“kind of.”
his expression softened.
“sorry.”
“i didn’t say it was bad.”
another silence.
then quietly—
“i think i’m just used to leaving.”
something tightened in keonho’s chest.
before he could answer, seonghyeon pushed away from the wall.
“come on.”
“where?”
“i’ll walk you home.”
“wow,” keonho said, following him. “such a gentleman.”
“don’t ruin it.”
“too late.”
they walked slowly.
the city still smelled like rain, sidewalks reflecting shop lights and passing headlights.
their shoulders brushed once.
accidentally, or maybe not. neither mentioned it.
keonho found himself watching seonghyeon when he wasn’t supposed to.
the set of his features.
his messy hair damp from the rain.
the way he shoved his hands inside his sleeves when cold.
familiar, everything about him felt unfairly familiar.
and keonho hated not knowing why.
they stopped outside his apartment building.
for a second neither said goodbye.
“well,” keonho said.
“well.”
“thanks for the escort.”
“you say that like we fought off criminals.”
“we survived rain. same thing.”
another small smile.
“goodnight, keonho.”
the way he said his name did something strange to him.
soft, careful, like it mattered.
“night.”
keonho watched him walk away.
and only after he disappeared around the corner did he realize something.
he’d never told seonghyeon where he lived.
sleep came late.
keonho layed down staring at the ceiling while rain tapped faintly against the window.
he kept replaying the conversation.
i think i’m just used to leaving.
something felt wrong.
not dangerous. just unfinished.
his phone buzzed beside him.
a message from martin.
martin: alive?
keonho: barely
martin: dramatic
keonho stared at the screen.
then typed—
keonho: do you ever meet someone and feel like you already know them?
three dots appeared immediately.
martin: oh brother.. this isn’t serious right?
keonho: im serious
martin: depends. are they hot?
keonho rolled his eyes.
keonho: forget i said anything
martin: NO WAIT
too late.
he locked his phone.
and somehow, without meaning to, he fell asleep thinking about seonghyeon again.
the dream came almost immediately.
sunlight.
warmth.
the smell of laundry.
he stood inside a room he didn’t recognize.
someone sat on the bed beside him.
hoodie sleeves pulled over their hands.
their face blurred every time he looked directly.
but he knew, somehow he knew.
their knees touched.
comfortable and close.
“you’re staring,” the voice said softly.
his chest tightened.
a familiar voice, way too familiar.
“sorry.”
“you never say sorry.”
a laugh.
quiet.
then warmth against his shoulder.
the feeling of someone leaning into him.
keonho’s heartbeat stumbled.
“you trust me too much.”
the same words.
except this time, before the dream could blur—
he answered.
“is that a bad thing?”
silence.
then the voice, quieter now.
“for you?”
something in the room shifted.
the warmth vanished.
suddenly rain hit windows.
cold air.
and the voice sounded different.
breaking.
“forget me.”
keonho woke hard enough to lose his breath.
his room sat dark around him.
3:13am
his chest hurt.
he sat up slowly.
and for reasons he couldn’t explain, his eyes burned.
he touched his face.
tears.
what the hell?
he wiped them away quickly, annoyed with himself.
it was a dream, just a dream..
except the feeling stayed.
that voice and that sadness.
forget me.
he couldn’t shake it, he couldn’t sleep after that.
three days passed before he saw seonghyeon again.
long enough for irritation to settle beneath confusion.
because apparently he’d gotten used to seeing him.
which was embarrassing.
the river path felt different without him.
emptier.
keonho hated admitting that.
he bought coffee anyway and wandered beneath the trees.
late afternoon sun filtered through branches overhead.
people jogged past.
dogs barked somewhere nearby.
and there, finally, was seonghyeon
he was sitting beneath the same tree, sketchbook balanced against his knee.
relief hit so quickly it annoyed him.
keonho walked over.
“you disappeared,” keonho said.
seonghyeon looked up too fast. surprise crossed his face, then something softer.
“hi to you too,” he replied.
“i’m serious.”
“i had things to do.”
keonho frowned. “for three days?”
“that’s not very long.”
“well it felt long.”
the words slipped out before he could stop them.
both of them went quiet. seonghyeon looked down first.
“…sorry.”
keonho shoved his hands into his pockets. “don’t apologize.”
“you sound annoyed,” seonghyeon said.
“maybe i am.”
he blinked. “why?”
because i missed you.
the thought startled him. keonho looked away.
“i don’t know.”
seonghyeon closed the sketchbook. wind stirred softly around them.
“keonho.”
“hm?”
his expression looked careful again. too careful, like he was choosing words that might break.
“can i ask you something?” seonghyeon asked.
“sure.”
“why do you keep coming back?”
the question felt heavier than it should have.
keonho looked at him, then realized he didn’t have a good answer, because the truth sounded ridiculous.
how can he mention that every time he leaves, he feels like he forgot something.
instead he shrugged.
“coffee’s decent.”
seonghyeon just watched him.
quiet.
searching.
and suddenly without warning, a strange memory flashed through keonho’s head.
not complete, barely even clear, just warmth.
a dark hoodie.
fingers brushing his wrist.
and the feeling of someone saying his name close enough to hear breathing.
his head hurt.
he flinched.
“keonho?” seonghyeon asked.
the world steadied.
he blinked hard.
“sorry.”
concern crossed seonghyeon’s face.
“what happened?”
keonho looked at him, heart beating too fast.
then slowly—
“have we met before?”