Remember Me

Autumn was gradually coming to an end. It was noticeably cold outside, Changbin had to put on a coat. He walks into the classroom sleepily, throws his backpack on the floor and flops onto his chair. It was even too difficult to get up when it was dark outside. Consciousness screamed that he needed to keep sleeping. The ghost decided to stay at home in order to watch his broadcast again. Changbin practically envied him. He, too, would love to stay in bed. “Is the intersection still cordoned off?” asks Jisung. “Yeah. What happened there? An accident?” “One freshmen gal got run over,” Seungmin who was sitting in front turns around. “But luckily she’s alive as far as I know.” “There’s always some bullshittery going on with the traffic lights there.” “This is the third time something like that happens this semester. It's good that everything isn’t so serious this time. Hyunjin has been in the hospital for over a year now.” “Hyunjin?” Changbin immediately shifts in his chair in surprise. “Yeah, didn’t I tell you? The son of my mother's friend. He was hit by a car last year and he’s still in a coma and it’s unclear whether he will wake up or not.” “Isn’t his last name Hwang by any chance?” “How do you know?” Jisung frowns. “Umm…” Changbin tries to calm down the blown up anthill in his head. “I think we crossed paths somewhere. I’ve heard something like that. Do you have a photo?” “Yeah, give me a sec.” Jisung rummages through his phone and shows him an Instagram profile. A guy with honey hair stands with a microphone in his hand in a karaoke bar. In the next shot, he cuddles with a large golden retriever. Sits in a cafe sipping turquoise lemonade. Hyunjin doing what ordinary people do. He holds objects in his hands and poses for the camera. “Is that him?” “Yes. Yes…” “Is everything okay?” Jisung looks at him worriedly. “You’re pale.” “Didn’t have much sleep,” Changbin forces a smile and stands up. “I’ll go wash my face.” Changbin enters the stall, pulls down the toilet lid and sits down heavily on it, looking lost. Alive. Hyunjin is alive. To be precise, his body is stuck in the world of the living and his soul wanders around the world of the dead. That is why his energy seems so strange. He is not a ghost, but a detached and lost soul. Changbin rubs his palms nervously. What should he do? He has to tell him. Right? Classes pass by in a fog. He does not hear a single word, completely immersed in chaotically rushing thoughts. Upon entering the house, Changbin sees the back of Hyunjin who waves at him without looking up from the laptop screen. He was still watching his broadcast. Changbin tries to act as usual. He puts the kettle on and pours instant coffee into a cup. The eyes are focused on the person in front of him. He has been thrown back and forth from one extreme to another. He has to tell it as it is, because Hyunjin has a right to know. But the intuition developed since the early childhood whispers that there would be no turning back. It is as if a diagram of how it might go through appears in his head. Hyunjin's soul will return to the body and either get attached back to it or leave the world completely. That is what his instincts are telling him. Both options has the same consequence: he would lose Hyunjin. “They’re such idiots, I love it,” the spirit stretches and falls on the back of the sofa when the screen in front of him goes out. “There’s some kind of charm in watching people do stupid shit. Just like you do at the uni.” Something shrinks under the ribs. He does not want to let him go. Their life together, along with all the arguments, was the best thing that has ever happened to him. Changbin pours boiling water over the coffee powder. “Move, I'm tired.” He will not tell him. Hyunjin is doing fine without this information. He resigned himself to the fact that he was dead, there is no point in persuading him. None of this will do him any good. Changbin does not even want to think about what it is like when there is no one in the apartment. When no one sees him off and meets him, no one tells him with some childish enthusiasm about the article he has read, no one drags him outside, no one grumbles about the cups left on the table, although this did not bother him at all. He does not want to know how it is when Hyunjin is gone. So Changbin thought. That is how he reassured himself: no one knows exactly what will happen after the return of the soul to the body. He protects him. This is not selfishness. This. Is. Not. Selfishness. “You've been acting kind of weird these last days,” Hyunjin says when Changbin arrives much later than usual: it is already past eight in the evening. “Where have you been? Why are you so sullen?” Changbin takes off his coat, washes hands right in the kitchen and sits down on the sofa beside him. “Hey, Seo Changbin, what the fuck is going on?” “We need to talk.” In his voice, Hyunjin senses something that he does not like. Desperate seriousness. This happens before conversations, after which everything changes dramatically and usually goes to shit. He becomes uncomfortable. And for a good reason. Changbin tells the story as it is. About Hyunjin being alive. About Hyunjin being in a coma for over a year. About the fact that he contacted his sister and knows which hospital and which room he is in. The only thing he does not tell him about is how much his conscience has tortured him. “I…” Hyunjin does not return his speechlessness until almost a minute later. “I'm alive.” “Yes. And I'm pretty sure you can be brought back to life. The soul must return to the body.” The reality around seems to be bursting at the seams from the amount of information received. It takes some time to realize everything. “If I do this, I will forget you, right?” finally, he asks the most excruciating question beating in his temples. “I think so.” People who have awaken from a coma usually do not remember the complex "life" that they had outside of their physical form. It is incompatible with their reality. These are two different universes that should not intersect. “I don’t have to do this.” Hyunjin squirms on the spot and turns to look at him with an incomprehensible hope. “I still don't remember anything about the past, I don't care about it. I have a different life now.” “Hyunjin, this is not a life,” Changbin says, struggling with himself. “You know what I mean. And what about your family? Your friends? I've read all of their posts and comments. They pray that you will come back. They miss you, especially your mom.” “But...” “It’s your life. The real one. It belongs to you and nothing keeps you here in this limbo.” “You do.” Their gazes meet. Having lived side by side for three months, it is y hard not to stick to each other. Especially with such a strong bond and dependence. They found the rhythm in which both felt comfortable and content. The only problem was the lack of a physical form of one of them. He basically does not exist at all. This really is not a life. “I made an appointment for tomorrow.” “Tomorrow?” Hyunjin’s eyebrows rise. “So you’re going to kick me out tomorrow already?” “I’m not kicking you out. You think I want that?” Changbin cannot take it anymore and takes a short break to breathe in and breathe out. “Anything might happen to your body. It might die any second or your parents might give their permission for you to be taken off the machine that keeps your body alive. Then there’d be nothing left to do for sure. We just can’t keep stalling. It’s your only chance.” Changbin spent a very long time trying to persuade himself, coming up with arguments. He felt responsible for making a decision. His cursed abilities can help return a loved one to the family. Even if Changbin has to lose him himself. After all, Hyunjin does not belong to him. Outside the window, thick autumn darkness whirls. Rare leaves cling to the glass. In the depressed silence, Changbin places his hand on the sofa, palm up. Hyunjin notices it, ponders, then puts his hand on top and curls his fingers slightly. They go right through, but this is the most they could have. At least something. They both understood the meaning of this gesture. “Shall we watch a movie?” “Okay.” It is not clear how to spend the last evening together. What do people do when they know they are sitting at home like this for the last time? Are there any last time rules? The only thing Changbin knows is that he does not want to say goodbye. He cannot bring himself to say a word. Harry Potter runs on the laptop, but no one is watching. Their gazes are directed somewhere past it, somewhere through the matter. Gloominess howls inside. A few hours later, the credits of the second film run across the screen. However, nobody turns them off. Hyunjin turns his head. Changbin, who slid down the sofa, frowns tensely in his sleep. The glimpses of the scrolling names glide across his face, but soon fade away. The laptop goes into sleep mode and the apartment is plunged into darkness. Hyunjin shifts to the floor, pulls his knees up to his chest and lowers his head. He is scared. He could put on a brave face as much as he wants in front of a crowd of ghosts, but now he is frightened by the unknown. He is afraid that he is going to voluntarily lose the little he has. Not much, but so significant no matter how small it might seem. “I don’t wanna forget you,” he whispers, unable to bear it. “I know I must. But I’m scared. Cause as soon as my memory disappears, I myself will cease to exist. The me that I am now will disappear. Along with all the memories, as if I never existed. I don't want to disappear. So please remember me. Okay? With you, I forgot that I was just a spirit. Thank you for not leaving me. Thank you for making me happy. Remember me. Then I won't be as scared. It's not scary when I’m with you.” He wraps his arms around himself. On the couch behind him, Changbin bites his lip to keep from making a sound. The lungs are burning. The eyes are burning. He will not forget him. Never. In the morning, even a piece of food does not go down the throat. Changbin tries to shove eggs into himself, knowing that his appetite will not return soon and he needs strength. On the laptop, Harry Potter is turned on again in order to fill the silence with at least something. Topics for conversation do not turn up, the lump that rolled under the Adam's apple does not let anything go through. Despite typical autumn weather, it is all sunny outside and there is practically no wind. Great weather for walking. Changbin gets off the bus one stop early. Hyunjin, who looks at the map on his phone, realizes this, but does not comment. They just delay the inevitable. But he is glad to be able to walk with him a little longer. At one point, he sees a group of pupils running over to the red light and asks them where they had bought such smooth brains with no wrinkles whatsoever. They, of course, cannot hear him, but Changbin smiles faintly. He is gonna miss it so much. Before entering the hospital, they simultaneously slow down and stop. Changbin plays with his fingers. “Ready?” “Of course not.” They have to go inside one way or another. The ribs start to shake. After checking in at a counter decorated with artificial flowers, Changbin follows the nurse who escorts him into the room. “This is your first time, right? I haven't seen you before.” “I studied abroad and just arrived,” Changbin lies without a twinge of conscience. “I see. This can be a morally difficult experience, so if you need a glass of water, please call me. Unfortunately, the visit time is limited: no more than twenty minutes.” “Thank you.” The door closes. Silently, but it feels louder than a cannon shot. Hyunjin lies beneath a pastel blue blanket with pipes connected to help him breathe. The hair is much longer than it was at the time when the soul separated from the body. The cheeks are sunken, the skin seems more yellow, the wrists are thinner. Cards with wishes of recovery are placed around on the bedside tables. A flower sways in a pot on the windowsill. “This is so fucking bizarre,” the spirit approaches the bed. “Seeing yourself from the side. I feel like I'm stoned to shit.” “This is the face I had to look at every morning.” “You’re welcome,” Hyunjin sneers and reaches out to touch himself, but yanks back, barely touching the body. “What the hell? It was as if... as if it was starting to suck me in.” “The soul longs for the body.” “Do I need to like lay into myself?” “Probably yeah.” “Jeezums.” However, none of them moves. The moment of farewell, which they both feared, has approached. A terrifying anxiety aches in their stomachs. “I can still change my mind.” “I’d like to selfishly say that we can go home, but I won’t. Your family is waiting for you,” Changbin gathers his strength and brings a hand to his phantom cheek. “Everything’s gonna be alright. I'm here.” Hyunjin clenches his jaw. If he had a heart, it would be pounding hysterically to a pain in his eyes. He has never felt cold, but it seems to him that his fingers crack from how icy they are. “Find me,” he suddenly demands. “What do you mean?” “When I recover, find me and meet me. Anew.” “Do I have to win you over through all the shit for the second time?” “Well, you did it the first time. I’ll like you. I know.” “Okay,” Changbin replies after a pause, smiling and ignoring the pain in his eyes. “You are worth winning over for the second time.” Hyunjin smiles back. He hesitates for a few more seconds, then sits down on the bed. The boundaries between the spirit and the body immediately begin to blur. “Goodbye.” “Goodbye.” He throws his legs up and lies down. A moment and Changbin can no longer see him. Hyunjin he knew is gone. His Hyunjin is gone. Changbin gently takes his thin wrist. Barely warm. But real. This is the first time he actually touches him. The heart rate monitor shows a jump. Then another one. Other indicators begin to change, but Changbin does not notice them, nor does he notice the beeping sounds. He walks back, lost, and then a nurse who comes in abruptly appears in front of him, asking him to go out into the corridor. The corridor changes to a staircase and then to a street. Changbin sits on the bench for several hours until his back starts to ache madly. He, in a semi-conscious state, automatically gets back to the house, throws his coat on the floor and sits on the sofa. There is a laptop on the coffee table. By the window there is a switched off tablet with an unfinished book. The blanket is stuffed into the corner. Everything is in its place. Everything except Hyunjin. The empty apartment is quiet. Only salty drops fall on the parquet floor.  

***

The end of summer was hot. The last days of August squeezed everything out of themselves, but noticeably lost ground in the afternoon. People sat in the shade, sipping drinks tinkling with ice, and rejoiced at every breath of wind that brought drops of coolness from the Han River. It lushly smelled of mowed grass in the park. The phone heats up in the hands in just a matter of seconds. Changbin holds it gently with his fingers, opens the needed folder and sits down on a wooden bench by the picnic table. “Can you spare me a couple of minutes?” A surprised pair of outstretched eyes rises up at him. “Do I know you?” “I'm Changbin. I write music and I’d like to know the objective opinion of another person.” “Hasn’t such a trend died out yet?” “Everything that dies out comes back eventually. The lutes returned to the guitars after all. So?” The guy brushes back his honey hair, pulling a strand behind his ear. “Sure, why not? But let me warn you: I will not sugarcoat anything.” “That’s what I came here for.” “I did warn you,” he accepts the earpiece. “I'm Hyunjin, by the way.” The play button is pressed. Acoustic piano, echo, scattered sound, powerful beats that still do not hurt the ear. Hyunjin starts to bop his head slightly in time as the sneaker taps on the grass. Changbin cannot stop staring at him, hoping he is too focused to notice. He had already been watching him from the sidelines for the last quarter of an hour. He watched him as if it was the first time, but he recognized every detail, right down to the mole under the eye. “It's like I've heard it before,” Hyunjin winces, straining his memory. “The hook sounds familiar.” “Old school is old school for a reason. But the track is mine from scratch.” “I must admit, there really is something in it,” the guy tilts his head. “It’s chill, but there’s some kind of power in the beats. It could easily be used in a music video shot in a field with mountains in the background. Some harsh words about reality, but also something spiritual in the end. I'd listen to that.” Inside, something clicks with surprise, but also with warmth. Almost the same words he said that evening. “What if you write the lyrics to it? And then rap‘em.” Hyunjin's eyes narrow with suspicion. The arms are crossed over the chest. “How do you know I do that?” Because he followed him on every social media. He watched over him through his friends, through Jisung, after all. Changbin was happy with every bit of information he could get, especially when Hyunjin was discharged from the hospital. “You sounded like you know what you're talking about.” “Or maybe you’re a stalker of some kind?” “You’ve got those?” Changbin chuckles. “I hope not,” Hyunjin bites the inside of his cheek, thinking. “So you're offering a collaboration?” “Something like that, yeah.” “What's in it for me?” “Experience?” Changbin shrugs. “You, you know, are also not a famous rapper whom I would pay money to work with me.” “Fair enough,” Hyunjin admits with a hesitation. “Well, I could give it a try I guess.” “Give me your number, I'll send you the link to the file. There are no deadlines, once you write at least one verse - we can meet at my place and do a test record.” After a moment of silence, Hyunjin starts laughing, glancing at him slyly. “Look at you being all smooth and shit. You just asked for my number and then immediately invited me to your place.” “Are you scared?” “Seo Changbin, you at least need to be able to touch my forehead to seem even a bit scary.” He takes the phone from him and starts dialing his number. And Changbin, dazed, puffs to himself. He did not tell him his last name. It automatically popped up in Hyunjin's head. So the memory really is not erased completely? “I made a call. I’ll text you when it’s ready. I mean,” the guy proudly corrects himself. “If it's ready. I don't owe you anything.” “Of course. But something tells me that you will text me.” “Isn’t the crown on your head too heavy?” “Is yours?” Hyunjin replies nothing, snorting under his breath. He was beaten, he admits. “What’s the name of the track by the way?” “Remember Me.” “Why?” “Listen to it and you’ll understand. I think you can catch the vibe,” Changbin takes back the earpiece and stands up. “I’ll be waiting for you.” “Hold on. You sure we never met before?” Hyunjin frowns again for the umpteenth time in the past ten minutes. “Your face seems familiar. And so does the voice. You see, after the accident, I have some memories lost a bit and stuff.” “Maybe. Hit me up if you remember anything.” “But you must remember me if we really did meet.” “Maybe you were my stalker?” “Dream on.” “All the time,” Changbin laughs and salutes goodbye. “Don’t forget.” “I won't,” Hyunjin mutters thoughtfully under his breath, looking at the number added to his contacts. “Mysterious motherfucker. I will definitely remember you just you fucking wait.”