Work Text:
He forgets, but he forgets everything else with it, his memories are first shredded, then burnt, dust, scattered, wait, what’s he forgetting again? He wakes up in cold sweat. It grips his heart in the split second between uneasy slumber and wakefulness; fear, pain, loss, quickly slipping back the depths of his mind, leaving only a gaping absence. It hollows him. It's gone, it’s gone, he doesn't even know what it was.
His chest rises and falls falteringly. Something wet drips on his hands, rolling down his cheeks, twin lines. It must be sweat. It must be a dream. The sort you don’t remember, the sort that runs away from you the more you chase it.
It’s the middle of the night. The world is deafeningly silent around him. He has work tomorrow. Go back to sleep, M-
Go back to sleep, Ji-Hoon.