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The air smelled weird, and there was a steady beeping in his ears, making his head throb with every shrill sound. He needed to get a new alarm clock, clearly this one only existed to cause him pain.
Akin pried his eyes open, blinking against the harsh overhead light. Had he fallen asleep with the lights on again? He made a mental note to hire a sleep consultant, because this kind of exhaustion had no place in his career. He needed to be well rested, ready to go at a moment’s notice. How else was he supposed to fight off Jin, who was clawing and clambering for his spot as Sexiest Man of the Year.
Silly, childish Jin, who yes, was incredibly handsome, and growing more talented by the day, but that didn’t give him the right to—Akin blinked, clearing his vision—be holding Akin’s hand?
Jin’s face was slack where it rest against the bed, Akin’s hand held tightly in his own. He looked soft, softer than usual, like this, and Akin’s heart did something foolish in his chest. He needs a haircut, he thought to himself, his free hand moving of its own accord, itching with the need to brush Jin’s bangs back from where they flopped over his closed eyes.
Pressure and a slight tugging on the back of his hand gave him pause. He looked down, seeing for the first time the IV taped to the back of his hand, clear tubing running to a machine next to him. What the fuck? There was a pulse monitor on one of his fingers, no doubt the cause of that incessant beeping.
The beeping grew more frantic as Akin tried to get a handle on what he was seeing. He wasn’t in his house, that wasn’t his alarm clock—he was in a hospital room somewhere. His head gave a mighty throb, as if to accentuate his confusion and panic. Jin must have heard the beeping too, because he snuffled in his sleep and cracked an eye open to peer up at him.
“P’Akin! You’re awake!” Jin’s voice was rough with sleep, but the relief in the words was palpable. “I’ll get the nurse, wait here.”
And that was silly, because where else was Akin going to go? He was stuck to a machine, trying to ignore the sensation of the needle beneath his skin. Shouldn’t that be taped, made to look real, than actually stuck inside him?
Jin carefully untangled their fingers and placed Akin’s hand gently back on the bed before striding to the door with those stupid, long legs of his. Akin watched all this in silence, his head hurting as he tried to piece together whatever was happening here. Was this a scene? Had he fallen asleep during filming? God, he really needed to hire that sleep consultant.
Jin’s muffled voice filtered back to him as Akin took a better look around the room. There were no cameras, no film crew—had they been taking a break to reset? None of this made any sense, but Akin forced himself to wait patiently for the director to come back and maybe by then he’d remember exactly what scene they were meant to be filming. And what movie or show it was for. And who his character was.
Okay, the panic wasn’t exactly slight, anymore.
“The nurse is coming with the doctor, Phi. How are you feeling?” Jin walked quickly back around the bed, his eyes wide and happy. “You scared me, you know. Don’t do that again, got it?” he asked, voice stern as he reached to take Akin’s hand again.
Akin moved his hand away, staring at Jin like he was crazy—because he was acting crazy. They didn’t hold hands, not outside of scenes that required it, and there weren’t many of those Akin could call to mind.
“P’Kin? Are you okay?”
Whatever god decided to bless Jin with those huge, emotive eyes needed to get a stern talking to. There was no reason for those words paired with those eyes to send Akin’s heart racing like he’d just run a mile. And the stupid machine wasn’t helping, beeping in time with Akin’s pulse, broadcasting his dilemma like the traitor it was.
“I’m fine,” Akin croaked, using his voice for the first time in what felt like a while.
“Are you sure? You look… kinda like you’ve seen a ghost, Phi.”
No, Akin wasn’t seeing a ghost, exactly. He was having some weird sense of deja vu, like he was looking at something that hadn’t happened yet. A future ghost, maybe? If such a thing existed?
“Is it your head? The doctor said you might wake up with a headache, and he stressed the importance of limiting your physical exertion. I set up a bed in the living room, so you don’t have to walk upstairs, so there’s no worry there. Although,” Jin continued, dropping his voice to a whisper as he sat down again, “I’ve missed you. Limited physical exertion is going to be hard, but I’m sure we can manage.” He didn’t reach for Akin’s hand again, but settled instead for resting his fingertips against Akin’s hip.
Akin steadfastly ignored the way the machine’s beeping sped up again at the slight touch, and fought the urge to shift into it and seek out the warmth of Jin’s hand.
“Why—?” Akin had too many questions. Why was Jin in Akin’s house? How did he even know where Akin lived, let alone get a key? And why would he think it was okay to not only rearrange said house, but insinuate that he would be staying there too? And was that a sexual innuendo Akin heard at the end, or was his sleep-addled brain inventing things?
“Ah, Khun Akin. You’re awake.” A man walked in in a doctor’s coat, a nurse following close on his heels. Akin didn’t recognize him, and why would a director be wearing a doctor’s coat anyway? So, either this was another actor, or…
“How are you feeling?” The man walked to the machine, jotting things down on his clipboard as he read the numbers there. Okay, real doctor it was.
“A bit… groggy, I guess. Confused.” Akin’s eyes darted to Jin, who was watching him with concern in those unfairly beautiful eyes. “I think I’m missing some time, if I’m being honest.”
The doctor hummed. “That’s normal with head trauma, I’m afraid. What’s the last thing you remember?”
The feeling of Jin’s eyes on him wasn’t helping Akin to think. What was the last thing he remembered? A gala, maybe? An award show? Yes, that sounded right. Which one, he wasn’t sure, but he distinctly remembered walking across the stage to accept something, the lights too bright in his eyes.
He watched the doctor’s face as he detailed his last memory, trying and failing to ignore the rising tension coming from where Jin sat. The doctor frowned, scribbling something on his clipboard. Over his shoulder, the nurse’s face wasn’t much better, her mouth twisted to the side as she gave a sad shake of her head.
“Is… is something wrong?”
“P’Kin,” Jin started, voice oddly calm and devoid of emotion. “Who am I to you?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Akin glanced between Jin and the doctor. “You’re an actor. We’ve worked together a couple times, I don’t know,” Akin said with a shrug.
The hand that had been still resting on Akin’s hip began to shake before Jin pulled it away, pressing his fingers to his mouth. Akin missed the warmth immediately, but he was quickly distracted by the tears that were welling in Jin’s eyes.
“Khun Akin.” The doctor’s voice was clinical, and suddenly Akin wished Jin was still holding his hand. “You’re suffering from amnesia. It’s 2026, and this man is your…”
“Husband,” Jin finished in a broken whisper.
“Hus—? No. No, I barely know you. This isn’t funny, why would you joke about something like that?” Akin was aware that his voice was rising, but he couldn’t seem to stop it.
“P’Kin, it’s okay. Calm down, you’re okay.” And there was Jin’s hand again, warm and big on Akin’s arm, and Akin hated it. “I’m here, it’s okay.”
“I’m not okay! I don’t want you here! Don’t touch me!” Akin flung Jin’s hand away from him like it had burned him. The devastated look on Jin’s face did something cruel to Akin’s heart, but he was beyond caring. It was just his body reacting to something he didn’t know, didn’t remember, didn’t trust.
“Khun Jin, I think you should step out,” Akin heard the doctor say over the rushing in his ears.
There were tears streaking down Jin’s face as he nodded and fled, looking so, so small. Akin had done that. He’d made Jin small, and for some reason, that was what sent him into a full spiral.
He was vaguely aware of the nurse administering something through the IV in his hand, and things got fuzzy quickly after that. His eyes grew heavy, and the last thing he thought about before darkness claimed him was the absolutely heartbroken look on Jin’s face when Akin said he didn’t know him.
“I”m sorry,” he whispered, knowing the one person who mattered couldn’t hear him.