SS 2 Part 1

Side Story #2. Bomin Loses His Memory

“Who are you…?”

“Just a little longer… I’m off today…”

Song Jaeho, half asleep, pulled Bomin closer, his arm tightening around his waist. They had been together all night. 

He yearned to wake up next to Bomin every day, but with so many others living in the mansion, his turn only came around once a week.

He had taken the day off, determined to spend the entire day with Bomin. He nuzzled Bomin’s chest, inhaling his scent, when…

“I said, who are you?” 

Bomin pushed him away, his voice cold. 

Song Jaeho’s heart sank. Something was wrong. He sat up, his gaze meeting Bomin’s. He had never seen this expression on Bomin’s face before. 

“Did I… go too hard last night…?”

He climbed off the bed, kneeling on the floor. He had been rough. He had coaxed and pleaded with Bomin, who had complained of not feeling well and offered to just give him a blowjob, to let him continue. He had come inside Bomin at least five times. 

Even in the dim light, he could see the marks he had left on Bomin’s skin. 

“…I’m sorry. I won’t touch you today. I promise.” 

He even held up his pinky finger. Bomin was usually playful, even when he was angry. 

But now… his gaze was as cold as a winter storm. Song Jaeho felt a chill run down his spine. 

He couldn’t bear the thought of being hated by Bomin. His mouth went dry, his palms sweating. 

He imagined himself being kicked out of the mansion. He hung his head, trying to look as pitiful as possible. 

“Where’s my phone?”

Bomin’s reaction was still strange, even after he got down on his knees. He was even using formal language. He watched as Bomin looked around, his hands trembling slightly. 

“Lee Bomin, what’s wrong? Are you feeling okay?”

Song Jaeho realized this was more serious than he had initially thought. He had assumed Bomin was just angry… 

He reached out to check Bomin’s temperature, but his hand was slapped away.

“Don’t touch me. And… I don’t think that was consensual. I’m calling the police.”

“What…?” 

Song Jaeho looked at his hand, then back at Bomin, his jaw slack. Bomin was shrinking back, away from him.

“Ah…”

“Careful! You shouldn’t move yet!”

“Please don’t touch me…” 

Bomin’s body, exhausted from being used all night, was weak. Song Jaeho had been planning to carry him around all day.

Bomin collapsed as he tried to get out of bed. Song Jaeho, panicked, reached out to catch him.

Bomin pushed him away, his voice trembling. Song Jaeho froze.

He watched, horrified, as Bomin frantically rubbed at his skin, as if trying to remove something.

New marks appeared, his skin already covered in bruises. 

“…Let me… at least cover you up… Please… don’t hurt yourself.”

He was stunned. He had been trying his best to be gentle ever since he realized his feelings. 

He would feel terrible if he accidentally bruised Bomin during s*x. 

And now… Bomin was hurting himself. Song Jaeho felt his blood run cold. 

Bomin was flinching away from him, as if his touch burned. He gritted his teeth, using his telekinesis to retrieve a robe from the sofa. 

“What is…”

Bomin stared at the robe, which was floating in mid-air. He reached out, his hand hovering around it. 

“Am I… dreaming…?”

Song Jaeho, seeing him pinching his cheeks, ran a hand through his hair. 

“This is insane.”

Bomin seemed fascinated by his power. And it wasn’t an act. He could see the curiosity in his eyes, even though he was clearly terrified. 

“Lee Bomin, don’t tell me… you’ve lost your memory…” 

He didn’t want to believe it. But it was the only explanation that made sense.

“…Do I know you? I don’t remember you.”

Bomin’s curiosity vanished, replaced by fear. He took the robe, wrapping it around himself. He looked at Song Jaeho warily, his eyes scanning the room.

His gaze was unsettling. He backed away, then winced, his face contorting in pain. Song Jaeho stood up. Bomin flinched as he moved.

Song Jaeho closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He didn’t understand what was happening, but he needed to calm Bomin down. 

He retrieved his own robe, putting it on. Bomin seemed to relax slightly, seeing that they were both covered. 

“And… this is a crime. Give me back my phone.”

Bomin’s phone was on the nightstand, within easy reach. 

And yet, he was asking for it.

“Are you sore? The floor is cold, let’s sit on the sofa. Okay?”

He hadn’t bothered applying a recovery potion last night; he had been too focused on carrying Bomin around all day. Bomin, despite his delicate appearance, was surprisingly resilient. But when he did get sick… it was always bad.

He was worried that he might catch a cold from the cold, hard floor. 

“…Okay.”

Bomin nodded slightly, and Song Jaeho, seizing the opportunity, used his telekinesis to lift him up and gently place him on the sofa. 

Bomin, startled, drew his legs up to his chest, his arms wrapped around them. He looked at Song Jaeho warily, like a frightened cat.

“For the record… I’m not a bad guy.” 

“…..”

Bomin’s gaze only hardened. Song Jaeho wanted to facepalm. What was he supposed to say?

That he wasn’t a bad guy, and that they were lovers? 

“I’m telling you! We’re… dating. And this is our home. Well, this room is mine, but…”

He rambled on, his panic growing, but Bomin’s expression only grew colder. 

He suddenly realized… how much affection Bomin usually showed him. 

He wanted to go back in time, to undo whatever he had done to cause this. He was running a hand through his hair, his frustration growing, when… 

“Why aren’t you coming out? Bomin needs to eat.”

The door opened, and Jeong Hotae entered. Bomin’s eyes widened. 

“Jeong… Hotae…?” 

“What the… Lee Bomin, you remember him?”

Song Jaeho was indignant. Bomin was treating him like a rapist, and yet, he was looking at Jeong Hotae with such… tenderness. 

“Bomin-ah, did you sleep well?”

Jeong Hotae, oblivious to the tension, smiled warmly as he walked towards Bomin. Bomin, his legs no longer drawn up to his chest, looked at him as if he had seen a ghost, his eyes trembling. 

“Why? What’s wrong?” 

Jeong Hotae, sensing his discomfort, knelt before him. Bomin’s gaze followed him. 

“You… you…”

Tears welled up in his eyes. He started crying, his shoulders shaking, and Jeong Hotae, confused, reached out a hand. 

“You’re acting strange today. Did you have a bad dream?”

Bomin, who had flinched away from Song Jaeho’s touch, readily accepted Jeong Hotae’s hand, his fingers gripping Jeong Hotae’s tightly. Song Jaeho’s face hardened. 

“You… bastard… why… didn’t you tell me…”

Jeong Hotae’s smile faltered as he watched Bomin cry. 

“It’s all my fault. Please don’t cry.”

He apologized, his voice soft, even though he had no idea what was going on. He cupped Bomin’s cheeks, wiping away his tears. 

But it was no use. Bomin’s tears flowed freely, faster than he could wipe them away. Jeong Hotae, pulling Bomin into his arms, sat down on the sofa.

Bomin continued to cry, his eyes fixed on Jeong Hotae, his gaze intense. His eyes were wide open, his face flushed. 

Song Jaeho, watching them, felt his control slipping. 

“Song Jaeho!”

Objects began to float, swirling around the room as if caught in the eye of a storm. 

Lamps, nightstands, even the bed and side table… everything except the sofa where Jeong Hotae and Bomin were sitting was lifted into the air. 

“Are we… dead?” 

Bomin, unable to comprehend what was happening, clutched Jeong Hotae’s hand.

He could feel the warmth of Jeong Hotae’s hand, the pain from when he had pinched his cheek. It seemed that… he could still feel things, even in the afterlife.

After Jeong Hotae left, he had been a mess. He had searched for him everywhere, but he was nowhere to be found. 

He had eventually retreated into the apartment, surrounding himself with Jeong Hotae’s clothes. He had curled up in a nest of Jeong Hotae’s scent, closing his eyes. 

He wouldn’t have minded dying, as long as it meant he could be with Jeong Hotae. 

And then… he had woken up in a strange place. 

The first thing he saw was an unfamiliar man and his own bruised body.

He had been terrified, but he had tried to remain calm. He couldn’t remember how he had been kidnapped, which only made it worse.

Had he gone crazy from the pain of losing Jeong Hotae? He had been lost in thought when the door opened, and Jeong Hotae had walked in. 

He had acted like nothing had happened, his touch familiar. And that’s why… he couldn’t stop crying.

He didn’t care that there was danger, that something was wrong.

He didn’t even care if he was dead, as long as he could be with Jeong Hotae.

He clung to Jeong Hotae, inhaling his scent. 

“I don’t care if I’m dead… Just… don’t leave me again.”

He finally felt… whole.

Jeong Hotae’s absence had left a gaping hole in his heart, a hole that nothing could fill. 

But now… being in Jeong Hotae’s arms… it was slowly healing.