Hoseok is lying on the large bed in his bedroom, staring at the ceiling, natural light pouring in through the windows. It’s his room except everything is white: the walls, the bed, the ceiling.
“I’ve been waiting for you.” A soft voice says and Hoseok freezes because he knows that voice. He hasn’t heard it in months, but he knows it.
He looks over and Kihyun is smiling at him, white sheets coming up past his chin and over his mouth. His eyes shine with mirth and Hoseok can tell he’s smiling because of the familiar crinkling on the edges. His orange hair is messy and bright next to the pure white of the bed sheets and pillows.
Hoseok can feel the cracking in his chest as he looks at him because sometimes he feels like if it weren’t for the pictures and videos he has on his phone he’d be forgetting the way his laugh sounds or the exact shape of his eyes.
“Ki?” he murmurs.
“Hoseok.” Kihyun smiles, pulling the covers down a small bit and Hoseok can finally see his smile. It’s just as beautiful as Hoseok remembers it.
“What are you doing here?” Hoseok asks, and he wants so badly to touch him, but can’t bring himself to lift his hand and reach out - afraid that if he does that he won’t be there anymore. He’ll vanish once again before Hoseok’s eyes.
“Where else would I be?” Kihyun replies.
(I don’t know. I don’t know and it’s killing me.)
Kihyun smiles again, nuzzling into his pillow, and Hoseok watches every moment, every breath like it’s the last time he’s going to see it.
“Are you taking care of yourself?” Kihyun asks and it punches Hoseok in the gut.
Hoseok thinks about his day. How Jooheon didn't come to class again and how they haven’t heard from Minhyuk now for two weeks. He thinks about how he called Kihyun’s phone number just to hear his voice on the recorded voice message. He thinks about the crushing loneliness that sits on his shoulders from the moment when he wakes up and how he still cries nearly every day.
How he lives like he’s wandering through a fog, too many unanswered questions digging into his skin painfully and his feet aching from retracing his steps.
He can’t tell him that. He can’t tell him any of that.
“Will you come home?” he asks instead, chest tightening painfully as Kihyun’s smile fades.
“Wake up, Hoseok,” he whispers.