Jeongguk wakes up to the heavy smell of something burning. He scrunches his nose as soon as he opens his eyes, squinting them to adjust from the harsh rays of the sun that's peeking through the curtains of his bedroom.

Groaning, he drags his body out of his bed, not even bothering to fix it just yet because he knows, sooner or later, he'll be back to bury his nose on the fabric of his pillow and wrap himself up the blankets once more.

"Sana?" He asks, voice groggy from sleep.

"Kitchen!" The woman replies, and Jeongguk can only roll his eyes. Sana never worked really well inside the kitchen, so it isn't really a surprise for him the moment he steps inside, and is welcomed by broken eggs scattered on the floor, and well, burnt bacons. The only pleasant thing- to eat - that catches Jeongguk's attention is the toasted bread she had prepared on a plate, butter already melting since it's been left untouched for too long.

"What are you doing here so early?" Jeongguk doesn't mean to ask it that way- doesn't mean to come off rude, but in the span of seven months, he knows that Sana's gotten used to his spiteful comments.

"I get it, you just woke up, but can you at least pretend that you're happy to see me here instead of asking me why I'm here?" Sana looks at him bitterly, making Jeongguk chuckle in return. He leans on the fridge, watching as Sana moves around the room, not really sure of what to do next since she's burnt half of the food she was supposed to serve to Jeongguk.

"So, like, I appreciate your kindness and your effort to cook breakfast, but I don't really want to eat something burnt today. It'll make my stomach upset," Jeongguk continues to mock, earning a scowl from her. Sana didn't mind him at first, too busy on fixing the food in front of her, but when the sunny-side up she's frying ended up being burnt, again, she turns off the stove, removes her apron and throws it harshly on the floor. She looks at Jeongguk in the eye before saying, "That's it. We're going to eat outside."

They ended up inside a small diner not too far from Jeongguk's apartment, and well, they serve the best pancakes ever, as much as Jeongguk's taste buds can appreciate. He and Sana were just having some casual conversation when the topic was suddenly brought up.

"How's she?" Jeongguk asks cautiously and Sana stops eating for a while. She smiles sadly, the one that doesn't reach her eyes, and she sighs.

"Her therapist said there's little to no progress, Guk. I've been visiting every now and then but every time I'm there, she refuses to talk to me. She treats me like a stranger and it makes my heart ache. She's the only family I've got and I kinda regret sending her there. But I always knew she was struggling mentally and emotionally. She just didn't tell me that she was suffering that much," Sana says in a soft voice, trying her best not to let out the sob she's been holding back for too long. Jeongguk reaches out to her and places his hand on top of hers.

"You did the right thing, Sana. It's okay, she's going to be okay, and so are you. Remember that you still have me and Storm. You're not alone on this one. Jieun will heal," Jeongguk assures her. Sana can only nod in appreciation, unable to look at Jeongguk in the eye because if she does, she knows she will break. She didn't want to cry in front of the man whom her cousin had managed to hurt several times already. Jeongguk remained tough and kind and above all, forgiving.

"How about you? Any progress in there?" Sana gestures towards his head. Now it's Jeongguk's turn to ignore the existence of the food he was eating just a while ago. His stomach churns and it's as if he's left with nothing but hollowness.

"Well, I have an appointment with my doctor this week," Jeongguk answers her curtly. Sana hums in response, resting her cheek on her palm.

"I hope your memory comes back, Guk," Sana mumbles and Jeongguk just sighs in return.

"I hope so, too, Sana. I'm desperate to remember what my life was even before the accident. What did I do back then? Did I leave someone behind? These are just thoughts that would sometimes make me wonder in the middle of the night but I receive no answers in the end because I can't answer them all by myself," Jeongguk says sadly. Sana freezes at the statement, contemplating whether she should or should not tell Jeongguk about some things that are vital for his recovery. However, she doesn't want to force Jeongguk in remembering.

"You'll get there, Guk. You'll remember soon."

"I just... I just want to be able to interact with Storm without being hostile towards him, you know? He's my son for fuck's sake. I don't want him to grow up thinking that I left him behind or worse, hate him, just because I can't fucking remember!" Jeongguk grits his teeth in frustration, hands reaching up to tug at his hair harshly.

"Hey, stop it. It's not your fault, Jeongguk. It's never your fault. Tell you what, I'll bring Storm over the weekend and let you spend time with him, okay? Your mom's been calling and telling me that Storm really misses you a lot. What do you say?"

Ever since the accident, Storm's been living with Jeongguk's mother in their house in Busan. His mother also decided that it'd be best for Jeongguk to go live in a separate apartment for a while so that he can focus on his recovery. However, he had found a job, and somehow it managed to distract him and kept him too busy to think of anything else.

The first few months were torture for him and for Storm. He couldn't remember his own son, and he kept on receiving calls from his mother in the middle of the night, a crying Storm greeting him on the other line.

It made Jeongguk's heart ache because he couldn't comfort his son the way he used to, so it would always end up with him muttering apologies and ending the phone call with a very heart.

Jeongguk gulps anxiously. Will he really be able to spend time with his son without his head acting up?

"Y-yeah... Sure, Sana. Thank you."

Nevermind, Jeongguk's determined this time.

"We're here for you, Guk. Take your time."

It's been seven months... Jeongguk thinks he's had enough time, and he feels sorry for not having any progress at all.