Breathe in. . . breathe out.

A day had passed since Ethan heard the truth about his condition for the second time. What could be worse than losing his memories? Perhaps it was the thought of losing his sanity while struggling to accept reality. He felt suffocated, and no matter how hard he tried to remember, all he received in return was a headache.

Lei and August were patient, even though Ethan kept shutting them out. It was difficult when the whole universe seemed to witness his misery and vulnerability.

On the other hand, the name Dawson haunted him like a wild, rogue beast. If only he could silence his mind for just a moment to find peace, but he knew that was impossible. Dawson had taken up residence in his thoughts, and with each passing second, his anxiety grew.

Where had he gone wrong in life?

Ethan longed for answers. With his mother and friends standing by him, he wanted to believe he was a good son and a loyal friend. Yet, how had he ended up in a hospital bed? Life seemed to conspire against him, stealing away his most precious memories.

"Aren't you tired of thinking about things?" Lei finally asked, breaking the silence.

"Is there anything he shouldn't think about?" August replied, sarcasm lacing his tone.

"Will you stop, August? We're here to comfort our friend, not add fuel to the fire. What's your problem, anyway? Why are you acting like a child?"

"My problem?" he nearly shouted. "My problem is that our friend here hasn't acknowledged us since yesterday. Now tell me—am I supposed to just chill out? Because my answer is a definite no. His behavior is hardly calming me down, Lei."

"Of course, we should chill out. If anyone can understand the situation, it's us. What we need is a whole lot of patience because we're dealing with a friend who just lost his memories—and the man he—"

"You can leave if I'm making you uncomfortable. I need space to think on my own." Ethan sighed deeply, his eyes drifting toward the vase near the window.

"You don't want us here? Do you want us out from your life? Is that you want, Ethan?" August asked, his voice laced with hurt. 

"August. . ." Lei warned, his voice firm.

"News flash." August pointed a finger at Ethan, who was gazing silently at the city outside his window. "I won't be here if you need me. I'm losing my patience, and you're acting like we're strangers!"

"Am I your friend?" Ethan's gaze turned to August, his voice raw. "Then why did you lie about Dawson? Why did everyone lie about his death, when I saw him—the second time I woke up today?"

"What are you talking about?" Lei asked, his voice faltering.

"He was in my room earlier," Ethan explained. "He told me his name. I may not remember Dawson, or you, or August, but I can tell when someone's telling the truth. So why did you lie to me?"

"We didn't lie about Dawson," August defended himself. "What do you mean you saw him in your room? Dawson is dead. He died in the car crash, Ethan, and you need to accept the truth: your lover won't be coming back to comfort you."

"But he was here, August."

"Stop lying to yourself, Ethan." August shook his head, then stormed out, angry and frustrated.

Lei bit his lower lip, his gaze fixed on the direction where August had stormed off. If Lei felt confused, how much more lost was Ethan? No one had lied. Dawson hadn't been fortunate enough to survive the accident; he had died upon arrival at the nearest hospital that night.

It was a miracle that Ethan had lived. Even more perplexing were the few bruises on his body, as if someone had shielded him from harm.

"August isn't usually like this," Lei said softly. "I don't know what's gotten into him lately, or maybe something just happened."

"I understand," Ethan said, glancing at Lei and offering a weak smile. "I know how frustrating it must be not to be remembered by someone. I want to retrieve my memories so I can understand where her hatred is coming from. I'm talking about Dawson's mother, by the way."

"Tita Dianne—"

"She told me that I killed her only son, my boyfriend, just like all of you said. How can I understand her hatred toward me when I don't even understand myself? How did I survive the accident? Why am I the only one left?"

"Listen to me," Lei said, stepping closer until he was directly in front of his distressed friend. "You survived the accident because you deserve to live your life again, Ethan."

"And Dawson didn't deserve to live?" Ethan turned away, wiping the tears that streamed down his cheeks.

"It's not like that," Lei replied, cupping Ethan's face with a gentle touch. "I'm so sorry about Dawson's death, but what you said earlier about us lying to you—it's not true. We're telling the truth, and that's why Tita Dianne is angry. But she's always been angry at you."

Ethan swallowed hard, trying to process Lei's words. Maybe what he had seen was just a product of the accident, the medication, or the exhaustion that had consumed him.

If only he could remember Dawson's face, then he would never doubt what he had seen.

***

Ethan spent a week in the hospital while Lei visited him from time to time after his shifts at the coffee shop. August remained upset and struggled to comprehend his friend's situation, though he felt a pang of sympathy as well.

Not a single soul was ready to move on from their loss. They mourned deeply, bidding farewell to a young man named Dawson Fontalba.

As Ethan approached his favorite place—what had become an empty studio—he noticed people staring at him intently. They recognized him and felt sorrow for what had happened. His relationship with Dawson had been pure, and everyone else could only envy their one-of-a-kind bond.

Indeed, fate was never an easy opponent.

"Ethan," he read the letters scrawled on the wall.

His mother had decided to empty the small studio. Lucille was leaving no traces of Dawson behind—not in the apartment, in the house, or anywhere Ethan had stayed. Moving forward was the only option she could offer her son, and forgetting was for the best.

Ethan decided not to open his social media accounts after buying a new phone and laptop. It felt as if he had died and been given a chance to be reborn. He was like a new person, and avoiding Dawson's face was his decision. Yet, one thing he could do for the last time was attend the funeral, even if it meant keeping his distance from the grieving crowd.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. Lei waved as Ethan acknowledged him with a sad smile.

"Are you ready?"

"Ready or not," Ethan replied, his nerves churning at the thought of what lay ahead.

The next few hours passed in a blur. Ethan stood tall, keeping his distance from the coffin and the crowd. He could see the sorrow in their eyes and gradually came to believe that he was the sole reason for Dawson's death.

"I'm sorry you had to go so early," he murmured, his breath heavy with grief. "Be happy wherever you are, Dawson."

One by one, the crowd began to disperse—yet he stayed.

Ethan found himself begging for forgiveness a million times from a person whose face he could no longer remember.

"I don't know what to do with my life anymore. I feel so lost, and honestly, I don't even want to be found by anyone but you. How do I move on if you're no longer here?" He bit his lower lip and chuckled, incredulous at his own words. "Dumb me and this amnesia of mine."

Breathe in. . . breathe out.

Ethan forced a sad smile, lost in thought as he tried to recall Dawson's face, pushing himself to remember despite the headache it caused, hoping that doing so would bring him some solace.

"You're safe now," he whispered, gazing up at the sky as it turned gray. "No one's going to hurt you. No one's going to judge you up there. No one's going to speak ill of you, Dawson. Be happy—for me."

And with that, Ethan left without looking back, ready to start anew.

Tweet your thoughts and use #WWherever on Instagram, Facebook, or TikTok.