I stepped outside into the cool evening air, the sky painted in bruised purples and soft oranges.
Everything looked familiar, yet different, like a photograph that had been slightly altered.
My steps carried me away from the sterile walls and toward the streets I vaguely recognized from months ago.
Every corner, every lamppost, seemed to whisper fragments of memories I didn't quite own.
And yet, in every memory, there was Ken.
I walked aimlessly, letting my instincts guide me.
Where would he go?
Where would he be waiting?
I stopped at a small café I used to pass by during morning walks.
The scent of coffee and baked bread hit me like a sudden jolt of reality.
My eyes scanned the outdoor tables, the benches, the little crowd gathered near the fountain, but there was no Ken.
Still, my heart refused to quiet.
He's real.
He exists.
I felt him.
I know him.
I sat on a bench near the fountain, hands clasped around my knees, watching the ripples on the water.
The sounds of the city, the chatter, the distant horns, the wind rustling the leaves, all seemed distant, as though the world had muted itself just for me.
Memories of the park surged forward, unbidden.
Ken's laugh.
The warmth of his hand in mine.
His teasing smile as I tried to outrun him.
I can't lose that.
I took out my phone instinctively.
Maybe I'm going crazy.
Maybe I imagined all of it.
But no messages.
No calls.
No traces.
Just silence.
I leaned back against the bench, closing my eyes.
"What do I do?" I whispered to myself. "Where do I even start?"
I opened my eyes at a sudden movement.
A child ran past, kicking a ball.
The world felt normal again for a moment, but that fleeting normalcy only reminded me of the gap, the absence of him.
Ken… Ken…
I tried to anchor myself in logic.
Maybe I was dreaming.
Maybe this was some residual memory from months in a coma.
Maybe I'm confusing everything.
But deep down, I knew it wasn't an illusion.
I knew him.
I felt him.
The parallel universe, if that's what it was, hadn't been a dream. \
It had been real.
I rose from the bench, determination building.
I'll find him.
No matter what it takes.
—
The city lights flickered on, one by one, casting long shadows across the streets. I walked faster, weaving between people, scanning faces.
Every shadow that flickered across the sidewalk made my heart jump.
Is that him?
I stopped abruptly.
Nothing.
The emptiness pressed in around me, heavy and cold.
I sank onto another bench, head in my hands, fighting the panic clawing at my chest.
If he's real… if he's truly out there… why can't I see him?
A gust of wind lifted my hair, brushing against my cheek like a whisper.
For a heartbeat, I thought I heard his laugh.
No.
Stop.
It's just the wind.
Yet the memory refused to leave me, that familiar warmth, that pull of his presence.
I traced the feeling in my chest with a trembling hand, as if I could reach across worlds and touch him.
I thought of all the little things we'd shared.
The breakfast in his apartment, holding hands while walking home, the ice cream on lazy afternoons, the quiet moments sitting together in silence.
All real. All mine.
Tears slipped from the corners of my eyes.
I whispered into the evening air, barely audible:
"Ken… where are you? I'll find you. I don't care what it takes."
Somewhere, far beyond the city streets, beyond the walls of the hospital, I knew he existed. Somewhere, beyond the rules of this world, he was waiting and I would find him.
But for the first time, a new fear crept into my mind:
Ken… what's your last name?
The thought made my stomach twist.
How could someone so real, so vital, so present in my life… vanish entirely from this world without leaving a trace?
What else is hidden?
I rose from the bench, shoulders straight, chin lifted.
The world might have shifted beneath me, but my heart remained steadfast.
I'll find him.
No matter the cost.
No matter the impossible paths between us.
The city hummed around me, alive and indifferent.
But I no longer cared about the indifference.
All that mattered was Ken.
And somewhere, he waited.