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Yeji feels numb when she wakes up. She opens her eyes slowly, and when she looks at the world, it feels as though she’s watching a reflection of a mirror, projected onto an old cinema reel, playing slowly in the dim hall of a theater.
She’s in a hospital, with the stark white sheets, the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor, light barred from the room through plain beige curtains. Sterile, in every way. There’s subdued shuffling outside the door, her mind only registering things several moments after her senses take them in. Like how she’s sweaty– she’s been here for some time. There’s medication on the counter– something’s wrong with her.
She doesn’t know why she’s here.
With a groan, she sits herself up, stretching a kink out of her back.
I hope I haven’t been here long. I have places to be, Lia says I have to meet her friend, I have to–
Lia.
Her thoughts come back to her slowly, like the steady drops of water into a pond, and then suddenly, all at once, like the bursting of a dam into an overflowing river.
The train. I was on the train, we crashed, there was screaming, horrible screaming, and I have to find Lia, I have to find–
Yeji pushes herself off the bed and pulls open the door. She remembers the sweet summer air as she stuck her head out of the window, the thrill of going home, traveling with her best friend, the giggles and secrets she and Lia shared as they ate day-old cake, the landscape passing them by in watercolor tones, the terrible ringing as the brakes failed, the whiplash of being thrown forward, the screaming, the horrible screaming as everything went dark, and cold, and–
“Excuse me?” she might look a little crazy, from the expression the nurses at the front desk give her, and her voice sounds weak, like she hasn’t spoken in a century, “Excuse me, I’m looking for Lia? Lia Choi? She’s a friend of mine, please, I– Please, can you– can you see–? Can you see– can you tell– tell me if she’s alright? Can you– do you know if she’s here?”
“It’s alright, dearie, come with me,” the nurse sounds tired, she’s an old lady with crinkles around her eyes and stiff grey hair, “Come on, back to your room, Yeji. It’s okay..”
“N-no, wait, please,” she starts crying, like a pressure pushing from the back of her head has built up, “Please, can you tell me? Lia, her name is Lia, please–”
The nurse shushes her and brings her back to the room, and she realizes that this nurse isn’t going to find Lia, and isn’t listening to her, so she starts to scream.
“Please! Someone! Please, I need to find Lia! I need to know she’s okay!”
“Calm down, Miss, you’re a little confused, it’s alright–”
“No, I’m not, where’s Lia?!”
A couple more nurses come in, and Yeji is back in her bed, crying, and pleading from her heart. They didn’t understand, because if Yeji’s confused, she can only imagine how much more terrifying it is for her friend, and Lia is so sweet, and they don’t know, she’ll be very scared if she’s alone, they don’t know–
Something sharp sticks into her neck, and her body feels like rubber, and she suddenly feels like she hasn’t slept for an eternity, the peace overwhelming her senses, except for a blaring thought that screams like an angry siren, about Lia, only about Lia, and that someone needs to find her.
Before she closes her eyes, the door opens, and she feels the need to look, to see who it is, just to see if maybe it’s her, maybe she’s alright, and she’s come to visit her, but it’s the figure of a man, who lays flowers on the bedside table, and kneels by the bed.
He’s got kind, concerned eyes, hair messily falling on his face, and he keeps chewing his lips.
She doesn’t know him, except for a pulsing sense of peace at the back of her mind.
He takes her hand, maybe to try and calm her down or reassure her, maybe he’s one of Lia’s friends? And the last thing Yeji registers before her mind goes dark, is that he’s holding her hand, and there’s a ring on her finger..
A ring, adorned with a pretty diamond, sparkling like all the stars hung in the sky.
A wedding ring…
But Yeji can’t remember ever being married.
✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧
The apartment is quiet, several floors high above the noises of the city. But all the same, Hyunjin wakes up, perhaps to the light pouring in through the window, or the winter wind that shakes at the windows, demanding to be let in.
He pulls himself up from bed, and looks over to where Yeji is still sound asleep. Her mouth is a little open, an undignified snoring that she’d vehemently deny when she wakes. It’s an image of normalcy, the sort of scene Hyunjin’s used to seeing before…
He takes a deep breath, and goes to prepare them coffee. It’s been three weeks since he’s brought her home from the hospital, and everyday, he wakes up and prepares himself for it to be the day where she recognizes her life. Where the day before, and all the months of history aren’t erased, and she doesn’t look at him like he’s a stranger, doesn’t try to hit him with a frying pan, doesn’t scream about being kidnapped, or being held captive, or cry for her friend who’s long gone.
The coffee pot fills, and the thick smell wafts through their apartment. He fills two cat mugs, one with a bowtie, and the other with a pearl necklace. Like normal. Like today will be the day where she wakes up and greets him with a smile, like he doesn’t need to start from the beginning, like he doesn’t need to win her heart for the day, only to lose it again the next morning.
He hesitantly sits by the bed, and waits. Maybe he’s a fool for hoping beyond hope, but he does, and he wants to see her face when the spark of recognition lights, and she brightens with that winning smile of hers that makes her eyes form into crescents, and her nose scrunch up.
He holds his breath as Yeji opens her eyes with a groan. Blinks one. Twice. Realizes someone is sitting from the corner of her vision.
She turns. Notices him.
Hyunjin smiles.
Yeji screams.
Oh, it's one of those days.
“Who are you?” she scrambles back in her bed, “What are you–? Who are you?! Wha– Where– Where’s Lia? What happened to the train? Wha- Whe– What?”
“It’s alright, Yeji-ah,” his voice is calm, even, and he tries not to let the disappointment creep into his voice and pull him down by the ankles into a pit of grief, especially as he sees her reach for something to throw at him, “Calm down, it’s just–”
“Stay away!” She stands up on the bed, and flairs a brush in the air to throw at him, and he puts his hands up.
“Okay, alright,” he gestures at the photo album on her table, “How about you look at that, and then we can talk, alright?”
She threateningly holds the brush towards him, but glances down. He hopes she’ll calm down at the sight of it, as she does some days. Other days it just makes her more suspicious and–
“This is a trick,” she narrows his eyes at him, “An elaborate trick– isn’t it?”
Hyunjin sighs. Other days it is then. He wishes, in hindsight, he hadn’t indulged her love of espionage movies.
“Yeji…”
“Stay back!”
“Just listen to me and–”
“I said, stay back!”
Three hours later, Yeji’s finally drinking her cup of coffee, and Hyunjin’s holding a bag of peas to his head.
Amnesia has done nothing to Yeji’s impeccable aim.
“So,” she takes a long sip and sets the mug down, fingers playing with the raised clay that marks the pearls around the cat-mug’s neck, “Amnesia?”
“Mm.”
“I can’t remember two years of my life?”
“That’s right.”
“But I fell only a month ago.”
“Mhm.”
Yeji pouts, and Hyunjin bites his lip to keep from laughing, because she seems so adamant to not believe him, even though he’s got a video from one week ago of her explaining the whole thing to her future self, and pictures from the past two years that she doesn’t remember, and a very patient man before her that answers anything and everything she could want to know without a problem.
He sets the peas down and runs his hand through his hair, waiting for her to ask–
“Can we go see her? Lia?”
He smiles and takes her hand, “Of course.”
They walk side-by-side, and it reminds Hyunjin of back before they were dating, when Lia had introduced them at a yogurt shop Hyunjin was working at for some extra money, and they wanted to say something to each other, but everything they could say was only through stolen misunderstood glances, and hesitant smiles. And then even, sometime after, when they were dating, both too awkward to hold hands, but too in love to be further than two feet from each other. Hyunjin wants to take her hand and stick it in his pocket, a habit he’d picked up after he’d slipped the wedding band on her finger and never let go of her hand.
But if he tries it now, she’ll only shake him off in annoyance.
“This is it?”
Hyunjin nods, snuggling his nose into his scarf, and stuffing his hands into his coat.
Solemnly, their feet stop at the gravestone of one Lia Choi.
Daughter, Singer, and Friend
Lost in the North Station Tragedy.
“So she did die,” Yeji takes a deep breath, and it’s shaky when she releases it, a cloud of vapor before her face as she tries to regain her bearings, “And this was… very long ago.”
“Yes…” he bows his head respectfully, “I’m sorry.”
“What…” she looks away, and Hyunjin knows it’s because she doesn’t want him to see her cry, “What happened to me, after?”
“You were in the hospital for sometime,” he remembers visiting everyday with his parents, bringing her cakes, and flowers, and reading story books of pirates, and adventurers, “You had a concussion, and a minor wrist injury, but nothing more. We attended the funeral together, and we got closer… I drove you to work, over at the bank, and you invited me to meet your parents, and we met each other’s friends, and then one day…”
He doesn’t want to say it. Hyunjin looks up, expecting her to finish it, but she doesn’t, she’s only nodding thoughtfully, as though taking it all in for the first time. But at least she’s not as hostile.
“Thank you,” she says politely, “I… it mustn't be easy to love someone who can’t love you back.”
Hyunjin winces, but he covers it with a cough that turns into a laugh, “I manage. Besides,” his eyes twinkle when he looks up at her, “Somehow, I make you fall for me all over again each day.”
She scoffs, raising an eyebrow, “Unlikely. I don’t fall for people that easily.”
Yeji wouldn’t, that was how she’d introduced herself the moment she’d caught onto his feelings. It was a plainly known, blunt fact, that every friend of hers warned Hyunjin when they sensed the friendship becoming rose-colored. Yeji was hard to date, she didn’t love easily, she didn’t give her emotions away so quickly. And yet–
“Come,” he took her hand, catching her by surprise so she couldn’t pull away, “Let’s go eat something. You haven’t had breakfast. And no, a cup of coffee does not count.”
She huffs and sticks her nose in the air, “How did you know that? Maybe I would’ve said that I was hungry and it was about time you gave me something to eat!”
He shakes his head and doesn’t answer, a sly smile on his face. He has to hold onto these little victories, where she doesn’t pull away from him, where she shows the fire of her personality, bold and brash and undoubtedly Yeji. The snow crunches under their boots, and she kicks at it childishly, as they follow the path through the park to the other side of town. She huffs and tries to blow a strand of hair from her face, pulling her face away when he tries to help her.
Amnesia has done nothing to Yeji’s stubbornness.
“Wait,” she stops him as they walk over the frozen pond, at the top of the bridge, where Hyunin would prefer to hurriedly pull her along, “Wait, I think I– Do I remember this place?”
Hyunjin’s breath catches in his throat. He doesn’t understand how the brain works, how it easily pulls at some things, but cannot be recovered for others. He doesn’t know why an accident so recently would erase so much of their lives from her recollection.
He wants her to remember. He knows that to not know leaves one feeling empty, unwhole, because she’s told him, one day when they recovered bits of it and she could do nothing but cry about what she couldn’t grasp. He remembers holding her and reassuring her and rocking her gently as she sobbed, wondering if there was any hidden blessing in an incomplete memory.
There are things he’s able to coax from her mind, sometimes. When she had gone sledding with Lia, when she’d first gotten accepted into university. That time she’d gone on a shopping spree and impulsively bought cat mugs and stylish winter gear. But never anything of the two of them. Never the memories he wanted.
If he could, he would hide this one memory, trade it for a lifetime of other little things she’s missed.
“Did I skate here?” she leans on the railing, “Did we–? Was it with Lia, or after–?”
He pulls her away quickly. He never lets her remember this one.
It’s a memory he himself has buried beneath the more bright things of their past, and the hopeful beacons of their future. It’s the one memory he can’t change, can’t rewrite, that needs to be rewritten, when she lets go of his hand, but turns back to look at him, the light shining through crystal ice, a thousand brilliant colors sparkling through her hair as she smiles at him, for one timeless moment where they’re not being careful, and not paying any mind to the world around them, just long enough for her to be body-slammed by another careless skater, just long enough for her feet to fly out from under her, just long enough–
The horrible crack when she fell, that split his heart in two, still echoes in the recesses of his mind.
“Hey, slow down!” Perhaps he’s tugging her away from the bad memory by pulling her along so quickly, but she tugs him to slow down, and then lets go of him altogether, “Let me catch my breath! Ah, really…”
Hyunjin takes a deep breath, and walks back to her, “Sorry, but… I don’t want you to remember that one,” he puts a hand on her hand, and it goes to the backside, where she’s got stitches, and he needs to erase the image seared in his brain of blood, dark and terrible, growing like a stain on the ice, and her still, unmoving body… “Maybe later, but… not now.”
She raises an eyebrow at him, but says nothing, “Well. Are we going to eat, then?”
There’s a cafe between the bank and the yogurt shop, homely and decorated in twinkling Christmas lights. Hyunjin doesn’t tell her that’s where he’s taking her, but as soon as it comes into sight–
“Oh! What a cute little place, let’s eat there!”
She orders the same sandwich: avocado and cheese on sourdough, with a side of spicy fries. The man behind the counter, Minho, who knows the entire story, smiles sweetly, and actually has the order prepared before she even says it. Some days she notices. Today is an “other” day when she doesn’t.
“My parents live down the street,” she says suddenly, “Or… they used to. Do they still?”
Hyunjin smiles proudly, because it’s a move that was made after Lia’s death, “Yes, they do. Well done.”
She preens at the praise. They sit in the same corner booth that is somehow always open to them, by a wall that’s covered in chalk notes, from the floor to the ceiling. Pastel colors and a mosaic of different handwritings.
Yeji’s eyes wander the notes, and it isn’t long before she finds her own handwriting, next to another’s she can guess.
“How often is that board cleaned?”
“Every week,” Hyunjin licks his fingers off the barbeque sauce from his pulled pork sandwich. Unlike Yeji, he prefers something new each time. He steals a fry from her plate, and she clicks her tongue disapprovingly, before cleaning the leftover barbeque sauce on his plate, ignoring his pout.
“So… we’ve been here every day this week.”
Hyunjin nods, reaching to steal another one of her fries, before she catches his wrist and eats the fry from between his fingers. He makes a horrified expression as she nearly nips his fingertips, but then she starts laughing and he can’t help but laugh as well.
“At least I’m original each day,” She sets down her sandwich, and he follows her gaze to the board, to the same handwriting, written in pink.
I had a magical day.
There’s nothing better than avocados and cheese.
Ice is evil.
Hyunjin is a sweetheart.
And next to them, the same note, each and every day, written in blue, I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
“Do I get points for consistency?” he smiles cheekily, “At least you know I’m the same person you meet every day!”
His smile falters when she’s got a sad look on her face, “Am I?”
Hyunjin's breath catches in his throat, “Of course you are.”
“ You remember every detail about me. You somehow make me fall in love with you over and over. And yet…” she looks at him, with a realism and sadness he can’t place, “I’m not able to remember you.”
“You will,” doesn't sound as confident as everything else he’d told her, because he’s not sure if he can be as confident, so maybe it sounds more like a promise, a wish, a prayer, “You will.”
By this time, he's usually gotten some sort of affection, whether old or new, she glows in fondness, a blush on her cheeks, an emotion more familiar to their married life.
But now, she's cold, sadly realistic.
It feels like a dagger to the heart, and he can’t breathe, can’t say anything.
“Hyunjin,” it’s the first time she’s said his name, but it doesn’t sound as beautiful as the times before, because she’s trying not to cry, and not looking him in the eye, “You can’t… you can’t do this forever…”
“Yes I can.”
“You deserve someone who’s able to love you.”
“You will.”
“Hyunjin…” she finally looks up at him, “You’ve been so kind, too kind… but maybe you need to live for yourself.”
He shakes his head in disbelief. She doesn’t understand, it doesn’t matter–
How does he tell her that love isn’t that fragile? That his love isn’t that fragile?
Hyunjin is patient, patient enough to wait in the rain when she worked late, patient enough to wait for her to fall for him the first time, patient enough to wait by her bedside when he was hoping beyond hope, patient enough for the seasons to change and the wind to become cold, but his love to never wax or wane.
He had thought… Was he wrong to think?
“Oh, I’ve made you sad, I’m sorry, I didn’t–” she whispers, reaching out to touch his hand, before deciding against it. The ring glistens on her finger, and catches her eye for a moment, and Hyunjin’s heart breaks afresh when she slips it off, “You shouldn’t be tied down by me…”
She leaves him to throw away their trash. With shaky hands, Hyunjin touches the gold band, the diamond catching the light and throwing rainbows across the table.
He hadn’t changed, had Yeji?
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, standing a little far off, “I should… maybe I’ll go stay with my parents… If my memory hasn’t come back, then maybe it’ll never–” she takes a sharp breath, because Hyunjin imagines that a future of waking up, stuck in a single horrifying moment, and reliving your best friend’s death anew each day, isn’t exactly a promising future, “It isn’t fair to you. Thank you, truly, but I don’t want to be a burden anymo–”
She stops as he takes her wrist. Firmly, unyielding. He’s still staring at the ring on the table.
“One last thing,” he whispers, “Please.”
Hyunjin can’t lie; everyday hasn’t been easy. Most days, they end up wrapped in each other’s arms, laughing over some old memory they’re making afresh. Some days, they end up wrapped in each other’s arms, crying, because the future looks no brighter than the past. There are days when Yeji spends the entire day screaming at him, some when she can only cry so much she passes out, most when she’s stubborn until her eyes close at night.
There have been days when she’s gone to her parents home for a few hours, and Hyunjin’s run after, with new ideas of how to win her back.
But she’s never left him her wedding ring. Maybe it was a secret hope for them both. A promise to try.
They step out together on the ice, the stars shining above, the cold air biting at their cheeks. Yeji stops at the edge of the pond, stiff, and holding Hyunjin shakily. They aren’t wearing skates. Hyunjin doesn’t have the heart to put a pair on.
“Why are we here?” her voice is strained, like an untuned guitar, “Hyunjin?”
If he’s going to lose her forever, he owes her that much, to hold nothing back. Even the most painful things.
“You fell,” Hyunjin’s voice is low, “I couldn’t catch you in time… I– I… That was the one time I let you go. And I…” he doesn’t realize he’s crying until her fingers came up to brush aside tears on his cheeks, and he quickly tries to blink them away, “I’m sorry, Yeji.”
She’s surprised, confused almost, by his apology.
“I couldn’t…” he looks away to collect his thoughts, and when he looks back, her eyes are full of stars, and he doesn’t want to spend the night making her sad, “Can I tell you a memory I have of you? One that makes me happy?”
He pulls her onto the ice, cautiously slow, and Yeji realizes that he’s leading her in a waltz. Slow, very slow, and careful, but Hyunjin closes his eyes and leans his forehead down on hers.
“It’s another winter day,” he whispers, small snowflakes falling, suspended in the air, “About a year ago… There's been freezing rain the night before so all the trees are enveloped in icy coats, shining like diamonds in the morning sun. It was cold, but we didn’t notice,” he sways her slightly, to a rhythm they can almost hear, “Because you’re dressed in a white gown, embroidered with pearls, sweeping the ground, and your hair is done up, pinned with white flowers. I can’t see your face, but your hand is shaking, the one that holds your bouquet, and your father looks very proud as he walks you between all our friends and family, but I don’t remember any of them, because I was only looking at you, trying to see your face behind the veil, and even though I couldn’t see you clearly, I knew you were beautiful, and there wasn’t anyone else I wanted to share the rest of my life with, and–”
“Wait.”
It’s a whisper, one that Hyunjin nearly misses when he stops. Yeji’s heart is beating fast, he can feel it against his chest, where she’s leaned against him, head on his shoulder. Her hair smells like roses, only because of the memory he has of taking her hand, and walking out of the church, her lipstick staining his lips, and once they’ve lost the crowd of people, he spins her around and presses his nose to her head, and breathes in her laugh, her joy, the sweet smell of roses and the bright hope of everything that awaits them in the future. Yeji still fits as perfectly as she had then, tucked between his arms, into the warmth of embrace and the security of who they are.
She speaks softly, “I can’t see it. The church, the altar… you. I want to but…”
Hyunjin doesn’t know why he expects today to be different– he tells her everyday like he expects something to click, a dam of memories to break, but each time she tells him close to the same thing. He never pushes any further– there’s something about the pure beauty of the memory he wants Yeji to remember for herself too.
So he just nods. And breathes in the memories for himself, the ones that bind deeper than the ring he’d slipped on her finger and she’d slipped on his.
“But I do remember this,” she pulls her head back, and he can see tear stains on her cheeks, “The two of us, alone, under the colors of the autumn breeze, and you’ve picked me up from work, and we’ve finished eating dinner at the cafe, but you don’t want to take me home yet so we…”
She frowns and looks up at him, “Is that our first date?”
It is, and when Hyunjin nods, Yeji continues into the snapshots of the memory she’s pulling from the depths of her mind, as they slow dance in the starlight, and when she starts smiling at when he’d dropped her at home and nearly tripped over his feet into her father, Hyunjin realizes it’s the memories that she finds herself that shine brighter. Because when she’s done talking and their feet are cold, they shuffle home, to their apartment, not to Yeji’s parents, and Yeji holds his hand a little tighter than before, and pulls his hand into her pocket, asking about the faces she remembers and the names she doesn’t.
She slips with him into bed and rests her head on his chest, Hyunjin’s hands resting on her head, trying not to wince at how he can still feel the evidence of her skull cracking open, and his heart lying open on the operating table with her, the sting of the cold when she first looked at him with no recognition in his eyes, and the bitterness at the world when each day was another swimming against the tide.
When Yeji is sleeping, Hyunjin can’t. She never asked for the ring back. There’s a hole in Hyunjin’s chest, and he feels himself bleeding out through it, even though she’s curled up against him, and her hands have fisted his shirt like she doesn’t want him to go anywhere.
She won’t remember. Hyunjin knows she won’t.
He puts one hand over his mouth and swallows his tears. He’s been through it all with her, he’s never left her side, his love never let him. He doesn’t know if he’s strong enough to do what he needs to do.
Kissing the top of her head, Hyunjin turns to hold her tight, and squeezes his eyes shut, to push back all the pain, the anguish, and the hope that dares creep into his soul.
Amnesia had done nothing to their love. Hyunjin wouldn’t let it.
✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧
Yeji wakes up slowly. The curtains are pulled back from the window, and there's a light snow. Her head aches a little-- she needs a coffee.
Did our train arrive late last night? Is that why my head hurts? Ah, I wonder if Lia--
Something short-circuits, the fritz in her brain physically waking her up.
They had been taking the train to visit Yeji's parents, they were going to meet Lia's friends at the station, and all go out after to drink pumpkin spice lattes at that one cafe…
Pumpkin spice.
She stared out the window.
When did it become winter?
Something feels empty as she pulls herself up from her bed. She feels like she's missing something, a ghost in the little apartment that she's waiting to hear.
Silence. It echoes, and stalks her. She shakes her head, and looks to the other side of the bed. To the other pillow.
Someone else was here.
Her mind is pulling in a thousand directions, but she slowly notices the photo album on the bedside. There's a note, and she can recognize its not written by her.
It's the 19th of December, 20XX :)
She doesn't know if it's the smiley face or the year that catches her off guard, but she numblt flips through the pages. It starts off familiar, her and Lia in University together, matching plaid scarves under a clouded crescent moon, bright smiles and glowing faces blowing candles from a sloppily frosted cake.
And then…
Yeji doesn’t dare breathe, because as she turns the pages, it fills with her friends, and other friends, and people she doesn’t know, gathered around a Christmas tree, eating ice cream on green fields, celebrating one thing or another and– There’s a face that stands out. Never clear, or full, but pulsingly beautiful. She brushes her hands across his face, fond, and smiling. She turns the pages carefully and runs her hands over the ones where he’s looking at her. Sweetly, with a look that bleeds love.
There’s more pictures of him looking at her, than of him looking at the camera. She doesn’t have a clear image of what he looks like because of it, but she feels attached to him more than anyone else in the album. Just because of the way he’s watching her, the way he’s leaned down to kiss her hand in one picture, and then hugging her from behind in another. The way that Yeji is happy, and he’s impossibly happier, his hair uncombed, hers flying through the wind, but he looks at her and she looks at him and there’s a sort of electric feeling that shocks Yeji through the photograph.
She’s rushed with a sense of urgency. She doesn’t get very far into the photobook, but she closes it, before she comes to something too recent, stopping at a photo of an autumn a year ago, where she's holding his hands and twirling in the falling leaves, like a scene from a movie.
Her feet move before she can grasp where she needs to go. She pulls the scarf from the rack, barely in her boots by the time she’s hurrying down the stairs, confused by her own urgency. There’s something about the cold air against her cheeks as her boots hit the sidewalk that she hates, but that also brings her unfathomable joy. It’s snowing a little, and she stops, closing her eyes and leaning back, and letting them land on her face, kisses from the sky.
Kisses…
She takes the shortcut to the park. More awake and in command of her senses, she realizes she’s hungry, and she knows of the cafe near her parents that has excellent sandwiches. Maybe avocado with cheese… or perhaps something new. She’s feeling like pulled pork, and the flavor of barbeque.
Yeji stops at the bridge above the frozen pond. Her head hurts, a different kind of ache, one that makes her reach back, and touch the back of her head where–
Oh. There’s a scar there.
Flashes of memories come quickly, of ice skates, and laughter, and the cold hard ice and someone’s hand in hers, and–
Focus Yeji. Food.
She leaves the horrid memory behind and follows the path to the street. But something clings from behind, a lingering smell, almost, a familiar touch, of a smiling face that never let go. The same face from–
Her stomach growled.
Food first, think later.
She pulled open the door to the cafe and waited at the counter to order.
“Hello, Yeji, will it be the usu– oh,” the man at the counter looked around her in confusion, like he was accepting her, but not by herself, and Yeji realized she knew him, well, and his name was on the tip of her tongue–
“Minho,” his eyes widened in surprise, which confused Yeji more, but she was hungry, “Um, could I have… the pulled pork? On… brioche bread.”
“Oh…o-of course, right away,” he pushed aside another sandwich he had, and got to work.
Yeji’s eyes wandered as she waited, to the chalkboard in the back, decorated in a myriad of pastel colors. Beautiful and funny things sprawled all over it. She made out her own handwriting amongst the rest. Four separate sentences, about the day, about– Who was Hyunjin?
Hyunjin is a sweetheart, she traced her own words like they’d somehow speak to her. But more intriguing, in blue, was the same response next to it, four times, like it’d been printed, copied and pasted:
I love you.
And then a fifth time, where Yeji’s handwriting was nowhere to be found:
I still love you. I will always love you.
It nearly bowled her over, the rush of memories. Hyunjin in his suit at the end of an aisle; Hyunjin holding her arm as they walked through the suspended snowflakes; Hyunjin throwing his head back and laughing freely, fully; Hyunjin handing her a cup of frozen yogurt with a shy smile; Hyunjin standing at the side of her hospital bed; Hyunjin being the shoulder she leaned on as she wept her heart out at Lia’s funeral; Hyunjin kissing away her tears; Hyunjin, Hyunjin, Hyunjin .
She stood up with a gasp, startling Minho and every other patron, as she spun around to the window at the front.
Hyunjin.
Because most prominent in her mind was Hyunjin in the snow, down on one knee, in front of that one cafe where they both ate sandwiches and argued over action movies.
In the past, in the future, and in every present.
She ran out into the snow, and it was like a scene from a movie, the old movie reel shuttering as Hyunjin got down on one knee, and the blood rushed to Yeji’s cheeks, her heart pounding, mind bursting, brilliant lights from the stars, the cafe, the street all glittering like a thousand diamonds, but no brighter than the ring in his hand.
“Yeji? Will you marry me?”
She’d seen it from the screen, looking down from far away on herself in the past, in the present, and always, again and again in a thousand futures, and in every tomorrow. There was only one answer, it was always the same, as certain as the sun and as sure as the love that endures all things.
“ Yes, you idiot, of course!” she ran her sleeve against her eyes, unable to stop her tears from betraying her, even as he slipped the ring back on her finger, right where it belonged.
Then she clicked her tongue disapprovingly, ignoring the applause from behind the glass, “Now get up off the ground before you freeze to death!”