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He doesn’t remember you. That is the beginning and the end of it, but you are stubborn and you refuse to believe that a small bump to the head could erase years of feelings. Memories maybe, but never feelings.
Jimin wakes up and he asks who you are. The grip you had on his hand loosens and you rub your sleep muddled eyes with your other hand barely comprehending that he’s finally conscious. It hits you that he’s just asked you a question. You’re selfish enough to have the thought that maybe this is worse than when he wouldn’t wake, but the thought flits away as quickly as it came because you’re too relieved and overwhelmed with gratitude to whatever higher power let him come to again.
You’re ushered out by a doctor when Jimin gets uncomfortable having a stranger in his room and it has to be explained to him that the stranger is his girlfriend of four years and she’s the closest thing he has to family in the city. He is more amiable after that, but he isn’t your Jimin. He looks at you and you smile, but you see the gears working in his head. There’s no recognition there.
The doctor tells you that he has posttraumatic amnesia. “Good news,” he says. “He’s only lost a few years.” You hold back from screaming that the years he lost were his years with you. You’re told that it’s possible that his memories will return. It could take as little as a week or a few years - if they return.
Jimin is released in your care and you treat him as you usually would. You try to, anyway. When you hold him around the waist to help him get into the car, he stiffens under your touch. You remember that it is still foreign to him. He doesn’t remember your kisses or your caresses. You opt to just hover, offering assistance that he graciously turns down.
The drive home is filled with your idle chatter and Jimin’s one worded replies. Anything in between consists of pop songs playing softly from the radio. It occurs to you that you’re just a talkative stranger and you clam up after that. The pop songs take over the air for now.
~~~
You two have been living together for over a year now and when Jimin walks into the apartment acting as if he were a guest, you have to force down the awful feeling of your heart clawing its way out and up your throat. “Make yourself at home,” you try to joke. You don’t want to say that it is your home for fear that it will come out sounding every bit as agonized as you pretend not to be.
Later that night after dinner, you sit with him on the balcony. The small bench you two used to cuddle on now seems far too small for him as he sits primly, hands in his lap and scooted over as far over on his side as possible.
“Are you uncomfortable around me?”
Jimin turns to look at you, eyebrows raised.
“No. Why do you ask?”
“It just seems like it,” you say hesitantly.
He sighs and deflates a little bit. You suddenly feel guilty for even mentioning it.
“It’s not that I’m uncomfortable around you. I think you’re just really comfortable around me.”
You nod and turn your eyes towards the sky. He was right of course. Jimin has been acting as he would with anyone. You just remember how he acted with you when you weren’t just anyone.
“I’m sorry,” he says searching for your eyes. “I know I’m probably pretty different than how I was. I’ll try hard to remember. I really will.”
Tears well up in your eyes. The silly boy was apologizing. You shake your head, trying to find words to tell him that none of this was his fault, but the tears spill from your eyes and Jimin is apologizing again. He reaches across and wipes away your tears with the pad of his thumb.
“Please don’t cry,” he pleads. “How about this? I’ll ask you lots and lots of questions; about me, about us, about you. It might trigger something, but even if it doesn’t, I’ll have asked you so much that I would know everything anyway.”
His face is hopeful and there’s a small smile aimed at you. You smile back and hope that he’s right.
~~~
“How did we meet?” he asks while watching you prepare breakfast.
You almost answer offhandedly that you two met through mutual friends, but then you remember that you have to paint a picture. You finish off the eggs in the pan and grab the toast before sitting next to him and telling your story properly. Jimin sits across from you at the small table, one foot tucked under his bum, hair still slightly bed ruffled and it almost looks like any other weekend morning.
“You tried to hit on me by saying that the sun should take lessons on how to shine from me,” you say.
Jimin lets out an incredulous laugh.
“Seriously?” he asks, amused.
You nod your head, humming an affirmative while chewing on your toast.
“It was charming, but I was late for class and I just walked away from you. You never got my name and I never got yours. Not until later that is.”
You recount how you two had run into each other again after your friends had set up a study group. Neither of you expected to see the other there. It was a fairly large campus.
“Then you told me that it was probably fate and now here we are.”
Jimin is still smiling at your story, but you look down at your plate and avoid meeting his eyes. The two people in the story are just characters to him.
~~~
“Did I treat you well?”
Jimin’s voice pulls your attention away from the tv screen and you turn your focus to him. He’d been doing this all week, asking any and all questions about the past that he could think of. Questions about the two of you were getting particularly hard to answer. This one is no different.
“Yes,” you say almost in a whisper. “Really well. You’ve always been thoughtful and kind and lo-”
You stop, realizing what you were about to say. Jimin is still thoughtful and he is still kind, but loving is now questionable now that you’re not even sure what he feels for you. Jimin takes notice of your abrupt stop and he stays quiet for a moment, knowing what you were about to say, but unsure of whether or not to ask.
“Did- did I love you?”
“I- We’ve said the words to each other if that’s what you mean, but I guess I can’t really say. You were always good at showing it, but I’m not you so I can’t tell you how you felt…. It felt like you did.”
You suddenly remember the how it felt to be wrapped up in Jimin’s arms. You remember his lips on yours, his breath on your neck, his skin on your skin, his spilled “I love you’s” and you suddenly have a hard time breathing through the ache in your chest.
“Hey. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
You snap out of your thoughts, not even realizing that you were crying. You swipe at the wetness on your cheeks and stand abruptly. Jimin looks concerned, but you paste on a smile, trying not to worry or stress him. The doctor said it wouldn’t be of any help to put any mental or emotional strain on him.
“It’s fine. I’m just being silly.”
Silly. That’s what it was. It was silly that you missed someone sitting right in front of you. You duck out, throwing in some excuse about how you were tired and you retreat in the bedroom you two used to share. You crawl in bed half expecting to feel Jimin slip in next to you later in the night like usual, but in reality, he won’t. He’ll be sleeping in the guest bedroom because he’s not yet comfortable sharing a bed with you and holding a stranger is awkward. You figure it’s better this way so that you don’t have to explain the tear stains on your pillow.