You Were Mine

Consent

The butterflies are so pretty today. Their iridescent colors compliment the flowers below them as they swoop down. He envied their fragile wings that allowed them to reach high above the tree tops. He always dreamt of what it would be like to fly.

The rush of air swooping his blonde hair back as he dove between the clouds. He wanted to feel that rush. It's all he ever dreams about. Well that and a gummy smile that he can't seem to place anymore.

Why is it that that's the only thing he knows for certain. The yearning to do the impossible.

He felt as if a dark veil had been cast over his memories with no sign of light from within. Just the constant nagging feeling that he knew more then the four corners of this room he found himself stuck in.

Sometimes he found it troublesome that he couldn't even place his own name.

A man would come and visit him often. Checking his vitals, asking him confusing questions, staring at him with a sense of longing that he couldn't quite grasp.

He always looked so sad, behind his dark eyes there was a slight glimmer of hope mixed in with the crestfallen expression.

How he wished he could understand. However he was lost. Lost within his own mind.

The subtle click of the lock told him he had a visitor. He didn't move, gave them no indication that he noticed they came in.

This was easier...

The last time he acknowledged the door opening, he hurt the sad man's feelings. He had rushed to him with hopeful eyes that begged for something he could not give.

It wasn't him this time.

She came to stand by him. Her curly red hair wind blown and her cheeks flushed from the cool air.

He stared at her with a blank expression. He didn't want to hurt her either.

"Jimin?" Her voice came out in a whisper. He turned his head eerily slow.

This girl's expression differed from the man who usually visited. She approached him warily with curious eyes.

"Do I know you?"

He didn't want to talk. He just didn't know why she called him that name.

"I—uh. Well no. But I know your friend, Yoongi."

"Yoongi?"

A ripple started in the black veil that kept his
memories hidden. Something about that name stirred something inside him. But he didn't know the name. Nor the person it belonged to.

"I don't know anyone named Yoongi."

"Oh?"

"Who are they?" He tilted his head to the side, his blonde hair falling into his eyes.

"Well he's your—"

Her sentence was cut off by the door slamming open hitting the wall. He jumped startled at the loud noise. His eyes freezing on the man standing in the doorway.

He didn't look like a sad man today. He looked like an angry, dangerous man. One he wanted to run away from. Alas that man was blocking the only exit.

"Do not finish that sentence!" The angry man snapped, grabbing the girl by the wrist and pulling her out into the dark hallway. The door slammed shut once more.

He turned back towards the window again.

Jimin...

Is that his name? He liked the way it sounded. It made the ripple start once again.

Perhaps it is.

Jimin.

A small smile spread across his chapped lips.

He stayed there staring out the window until the stars danced across the sky, and the night chased away the butterflies for little fireflies. They would light up and fade like his memories.

"Please... if you can hear me... tell me who I am." His soft voice broke the silence of the still room.

———

Tears fell down Yoongi's cheeks, listening to Jimin talk to himself. After the day Gracie had come into his room he would speak softly asking for someone to tell him who he was.

Yoongi didn't think it could be that simple. How could it be that simple. Nothing of the mind was ever that easy.

After Gracie spoke to her sister and told him about what she had said after he left the room. He wasn't so sure if Jimin's mind could be healed.

"He's repeated that same sentence since the day you went into the room." Yoongi murmured, wiping a tear from his face. Gracie stared at the monitor, it flickered with a video of Jimin sitting in front of the same window, speaking softly.

"Have you tried telling him everything?"

Yoongi turned away from the screen, taking a gray notebook from the shelf, dropping it onto his desk.

"Your sister wasn't lying about him having a condition."

"What?"

"Look." He opened the folder, displaying a CAT scan.

"You see that black spot on his frontal lobe?"

Gracie frowned, her heart broke at the sight of it. Penelope was telling the truth about his condition. That doesn't forgive her for trying to kill him. Did she think the only reason why he was falling for Yoongi was because of the lesion on his brain?

"Yoongi..."

He turned towards the shelf again, furiously wiping tears from his face. He snatched a blue notebook from the shelf, flipping the pages until he found the one he was searching for. Then plopped it on top of the scans.

"Here." He pointed towards a drawing of a person flying. Underneath it it read.

I want to feel what it's like to fly.

"He remembers this feeling— he remembers wanting to fly." Yoongi sounded almost desperate, his eyes reciprocating the tone in his voice.

"Yoongi...stop."

Gracie closed the blue notebook, looking at her friend with sympathy. She also found herself to be troubled at the realization that surgery could have fixed this for him.

"Yoongi, why haven't you tried surgery?"

"I—"

"It could give him back his memory."

"I need someone to sign the consent form."

"That's what you've been waiting on?"

Yoongi sighed, pulling out a piece of paper from underneath the scans. His face filled with anguish as he handed it to Gracie.

"That can't be..."

"She's the only one who can give consent."

Gracie's eyes fell upon Jimin's small frame sitting in the window. He deserved more than a life staring outside.