Remember Me [h.s.]

2

Loving can hurt
Loving can hurt sometimes
But it's the only thing that I know

One day after

I passed out shortly after seeing Jane.

Apparently, hopping from bed when you have a broken leg, a broken arm, and three fractured ribs is not an entirely intelligent idea. Who knew!

I was told by both doctors and my visitors that I was extremely lucky. Compared to the severity of the collision, I arose practically unscathed. The impact could have killed me especially, seeing as the two vehicles collided perpendicularly to where I sat. I could have died but I didn't. I was very lucky.

I didn't feel lucky. Yes, I lived. More importantly, Jane lived, but she didn't remember me. The confusion in her hazel eyes at the very sight of me shattered something irreplaceable within my chest; detonating like a bomb and obliterating all in its wake. I should have died. I'm going to hell for saying that, but it's true. I'd rather have been dead than live in a world where Jane didn't know me after all we've been through. I couldn't live in a world with the constant reminder of what once was.

My doctor informed me of Jane's condition: retrograde amnesia. She was incapable of recalling events before the accident, before me. In her mind, the year was 2014. In her mind, she was still dating that dick David. In her mind, I didn't exist.

There was no telling of when she'd regain her memory, if she ever did. Some patients took some days to remember, some remained in the dark for the rest of their lives. My doctor's advice to me was to focus on my recovery and allow Jane to do the same. He told me to continue on with life as though nothing had changed, but how could I? How could I exist in a world in which my entire world didn't? How could I possibly pretend that my life was back to normal without Jane by my side at night, intertwining her tiny limbs into mine and falling to sleep with my fingers in her hair? How could I live a lie, pretending that things would be okay without her with me?

"Harry? You awake, Mate?" I didn't need to open my eyes to tell it was Louis who sat beside my bed and hovered over me.

It was quite strange that my four best friends and I were all from Europe. It wasn't as though we knew each other before individually attending an American university. We had met on campus, clicking instantly and becoming inseparable shortly thereafter. We had accidentally formed an exclusive European students' club known throughout the school for its coincidental configuration.

"Mmh." I grunted in response.

Louis poked my cheek.

"Aw c'mon you wanker, enough moping. Open your eyes and have a chat with your best mate."

I opened one eye, trying my best to glare at him without smiling. Only Louis could evoke a grin out of me in even the most grave of times.

"Piss off." I mumbled.

"Harry, if you don't open your disgustingly gorgeous eyes this instant, I will open your hospital gown and fracture your remaining ribs."

Louis and I are often mistaken for a couple. There's nothing wrong with that, of course, and if people were to think I was dating any of my mates, I'd want it to be Louis, but it just wasn't the case. Louis and I just understood each other in a way that most don't, and we were able to be gruesomely honest with the other. Our friendship was at a level unreached by any of my other friends, so more often than not, I was be asked the infamous, "Are you gay?" question.

"Lou, I'm not really in the mood to have a chat, so do a me a favor and just fuck off, yeah?" I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing him away.

Louis' plastic chair squeaked as he leaned closer to me, his breath smelling of coffee as its aroma wafted through my nostrils. Then he smacked me.

"Louis!" I shouted, my eyes snapping open in both surprise and fury.

"Now that I have your attention," He smirked, leaning back in his seat, and crossing his arms over his chest. "Let's chat."

"You're such a fucking-"

"That may be true, but do you know what else is true?" He paused, raising an eyebrow as if his rhetorical question was in need of a response. I shrugged. "The fact that once you're released from this place, your life needs to go on."

"Lou," I grumbled. "I almost died yesterday. I'm in excruciating pain and my girlfriend has no idea who I am, nor does she remember our year spent together. Am I not allowed time to feel sorry for myself?"

"No you're not." He quipped. "I know you, Harry, and I know how deeply this is affecting you, but you can't let your life stop because of this. Shit things happen to good people like Jane and there's nothing we can do about it. All we can do is work with what we have and make the most of our situations and prioritize, alright Mate? Your priority needs to be rebuilding your life and once you've done that, then you can focus on Jane."

He was right and I hated him for it. I knew he spoke the truth but I wasn't ready to accept that fact. I wasn't ready to be thrown back into the world without Jane by my side. I needed time. I needed to feel sorry for myself and wallow in sadness. I needed my friends to respect that.

"I want you to leave, Lou." I said in a pathetically weak tone.

"What?" He asked in utter disbelief.

"I said I want you to fuck off!" I shouted at him, feeling frustrated and mad and completely, entirely alone.

"Fine," Louis spat. "Give me a ring when you've finished growing up."
With that he stood abruptly from his chair, marching from the room without a second glance. Of course he had the last word, Louis always has the last word.

I tried to force myself to sleep, to forget about my troubles but all I could picture was Jane and her laugh and how she'd never look at me the same again.