BTS Imagines/One-Shots [requests; open!]

Jimin: Do You Remember?

Jimin: Do You Remember?
Genre: Fluff/Angst
(Idk why I just feel like writing angst now)
Listen to: Remember by Byul (Who Are You School 2015 OST)

Jimin's POV

I look at her, she has just fallen asleep. She looks so peaceful, so calm, so serene. Is it wrong of me, to ask her to just try? Will it disturb her peace? Is it too selfish of me? The whiteness of the sheets show the distinct contrast with them and her dark, black wavy hair. Her double eyelids are fluttered shut. Her lips are pink and round, but lacking the life and health they used to show before...before the concussion.

I always warned her to be careful. I always told her to look left and right before crossing the road. I always told her to pay attention to the traffic, and not to glue her eyes to her phone or listen to music when doing so. Even if the music was my melodious voice, as she called it, singing Boy In Luv. But none of that worked, not when there were people like careless, reckless or drunk drivers around. Two weeks ago; it was only five minutes after I had reported for work when I received a text message from her mother, saying that she was in the hospital. Hadn't I just messaged my girl the night before? I rushed over to the hospital, the sweat and tears mixing till I couldn't tell which was which. I learned that she had been knocked by an oncoming car which was speeding and hadn't stopped at the red light, she flew onto the windscreen and her head was hit - very very badly. I saw the pools of blood staining her clothes; that fateful day, she was wearing the shirt she had on the first time I met her. When the doctor told us she had a concussion, I didn't know what to think. What if she never woke up? I would lose her, forever. I prayed and I prayed, night and day she was on my mind, I got scolded during practices for being distracted but I didn't care. Today, at ten thirty-one am, she finally woke up. I was happy, of course.

"Jagiya...you're awake! How are you feeling? Are you alright? You've been in a coma for two weeks," I gushed off when I reached her hospital ward, her pale skin and thinned face looking at me.

"Who...who are you?"

I stopped short. I looked at her parents who had called me over. They looked at me, their faces pitying and regretful, as if they were guilty. Then it dawned on me. She had amnesia. My girl, my lover, my one and only. She had amnesia. Whether it would be temporary or it would be permanent, the doctor could not give us a definite answer. The only thing we could do was to wait and see. Waiting required patience. I would wait. I would do anything for my princess. But what if she never remembered me?

"Don't you remember me? I'm Park Jimin, your boyfriend."

"What do you work as?" Was her blank reply.

"I'm...I'm a vocal and dancer in a kpop idol group." I felt so defeated, so drained, so lost.

"I'm sorry. This is hard for all of us. But I'll try, I promise I'll try to remember. But I can't promise you that I will, Jimin," She said earnestly to me, her eyes pleading and sorrowful after we explained the situation to her.

Now she's fallen asleep. It's three twenty-three pm. I've been at the hospital the whole day. I'll be done for when I get back to work; we were always told that we shouldn't have girlfriends because it would affect our work performance. But I don't care. I need her. I love her.

I lift up my hand to stroke her cheek. Her pale skin feels smooth under my touch. Maybe, her amnesia is for the best?

When I first met her, two years ago, she was broken. A broken girl. I was driving along the roads at night of a neighborhood that was quite secluded. Not many people lived there. My headlights shone, and I saw the silhouette a petite girl, with dark long hair walking along the side of the road. Her silhouette told me her shoulders were shaking uncontrollably. I glanced at my watch; it was nearly midnight, what was a young girl doing out so late at night? It was dangerous. I decided to pull up to her, and maybe ask if she needed a ride home. As I neared her, her image became more visible. My eyes widened in shock as I saw what she was doing. It was obvious she had been crying, as the make-up was running down her face in an ugly mess. She had turned and bent over, when she purged by forcing herself to throw up.