𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫. | BTS |

chapter 105 ~ 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒔

       "You, uh...today is November 6th of...of 2019. Yumin, you've been here for over three months now."

_

       I hadn't opened my mouth since. It was almost seven now, my room empty save for the occasional nurse that sauntered in to offer me a palm-full of different medicines. I took them reluctantly with a bottle of crisp water and she stared at me until I set it down on the bedside table.

       "You can turn on the TV here," she instructed me as if I were a child. "Oh- Or I can bring you a book? There might be one in the break room. I can go check-"

       I shook my head casually and her hyperactive behavior seemed to settle down. I didn't know what I wanted. I was afraid of turning on the television for fear of seeing the reality that was set three months ahead of anything I could remember. Memories started slowly coming back to me, bit by bit, and I remembered being yelled at before being knocked back into what I could only assume was my kitchen. My fiancé's kitchen. One that we shared. 

       Their face remained just out of reach of my memory and I sat, puzzled, trying to remember even a single feature about them. Tall, brunet...but that was practically it. Maybe I'm thinking too hard about it? After all, they were my fiancé. Their features should come back to me as easily as the skill of talking or writing, both of which I could do almost thoughtlessly. And yet, there I sat, sunken back into the pillows of my hospital bed as I waited for someone to discharge me and help me get home.

     Wherever that was.

      My nurse looked me over with eyes full of pity. She had her hands clasped politely in front of her as she rocked back and forth on her heels, waiting for the moment I tried to communicate with someone. I stayed quiet. Our eyes locked for several moments and her foot began to bounce as the eye contact grew overwhelming. I blinked, but by then she had looked away.

      "Are you hungry?" she finally asked.

       I sat for a minute, contemplating the idea of bringing my tastebuds back to life with the half-raw, expired food that they normally served in hospitals. Maybe I was just thinking back to American hospitals. Finally, I nodded, and to my surprise, she looked rather relieved and replied that she'd be back in a little while. I sat alone in my room and used the floor-to-ceiling window to my right to keep me occupied. 

     I could just barely see into the room of the patients several wings down the large hospital. A stone plaza sat many, many stories below us, and patients and nurses coming off their shifts appeared like little ants to me from so high above. It was a nice distraction people-watching from my comfy bed, but I envied them in the back of my head as I watched mothers, fathers, children, couples, all exit the hospital to head home together. 

      I just wanted to fully remember the night that caused all of this.

     About half an hour later, the bubbly nurse padded back into my room and whispered to me that my food was ready. I watched her pull around a tray from one of the cabinets under a nearby sink and set my food down atop it. It sat, steaming, above my lap and I began to wiggle beneath it, feeling cramped. It had been months since I'd walked and my legs were beginning to realize the fact. 

      With an incline of my head, I bit into my food and felt an overwhelming rush of emotion crash into me. I hadn't eaten in months as well. My tastebuds bloomed so much it made my mouth hurt and tears began to trickle down my sunken face as I sat back against my pillows.