#i have never wished for amenesia but i wish for it now

[shinwoonoh]

"#also i literally want to murder someone when i think about type living alone after 60" okay but that tag was unnecessary 😭 it hurts!

IM SORRY

[hsj-scenarios]

The Amenesia drabbles for 7 was so fascinating, Mod L please can you elaborate as you suggested the Yuto one? I wanna read more!(or even mini drabbles for BEST if possible?) PS: I couldn't help but laugh at the first sentence for Keito's xD

“Maybe”⎜Request from Headcanon⎜Song Inspo: “Night and Day” by Lovelyz

It was day five.

Day five of your release from the hospital that was. And, nothing had changed from that first day. No matter how hard you tried to make Yuto assured that things would stay the same in your relationship, that you wouldn’t leave him out of confusion, there was still the matter of how he seemed like a total stranger to you. There was an emptiness to your eyes when you looked at him, mind absent of the memories that the two of you had shared over the years.

You were a blank slate. No matter how kind and accepting you were to him, that would never change.

Standing just at your apartment door, he knocked right before unlocking the door with his key. It was a habit. He’d waited the first day he came to visit you after you were admitted out, but after coming everyday for nearly a week straight he just stopped. Before the amnesia, he had never had to wait before; since you’d usually tell him that there was no need to wait if he had a key of his own. It went the same for his place.

But, now, you probably didn’t even know where the key to his apartment was.

The moment he opened the door, your face was only inches away from the hard wood – jumping back in order not to get hit. You were obviously startled at the intrusion, face in shock and hand to your chest in order to calm down.

“Oh!” Yuto held his hands up in defense. He closed the door behind himself before taking a step further, halting when you took one back. Now, that hurt. He couldn’t deny it. “Don’t be scared, it’s just me. Remember? We’ve spent everyday together since you woke up.”

You did your best to smile, though your shoulders were still hunched in unease. Not from fright, but rather because you couldn’t get over the whole situation. An idol was in your home at this very moment. Wasn’t he afraid of getting caught by paparazzi?

“Ah, yeah…I do remember. It’s just…Jitters, you know? I live alone and everything.” You tried to come up with the best sounding excuse, although what truly came out likely sounded awfully stupid.

With a quick glance around the apartment, he could see that you’d been cooking. On the counter was recently fried chicken, a bowl of green bean shiraae, and miso soup cooking on the stove. He could hear his stomach growling now. The meal wasn’t unfamiliar. You would cook it on days where he wouldn’t have to worry about his weight – which was more often than not – and he would gobble it up like a starving athlete fresh home after practice.

Actually, his stomach really did growl.

“Oh, here…” Previously immovable, the sound awakened you from a stupor and you gestured over to the kitchen table. Your face was stiff, as if you were a host showing a customer to their dinner table. “I cooked. It’s just something that came to me. I went to the grocery store earlier and picked the ingredients up.”

He only smiled, trying to lighten the tension in the room. “Actually, you made this a lot whenever I did something worth rewarding. It was a treat when you felt like spoiling me. Fried chicken is my favorite food, after all.”

I know. You had wanted to say, setting a plate for him when the man sat down. About the favorite food part, at least.

Unable to conjure an answer worth wild, an ‘oh’ left your mouth before you settled down on the other side of the table.

Noticing this, Yuto’s smile turned downward slightly. Sparing a moment to study your features for a brief time, he noticed the bandage covering the injured area on your forehead. A nasty scar that you didn’t want to be seen, scabbed over and very noticeable. He couldn’t help but wince. The doctor said it was only a small fracture, that you were lucky you didn’t suffer any real damage to your skull, but it seemed as if your mind was still a victim to the impact. That bandage was physical proof.

He could remember that day, the day when it happened.

The night was exhausting. He’d just come back from filming an early Itadaki High Jump and another early morning awaited him tomorrow. All the idol wanted to do was sleep, when his phone suddenly rang. By then, he’d already plopped into bed with his lounge clothes on and had to force himself to reach for the device. It was you, though even the thought of his own lover couldn’t put a smile on Yuto’s tired face.

“Hello?” He answered with as much energy as he could conjure, which wasn’t much.

“Where are you?” You asked. The sound of music and plenty of talk was in the background.

It was only then that he’d realized; he forgot to come to your performance at an open mic! You told him about the night a week ago and asked for his mental support. Shit. He sat up in the bed and glanced at the clock. There was a small chance that he’d make it in time, but the question was did he feel like it?

“I-I’m sorry, it was such a huge day that I forgot.” He told you truthfully. The idol was beating himself up inside, but he had to draw a line in the sand. The club you were performing in was miles away. He would probably end up falling asleep at the wheel, if not the table.

“I see…” He heard the hesitation in your voice and had to wonder if you would manage to perform if he wasn’t there. “It’s alright. Just wish me luck then?”

Yuto gave a gentle smile, as if you could see him through the phone. “Good luck!” He cheered you on, finding enough energy to sound enthusiastic. Still, he felt as if he’d disappointed you. Honestly, he probably did but you were too polite to say so.

He fell asleep that night easily, though with a heavy heart. You were on his mind even in his dreams, the image of you on stage lingering in his mind until the ring of his cell phone woke him up once again. It was early, ten minutes to four in the morning, and the number was yours once again. Although, the voice on the other end didn’t belong to you. It was your family member.

“There’s been an accident.” Their grave voice haunted him deeply.

It still did, to this day.

Maybe it wasn’t fair. You’d always been there for him, even when you could do no more than pretend to be a simple fan sitting in the audience. It was easier for you to take time off work than it was for him, yes, but it was still the thought that counted.

Perhaps it wasn’t too late to make up for it.

“Hey,” Once dinner ended, he brought his attention from his plate over to you. “How did your performance go that night?” He could only hope it wasn’t painful to talk about, or brought up any triggering memories of the accident.

It took a good minute for you to remember what he was talking about. But, when you did, your eyes went alight. For a brief second, you looked at him with some sense of knowing; a if truly seeing him for the first time since you woke up from the coma.

That was what it was, however. Brief. And, the look of simple cordiality soon returned.

“It went alright…I think.” You glanced elsewhere, eyes far off. “I don’t remember much about it.”

Something clicked in his head and he urged you on. “Do you remember what you did? I wasn’t there to see and I’m really sorry about that…But, maybe you can still show me? Right now?”

“Now?” You repeated, met with a nod.

“Maybe it’ll help you remember.”

“Well…Okay.” You paused tentatively before finally getting out of your seat.

He watched you with a wishful expression. It might have been unrealistic to think that your memories would come back so soon, but he had to have some sort of faith. With the way he’d seen your eyes light up at the mention of the performance, he entertained the thought that maybe – just maybe – something would trigger in your mind.

The man could have hope, at least.