Cold fire. That’s all he could feel as he lay drenched in sweat, wrapped up tight in the blankets he had fallen asleep in after settling in for the night. It only happened every once in awhile, twice a week at the most, those haunting dreams that pressed at his subconscious and begged to be remembered when he woke up, but yet he always forgot once his eyes flew open. Maybe that was the curse of his accident. Reaching up to the back of his head, he feels along the scar hidden beneath the tufts of white blonde, the raised skin healed after almost a complete year since his memory was stolen from him. It only made his heaving chest feel heavier as he struggled to gulp down air to keep the burn at bay.
It bothered him, of course it did, not remembering much of what happened to him between his first days of college and that fateful day. He only knew what his uncle and aunt told him, their eyes glistening with tears at what he had become. A whore, a man of the night, someone promiscuous and broken. Maybe it was best that he didn’t recall it at all. Maybe that man was better left buried in the rubble of his shattered memories. But… there was that inkling, that feeling that something important happened and he couldn’t bring his mind to wrap around it.
The doctors had said he might regain all that he had lost, but it was looking futile and maybe it was because he wasn’t trying hard enough. Joonmyun only could bring himself to push at those barriers in the early morning light when he was twisted in damp sheets that were once crisp and clean, trying to remember. But it was always fruitless and he grasped at nothing, found emptiness at the ends of his fingertips. He would do it for about fifteen minutes after those nightmares he could never remember, the flashes of ebony and warmth were all that he could even peg down. However he knew they would be forgotten by the time he finished his morning shower, washed down the drain.
One time he had tried to keep a journal of his dreams, the scrabbling pieces of his memories, but they always came out the same. Black… the thrumming of a car beneath him and rain. That’s all he could ever recall and it left him feeling an empty ache inside of him until it washed away and he could face the day anew, leaving behind those awful dreams in his bedroom once he was out in the real world that was a beginning for him.
After his morning routine, he was settled, dressed in a loose fitting shirt that exposed his pale collar bones beneath its soft cotton, his fingers toying with the long sleeves as he contemplated the course of his day over his lukewarm mug of coffee. Joonmyun wanted to stay in, read a book or watch a show but he also craved that innate need to talk to someone, to interact with people if only for a few hours. Being human felt so fickle sometimes and he could tell his lips were curving in a soft smile against the rim at himself.
Once he was done, his hair styled just so that it flopped a bit in his eyes and looked soft to the touch, he was pulling a stylish bag he got with his employee discount onto his shoulder as he wandered out of his small apartment and out into the world. He would start with the bookstore, maybe meander to a few boutiques and grab himself something to eat at a cafe before returning home to relax for the rest of the time. That sounded pleasant and he was more than content as he walked out onto the sidewalk and headed towards the closest used and new bookstore to his home, fingers clutching the strap of his bag as he smiled lightly to himself the whole way there.
