# I DONโT KNOW WHO I AM หหห
โคท ๐งท ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ โโ แฉ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ w/ an amnesiac f!readerโหเฟ
เซฎ โค โค เพเฝฒแ ๐ฌ๐ฒ๐ง๐จ๐ฉ๐ฌ๐ข๐ฌ โโ a bad injury, a blank slate, and a boy who refuses to let you disappear โ even if you donโt remember loving him first.
๐ง song of todayโs fic
แฅซแญก ABOUT ; REQ INFO ; MATERIALIST ( CUR. OPEN )
The lights in the medbay are too bright.
They flicker softly above you, sterile and cold, and every second you lie here feels like youโre being buried alive in memories that donโt belong to you.
You wake up to flowers again. A new bouquet on your nightstand.
Someone wrote a note in looping, familiar handwriting:
โYou always loved these. Thought they might help. โ Wโ
You stare at it for a long time.
You donโt know who โWโ is.
They mean well. You know they do. But it doesnโt make it easier when they come in โ one by one, two by two โ faces full of grief they try to hide behind soft smiles and patient tones.
Youโve learned some of their names.
Youโve learned that they love you.
You havenโt learned how to love them back.
They touch your hand when they speak to you.
They smooth your hair behind your ear.
They sit on the edge of the bed and look at you like youโre breakable glass filled with everything they miss.
Someone kissed your temple the other day, whispering, โYouโre going to be okay, babe.โ You flinched so hard your head hit the wall.
You donโt know how to say it, so you keep it in your chest, rotting:
Stop loving me like Iโm someone Iโm not.
Stop looking at me like Iโm coming back. Iโm not.
But you canโt say it. You canโt hurt them.
So instead, you wait until the door shuts for the night, and you sit up โ slowly, painfully, stitches tugging at your scalp โ and you cry. Ugly, silent sobs into your pillow.
Then you do something stupid.
You press your fingers into the side of your head. Right where the wound is. You push. Then harder. Then with your knuckles. Like if you just cracked it open again, maybe something would come back.
You donโt hear the door open.
You donโt hear him come in.
You only feel it when a hand gently catches your wrist mid-swing.
โHeyโhey. What are you doing?โ
You freeze. You know that voice.
Itโs him. The dark-haired one. The one with the blue eyes and the weighted silence. He doesnโt flinch when you pull your hand away.
โDonโtโโ you choke. โDonโt touch me.โ
โYou were hurting yourself."
You look at him through tears, chest heaving, guilt ripping through you like shrapnel.
โWhy do you keep coming here?โ
โBecause I care about you.โ
โYou care about her. The girl I was.โ
โโฆSheโs still you.โ
โNo, sheโs not!โ you snap, and your voice cracks. โShe knew all of you. She was brave. She saved people. She had friends. She had you. I donโt have anything.โ
Your hand fists in the blankets. You fists shaking.
โI donโt even know if I like tulips. I donโt know who any of you are. And you all keep smiling at me and touching me and loving me and IโIโm just some stranger who got dropped in her body!โ
He doesnโt say anything. Not right away.
Then, slowly, he moves toward the bed. Sits at the edge. You flinchโbut he doesnโt touch you.
โYouโre allowed to be angry.โ
โYouโre allowed to not remember. Youโre allowed to not want this life. No one expects you to justโฆ be her again overnight.โ
You look at him, breath held.
โI justโฆโ your voice is small. โI feel so guilty. For not being who you need me to be.โ
He finally looks at you, eyes bright.
โI need you to be okay. Thatโs it.โ
โWhat if I never remember?โ
โThen weโll build new memories.โ
Your throat closes. You look away before the tears fall again.
You donโt want him to see. You donโt want any of them to see you like this โ broken and lost and so, so tired.
He just sits there, silently, letting you cry. Eventually, when your sobs slow and your body relaxes against the pillow, he quietly stands to go.
Before he leaves, he speaks again.
โYouโre not a stranger, you know. Not to me. Not to us.โ
