You tell yourself that you've forgotten, that you have moved on and let go. You’ve stopped playing the piano and ripped the pages out of countless of notebooks. All the lyrics and melodies he once sang reminded you of him, and it hurt too much.
You've erased his face from your mind— (the way his eyes twinkled like faraway stars and the soft laughter that escaped from his lips). You can't hear his voice inside your head anymore— (the same voice that sang love songs you wrote, and whispered sweet nothings in your ear). You don't remember his touch— (soft kisses trailing up your neck and along your jaw line, strong hands pinning you down onto the bed). It's almost as if none of it has ever happened.
You tell yourself things. Like how there is no pain when you don't think about it. There is no pain because memories of you and him don't exist, don't remain in your heart, don't haunt you like ghosts and lurking shadows in the middle of the night. They don't because you've forgotten. Or, that’s what you tell yourself.
But it all comes back to you when Junsu brings him over to your apartment one day. He tells you about a car accident, about damages to the head, his memories gone, maybe for a while, maybe forever- and smiles like everything is okay, like it’s merely a scrape on the knee and will heal in a week or two.
‘Why did you bring him here?’ you ask, anger slowly pulsing through your veins. After months of going nearly insane, crying yourself to sleep night after night, he shows up again.
You don't mention to him how (your) wounds in the heart don't repair that easily, that the scars are still there, only forgotten. You don’t mention how you still feel.
Junsu doesn’t reply and smiles, beckoning the other to come over. "This is my friend," he says to the older man, and nudges you to co-operate.
"Nice to meet you, my name is Kim Jaejoong," he reaches his hand out and says politely, like you've never met before.
You find your words being caught at your throat and your hands shaking nervously by your side. He really doesn’t remember who you are- (who you were to him, what you two shared). It’s like you’re given another chance, to make this work ... to start over.
But it shouldn't be this simple. Yet, here he is, standing before you, looking exactly the same as you remember him, dark brown eyes and tousled caramel hair, just without the memories, without knowing anything about you.
"Y-yeah, I’m Park Yoochun. Hi."
The handshake sends a shock through your arm, like it always did, burning a mark on your hand and sending butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You watch his smile and feel your heart break, just a little.
It's like déjà vu, rewriting your story with him as he enters your life again. Day after day, you spend afternoons with him- he takes you to places, shows you the world you used to live in (with him).
He's still the same, exactly the same. And maybe that's what makes it hurt so much more. Because you're falling, falling for him all over again.
He makes you play the piano for him. You haven't touched it ever since he's left you and now that he's back, you feel like maybe it's okay. Because it's still Jaejoong, so you play.
The ivory keys feel cold against your fingers.
“I… I think I love you,” Jaejoong says slowly. His grip on your hand grows tighter. “I don’t know why, but I feel like I might’ve loved you before, met you sometime in the past and we shared something beautiful. And I... I love you.”
‘But we can’t,’ you want to say, feel the words at the tip of your tongue but your heart is wanting something different. You lean forward and kiss him before you can stop yourself.
“I think I love you too,” you whisper, but there are tears in your eyes and your chest is aching.
The following morning is cold. You wake up alone and shivering under the sheets.