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catboymingi · 4 years

Text

memories - in this life and the next chap. 1

navi/masterlist

story masterlist

pairing: mingi x reader

genre: angst; soulmates & reincarnation au

word count: 3.1k

warnings: amnesia, hospital environments, dealing with grief, emotional neglect, a teeny bit of language

a/n: this is so short i’m sorry i promise the next ones will be longer, this one was just mainly to like... build the context. also the change in you/her from the previous chapter is intentional, it’s ~foreshadowing~

while some people want nothing more than to remember, others would give everything just so they could forget

the four minutes of silence had been the worst four minutes your family had ever lived through. the doctors had done whatever doctors did when someone died in their hospital bed, but were at least as surprised as your family when you shook slightly, immediately resuming their efforts at reanimating you, and this time it worked. they attached you to an incredible amount of machines and put you into an artificial coma to spare your body from having to do more work than absolutely necessary until they could somewhat safely say that being awake would not risk anything for you anymore.

when you woke up for the first time weeks after you had died for four minutes you didn’t recognise any of the faces around you. you didn’t understand what they were saying, and you couldn’t recognise the name they called you by.

“i don’t understand”, you said weakly, and surprised everyone when you spoke korean. of course your entire family spoke korean - your parents had immigrated in their twenties, before you were born, so you’d grown up bilingual. what was surprising wasn’t that you knew korean, it was that you didn’t understand the language that was supposed to be as natural to you as korean was. it was then that they realised they hadn’t gotten their daughter back. that their daughter didn’t even remember that she was their daughter. but you were alive, and that was already more than they’d hoped for when the machines first turned silent.

the doctors told you that this amnesia might slowly disappear, that you might slowly remember your life again, but also warned you that it might not ever leave and you had to be prepared for that. it stung, but they tried their best to give you your memories back, tell you about your life, your friends, everything you’d ever done that they could tell you about. you couldn’t remember any of it, but it seemed like your life had been fairly happy, if you ignored the autoimmune disease you had to deal with. they’d always tried their best to allow you as much of a normal life as they could, and even though you couldn’t remember any of it you still felt a deep gratitude towards these people that obviously cared about you incredibly much. so you tried to like them, to feel the feelings towards them that a daughter should have towards her parents, and while you didn’t feel close to them yet, couldn’t feel close to them yet, your discomfort at their touches, their physical affection, had slowly started to decrease. you knew it probably hurt them, but it wasn’t something you could change, no matter how hard you tried.

unlike this family, mingi hadn’t been lucky enough for the love of his life to wake up again. he’d refused to leave her side until they had told him there was nothing they could do, that there was nothing he could do either, at which point he’d broken down crying, unable to be strong anymore. he’d lost her. he’d lost her forever and he was stuck waiting until he could find her again, in the next life and the one after that, wanting nothing more than to speed up the process. but he knew that she wouldn’t have wanted that, so he forced himself to go on, even though he was but a shadow of himself, burying himself in his work and moving in with a friend because he couldn’t stand returning to the apartment he’d shared with her every single day, all the memories and all the little pieces of her that he refused to get rid of even though he was unable to even look at any of it. he felt like if he got rid of even the smallest piece of trash that she’d forgotten to throw away before she left for work that day he got rid of her, of the memories and of the relationship and of all the moments and feelings he’d shared with her. and while his friends were worried for him they knew he needed to grieve, they knew he needed his time, and they were more than willing to wait for him to be even a little more okay than he was now. they knew she’d been his everything.

day after day you tried to become yourself again, trying to remember who you even were in the first place. but your memories seemed to be irrevocably gone, even your name not yet something you reacted to each time someone called out for you. it didn’t feel like you. it didn’t feel like the person you were now, and you felt like you’d failed everyone for not wanting to be a person you couldn’t even remember. you wanted to create a new you, because unlike the people surrounding you, the people that remembered who you used to be and that had an attachment to those memories, the person that you were before you died held no significance to you, the only thing you had in common with her being her body, her genetic set up. you didn’t want to have to keep trying to be someone you weren’t even sure you wanted to be.

at least your overall physical condition seemed to have improved drastically, miraculously. it was as if your autoimmune disorder had died along with you, something the doctors tried very hard to figure out because that wasn’t how genetic disorders worked, but it seemed like that was the trade-off for your complete lack of memory. everyone was still somewhat wary at your sudden and technically impossible recovery, so that you were kept in the hospital for another couple weeks even after you were fine, just to be sure, but when your condition seemed to not worsen at all even after one and a half months you were deemed stable enough to return home. you would have to come in weekly for a check-up, and you would have to be careful to not over-exert yourself, but since you would be on constant watch by your parents the doctors decided that it might be helpful for you to return to your childhood home, maybe having some memories resurface in the familiar environment.

that hope was quickly destroyed by the harsh reality of your brain refusing to remember anything at all. it was as if you’d never even been in this house, and all the pictures on the walls didn’t feel like you, either. the house felt heavy, suffocating, enveloped in feelings and memories that everyone but you remembered. you felt like a stranger, you felt out of place, and as soon as your parents allowed you to you spent as much time in public spaces as you could. you wanted to escape the pressure of having to remember, and you wanted to escape their looks of disappointment and resentment towards you, the person that looked so much that the daughter they’d loved but didn’t behave like her at all. because even though you had no memory of them you didn’t want to be looked at like that, like you’d stolen their daughter from them, like you were an intruder. like it was your fault. not remembering them was okay for you, but knowing that they remembered you, remembered the you from before and the you now, and that it was very obvious which one they preferred? that hurt. knowing that you weren’t good enough for them hurt. knowing that, even if they’d never admit it, a part of them wished you’d stayed dead because this was like you being dead except they had to look at you all the time hurt. and knowing that you had no one to go to about this, to talk to about how you felt, hurt as well.

so, hours outside turned into more and more time, until at some point you decided you were tired of it. your parents had money, savings, and even though you felt a ping as guilt as you took them that quickly subsided, because you knew that the money they kept in the house wasn’t even close to all their money. they’d maybe not even notice it. but for you, it would make life much easier. you gathered the essentials - a sleeping bag they’d told you about in one of their desperate attempts to get you to remember things, food that wouldn’t be expiring anytime soon, and whatever else google told you was useful for living on the streets. it wasn’t like you were planning to do that - you weren’t stupid, nor were you suicidal, and the money you had might last you for a very cheap airbnb for the entire month and maybe more; by that time you planned to have found a job and your own place to stay. you didn’t rush this, either - transferred the money to a new bank account, got yourself a new wardrobe, a few pieces at a time, tried to prepare yourself for what you were about to do as well as you could. you might’ve hated your current life, but running away without any kind of planning wasn’t going to improve your situation. so you took your time.

when you finally did it, though, you felt relieved. you didn’t realise how caged you’d felt until you were out. it felt like you were able to breathe again, for the first time since you woke up after dying.

mingi still was very far from over her, but his friend yunho had convinced him that he should rent out the living room in the apartment he still refused to enter, he still refused to give up. he paid rent there, by himself now that she was gone, and the only reason why he managed to keep it was all the extra shifts he’d picked up and the fact that yunho had mercy on him and didn’t ask for a lot of rent. but he couldn’t keep it up forever either, and it was because of this that a few weeks after the initial idea, they’d found someone who had rented the living room for a few weeks right away. mingi still wasn’t ready to go in, so he asked his friend to go and lock your bedroom and take away everything that he knew was so personal to the heartbroken man. he hated the idea of changing anything, but he hated the idea of a stranger rummaging through his life with the love of his life even more. so all the important things, the anniversary gifts, the pictures, were locked in the bedroom.

it hurt yunho to be there, as well - mingi hadn’t been the only one that she’d meant a lot to. being as close as he was with the tall male it had been impossible to not befriend her too, her bright and lively aura pulling in everyone that got to meet her. but he prepared everything, for his friend, because he knew that if he had to go back he’d break down and no one might be able to piece him back together.

and it was yunho who welcomed the very first person - besides him - to enter the apartment where mingi’s entire heart was still kept.

you’d found a place to rent for cheap very soon - it was almost an entire apartment, for half the price you’d pay if you were to rent it first-hand. the person you’d been messaging sounded incredibly nice, and while you were doubtful because it was a man who sorted things with you and a man that was the main tenant you had a fairly good feeling about just these men. you’d been given some clear rules via call already - don’t move anything, don’t throw anything away that you didn’t bring, preferably just don’t touch anything unless absolutely necessary. you thought it was odd, but you accepted it. it was a place to stay, more luxurious than you could have hoped for, and you were guaranteed that you’d be able to stay for as long as you wanted to if you followed the rules.

a tall blond greeted you in front of the building, showing you the way to your new home for the next few weeks and handing you the keys. he entered with you, making sure there were no questions about the apartment and once more stressing that you were not allowed to throw anything away, change anything, and that the bedroom was a hard no. it was locked, anyway, but he wanted to be sure. and while you accepted these rules, you were curious about them because it did sound a little like the owner either had ocd or was an axe murderer who kept the evidence hidden away in his apartment.

“i’ll do that, no problem, but why all these rules?” but you knew the question was a sensitive one when you saw the pain that immediately distorted the man’s expression.

“this is my friend’s apartment. he shared it with his girlfriend, but she… she died. no pretty way to say it. it’s still fresh, and he just doesn’t want to lose any memories, you know? he hasn't even been here since. he wants to have her to come back to when he does, even if just in the trash she left on the floor.”

you nodded in understanding - you remembered how the first time you’d changed anything up in your room your parents damn near had a breakdown, and you weren’t even really dead.

“i’m sorry for his loss. i’ll do my best not to change anything up unless absolutely necessary. thank you for letting me stay here even though it’s hard. i know it is.” and because your voice sounded like you genuinely understood yunho got curious about you, this stranger that had rented the apartment from two strange men by herself, for several weeks in a row, seemingly willing to accept whatever rules and regulations he’d put up. he knew it’d be inappropriate to ask about you when he’d barely just met you, though, so he stayed silent, nodding at you.

“just in case something’s wrong you can always text me, or call me if it’s urgent, same number as when we last called. i hope this’ll be okay for you.”

it felt like the two of you were nodding at least as much as you were talking, you moving your head in acknowledgment again.

“anyway, i’ll go now. check up on my friend.”

“tell him thank you for letting me stay here.”

“yeah.” and with that, he left.

when you settled on the couch you felt a weird kind of familiarity, a familiarity you hadn’t felt a single time ever since you woke up again. you didn’t understand why, had no conscious recollection of this place, knew you’d never been here before. still, it felt like you knew it, knew these surroundings. the feeling was weird, kind of uncomfortable and scary, but you decided to ignore it in favour of going to sleep.

mingi had sent yunho to check up on the apartment every single day, to make sure that the stranger he still hadn’t met wasn’t wreaking havoc and destroying the only remembrance of her physical presence he still had. but day after day his friend told him that it seemed like you kept your promise to not change anything up, like you’d barely even touched anything at all. the couch was changed, of course, and you’d also used the bathroom and the kitchen, but both yunho and mingi were surprised at the fact that you always used the same set of cutlery, the same plate, the same towel. you’d gotten your own dish soap, your own laundry detergent, because you didn’t even want to risk emptying the ones she’d bought back then. you were careful, attentive and compassionate, and it made mingi curious to get to know you. he knew he’d not be able to see you in the apartment, so he asked yunho to ask you to meet up with the two of them in some café, just because he was curious and he wanted to ask if you were still comfortable at his place that didn’t feel like his anymore now that she was gone.

he was a little nervous about it, just because you might ask questions and because you might dig in his past and because being face to face with the person that was living where she used to live might cause emotions he’d more or less successfully suppressed by now to resurface. but his friend had convinced him that at least from your part there was nothing to fear, that you’d been more considerate of the situation than even most of their friends had been.

you were nervous when yunho asked you to meet in some café, because you didn’t know the second man at all, hadn’t even been told his name yet because the blond always just referred to him as ‘his friend’. you wanted to leave a good impression, so you got a little dressed up, though not too much because that’d be inappropriate as hell considering the other man had just lost his girlfriend not too long ago. it was just subtle makeup and clothes that were a bit fancier than your usual ripped jeans and oversized t-shirt, opting for ripped jeans and a cropped top instead. it was all black, not even on purpose but because you felt most comfortable in dark clothes, and after you’d spent half an hour overthinking if your outfit was appropriate or if you should wear something else you finally left.

it wasn’t hard finding the café - it was close to where you lived now, and while it wasn’t too fancy it wasn’t too hidden away, either, so that you weren’t left looking around for some secret entrance for an hour as you’d feared you would be. you entered carefully, scanning the café for the blond man whose face you could easily recognise by now by how often he’d visited you to check up on both you and the apartment, and it only took about a minute to spot him. then, your eyes fell upon the tall male next to him, and you felt the same weird kind of familiarity that had become your constant companion in the apartment. you knew there was no way you knew him, and you knew that this was probably just the desire to finally know something again, remember something again. still, you surprised yourself when you opened your mouth and yelled for him.

“mingi!”

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