Chapter 3: Messages & Phone Calls

I feel somewhat helpless and agitated as I depend on the updates from the other members. I pace the small space of my living room, growing more and more impatient with each step I take. Clutching on my phone, I don’t dare let it go, my eyes sewn on it like tapestry.

‘Hoseok’s just messaged us saying he’s on his way home,’ Jimin updates on the group chat.

I sigh in relief, the peace settling only for a moment before Taehyung chirps in.

‘Don’t worry you mean a lot to him.’

I roll my eyes, not surprised by how light they can make the situation seem, then again there should be no reason for me to be this uneasy. Maybe I’m scared he’ll do something or something might happen—but he’s a grown man. Maybe I’m just being impatient.

Jin’s icon pops up along with his own sticker, a comical sobbing face with a head too large for his body, followed by ‘I can’t believe he didn’t tell us before the video.’

I pause and realise Hoseok’s probably stressed with the sudden hit of memories. I bite my bottom lip, worry rising like hot air in my cold body. J-Hope, the one in charge of smiles and happiness, so few realise the burden his title gives him. The first time I had met him I was the same, oblivious to the crumbling façade.

A message chimes causing me to jolt slightly as I’m about to slip into deeper thoughts. I lightly tap my cheek, attempting to bring my mind back to the matters at hand.

‘Ahri?’ Jimin chirps.  

I tip my head on my shoulder as I watch Jimin’s icon type then disappear, type then disappear, and wonder why the hesitation. ‘Yeah?’

I watch his icon appear and reappear as he continues to type and retype his message. ‘You still like Hoseok, right?’ he finally asks.

My worries suspend in the air. The question feels intimidating like my reply may become a signature to a contract for my future actions and obligations. I hesitate to answer despite it already being rather clear since why else would I still be caught up on his business after two years? I reply, one character at a time, tapping on the phone keypad with my index finger.

‘Yeah…’

The day simmers into the evening and I grow cold, fretful and a bit hungry. About to give in to the temptation of making, and most importantly, eating dinner, the Kakaotalk’s shrill chime resonates around the room and my hand quickly snaps around the device stranded on the coffee table. The whites of my eyes expand as I realise the message isn’t from the group chat but Hoseok himself.

‘You there?’ he asks simply.

I don’t recall the last time we shared a conversation on Kakao though the app certainly does; a message dated from years ago peeps out from the top of the screen.

‘I’m home already by the way,’ he adds soon after, ‘the other’s say you’ve been worried.’

I stare at his messages, still in disbelief of everything.

‘You’ve watched the log already, right?’

I press my lips together and nod, covering my mouth with a quivering hand. My mind is drowning with things I want to tell him, no place to start, no place to end. I choke on a short cry as I’m overcome with an urge to hold him once again. Memories come gushing back like a tsunami, mixed feelings and held back emotions break through my contentment and I’m sent to collapse on my knees, clutching my phone as if it were a lifebuoy.

My hands shake as I attempt to reply in haste. ‘Yes’ is all I’m able to manage. ‘Does he remember it all?’ I wonder, ‘What did he first recall?’ I become anxious as he takes a moment—just a moment—to reply.

‘Mind if I call you?’

My eyes widen. I feel my head whirl causing me to bring a hand to my forehead, my heartbeat drumming madly against my ears. Unwilling to reply and wait for him to call, I hit the button myself and bring the phone to the ear that seems to be drumming less. I bite my nails, a habit I thought I had outgrown, as I wait for his number to dial.

“Hoseok!” I gasp the moment he picks up. I hear his warm chuckle on the other side of the line and feel my insides warm up. I exhale in a sort of relief, a breath of air in my unease.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, “For making you wait so long.”

My heart sinks as I realise he’s been containing unnecessary guilt. I shake my head, “No, no, no,” I hush hurriedly, not wanting him to blame himself a second longer. “It’s not your fault!” I sit up in my seat, scooting to the edge, “I’m just glad.” I catch a smile curling my lips at the comfort of his ligh hum of a laugh.

“I’m glad too,” Hoseok sighs.

I bite my lip. “Uh—?”

“Hm?” I hear rustling and assume he’s taking a seat. “What is it?” he presses after I continue to waver in the silence.

I press my lips together, clicking my tongue as I think of what to ask first. “How did you remember?” I stammer.

Hoseok hums in the phone as he switches ears. “I had an odd dream that seemed far too familiar—like déjà vu but even more familiar than that,” he explains, “when I woke up I just began to remember things. By breakfast I remembered debuting and Bangtan’s first 2 years. When I took a walk and passed places I slowly began remembering things like they were just appearing in a Polaroid film. When I reached the apartment—” He pauses, a scratching sound barely audible against my ear, “The moment I remembered you, and was sure of it, I called.”

My heart’s pumping against my chest as a haze covers my thoughts. “All of it?” I choke.

“Yes,” Hoseok chuckles softly, “I remember all of it.”

A/N: I was tempted for a split second to name the chapter 'Hotline Bling.'

BELATED MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

DISCLAIMER: this is not medically correct (I don't know how people regain memories.) I did do a bit of research on Traumatic Brain Injuries but it's far too late to fix the mistakes (as in I'd have to edit Hold Me Tight) and even then it wouldn't be accurate. So yeah let's pretend this is how it works.