She wasn’t sure when it began.

  The fading.

  And that was what she was afraid of. Because it was an excuse, and if she had no excuse, she would be to blame in his eyes.

  But why did that matter now?

  She comforted herself with a small pat on the hand. It wasn’t like she could tell for sure when it had all started.

  So then, it didn’t matter after all.

  She absently swirled her index finger in the pool of condensation that now surrounded her coffee cup.

  Cafe Latte.

  Why did she ever even try drinking coffee? Sure, the reasons were blurry and hazy somewhere in her mind, but she guessed it was because of him. Because she had always been adventurous and he had always been there to urge her to try things she had never tried before.

  Always?

  Was he still encouraging, or had he changed?

  Either way, it still didn’t matter to her; she never saw him much nowadays anyway. She lamented that.

  She stood and slipped her fingers into the handle of the cup.

  Mostly empty.

  Just like her head.

  She lamented that too.

  After the coffee cup had been returned to its rightful spot behind the counter and into the barista’s hands, she left. After all, there was no more reason to be there. Was that why she had been seeing him less? Because there was nothing to keep him with her?

  Maybe.

  She laced her wet fingers together behind her back and began walking. Where to? Even she couldn’t know for sure. The intention on where to head to next had slipped through her hands, light and slippery as a bar of soap.

  Without herself realising she had arrived on a doorstep fourteen minutes later. She found herself robotically reaching into her woolly shoulder bag and fishing out a ring of keys. One specific key was then inserted into the lock of the orange wooden door and she pressed a single palm onto the peeling paint, revealing a drab grey under the vibrant orange.

  She was fairly sure this was their house. No, she was completely sure. Through the mist of foggy memories was a clear one, shining bright on her like the rays of a glowing lamp post.

  He had laughed then, pouring the paint into a small plastic container, as if losing the bet to paint the house was funny.

  And it was.

  It was funny to both him and her. It was funny that a pair of seventeen year olds that had decided to run away one day with each other was so childish.

  Besides, that was the way they liked it.

  “You won’t help me at all?” He had turned towards her with one of his bright sunny smiles. “But then again, it’s okay if you don’t. Doing a chore like this for you only makes it more special.”

  He was cheesy sometimes, in a slightly subtle, sweet way. She didn’t mind, but the special pardon was only for him.

  For Jeon Jungkook.

  She stepped into the house and closed the door behind her, twisting the lock. The rest of the conversation was lost somewhere in the abyss of her brain, where she was unlikely to retrieve. She would never know if she did help Jungkook in the end, if that was the case.

  Though, she didn’t actually need to know how the rest of the episode had gone. It was irrelevant and rather impossible, she decided, that she might ever have to use the pieces of lost information in a conversation or a reference, so it was fine if she didn’t remember.

  It would have been nice all the same, however, to know what Jeon Jungkook was really like.

  The blurriness of her memories was increasing steadily by the day, and often she found herself wondering increasingly more about Jungkook instead of dredging him up from her memories to see for herself.

  She was afraid of that.

  The dining room lights were switched on, though it was morning. She flipped the switch as she passed on the way to their bedroom. Had she forgotten to switch of the lights earlier today, she wasn’t sure.

  It could have been Jungkook.

  It was a realisation that struck her as she climbed wearily up the stairs. Jungkook hated the dark. Even the slightest bit of shade would make him moody, and she was sure of this, if nothing else.

  It could have been him.

  She wasn’t sure if she was hopeful or scared that he was home. He rarely was.

  It was as if they weren’t together anymore. They could have been roommates or the sort, living in the same house for all she knew. Perhaps her brain had forged such false memories in the form of a dream. Perhaps when she reached the bedroom, she would suddenly wake up in her old house with her parents arguing downstairs and with Jungkook in bed across the street.

  Maybe then weren’t together anymore wouldn’t hurt so much.

  The bedroom lights were switched off. She plodded in her socked feet into the dark room and the lights.

  There he was reclining on the bed made for two, shielding his eyes against the sudden glare of the artificial lights.

  “My eyes are burning!” Jungkook cried childishly. He would always be so childlike with her.

  At least there was one thing that hadn’t changed.

  She pressed her fingers on the switch again, and the room once again plunged into darkness. The light filtering through the blinds wasn’t enough to illuminate the room and her eyes had yet to adjust to the shade, but she knew their house on the back of her hand, and that was something she would never forget.

  She slowly made her way towards the bed. Why was he here now when he hadn’t been for so long? Not that she minded. Any time with Jeon Jungkook was time to be cherished.

  That hadn’t changed either.

  She laid down beside Jungkook and let him pull her into his arms. She had to admit she missed him sorely, though she had tried so hard to convince herself otherwise.

  She had craved his scent; a fresh, sunny scent unique to him, his warmth, and most of all she had missed his laughs.

  Jungkook laughed then, a breathy, loud laugh, as he mussed her hair.

  “I missed you.”

  She had thought otherwise.

  “You have no idea, Jungkookie.”

  Jungkook let go of her. She put her head on his chest, facing the pale ceiling, listening to the sound of the familiar heartbeat.

  She missed that as well.

  “Sometimes… I think you’ve left me for good.”

  She entwined her fingers above her head, awaiting his response. She had a feeling Jungkook would laugh at her for being foolish, and maybe take her out for a random date as an apology. He had done so once or twice before, if her memory served her correct.

  Jungkook did none of the above.

  “I could say the same about you.”

  She hadn’t expected that, and it irritated her. What did he even mean? She wasn’t the one who rarely came home. She wasn’t the one who never called just to say hello.

  “What does that mean?”

  “You know as well as I do.” Jungkook gently pushed her off and sat up, running a hand through his hair.

  Upset.

  He was upset.

  She could still remember. Jungkook fiddled with his hair when he was upset or nervous.

  But, what was there to be upset about?

  “No, I don’t, Jungjookie-ah.”

  “There.”

  He turned and stared into her eyes, sorrow evident in his eyes.

  “Jungkookie. You never call me Jungkookie.” Jungkook leaned down and brushed the hair out of her face; softly, tenderly. “It’s always Kookie-ah, Kookie-ah. But never my full name. That’s why. Sometimes I think you don’t even remember me anymore.”

  She froze at his touch, and then made up her mind.

  She shot up and grabbed his hand, pressing it against her face harder. She let herself go. Let herself go to the wild rage, to the desperation.

  She wanted everything to turn back. To the time where her hazy mind was clear and everything was as it should be.

  “Kookie-ah.”

  She pressed her lips to his, breath hitching at the ever-so-familiar feeling of his lips on hers. Jungkook began to react, lips moving in perfect symphony to hers, like they had so many times before, automatically.

  She leaned forward, letting her body press discreetly against Jungkook’s, forcing him to lay on his back. Her tongue found purchase on his lower lip, and retreated just as quickly.

  Setting a trap.

  She felt his breath speed up and felt him respond to the urge to be with her. Apparently she wasn’t the only one who had craved their physical contact.

  Gasping, she pulled back and properly faced Jungkook. She placed a leg on either side of him and leaned down again, brushing her hair behind her ear. The next time their lips met was pure electricity.

  She tangled her fingers in Jungkook’s wonderfully soft, thick hair and their kisses turned even more heated. His fingers caressed her cheek and her bottom lip, giving her the best kind of tingling.

  When was the last time they had kissed, she didn’t know, but one thing she was sure of was that they had never gone remotely this far before.

  “What are you doing?”

  She paused, a slight sliver of sanity cutting through her lust-induced haze. What was she doing? She really shouldn’t be doing this now.

  Then again, who knew if she would ever have another chance. Besides, there were a lot of things she shouldn’t be doing, but did anyway.

  “I’m kissing the hell out of you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I see no reason not to.”

  “Well, I do,” Jungkook breathed deeply, in panting gasps.

  The hole that her rational thinking had torn through widened.

  What was she doing?

  Slowly, she did as he wished, lifting her legs until they both dangled listlessly over the bed. She clenched the bedspreads in her closed, trembling fists, where they crinkled into hideous lines. The clouds of despair were back, obscuring her thoughts and her vision.

  No, those were tears.

  She swallowed thickly, willing the moisture to remain trapped in the orbs that she called her eyes.

  “I’m sorry.”

  A short, sharp laugh that grated at her ears.

  The kind of laugh she hated when it was in the context of Jeon Jungkook. The kind of false, unhappy laugh she despised with a passion.

  “Are you though?”

  “I…”

  Her words failed her and her planned statement vanished with uncanny similarity to an old photograph lost in the flames of forgetfulness; never to return.

  She could barely think straight; intense was the pain in both her heart and brain.

  Was this what it was like to go insane?

  Probably.

  The bed creaked and lifted.

  She sat sombrely.

  Completely and utterly alone.

  “I want to ask you something.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Why did you choose orange?”

  She let a small reminiscent smile lift the corner of her lips. Even if he didn’t elaborate, she had understood.

  “Because not many do,” She twirled a lock of her hair reflexively. “It’s always red, caramel, blonde. But not orange. Rarely orange.”

  “I always knew you were special.”

  She had snorted then, smacking Jungkook’s arm playfully. She had never liked cheesiness, or sweet nothings, but she believed there was an exception to every rule. Jungkook was often an exception to the beliefs she followed, and she was okay with that.

  “I’m no more special than any random stranger on a street.” She smiled wider. “But to you, I am, so that’s alright.”

  It was no lie.

  She had lain back, feeling the soft sand shift under the pressure her back had on the blanket that covered it. Jungkook chucked, amused, and lay next to her. The wind whipped her orange hair into her eyes, making her close them, and the loud crashes of the waves soothed her, in a strange way.

  “I love you.”

  Jungkook ruffled her already windblown hair, expecting her to finish his statement, like always.

  “More than I do myself.”

  She jolted out of her trance.

  What had she been doing beforehand?

  She had no inkling whatsoever on what had happened before her Blankout, as she liked to call her sudden fits of brain malfunction, but she was sure she would remember at a later time.

  It only went to show how she had gotten used to them.

  Gotten so used to them she had even named them.

  Gone.

  She recalled. Jungkook, her loving boyfriend of three years was gone. She tried scanning through her mind to search for any clues of where he might have went, but then again what was the use? Even if she did find him, what could she possibly say?

  Nothing.

  Dementia, was what they called it.

  Her condition, that is.

  Her condition that Jungkook was unaware of, simply because she didn’t see the point of telling him. What good would it bring to her to see the one she loved the most suffer? Why tell him if there was nothing he could do but wallow in their seemingly doomed relationship?

  Thus, Jungkook remained in the dark about her sudden Blankouts, her poor memory and her random fits of emotions. Thus, she bore the weight of her own horrible condition on her own shoulders.

  She hadn’t known that dementia affected teenagers.

  Dementia.

  [dih-men-shuh, -shee-uh] severe impairment or loss of intellectual capacity and personal integration. Symptoms include loss of memory, impaired learning abilities, and sudden fits of mood swings.

  She made her way into her own personal room that she seemed to be staying in more and more lately. After all, sleeping alone in a bed meant for two only seemed to accentuate the fact that she was alone.

  She gently pulled open the door of the bedside cabinet, revealing several tiny bottles of Memantine she had kept a secret from Jungkook.

  She remembered faintly that she had told him the drawer had contained the unmentionable, and it had worked.

   It was the first time she had lied to him.

  Popping open the plastic cap, she sighed and carefully extracted two white, oval shaped pills. The four consecutive letters she had come to hate disappeared between her lips.

  FL and IO.

  How she hated those letters put together.

  She swallowed.

  Or rather, tried to.

  Instead she ran immediately rushed to the bathroom and stayed inside for a good twenty two minutes before she emerged, still pale-faced and wobbly.

  As much as she denied it, she knew it was true. She had forgotten how to swallow. The remains of the pills were now somewhere underground, flowing away from her in a current of bile and sewage water.

  She tried again, only to trigger her gag reflex, and loud coughs echoed from her already sore throat.

  If only Jungkook were here. He’d pat her back and soothe her with his soft, beautiful singing. But he wasn’t, and there was no use hoping and wishing that he was.

  Saliva dripped down her chin as she frantically searched for a towel to wipe it off. She found none, and resorted to swiping the sticky liquid off her face with her bare hands. Soon she found herself clearing another watery mixture coming down from both sides of her face and dripping off her chin.

  She was miserable.

  Tired. So tired of living. So tired of not being able to remember. So tired of being alone.

  She wanted out.

  “Kookie-ah.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Let’s go.” Jungkook blinked at her blunt words, yet broke into a smile nonetheless.

  “Sure.”

  She carefully put one leg in front of the other, in an awkward attempt to look as if she was walking normally.

  She hated her condition. Hated it with the passion of a thousand flaming suns.

  She couldn’t even remember how to walk properly anymore, though it was partially her fault. She had declined to take any more pills after the session she had suffered in the bathroom a week ago, and because of that her memory was deteriorating even more quickly than it should.

  Why didn’t she?

  Maybe it was because she was too tired to bother anymore. Maybe she just wanted her condition to take her away in a bed of roses, so she wouldn’t have to face the pain of life anymore. How she wished.

  People were staring at her, she was sure. But, what did she care? Let them stare at her. Let them laugh and point at her strange steps. She didn’t give a single . They could all burn in hell and she would dance on their bodies, if she wanted to.

  There it was again. One of her sudden mood changes.

  All she wanted was to go out for a nice, mind-clearing walk. Was that too much to ask?

  Wandering, she came across a nice coffee shop. She remembered that she absolutely adored coffee, especially milky coffees, though she couldn’t exactly pinpoint the reason why she had ever tried it in the first place. It was on the tip of her tongue, yet she could not say why the coffee shop felt so familiar.

  “Welcom- Oh! Whatever brings you here again? Too much coffee’s not good for your heath, you know.”

  She turned at the unfamiliar voice in confusion.

  Was he speaking to her?

  “Excuse me, but you were talking to me, weren’t you?”

  “Eyy~ Don’t act like you don’t know me.” The friendly looking barista waved his hand in the air, as if dismissing her earlier question. Most of the customers had turned towards them, hearing his voice echo rather loudly across the room.

  “But, who am I to judge or complain?” He chuckled, winking. “I’ll get you the usual.”

  The usual? She was fairly sure she had never been in this coffee shop before. Within minutes after paying the coffee had arrived, steaming on her table next to the window. She slipped her fingers through the handle and took a hesitant sip.

  Cafe Latte.

  The taste was so familiar, yet so distant. She placed the cup down, searching for the missing link.

  “Yah.”

  She looked up to see someone sliding into the seat opposite her’s, sparking a sense of recognition in her hazy brain. She paused for a moment, before she mentally snapped her fingers.

  Jeon Jungkook.

  Her boyfriend.

  If he could even be considered that anymore.

  “Kookie-ah, why are you here?”

  “Because you’re here.” Jungkook took her cup into his hands and drank, conflicting expression on his face. Her heart squeezed painfully. Even the fading of her memories couldn’t take away the raw emotions that came with liking Jungkook.

  “But I wanted to ask you something too.”

  “Shoot.”

  Jungkook smiled sadly at her short response. She frowned. Why was he smiling like that, she didn’t know, but she didn’t like it one bit. It yanked bitterly at her heart, in a way only Jungkook could manage.

  It seemed life was hell bent on tearing her apart.

  She could see his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down once, and he raked a hand through his hair.

  “Dementia.”

  Jeon Jungkook knew.

  He knew.

  She gulped, a lump forming in . She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the irony life had thrown upon her, so she did neither. Jungkook though, smiled again, and put down the empty coffee cup.

  “You won’t help me at all?” He had turned towards her with one of his bright sunny smiles. “But then again, it’s okay if you don’t. Doing a chore like this for you only makes it more special.”

  She had laughed at his silliness.

  “I’ll help you,” she grabbed another paintbrush from the plastic container. “But you owe me.”

  She had nudged him out of the way. “What are going to do for me, then?”

  “Be with you forever.” Jungkook shrugged nonchalantly, ignoring the stunned look on her face.

  Was that a proposal? She blinked twice but Jungkook simply rolled his eyes at his girlfriend’s naivety and the couple was left in silence.

  “I told you, that I would be with you forever, didn’t I?”

   She wasn’t sure when it began.

  The fading.

OTL ASDFGHJKL GUISE I LOVE YOU. No, seriously. For reading this. I know, it , but I hope you got the message here. that i big time at oneshots and I love Jungkookie sooooooo muuch

But guise, some of us do have bad memories, even if its not dementia. Like I for one forget everything once its passed, and by that I mean I forget everything that happens after one year. Like I cannot remember. Its just a haze of foggy memories. I got inspiration from that, in a sense. 

But back to the fading, how was it? Feel free to comment, I'm open to any constructive criticism and interesting opinions.

(p.s. When i said i was the same age as kookie, do you think i meant younger or older. Tell me what you think ^^)

(p.p.s. my first time writing a kiss scene i have zero experience tbh i haven't even had my first kiss yet -_-)

(p.p.p.s I LOVE YOU)

Charismahamsterjjang OUT