“I won’t forget you this time”
Characters : F1 racer jimin x physiotherapist reader (first person used) x jungkook as jimin’s racing partner and bestfriend
Synopsis : A drunk one-night stand. Blurred memories. What happens when you realise that you slept with a famous racer and said racer is now your patient for the next six months?
Warnings : smut (not extreme), racing accident, angst, swearing, mentions of amnesia
a/n : this is my first fanfic! enjoy!
☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀
The feeling of the summer breeze never failed to make me happy. That summer especially.
I was 18 years old, just graduated in physiotherapy, and I was so ready to party all the hard work off.
And I did. My home was simply a place to shower and sleep.
The 18th of July of that same summer will forever be a day engraved somewhere in the back of my mind.
The club was packed with people, I had a few vodka red bulls in my system, so my inhibitions were pretty lowered. Each step felt like I was floating, and as I floated towards the bar for another drink I stumbled onto the floor.
Just as my feet gave in, I felt a pair of strong yet soft hands grip firmly onto my waist, holding me upright.
I stood up somewhat straight, and turned around to be met by an angel.
Or at least that’s what my head made him out to be at that moment. Blonde locks that fell perfectly onto his forehead, glistening blue eyes, and a smile I was sure was the most perfect ever.
He spoke. His cheeks had a faint flush to them, indicating alcohol was probably in his system too.
We both stared at each other for a second longer than necessary.
He was captivating, that’s for sure. His hand wasn’t shy to find its way to my side again as he gently guided me to the bar, so that I wouldn’t get crushed by the absurd amount of people in the club that night.
I initially came to the party with my friends, but they were quickly forgotten after the third cup of vodka and more so after my encounter with said angel guy.
“You okay there? Are you feeling dizzy?”
“Hm? No,no. I just had a bit too much to drink, which I don’t usually do.”
I didn’t even have time to register the fact that he ordered two cups of water as he slid one of them in front of me.
“Looks like we both need them. Drink up, yeah?”
If I were sober, I would have immediately thought that this guy was some creep who probably roofied my drink and was faking being helpful.
But to my drunk mind, a guy like him would never do that, even though I knew him for five minutes maximum.
So I nodded and thanked him again.
A conversation bloomed naturally between the two of us. From what I remember (which is not a lot), he never shared much about him, just that his name was Jimin.
Who would have thought that that name would be running around the tunnels of my brain all the time in the very near future.
As the night went on, I lost my friends, but most of all, my dignity. I was always an independent girl, who swore to never fully rely on a man.
So why the heck was I in the passenger seat of Jimin’s car as he drove me home?
I curse the moment I was too drunk to think about how the name Jimin sounded extremely familiar.
But it was too late then. There was no going back. Not when he was hovering over me in my own bed, his breathing ragged, and his hair messed up in a way that made him look even more handsome in the moonlight, if that was even possible.
“Tell me to stop. Just..say it..”
I had sex around two times in my life, and maybe it was the hypersensitivity from all the alcohol rushing through my veins that night, but it never felt that good before.
Every touch made me see stars, he made me see stars.
His hands trembled above me as he choked out breaths against my neck, and my back arched as my nails dug into his biceps.
The room was filled with soft sounds as me and him shared something truly magical on the night of July 18th 2005.
“You have a mew patient today. It’s a long recovery. Major car accident. Y/n? Hello? Are you even paying attention to what I’m saying?”
“Hm? Yes. Yeah yeah I swear I was listening”
I lied to hide the embarrassing fact that my mind was drifting to that night again.
Even after 6 months, way after the summer ended, I was embarrassed to admit that I still think about him sometimes.
Not just because of the sex. Well, yeah, that was mind-blowing, but the morning after just keeps replaying in my mind.
I had woke up with a pounding headache and an aching soreness between my legs. The bed was empty. Too empty.
I barely remembered the events of the night, it took me a full hour to register everything. But he was gone.
And so was my favorite bracelet that I never took off.
No texts. No calls. No nothing.
I was pissed off to say the least. Who does he think he is to just leave after a night like that. It’s not like he had some big occupations, right?
That’s what one would usually think, but two days later, I saw the same Park Jimin who wrecked me in my own bed, on television.
That’s right. On television. Racing on a formula one channel.
That’s when I had come to realize that I slept with a racer, and a quite known one at that. God, no wonder his grip was so strong and lingered for hours later (again, might have been the effects of the alcohol but I highly doubted it.)
“Okay so, he’s been in a coma for three weeks which is why his memory is still a little blurred, he’s a hot headed fella so just, be cautious. He lost mobility in his left leg and left arm. That’s where you come in to help okay?”
That was the only part I heard from my assistant’s never ending rant. I nodded as she gave me the room number to where the patient was staying.
One of the most luxurious rooms, usually reserved for athletes.
I made my way to the room, ready to assist the patient in need. She said something about a car accident right?
I curse myself for being too caught up in my Jimin daydreams to pay enough attention but quickly brushed it off as I knew there would be a chart with all the information next to the patient’s bed.
I turn the door knob gently, just in case the patient was asleep. The usual sunlight that crept in from the windows and blinded everyone that walked into the room was replaced by a shade as the curtains were closed.
My eyes drifted from the floor to the patient’s bed.
I spotted blonde locks that were too familiar. A burn scar covered the right cheek of his glowing face, that was yet again too familiar.
I took two steps forward.
A tattoo below his ear that spelt ‘youth’ in cursive. Too familiar. I could feel my heart thumping, so loud that I was sure it could wake him up.
I may have been daydreaming a few minutes ago. But this was not a dream. He was there. Park fucking Jimin was asleep in Room 1310, the same room I had a patient in.
I rushed to the chart on the bedside table.
Park Jimin. 20 years old.
Severe racing car accident. Immobilized left leg and arm.
Assigned physiotherapist : Y/n.
My mind went blank. My hands shook violently against the clipboard as my eyes went to his sleeping form.
That was him. It was no mistake.
I spoke to the wall as if it would be of any help. Cause what is one supposed to do in a situation like this?
I knew deep down that there was nothing to do but wake him up.
In a normal situation I would have woken the patient up, but I just walked out of the room and waited for him to press the call button whenever he needed help. At least for that time being.
The call button never came. I focused all day on my other patients knowing I had a whole night shift to approach him.
It was around midnight when I heard a slam of some sort coming from his room.
I approached cautiously and from the little glass window on the door, I saw him lash out furiously, almost desperately.
I saw him punch the wall with his un-injured arm before his legs gave in and he crawled to the corner of the room, curling in on himself.
Without a second thought, I made my decision and slowly opened there door, closing it behind me.
Will he remember me? He had just been through a serious traumatic injury, so probably not? But what if he does?
I think part of me hoped he would remember me. Even though he was the one that left for no reason at all.
“Hey..hey..Jimin right..?”
I tried to hide the tremble in my voice as I followed the basic procedure of calming a patient down.
Oh his voice. I missed it so much.
“Listen” I said as I made a bold move and crouched before him, “You’re in shock okay? It’s normal. I get it. You don’t understand why you’re here and you probably don’t want to be here either. But sitting like this isn’t helping your injuries. Not one bit.”
“No you don’t get it. You don’t know what it’s like to go from always winning to now being stuck here while the world moves on without you. No racing for a whole year minimum too. I said go away.”
He never lifted his head from his knees so his eyes never met mine.
I knew that he would never be able to get up on his own with an immobilized leg and arm. So I stood up and started walking away slowly, thinking he would stop me and ask for help.
I walked out the room and watched painfully as he struggled, a lot, but managed to get back up in bed.
He had angry tears running down his face. He looked so beautiful.
I shook the thoughts from my head as I went and distracted myself with other patients.
This was going to be a tough 6 months.
The next day, of course, I had another full day shift. The number one priority was, of course, talking to Jimin.
At 7:55am, I was behind his door. I took a deep breath in and out before opening the door softly. His head was looking towards the windows, so I thought he was asleep.
But, as I approached cautiously, he gently turned his neck until his blue eyes met mine.
Our eyes bore into each other, full of emotion but no realizations from his end. Yet it felt like that one second too long all over again.
“Good morning. You feeling a little better than yesterday night?”
He just shrugged his shoulders. Ugh he was such a stubborn person to deal with.
He didn’t remember me. Yet? Forever? Was he too drunk that night to remember me afterwards? Was it just the after effects of the injury? I had to physically stop myself from spiraling right in front of him.
“So…in case you didn’t catch on yesterday, I’m going to be your physiotherapist for the next six months. I’m Y/n.”
He made no reaction at all. Damn it, seriously didn’t my name help jog his memory a bit?
“You have your first session right about, now.”
He stayed quiet as he slowly moved from his bed to sit on the wheelchair.
As I moved his wheelchair to the therapy room, all I could see was the back of his luscious hair, and all I could remember was how tight I held onto the same hair that night.
A shiver ran through my body as I kept walking till we arrived to the therapy room.
“Do you need help to get on the stretcher or do you want to be stubborn again and worsen your injuries by doing it yourself?”
My direct question seemed to catch him off guard as he looked at me.
I roll my eyes at his stubborness and watched the scene unfold. He groaned softly as he moved his body to get onto the stretcher.
After he agonizingly managed by himself for the third time, I spoke again.
“I’m just gonna take a look at the injuries okay? In the mean time, would you maybe like to tell me what happened in the accident?”
He sighed as I started unwrapping the casts from his leg and arm.
“It was the final game. Me and my racing mate got into the car like usual. I-I always won..I don’t know what happened. I lost control and I think we hit another car on the opposite lane head on..”
Holy shit. His eyes were starting to glisten but he fought the emotions back. He never looked so vulnerable before. He didn’t say much, but to me, it was a lot.
I continued to unwrap his bandages as I listened, the contact between my hand and his skin sending shivers up my spine again.
“I’m sorry jimin. Is your racing mate okay if I may ask?”
“Jungkook?” he chuckled, a soft sound that lit up the room “Yeah he’s okay, less injured than me at least. The guy’s indestructible”
I smiled as if I understood anything he said, but in reality, I just smiled cause of his chuckle.
He tensed up at the mention of yesterday. Almost an ashamed look on his face.
He just shook his head, indicating he didn’t want to talk about it.
For his first session, he had to work on finger movement in his injured arm. He had to first rest his arm in wax for a few minutes to loosen the tense muscles and then I had to individually message each of his five digits, which was an uncomfortable process that seemed to never end.
“Now, try to grab that foam ball”
He struggled to say the least, choked groans of pain leaving his mouth as he tried to curl his fingers.
I hated my brain for having such thoughts, but come on, was I to blame? A blind person would have thought he was doing something else.
He got frustrated and threw the ball away with his other hand.
“Don’t say that. Just go”
Okay this was going to be a really tough six months.
Things didn’t get better.
He barely spoke, or made any progress in his arm and leg what so ever. I’d see him look into the mirror in his room as hot tears flooded his face at night.
He wasn’t opening up to me. And I hated it. He’d just put on this blank face during his sessions and not talk.
After five whole months, something happened.
I got told from the beginning that he was also going to some sort of therapy to help the temporary amnesia after the coma.
I entered his room at the usual 7:55am, and opened his curtains wide, earning an annoyed exhale from him as he turned away from the bright light.
He looked at the wheelchair next to his bed. For the past five months, he would make sure he got on it by himself, even if it took him ten whole minutes. And today was the same.
I stood beside him and watched as he went through the usual process of moving.
He was quicker today though, his movements hurried as I caught him glancing at me.
He must have misplaced his arm while staring because he nearly fell. I was quick to help but all he did was grab onto my wrist tightly and breathe heavily.
Flashbacks of that night when I was the one who nearly fell flooded my mind. I wonder if they flooded his too.
I could feel his grip all over me. He said he woke up with more pain than usual today.
He let me help him to his wheelchair.
He hated every second of it.
He hated not being able to do it by himself.
I let him use me as leverage to shift from the bed to the wheelchair.
He looked like he wanted to leave so bad. Cause I guess that’s what he excels at, right? Leaving like it’s nothing.
I felt my blood boil with accumulated anger and something else I couldn’t quite figure out.
“Your treatment is almost over so after you let your leg sit in the wax, you’re gonna try to stand up today okay?”
And so he did. His palm found mine, squeezing tightly as he gave all he had to stand up.
He never voluntarily reached out for my help. But today he was all for it.
“Good. Now try to put some of the weight on the left leg.”
He cautiously tilted slightly and tried to place his injured leg on the floor. After all the training, he should have been able to hold it steady.
He squeezed my hand tighter as his neck tilted back slightly and his eyes fluttered shut in relief? in pain?
I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that he never looked that good before.
God I was so unprofessional sometimes. I shook my head and squeezed his hand back to encourage him.
My action seemed to set something off inside him because he lost all balance and stumbled back onto the couch.
He didn’t let go of my hand.
I ended up half on top of him. He was so close I could smell his scent which had once tingled all over my body.
His hand was still in mine, and his other hand had instinctively went to my waist as we fell, holding tightly.
We just stood there, looking at each other.
He knew what he was looking at.
Before I could even process it, his lips were crashing onto mine.
His non-injured arm dug into my side where it was sure to leave marks and his other hand cupped my jaw, tilting my face to kiss me better.
My hands were trembling embarrassingly as I held onto his shoulders.
His tongue slipped into my mouth, earning a soft sound from me.
He encouraged me to fully get on his lap, and I didn’t hold back.
This was actually happening. It was the 18th of July all over again. I had replayed that night in my head so many times, I basically memorized his each and every action despite being drunk.
The way he held me in place and how he kissed me hadn’t changed one bit.
I arranged my thighs to try and not put pressure on his leg.
“Jimin…your leg..I’m hurting you-“
“Shut up…fuck…don’t worry about it yeah? Just keep going..” he begged in a broken voice.
And so there we were. Making out stupidly in the therapy room. Anyone could have walked in.
My hands stroked his blonde hair as his slipped just under my t-shirt to rest on my sides. I could feel each brush of his fingertips, sending shocks to my brain.
I was so sure I heard him groan softly in frustration as we both pulled back from the heated moment.
He started talking to someone on the phone and I got off him gently.
His voice was so raspy. He placed a pillow on his thighs as he spoke, probably to hide the aching bulge he had between his legs.
My pager started beeping. I gestured that I had to go and he nodded, his eyes flashing with unfulfillness.
As I walked through the corridors, I felt as if I was on cloud nine.
It wasn’t long before reality started creeping in though.
Or did the proximity make him do that?
Was he just emotional and acted on impulse?
Was he so tired of being stuck in the same four walls that he just needed to feel some relief?
Did he want to forget this?
Will he just stop talking to me like he did last time?
My head pounded. I distracted myself by attending to other patients, but I could still feel his touch.
Meanwhile, Jimin was in his room. The interrupting phone call was from none other than his racing mate, Jungkook, to advise him that he was visiting soon.
Jungkook had minor injuries and was infact already back to his career. But he made sure to visit Jimin whenever he could.
As jungkook sat on the chair beside Jimin’s bed, he told him all about the new sponsor for the cars and other things like that.
But Jimin wasn’t listening.
“This guy is cashing out fifteen thousand a month-“
“I made out with my therapist!”
“I said I made out with my therapist. At least that’s what I referred to her as up until last night, before her name finally clicked into my brain and I remembered who she was.
She’s that same girl I had a hell of a one night stand with last summer.”
Jungkook’s jaw fell to the floor.
“Are you sure it’s her bro!?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. It’s her.”
“Fuck, man. Your life is more exciting than mine and you’re the one still in recovery”
“Fuck off” Jimin chuckled at the usual jokes from Jungkook.
“I don’t know what to do. I have so many questions to ask her.”
They talked it out like brothers and at 7:00pm, Jungkook left.
A few minutes later, I knocked on his door, heart pounding as I awaited the akward encounter.
I entered the room and approached him.
“Listen, Jimin, I think-“
I didn’t hear what he said because I was too focused on memorizing what I was going to say to him.
“Listen, Jimin, I think it’s best for my job and for you if we just put this behind us and forget it ever happened. We don’t know each other. It happened quickly and both of us weren’t straight.”
I lied through my teeth as the words spilled out.
His face was so hard to read. Was he dissapointed? Was he in agreement?
“Yeah…yeah okay…we’ll do that if that’s what you want..”
Thank God all that was left of his treatment was around three weeks, cause it was akward to say the least.
Something had shifted in him that day. I was so sure. The way he grabbed onto my hand multiple times before the make out happened, how he asked for help. He was never like that before.
But I came to a conclusion that it would be easier to just forget about it than to let my thoughts eat me alive wondering if he remembers me.
And so, three weeks later, his treatment came to an end.
I still had no idea that he remembered me.
He was getting picked up by Jungkook as he still couldn’t drive. I walked with him slowly to the door.
“Thank you for helping me. I know I was a pain in the ass sometimes.”
“Yeah you were a bit of an asshole, but I managed”
He took a step closer and hugged me.
His arms wrapped around my waist, swallowing me whole.
I could feel his breath on my neck.
Now, it was either because he rested against me to get some relief from his leg, or maybe he was just a big hugger, but whatever the reason, I felt him pour his heart out into that one hug.
His fingers dug into my shirt and I tried not to completely melt before him.
he didn’t want to let go?
The moment was broken yet again by a hurried Jungkook, who honked his car at Jimin to hurry because he had some meeting.
We both hesitantly let go.
And he left. I think I felt some sort of closure. Forced closure though.
He didn’t remember me. He would have said so if he did, right?
I was still so mad about him leaving, but what was the point of confronting him if he doesn’t even remember?
So that was it. He would soon go back to his racing career and move on with his life.
And that’s what I needed to do too.
Another tiring day on the job. I finally had some time to myself, but instead of hanging out with my stuck up coworkers, I went to rest in Jimin’s room as it was still empty two weeks after he left.
Jimin: Hey y/n. Did I leave my airpods in the room I was staying in?
I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a bit surprised by his text. I looked around the room and found them on the coffee table.
Y/n : Hi Jimin. Yeah they’re here.
Jimin : This is gonna sound a bit weird, but can you swing by sometime and bring them please? I can’t drive yet..
Y/n : No no It’s okay I get it. Is tonight a good time? I get off my shift at 8pm.
Jimin : Yeah that’s good. Thanks y/n. This is my address.
God it seems like the universe doesn’t want us to stay away from each other.
Of course I wasn’t going to say no, that would have been weird, so there I was, at 8:15pm in front of his door, heart racing a bit faster than necessary.
I rang the bell. The door opened.
“I’m in the kitchen, just up the stairs!”
I heard his voice coming from the top of the staircase as I took off my shoes and made my way up.
I reached the top of the stairs and found him leaning against the kitchen counter.
“Hi. Here are your airpods.”
I hand them over to him and our fingers brushed faintly, yet my brain still short circuited.
“Thanks. I believe I have something that belongs to you too”
I looked confused at him as he reached his fist out and gently dropped a piece of metal into my palm.
Before my eyes stood my favorite bracelet.
The same bracelet I had lost after the 18th of July. After our one night stand.
My eyes rimmed with furious tears but I fought them back.
I looked up into his eyes. And I really saw him.
He knew I was the same girl he slept with when we made out.
“I knew. I remembered you y/n.”
I held back my tears as much as I could. I was so mad and confused.
“You left me. You left like nothing ever happened. Do you have any idea how that made me feel?
I was finally starting to get over that night before I saw you lying there on the patient bed six months ago.
For how long did you know before you kissed me?”
My voice cracked terribly. I was letting all my emotions out.
“I remembered the night before it happened. I swear y/n please believe me”
“Give me one good reason why I should believe you! You vanished after that night!”
“I panicked y/n. I got drunk that night, I don’t do one night stands. Never. My career never allowed me to have a life. So when I woke up and realized what had happened, I panicked and left because I knew that if I didn’t leave you then, I would have never left you.”
He stayed calm the whole time and it was more irritating than any reaction.
“And you didn’t think to call or text. You just left and took my bracelet with you. And then you had three weeks to tell me that you remembered, but you didn’t.”
He stepped closer and cupped my face with both hands gently but firmly.
“Fuck I know I messed up! That’s why I texted you! I left my airpods there on purpose so I’d have another excuse to talk to you.
I’m sorry y/n. That night in summer meant more to me than you know. But I never used to let my emotions take over me and I was scared I was falling for you. That’s why I left.
But these 6 months with you made me realize I’m not scared anymore.
I like you y/n, I really fucking like you. So much it actually hurts.
And I was going to tell you that I remembered who you were the day you told me to forget the make out happened. So I kept my mouth shut.”
My eyes looked into his blue ones as he finally spoke the truth.
When he finished, his hands were still on either side of my face and he waited desperately for me to say something.
His lips curled into a small smile. That same perfect smile I saw for the first time on that summer night and fell in love with.
He let out the biggest exhale of relief as he stood up straight and leaned in gently.
His eyes darted to my lips as his breath ghosted over them.
He whispered in that same raspy voice that made my stomach and someplace even lower, flutter.
I nodded, my eyes on him as he finally closed the gap between us.
The kiss was soft and slow. It knocked me off my feet almost immediately.
I held onto the hem of his hoodie as I got on my tiptoes to reach him better.
He was quick to switch positions, so that now I was the one being pinned to the counter.
He pulled me closer, if that was even possible, as his tongue darted out to taste me.
The kiss deepened as he lifted me up to sit on the counter. He spread my thighs and stood between them, neither one of us stepping back for air.
His hands traveled down to my thighs to hold me in place as his lips traveled down my neck.
He trembled against my neck as I whispered his name out like that.
He effortlessly picked me up and carried me to his bedroom.
Clothes were thrown all over the floor as he layed me gently on his mattress.
“You’re trembling. Just relax yeah?”
He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.
I nodded and tried to calm the rush spurring through my body.
He was so gentle. So perfect.
Both of us were sober this time, and it still felt as good as it did when we were drunk.
He knew exactly what he had to do, which spots to reach, and where to touch to make me completely fall apart beneath him.
The night was full of emotions and desperate touches.
He swore he’d never let me go.
After we had our do-over, he’d hate to have made me feel the way he did last time.
He took care of me until I was in his arms again, wearing one of his t-shirts.
“You okay pretty girl?”, he asked as he placed soft kisses on the back of my neck.
I nodded, feeling safe in his arms.
“I won’t forget you this time.”, he promised as we both drifted to sleep in the moonlight, tangled together.
