In which you got in a bad car accident, and have troubles remembering things, especially me. However, every morning you get flowers from our garden and ask me to run away with you.

I got a bit inspired for this by watching 50 First Dates. Also a bit inspired by a story on Tumblr I saw.

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There were countless vases of flowers in the house. Every one was so uniquely different, and it sometimes amazed me that there was never a duplicate one in the house at the same time. There were roses, tulips, daisies, and all sorts of other flowers. Some vases only had one or two in them, others had handfuls of them.

It all depended on what he was feeling when he woke up. And what he saw of me that morning.

Right now he was sleeping, so I stayed in the kitchen. I did random tasks, whether it be cleaning the kitchen, or preparing food for later in the day. I also mentally prepared myself for the conversations I would be having shortly. They all began to be routine, the questions he asked, yet he still could surprise me once in awhile.

The sound of a door shutting made me look up this morning. I smiled to myself, knowing he was now up. I heard quiet sound of shoes on the wood flooring, and soon, the tall blonde stepped into the kitchen. He was wearing a simple pair of jeans and a black t-shirt, and I watched as he finally saw me, then stopped dead in his tracks.

"Hi, Scott." I spoke softly.

He quickly looked around himself, probably wondering what was going on. A small smile showed up on his face as he turned back to me and took me in.

"Uh, hi."

He slowly, carefully walked towards me, but made sure to leave plenty of room between us as he wandered around the kitchen. I knew he was searching for a mug to get some coffee this morning, luckily for him, I never could bring myself to move them.

I could feel his eyes on me as he moved around the space, yet I wasn't uncomfortable. If anything, I knew that he was. I was just some guy to him, and I knew he was just trying to take me in. He ended up a few inches to my left, fumbling with the coffee maker. I let my eyes drift over to him, and eventually caught his gaze in mine. He quickly looked away, and I smiled lightly to myself. He kept stealing glances at me for the few minutes he stayed in the kitchen with me, but I kept to myself.

After a few minutes of silence, he wordlessly left the house through a door leading to the backyard, leaving me alone with my thoughts again.

I remembered when it happened. The thing that caused these difficult mornings. The crash. Somedays I could remember it so vividly, I could have sworn it happened the day before. Although, in all reality, it was 6 months ago.

I remember being at work later in the afternoon, and suddenly getting a phone call from the hospital. While rushing there, I saw his car somewhere on the street between our house and the shop I was at. I managed to get there quickly, but wasn't able to see him until later. I spent the next hour or two sitting in the waiting room, calling a few of his close friends, then his parents. Once I ended the conversation with them, a doctor finally showed up, asking for anyone who knew him. I hurried over to him, eager to hear anything. He started out with the good news that he was alive and stable. That's all that mattered to me in that moment, so I cut him off, asking to see him. He said yes, but then continued to talk as we walked.

My heart was already beginning to break by the time I got to his room. The doctor said, no major external injuries, just some minor cuts and bruises. However, the internal damage was something I wasn't ready for. The second he said the word 'amnesia', I was ready to run away. They said they weren't quite sure what he could and couldn't remember, and that they would be testing him tomorrow. I asked why not today, and was given the answer that he was asleep. Sure enough, I turned to the room, and he looked about as peaceful as one could while in a hospital bed.

I walked into the room, and pulled up a chair close to his bedside. I carefully grabbed one of his hands in mine, then squeezed it gently.

I don't know how long I stayed in that room, just sitting there, before someone else came in and disturbed us. It was a police officer that came to the room later that evening.

He requested to talk with me outside of the room, which I reluctantly agreed to do. He spoke with me partially about the other driver, and how he had physically gotten much more hurt than Scott did. However, once better, the man would be charged with various felonies. The second and last thing he told me was what Scott had on him. He handed over a pair of car keys and his wallet, then a bouquet of classic red roses. I was confused when he first walked in with them, but once he handed them over, Scott's plan for the night fell into place. The police officer left after that, and I quickly went back into Scott's room.

He woke up an hour or two after that. A few minutes before, and his parents announced that they would be here the next day. When his eyes first opened, I waited anxiously for them to find me. When they found me, I was expecting the worst, and the worst was what I got. He asked for my name, and I barely answered when the doctor walked in. I was thankful for that, still not quite ready to face it on my own. The doctor soon left, letting Scott continue to question me. I wasted no time telling him our relationship status, which soon brought a small smile to his lightly bruised face. He was in disbelief, asking how he ever got his hands on me. I blushed, not quite ready for him to say something like that.

It was already late at night when I told him that, and I had to leave pretty quickly after our little moment. I was up quite early the next morning and I had no trouble doing so, due to my lack of sleep that night. It was a mix of me being overly worried about him, and it being the first night sleeping alone in a few years. I was only up for a little while when I heard knocking on the door of our house. I groggily opened the door, but was snapped awake and back to reality when I saw his parents faces. I quickly invited them in and gave them big hugs, already feeling my emotions chiming in. Their presence made me so much more anxious to get back to the hospital, and I wasted no time getting ready.

On the ride over, I warned them about Scott's condition, but to my surprise, they stayed fairly calm. I wish I had even half of their ability to stay calm, my leg was shaking the whole ride there. I didn't know what to expect when I got to the hospital, besides the overwhelming chance that he didn't remember them. I wanted them to have their chance alone, so I let his parents go into his room first. I watched the clock in the waiting room, forcing myself to wait at least 10 minutes. I walked slowly down the busy hallway then stopped right outside of his door. I heard their voices in the room, but couldn't make out a single word through the sound of everyone around me. I knocked lightly on the door, before carefully opening it.

I immediately looked to his parents when I entered the room. I saw his father glance towards me, but I could only see a part of his mother, hidden by a wall. I quietly closed the door behind me, then slowly took the steps forward, revealing myself to him. I looked up from the space in front of myself and to him. I could have smiled in that moment as I saw Scott conversing with his mom. I didn't know how they were already talking so easily, but I applauded their ability to do so. He was turned slightly in his bed, facing her, and therefore, didn't see me right away.

Eventually his eyes shifted around the room, but then went right back go his mom as they kept talking. I once again could have smiled as he did a double take on me, completely stopping his conversation. I wasn't sure what to do. I was waiting from a sign from, any sign whatsoever. He remained silent for what seemed like hours, but in all reality, probably wasn't even a minute. In that time, I managed to let out a small greeting, but he didn't say a word.

Until he asked who I was.

The words couldn't seem to sink in. I was ready for him to break into a smile and say that he was kidding, but it never happened. He glanced to his parents, looking for answers, before going back to me and repeating his question.

I looked back and forth between him and his parents, feeling the tears come to my eyes. I struggled to take in his words, but once I did, I ran from the room. I stumbled into the hallway, but stopped once I saw that it was now completely empty. I let out a loud, shaky breath I didn't know I was holding. I ran my hands through my hair, still unable to cope with what had just happened.

I leaned against the hall outside of his room, letting my head fall back. It was dead silent in the hallway, which unfortunately allowed me to hear the new conversations inside. I couldn't hear his parents muffled replies, all I could truly focus on was his voice. I remembered his words so clearly.

First, he questioned his parents as to where I went. Then, he made it known that he wanted me back. He called me beautiful again. He asked who I was and what my name was. His parents must have told him the truth, because he then asked if I truly was his. He kept going, not completely believing them. But then, he asked for either one of his parents to find me, and get me to come back.

I took a step away from the door, knowing I only had a few seconds before someone came out. I knew it could only be his mother or father, but I wasn't ready for either one of them. So when his mom came through the door, more teary-eyed and red-faced than before, I couldn't stop my own tears any longer. I'm not sure how long we stayed in the hallway, hugging each other, praying for something to get better.

I talked to his doctor later in the day after Scott's testing was done. He explained how there was two types of amnesia, and how this morning clued them into the fact that Scott was experiencing the both of them. Both left him unable to remember certain things. I was told that he couldn't remember a majority of things prior to the crash. Almost nothing had stayed in his mind after that occurred. They said he would have trouble creating new memories, which was evident when he didn't recognize me today. However, they also said there was a possibility of him being able to retain the occasional thing. This was proved when he was vaguely able to remember the crash, and not be in utter confusion when he woke up in the hospital. At the end of our conversation, I was left confused, upset, and just about hopeless.

He was let out of the hospital two weeks after the crash.

I still hadn't got used to the fact that he couldn't remember my name, and it grew more difficult when we were on our own. His parents volunteered to stay with us for a little while, considering he knew of them, but I declined, needing time for ourselves.

In the months following, I got a pretty good concept of what he remembered, could potentially remember from day to day, and what he couldn't at all.

In the beginning, the most major thing was the crash. He continued to vaguely remember it. He knew that it was a bad car crash. He knew it severely affected his brain. He also knew that he couldn't remember everything.

After that phase was done, it came down to more daily things. He could usually remember things quite well from day to day. He knew of basic, minuscule things and other, daily things. For example, he knew that he woke up in his house. He knew his way around the place, and where everything was. He knew that he had no job.

Although he knew these simple things, after a half a year passed, there were still two main struggles for him.

The first one was dates. It made perfect sense why he couldn't remember them, as it was something so specific. With repetition he could remember basic things, like his birthday, or the months of some important holidays.

The second, bigger struggle for him was people.

He normally remembered people who had been in his life forever. His parents were easy after he first saw them again, and relatives also stayed in his mind easily. Sometimes names were hard, but he could easily say who was his mom, dad and siblings.

He remembered his friends a little less. He would often recognize his friends, but was unable to put a name with the face. He could stare at them for countless minutes, then come up with something relatively close. His very good friends were quite understanding, which I was glad for.

But then it came to me. He still couldn't remember me no matter how hard he tried.

As cute as I occasionally found it, my heart almost always broke when he asked for my name. I often blamed his inability to remember me on the fact that I hadn't been in his life long enough. We'd only known each other for three years, together for two and a half. The crash got rid of those years just like that.

Because of this, I found myself changing my life for him. I had to work to get money to support the both of us, but I always tried to work in the afternoon, after he got up and saw me. When I wasn't working, I dedicated my day to him, ready to support and help him if he needed it.

I often wondered how difficult it was for him, if he could grasp the concept of not being able to remember things, if he knew that parts of his life was missing. Occasionally I got my answer, finding him distraught at the fact he couldn't remember me, or some other important fact. It frustrated him how he could remember some things, but not others, and how that created gaps in his mind. I tried my best to help him, but it didn't always work, I couldn't possibly understand what he was going through.

Even though he couldn't remember me, he did remember one thing in particular. The little flower garden behind our house. I wondered if it had anything to do with the flowers that were in the car with him then. As much as my heart broke hearing him ask for my name, I grew to love with the next part of the morning.

It all started about two months after the crash.

He would come into the kitchen, where I normally was, after he woke up in the morning. He would approach me with a shy 'hi', and that would be the end of it. He would shower, or get dressed, then spend the rest of his morning in the garden near our house. He would spend quite a bit of time picking out the perfect ones, then give them too me. His words that followed always made me fall in love with him all over again, and even harder every day.

This morning, he was out there a bit longer than normal. I was curious as to what was going through his mind this morning, just what he wanted to show me with the flowers. I didn't know if it was intentional or not, but the flowers he picked always sent a certain message to me.

A few minutes later, and I heard the door click open. I looked up, across the kitchen, and just barely saw the edge of his arm. A moment later, he used his free hand to push the door open further. He then stepped into the house, holding a bouquet of flowers I couldn't quite make out yet. He quickly turned around to push the door shut, then slowly back to me.

"You're back," I said, acknowledging him. He let a small smile show before approaching me. I then was able to take in the flowers he was holding. Bright red roses were clutched tightly in his arms, and I sucked in a quick breath. He had picked similar ones out a few times, but I wasn't quite ready to see them again.

Once he got close enough, he held them out to me. I tore my eyes off of the flowers and to him. He gave me a brief smile before finally speaking.

"They're for you."

It took me a moment to gather my thoughts, but then took them from him. I finally let out the breath I had been holding. I turned my attention to the flowers, taking in the sight of them.

"Thanks, Scott. These are so pretty," I spoke honestly.

"Yeah. They're almost as pretty as you." I smiled lightly as I continued to play with the flowers in my hand.

"I think someone told me once upon a time."

"Really? Who?" I simply shook my head, unable to answer. He paused for a moment, but I was sure his eyes were still on me.

"Can I be honest with you for a moment?"

"Yes. Of course." I finally looked up and met his blue eyes. I recognized the expression he was wearing now. He was unsure of himself, he always was, but as nervous as he got, he always followed through.

"I don't really know who you are... or why you're in my house, but I find you really cute, and you seem to be a really good guy."

"Where are you going with this?"

"We should run away together."

I smirked as he said those words, practically able to say the words with him. He always said that line, but it never got old to me. I carefully set the flowers down on the counter in front of me, then turned back to him.

"Why do you say that?"

"You seem, well, perfect. We should run away together. We should be together. You should be my husband. We could have a great life."

My smile only got wider as he talked.

"Scott?"

"Yeah?"

"I already am."

"You already are... what?"

"I already am your husband."

His entire face lit up, eyes much wider, and the corners of his lips lifted upwards. I loved his smile, especially the ones that showed after I broke the news to him. The smile almost made me forget that he forgot me.

"Really?" He said in disbelief.

"Yeah. I'm already yours." He remained silent for a moment, his jaw still half open and a lopsided grin on his face. "And we already do have a life together. A great one. I know it might be weird for you, and you might not believe it, but its completely true. And if you want... I can show you. Can I show you?"

"Yes," he spoke after more silence. "Please."

I grabbed his hand gently in mine, and he gladly squeezed it back. I led him throughout the house to our bedroom, then to an older dresser in our room. I stopped in front of it, then reached for a small piece of jewelry laying on it.

"My wedding ring," I spoke. I showed it to him, then slipped it onto my left hand.

"Where's mine?"

I picked up the one that was laying a few inches away. I grabbed his hand, then placed the ring on his palm. He picked it up and examined it for a minute before sliding it on his hand as well.

"We're married," he said, the words finally starting to sink in.

"Yeah. Do you want to see pictures, or do you believe me?"

"I believe you, but I want to see." I smiled lightly. He never declined the offer.

"Go sit down, I'll be there in a minute."

Scott simply nodded his head before leaving my side. I walked away too, headed towards our closet. I went to my side of it, the rummaged around for the stack of polaroids on the top shelf.

He had only ever found them once or twice, which I was glad for. The morning he did, it made it incredibly complex. While I didn't need to do much explaining about myself, he had an even harder time wrapping his mind around the fact he couldn't remember me.

I grabbed the stack of photos, then walked back out towards the main room where he was. He was seated on the bed as I requested, eyes still set on his ring. I watched him flex his hand a few times before finally glancing up. I sat on the bed next to him, then took the rubber band off of the pictures. I wordlessly handed them over.

"These are so cool." I hummed in agreement, then instinctively smiled when I saw him do the same.

I watched him look through the pictures, flipping through one or two every minute. He would occasionally run his thumb over my figure in a picture.

I always wondered what was going through his head. I could remember every picture perfectly, but these were all things I wasn't sure about for him. He occasionally remembered big events, like one of his birthday parties which was included in a picture, but I wondered what it was like to now know something was missing.

Then, he began looking up at me after every picture. One day, after doing the same thing, he admitted to me that he was just verifying that I was the same person. Part of me thought that there was more to it than that, and he was hiding something.

Either way, he now knew for today. And that's all that mattered in this moment. I knew I'd be repeating this process in about 24 hours, but for today, I needed to have as much time with him as possible.

I rested my head against his shoulder as I watched him get to the bottom of the pile. A few minutes later he was staring at the last one, my personal favorite. It was the very first picture taken the day we got our wedding photos taken. It was a cooler LA day, and between the two of us, I was feeling the affects of the cold the most. His arms were wrapped tightly around my torso as he held me against his chest. Moments before the picture was taken, we were discussing what would have been our first picture. Right before it happened, Scott had spoken to me, an overly cute admission of love packed into one sentence. I glanced up at him then, resting my chin on his chest. That was the first time the camera went off that day.

Upon seeing the picture, people often wondered what he had said that had gotten that look out of me. I always shook my head, saying it was just a look of love. After the accident, I soon realized I was now the only one who remembered what he had said.

I wanted him to remember that moment. And all of the other ones we experienced together.

I just wanted him to remember me.

But at least he got me flowers every morning.