Jamais Vu || JHS

Jamais Vu

jamais vu (medical definition) - (n.) a disorder of memory characterized by the illusion that the familiar is being encountered for the first time.

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Hoseok's POV

I saw her. For the first time in over 10 years, I saw her. I was heading back to my room after picking up a spare keycard once the guys and I had finished performing at the stadium down the street when I glanced at the very busy hotel lobby. It looked like there was some kind of business conference ending late, judging from the clothing of the people spilling out of a large ballroom.

Using the crowd as a cover in case any paparazzi were lurking around, I blended in until I had almost reached the elevators. Just before I had slipped past a small group talking about a company acquisition, that's when it happened. I smelled honey-scented perfume. Frowning as a memory skittered across my mind, I swiveled my head, trying to place the origin of that once-familiar scent. Heading back inside the crowd, I frantically looked around as I followed my nose.

About to give up as the scent mixed with others in a dizzying haze, I caught another whiff, turning around in time to see a flash of curly black hair shot through with a startlingly familiar hairpin leaving the lobby. My heart in my throat, I elbowed my way through the crowd, distractedly apologizing as I tried to keep that elusive hairpin in my sights. Just as I exited the lobby once more, I ran towards the hallway I saw the figure disappear to. Nothing. No hairpin, no curly hair, just the dying notes of honey as it permeated the air.

Frustrated and rattled, I sighed and went up to my room, where I and the other members of my group had agreed to hang out for a bit. Swiping my keycard against the door, I staggered into the hotel room to the surprise of my waiting friends. Needing a minute, I nodded briefly in acknowledgement before making a beeline to the bathroom. Closing the door, I leaned against the sink as I let the long-suppressed memories wash over me again.

Ten Years Ago:

"Essie, hurry up," I said petulantly as I walked up to my girlfriend, who was taking her sweet time in the perfume store. "We're supposed to meet back up with the guys at the food court in less than 5 minutes."

"I'm almost done, I'm just waiting for the salesperson to bring my ordered perfume from the back," she said cheerfully, pecking me on the cheek upon my arrival.

"What's so great about that perfume that you have to go as far as making them order it instead of picking another one?" I said as I took her hand, tapping my foot in mild impatience. I wanted to spend the day with my friends and my girlfriend at the mall, but Essie made a beeline for the perfume store to pick up a perfume and hadn't moved in over 20 minutes.

"It's not that the perfume is so great, it's that it feels like me, and I like having a signature perfume. I've stuck with this one ever since I noticed that I always knew my mom's presence by her perfume. Isn't it nice to have something distinct that reminds others of you when they smell it?" she asked with a grin in my direction.

"I guess," I shrugged. It made sense. In the 3 months I had been in America and met Essie, and in the 2 months we'd been dating, that honey-scented perfume had been ever-present in all of my Essie-related memories. Thank goodness she didn't drench herself in it, or else I would have said something.

Despite my grumpiness, I liked her perfume. It was light, almost barely there, yet so distinct that I'd smile whenever I smelled it because I knew Essie was somewhere close even if I couldn't see her yet. In fact, I loved her cute little obsession with that perfume so much that I'd gifted her a gold honeycomb hairpin I'd commissioned for her birthday when I happened to find a jewelry artisan advertising handmade pieces at an art fair. Even though I had to beg the jeweler to make this special request, and bribed Jungkook to sketch it for me, I couldn't help but smile in satisfaction every time she wore it.