Cindy | Charming

He could see her now.

Her small frame was slightly supported by the tree they used to always play on. With a sigh, her head tilted back, bathing in warm spring sun and she smiled slightly, sun-kissed cheeks pulling up the corners of her pink lips.

But in another blink, she released her weight on the tree and began to scan around for any signs of a particular someone; him.

In that moment, the spring wind blew through the soft pillows of her golden hair, giving it life and familiarity, familiarity to him.

And he remembered how it had always been like that.

When they had first met.

When they had first talked.

When they had first played in this playground with their own childish happiness. And when they had made that tree their sacred tree.

When she had fallen. Off that said tree.

When he had come to visit her at the hospital.

When he was told she was in concussion.

When his conversations to her were responded with silence.

God, even when she had forgotten everything, her bloody beautiful hair was the exact same.

It broke him.

His eyes broke away from her figure, but instead towards the roof of that tree. They had practiced many times for the school play around that tree.

He remembered.

"Charming! Prince Charming! Won't you come save me?"

Her childlike voice brought tears to his eyes and he would kill to hear that voice again. He remembered.

At his long silence, the green-eyed girl frowned in displeasure.

"Chase Park, come on! Say your next line! Come on!"

Oh how he loved it when she called his name.

He remembered.

He loved her. Forgoing their practice for the school play, he got down on one knee - just like those men he watched in his sister's beloved soap dramas.

He would only do this for her; his princess.

"Princess Cindy, Won't you marry me?"

He remembered.

Her beautiful eyes lit up from the change of script but she was utterly delighted. With a loud squeal and a massive grin, she had leapt into his arms.

She giggled as she looked up to him.

"Weren't you supposed to save me?"

He remembered.

He laughed in response, feeling her weight against his arms. He would keep her safe, forever.

"Do I still need to?"

He was ten.

She was ten.

It was nothing but a childhood promise. A childhood love.

And the accident happened a year later.

She forgot.

Everything.