forget me nots are filler flowers (reader x c!wilbur)

ch.1: aloe, for affection and grief

You wake up in a warm bed, wrapped gently in heavy quilts and linen sheets. The room around you is particularly nondescript, just wooden paneling and a window facing out into a field of ice and snow. The fireplace is crackling with light and heat, flickering as if beckoning you to it. You slide your feet around and sit up, pressing them tentatively to the floor as if they might break right through, might reveal this to all be a fever dream created by your addled mind.

Your head was pounding, so much so that you couldn't even think straight. There was no memory of how you got here, and even more concerning, who you were here with. The fire was a dead giveaway, someone else was here with you, but you were utterly incapable of remembering their face. Or...your own face. You run your hands over your own skin like a sculptor searching for the spirit of their clay, and come up short for any sort of recognition. Your brain tries to put a name to the face it cannot see and draws a blank.

"You're awake," a somewhat gruff voice calls out from the door you'd forgotten was open. Your eyes dart up to the tall, slender man leaning against the doorframe. His long pink hair is braided back, held in place by a thin band of gold that matched the buttons and epaulets of his jacket and long, sweeping red cloak. You might have known him, once, for all the trust he had to keep that enchanted sword on his hip and not at your throat. He seems to sense your hesitation, shifts in place and crosses his arms over his chest with a huff. "Look, I know you probably never wanted to end up here, but-"

"I'm sorry," you timidly mutter, and he stops mid-rehearsed rant, eyes widening as you speak up and continue, "I don't know who you are." That thrum in the back of your mind returns, a spike of pain behind your eye so powerful that you had to close your eyes and shake your head. It was only a moment, and you open your eyes just in time to catch the end of the man pulling his hand back, as if he had been reaching out to comfort you on instinct. Or, perhaps you'd just imagined it. After all, the cool disregard that he now displayed wasn't that of someone comforting a friend.

"I'm afraid...I'm afraid I don't know you either," he answers finally, tapping his immaculately cleaned boots against the floor, as if thinking. "There was a storm yesterday, as I was returning from a hunting trip. I came back to find you curled around my doorstep half-buried in a snow drift. Nothing with you but a ratty cloak and a half-broken axe. An iron axe," he quirked an eyebrow, rolled his eyes at the very notion of carrying anything less dangerous than diamond.

"I appreciate you taking me in so I didn't...y'know. Die." You shifted slightly, pulling at the open collar of the strange suit you were wearing. Another remnant of a past you no longer had access to. "Did we...did I know you? Before today?" He seems to think this over for a long while, a flicker of something dark crossing his eyes for a only a moment before he shakes his head.

"Regardless of if you knew me, I didn't know you," he answers, calm and secure. "I assume you were running from mobs, or simply freezing in the cold and looking for a respite. My compound is the only 'civilization'," he adds sarcastic finger quotes and another eye roll to this, "for miles around. I doubt you had much of a choice."

"Then you're an even better man than I first assumed, thank you," you say, and his eyes grow wide. "I mean, it's one thing to save a friend, but a stranger? You owed me nothing, and you still risked your life for me. You're a hero." His lip twitches up, and only now do you see the sharp tusks poking out from either side of his mouth. Oh, he's a hybrid. He scoffs and turns to leave, and you jump to your feet to follow him.

"Wait!" You call out, shaky on your feet as you cross the room and lean heavily on the doorframe. The door to your room is on a wooden balcony over a large, beautiful den, decorated in dark woods and solid stone with a roaring fire taller than you burning in the great hearth. You notice four other doors on the balcony, and the man who'd saved you quickly descending the stairs. You hurry to follow him, grabbing him by the collar only to have your wrist placed in an immediate vice grip. For only a moment it felt like he was going to break your arm, as his fingers curled around it, as he looked back at you with an animalistic glint in his eye. And then, before you can say anything he lets you go, his hand shaking as he draws it back to his side, turns back to fully face you with nothing but regret in his eyes.

"I'm-" you both start at the same time, before he shakes his head, letting you speak first. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have grabbed you like that."

"I shouldn't have reacted like that," he counters. He shakes his head, looking away from you as he heaves a deep sigh. "I shouldn't have done that. You've lost...I shouldn't have made one of your only memories one of violence."

"That's the great thing about memories, you can always make new ones," you offer, and he gives you a noncommittal shrug in return. You extend a hand for a handshake, and he readily takes it with a firm, calloused grip. "I don't...I wish I could give you my name, but I don't quite...I..." He almost lets his hand drop, but you reach out to cover it with your own before he can. "I'd like to know the name of the person that saved me. If that's alright," you ask, and something nearly imperceptible flickers behind his eyes, a momentary flash of sadness, and then is gone, filled once more with steely emptiness.

"Techno is fine," he responds curtly, and you finally let his hand drop. "Just Techno. What would you like to be called?"

"I don't know. Don't remember," you answer plainly, with a shake of your head. "I suppose if anyone comes looking for me you could just describe me to them? Or tell them the direction I went." He seems confused at this, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes at you, as if searching for a motive. "I...I'll get out of your hair soon, I just need to gather my things and-"

"What are you talking about?" he deadpans, resting one hand on the bannister of the stairs.

"I don't want to impose on your hospitality," you counter. "I've recovered, so I'll-"

"You're free to leave if you'd like," he cuts you off, shaking his head vehemently, "I don't want you to feel trapped. But I'm not asking you to leave. Do you understand? You're not imposing on anything." He turns and continues down the stairs again, gesturing back to you over his shoulder. "The goal was for you to live, not just recover enough to die willingly over something as small as pride." He points at you from the bottom of the stairs near the front door as he adjusts his cloak. "Get some more rest." And then he's gone, out into the swirl of the continuing storm.

++++++++++++++++++

There's a knock on the door early in the morning. You know it's Techno. It must be. But in the three days since your first conversation, he hadn't been back. It was strange, being alone in a stranger's home, but if anything it only gave you more reason to stay. Wouldn't want to leave the house vulnerable to bandits and repay the kindness he'd done you with misery. So you'd stayed. You ate little, and tried to tidy up as best you could to repay what you'd taken. There was even a chance to wash your uniform. As it turned out, it wasn't grey as you'd originally thought, it was a dark navy blue. It had just been covered in some sort of ash, strangely enough. It smelled almost sweet, like almonds, and you wondered if maybe you'd just fallen into a campfire.

Regardless, a knock on your door could only mean that Techno was back. You sprung up, already dressed save for your boots, and hurried to the door. To your surprise, instead of a man, you found a bow, a set of fine winter clothes in shades of blue and white, and a small note on top of it all, tied to a single glowing arrow.

Taking longer than expected , the note read. We'll train when I get back. Wanted to return this in the meantime. It's yours, so I apologize for lying. I only wanted to fix it before returning it. I hope you can forgive me.

When you picked up the bow and arrow it was as if a gear clicked back into place, spurring on a new mechanism. You quickly changed into the new winterized clothes Techno had gotten you and were surprised by just how well they fit. Did he make them himself? Did he already have a set miraculously in your size? You weren't sure, but the jacket was warm, the boots were snug, and the cloak was...a bit extra for your tastes, so you left it on the bed as you trudged outside for the first time into the blinding sun and snow.

The storm had settled now, the skies as clear as can be as you looked out, not even bothering to leave the porch before firing an arrow perfectly into the hollow of one of the trees at the edge of the clearing. You pulled back the string without even thinking and fired again. It landed just above the first arrow, close enough to splinter the wood. Whoever you'd been before, they sure were good with a bow.

You took the note out of your pocket and read it again, dropping the bow to your side even as your blood pulsed, ready for more target practice. He'd been so sure that you'd stay. Maybe you would. You'd at least stay until he returned, if only to thank him for the gifts. And maybe you'd practice with this bow in the meantime. It might be good to see just how much your body remembered that your mind didn't.