The Jock, The Nerd and The Geek

26

"So she doesn't remember me?" Marcos asked. A tear dropping on his cheek. "Any— Anything about me?"

"She doesn't remember me either," Alexander let out a sarcastic laugh, his hand moving to his hair. "After everything."

"Happy two year anniversary."

"Eros. Because you're the God of Desire."

"I love you. How do you not see it?"

"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen,"

"Did the Doctor say we can get the memories back?" Paris asked. Marcos could sense the franticness in his voice as he did so. "What we have to do—"

Hezekiah frowned at him. "We're not getting them back." Paris paused, his eyebrow raising, Marcos looking at him as he continued, his eyes eyes turning back to Alex that was laughing at something Alia said, "It's better this way. This— This is a blessing. It's best she forgets."

"That's—" The hardness in Paris' eyes suddenly melted, his voice coming out weaker than he had sounded all day. "You don't have a right to choose that."

Hezekiah didn't bother to look at him, his hand rightening around the head of his stick. "I'm her Father—"

"When have you ever been a Father to her?" Paris snapped.

Hezekiah's eyes immediately turned to him, his eyes holding a darkness in them as he hissed, "How dare you speak to me in such a tone?"

"You left your daughter in the hands of a woman that abused and hurt her. Constantly. And you speak of being a Father to her?"

Marcos felt his stomach lurch, the foods inside him threatening to pour out as he held unto the male's arm. "Paris—"

"No, I'm not done." Paris snapped, though he didn't let go of Marcos, his eyes still on Hezekiah. "Alex has gone through shit, and you want her to forget how she survived through it?"

"She doesn't need to remember!" Hezekiah suddenly yelled then let out a sigh, his next words coming out cracked. As he spoke, he looked older than his actual age. Whatever bravado he was putting on fading away. "I-I made a mistake. I hurt my family. I destroyed it, and there's no day I don't hate myself for it. You t-think I didn't try? Do you
know Alex at all? Everytime I tried, she violently cut me off. She swore that I'd never see her again and I couldn't let t-that happen."

"My daughter was the happiest child in the world," His eyes looked cloudy, his face twisted. "She was brave, and smart. And she never ever had to hate anyone. Yes, I shouldn't have— Have lied for this long. I know that, and I've tried making up for it but when I look at Alex, I know I can't fix it. I've been to wars, I've fought people. I've seen darkness and faced it. And yet, I—" He took in a breath, a fake chuckle leaving his lips. "I can't face Alex. She has— She has scars that would never go away. Demons that she can never get rid of her. My daughter— My daughter suffers everyday and there's nothing I could do about it, and now, my daughter for the first time in years, looks— Looks like she can finally breathe. Like she's free from everything tying her town. And you want me to let her remember that?"

Marcos turned to the room, his breath hitching. Hezekiah— Hezekiah was right. Alex... There was a new glow to her, he had noticed it too as well. She seemed... Different. But free.

Just like how she did with him and Paris. Except— Except she was only that way with them. He knew when she was alone, she fought many things. Suffered. But if she couldn't— Couldn't remember that...

Paris on the other hand seemed to be piecing the same thing Marcos was as he began to stammer, his tone hurt and angry at the same time. "You— You still have no fucking choice—"

"You know it's best," Hezekiah said, looking at both of them. "There are things— That I know we all wish she doesn't remember,"

Him leaving her alone with Adriana.

Paris planning to use her.

Marcos hurting her.

Adriana abusing her.

"So we just do what?" Marcos looked at him, a stiff chuckle leaving his lips. "Stay away from her?"

"Yes. If you truly loved her, you'd let her go. You'd let her be happy. She deserves that."

Let her go.

Marcos nodded, his hand clenching into a fist before he suddenly turned away, his feet walking fast till he was outside, far away from the hospital, his arms around his body, his hand digging into them as he let everything he had been holding out.

The pain erupted out, screams leaving his lips as the realization hit him more and more.

Alex doesn't know who I am. She doesn't remember anything about us. She doesn't remember holding me. She doesn't remember kissing me. She doesn't remember singing to me. She doesn't remember making love to me. She doesn't remember saving me.

Warm hands wrapped themselves around his body, holding him before he could fall to the ground, Paris whispering into his ear. "Marcos. Marcos, please, calm down—"

"Calm down?" Marcos cut in, pushing himself out of Paris' grasp so he could look at him. His face was completely red. His face teary. "H-How can I—? We've— we've been through so many things together. Three years. All of it gone. Do you understand that?"

The dark haired male looked exactly the same way he did. Except he looked like he was about to explode, his words coming out in hurt breaths as he asked, "Do I understand? No. Of course not. I never knew her the way you did, but I hoped that I would. Unlike you, I was never lucky to know her for a year. I was never lucky enough to get her to be mine for that long. I was never lucky enough to be loved by as long as you were? Fuck, Marcos. Our relationship was just beginning. And—" Then he laughed. "And now, it's practically non existent, but—"

Paris looked at him, his face soft. "She wouldn't want us regretting anything. Right now. I'm having so many what ifs. So many choices I wish I made. That I never left her. That I fucking forced myself to stay. That we stayed. But if— If we keep sticking to the past, we'd never go as far as she wanted for us."

"But what's the point if she's not there, Paris?"

"She was teaching us how to live without her. Fuck, maybe she knew this would happen. Maybe she could tell. I don't fucking know what goes on in that head of hers, but we can't go back. She— She has a chance to forget every thing she's gone through. Every pain. She's cared for us. Put us before her many times. This— This is our turn, Marcos."

O-Our turn?

The brown eyed male felt himself sniff, his hand moving to his face so he could wipe his nose as he asked, "B-But I don't know... I don't know if I can do that, Paris. I don't think—"

The words cut off as the green eyed male was holding him again, this time, Marcos' face was pressed to his chest as he said, "You won't have to do it alone. I'd always be here. I promise,"

~

My heart literally screamed as I wrote this chapter. Like it fought to get out of my chest and just leave me to die without it.