Kairos - Blood (MxM) | Book 2 | ✅

23.Never Learn

Prof.Lancaster's office was on the top floor, among the most coveted — spacious and elegant. I knocked and entered without much ceremony. The guy was expecting me and the sooner our meeting ended, the faster I could go outside and have a smoke.

Sat behind a massive hardwood desk, Prof.Lancaster beckoned me inside with a careless hand gesture, not even a look my way. His lowered head and overall hunched pose suggested that he was enthralled by something in his lap. Could have been his phone, could have been a hard-on. I couldn't have cared less.

"A moment. I'm leaving a review..."

My brows raised as he continued to describe the restaurant he so ardently reviewed. I let my eyes wander around the office.

Books. More books. Diplomas. Books.

Some titles drew me in, interesting and familiar. 'Man and His Symbols'. 'Beyond the Pleasure Principle'. 'The Hero With a Thousand Faces'. Hah! That last one-

My gaze found Prof.Lancaster's face. He stood in front of his desk. A neatly trimmed salt and pepper beard masked his lips and black tired eyes peered at me.

I hadn't noticed him leaving his chair nor the silence imbuing the space between us until then.

It stole my breath away and for an instant, I thought some lust flickered in his stare.

"Do you see anything of interest, Prof.Finley?" His voice came in tones too smooth and grave, more appropriate to a date than a professional meeting.

"Let's get to our archetypal hero and his journey," I urged putting on a large grin.

Prof.Lancaster raised a finger. "Yes!" He darted behind his desk and opened a folder. "Your notes and ideas... Really captivating and intriguing."

He was gushing at my intellect, I liked to think.

We talked about the paper outline and decided on the major points our study should expand on. But once we touched on the finer details he seemed set on exploring pathological cases of multiple personality disorders while my own ideas faded to the background.

I didn't care about the paper enough to argue, but I did have a couple of things I needed to bring to our discussion.

"Prof.Lancaster, is it possible for someone to lock away part of their memories into fictional stories?"

His fingers drummed on the pile of papers before him.

"That sounds oddly specific," he spoke while seizing me up.

"Is it possible?"

"Perhaps," Prof.Lancaster said with a shrug and a subtle smile. "Is this research for a novel you're writing?"

"No." I took a moment then reconsidered, "Yes. And how would that work exactly? What would, er, the character need to do?"

He shrugged and let his tired gaze roam downward over the many papers we had dotted with notes and observations.

"Our memories are, at a very rudimentary level, stories that we tell ourselves."

"So it's possible for a teenager to do that?" I rushed to ask.

"A teenager? Is that your character?"

I nodded. Why not? Sure. Steve was a character.

"What happens to him?" Prof.Lancaster questioned.

"What do you mean?"

"A trauma usually triggers memory suppression as the mind tries to protect itself-"