Life After That Blind Date

Self reflection

"Clumsy dolt." He smirked as he gently kissed your healing thumb. After that, he started changing your bandage and cleaning your injury. You yawn and rubbed your eyes with an uninjured hand, it's eight in the morning and Vasilios decided to tend to your thumb first thing in the morning.

"How was your sleep?" You asked. Obviously asking him how his day went is pretty stupid. Vasilios paused to give you a kiss on the cheek, he loves how you're interested in his point of view.

This is something that nobody gave him before, something he always craved for. Finally, you're the only person who is willing to give it to him. He wanted a listening ear, everyone else talked over him or 'silenced' him with their amorous bodies. You're the only one who listened to what he has to say.

And he can never thank you enough, he loves you so much and you are the only one who made him truly happy to be in a romantic relationship.

...You're not interested at all, you. You just don't like the awkward silence. You rather bear with his chattering than the excruciatingly awkward quietness.

If he's silent, it brings you terrible memories back when he was... him during the first two weeks after that blind date. You tried your best to drown the memory of everything that has happened to you.

"It's wonderful, thank you for asking. Though, I did have an odd dream. So I was at this pecuiliar... tea party where the guests are all animals, there was a rabbit with a golden pocket watch, a striped cat with a wide—a bit unsettling grin..." you regretted asking him that question. Now he's talking about his dream non-stop.

You tuned out his cheerful ramblings and began self reflecting. Who are you, exactly? Where are your legal documents? When were you born? In your identity card, it says (your birthday). But that's the same day you joined the army.

Now that you think about it, you didn't made much friends because you had absolutely nothing to talk about. No childhood, no parents, no past. Who are you? Why are you here? How are you legally allowed to be here? You're technically non-existent until the age of 22!

You remembered being discharged a while later and seeing a minimal amount of money in your bank. You went job hunting for a while until you found Boss Carpentry... there was nothing in your resume except a picture and the fact that you served the army before. No place of education, no level of education, no past.

How did you even meet (f/n) in the first place!? You don't remember your first encounter with her, you only remembered finding her contact as "(f/n) matchmaker, call when horny" in your ancient phone. When and how did you get that phone in the first place?

Then... Brandy's weed farm. At least you remembered how you came to find and invest some of your savings in it. But the military? Why? How? You don't remember signing any papers or... preparing to leave a 'home'. Do you even have a home? Were you having dementia?

So many plotholes in your life. None of them were ever patched up.

You don't seem to have any strong feelings towards this topic anymore. You're just... numb to it. It isn't a pleasant feeling at all, though. It's more like having an unfillable void in your soul.

You want to find out. No, you have to find out.

"—and then, I ate a sugar cookie that made me grew rapidly until my head reaches the clouds. An airplane painted to look like Hermes crashed on my face, which led me to wake up at six in the morning. Just in time to prepare for the day." Vasilios proudly ended his 'speech' with a kiss on your forehead and your newly bandaged thumb.

"Weird dream." You replied. He nodded and pulled you to his lap, wrapping his arms around you protectively.

"Well? What about you, my darling? What did you dream about?" He cooed in your ear.

"...Can't remember." You mumbled. You actually can, it was a neverending nightmare of Vasilios repeating himself over and over again like a broken record.

Vasilios pouted and pressed a kiss on your cheek. "I love you." He whispered as he traces his finger along your collarbones.

"Same."