R-E-N-E-S-S-E
He can't remember his mum?
What?
"What do you mean you don't remember Livia?" I ask, bewildered. Either that concussion knocked out half his brain or he's just shitting me.
He's got be shitting me.
He sighs, like he knows I didn't believe him. Can't believe him. Interlacing his fingers together, he looks up at me with an expression I can't decipher.
"Renesse, I might have Amnesia. I know that it might seem crazy, but I really don't remember anything at all. I had to concentrate for an hour to remember my own name. It's all just a blur. I'm sorry but, I don't know you anymore."
Wow. Just wow. Fucking wow.
Thanks a lot, Karma. I definitely deserve this. Is this for the one time I forgot to feed my catfish?
"You're telling me you don't remember anything at all. Anything except your name? Do you recognize this woman? The strawberry blonde?" I say, pointing sharply to a picture of Livia and me.
He frowns.
"No. I know that it's my mother, but I don't know her name. Livia you said?" He asked, running his fingertips over the edges of the picture.
"Yeah. Livia. And that's your younger brother, Johnathan."
He nods, taking the picture and raking it's contents with his sharp eyes.
"I figured as much. The doctors don't have any documents of them. No medical files. Nothing." he says with a tinge of anger in his voice. "Its like they never existed."
"Aiden you were gone for eight years. To where I don't know, but even during the investigation of your disappearance, there was nothing they could find. I thought you were dead in a ditch somewhere. Then after eight whole fucking years, I get a text from an unknown number, saying it's you, and giving me a rendezvous."
His eyes widen. "What? How could I text you if I didn't even know who you were?"
I nod, standing up. "Exactly my point."
He stands up too, and now we were face to nose.
How compromising. He had a nice nose though.
I look into his eyes. Unfamiliar. How ironic, I thought. When we were younger, we'd promise each other that we'd never forget all the fun we had.
Look at us now.
I observe his face, pining for some sort of familiarity. His features had changed. Not drastically, like his eyes, but they'd changed. He'd gotten manlier. His face was defined, the sharp panes of his cheekbones and jawline gleaming in the dying rays of sunlight. His angular, regal face remained passive. His eyes were beautiful, a sharp mix of green and brown, with wisps of gold thrown in, but they were still unfamiliar. His lips were a soft pink and bow shaped, and he had no facial hair. His skin was a gleaming brown, but had a thin scar near the eyebrows.
In short, damn what a glow-up. I had an urge to run my fingers through his hair and massage his scalp, healing him and making him remember.
Happily ever after.
Yeah, bullshit.