━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
It seemed so unfair, the dreadful course life had taken. Manon forgot, everything. And he was left to remember all of their memories, unable to let go, for if he would, any traces of her would be gone, forever.
Great efforts were made, so, so many. Timothée would visit her almost every single day. Sometimes he would bring friends and family, all as heartbroken by his side. Sometimes he would come with a gift, bearing something she had once loved, in a sheer attempt to make a difference. Sometimes it was a book, sometimes a movie, other times, a plant, but nothing changed. The deadening gaze would remain as hollow, wrecking him further apart.
Each time he stood by the door leading to her room, careless tears poured down his face, and he'd wipe them, put on a smile, and a sense of hope would overtake him, hope that perhaps as he'd walk through the door, she would remember, but each time she gave him a faint smile and shook her head.
She remembered everything after the accident, had gotten to know him since. They'd spend a lot of time together, but it was easy to see there was a heavy border between them, something missing, a lot missing. It wasn't the same, and as much as he loved her with all of his being, he couldn't deny that sat in front of him, was a complete stranger. It seemed as though she liked him, but she had so much going on, starting everything from scratch, that he was not her priority, as opposed to her being his only one.
And when her parents would visit, a sense of tension would take over the entire space. Timothée made sure to always be there when they were, watch her, protect her from danger. They seemed to get along, her parents as monotonous as they once were, not showing much emotion, but trying their best, trying more than they ever have.
He was helpless, knowing that when all would be over and the hospital would release her, she would go back to her parents. He couldn't ruin it for her, tell her the truth, because then who else would she have? Perhaps he was considered a friend, but he was no longer her family.
At times he was convinced that perhaps, it was for the better. That not having to remember everything Manon went through, would make her so much happier once she recovered. Then again, he didn't care much about that, for once letting himself be selfish. He wanted her back. After all, they had only just learned how to accept the past and get through it, they were making so much progress, and then it was gone as though no steps were ever taken.
Other times, he was angry, strained, digging his nails into his skin when his fists clenched a little too hard, convinced he wasn't able to hold it in anymore, before the darkest of all would come in, and as he would walk into their apartment after another exhausting day, everything would crumble, and he would cry, all alone.
Her shoes were still left in the corridor, the last sign of her past, pointing to her plants, which weren't doing well. He had hoped she would remember, return to water them herself, care for them and for him the way she always did, but he refused to do so himself, refused to accept what was, and the longer they remained without water, the longer she was vanishing to thin air. So as life dwindled from the greenery, it did from him, too.
Armie would visit often, try to rekindle her memory, reassure Timothée, knowing he had to be there for both people he lost. Everything she was, was gone, and the love of her life was spiraling into a place everyone feared he would never get out of, a place once visited.
His family was very concerned, as was Armie, for Timothée visited her every time, and the longer time passed, the lower his eyes hung, and the shine within them utterly seemed to disappear.
That day, the heartbroken boy did the same thing he did every other day. He composed himself as much as he could, took a deep breath and wiped his tears, walking into the room, watching her as she stared at him with an empty reaction, gifting him a smile that he had long learned meant, she did not remember.
"Hey" His voice trailed off, as positive as he could make it sound, for it was not her fault that she did not remember, and taking anything out on her would be unjust.
"Hey" She smiled, pausing a movie on a laptop that rested on her thighs, averting her full attention to him, used to pausing everything at his arrival "How are you"?
"I'm fine" He lied, the way he found himself doing every day since that accident "I got you something" Timothée pulled a wrapped box out of his backpack and handed it to her, their touch cold against each other.
"Thanks" Manon examined the package, presenting him with a thankful glance, before putting it aside on the drawer, leaving it to be opened another day.
"Any updates"? He leaned his head to the side, wondering to himself if there had been any news, his mind in a frenzy that there were, and he would have to face the consequences of his own ruin.
"Actually, yeah" Manon let out a sigh, as though dreading to have the conversation "I might be going home today".
"Home"? He raised his brow, sinking further into his seat. He was her home, not so long ago, and now he didn't bear any meaning to her.
"With my parents, back to England" The girl informed him, studying his features, the misery he tried to hold back, and before he could quite react, compose himself further, she opened her mouth again "I don't think we should talk anymore after this".
"What"? He raised a desperate question, for in his days of visiting, it never seemed as though she was uncomfortable. She seemed to enjoy having him around, or so he thought.
"I like you, okay? You're nice and you're funny, you're great company to keep" The girl explained wholeheartedly, her eyes darting between the thin air as she put together an explanation "But I can't do this anymore. I know what you're trying to do".
"I get it, okay? You want me to remember, trust me, I do too. And I try so hard, but it's not happening" Manon shook her head, merciless with her words, directed at him, and herself, as though admitting the hard truth both were attempting to avoid "And every time you walk into the room, I know how disappointed you are. I am too. I'm just, so tired" Her words quickly turned into a whisper of desperation, of loss and despair.
"This isn't good. For either of us" Manon looked down at her palms, drawing circles across the hospital sheets, bringing up a topic so sacred.
"So what"? He pulled himself back, restless at the idea "We just never see each other again"?
"Maybe it's for the best" The distant girl admitted plainly, staring right into his soul, shooting an arrow through him with the simplicity of one vacuous gaze "I'm sorry, okay? For your loss and your pain, I didn't mean to cause any of it" Tears were soiled in her eyelids, speaking of the pain she herself hid for so long.
Timothée couldn't say anything. He found himself frozen, resting his palm over his forehead in attempt to comprehend the situation he was in. How could he have gotten to the point he was losing her? What had he done wrong? Why was life so cruel?
Despite his pain, he listened. Because he could not deny her request, he wasn't the only one in pain "You're right" He conceded coldly, lifted his head up, barely holding himself together.
"I'm sorry, Tim. You deserve so much better than this" The girl aimed to comfort him, soften the blow, unable to imagine what he was going through, just as he was unable to imagine what she was going through.
"It's okay, it's not your fault" Timothée formed the most heartwarming smile he could, consoling her the way he would do until the end of his days "J-just, take care of yourself, okay? And if you ever need something, I'm always there" He rose from his seat, backing away as she watched him with mutual heartbreak, before he finally turned around and closed the door, never to see her again.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Every day felt the same. She'd spent the majority of her time staring up at the ceiling, where shining stars of her childhood remained. Her room was filled with so many things, yet it felt completely empty, just the same way she did. She felt nothing, when she knew she was supposed to feel everything.
Manon spend the majority of her time in the land of dreams. Sometimes she would stroll across the room, examine photographs and old fragments of what would seem like memories. Her room was big, as was the mansion it resided in. She'd occasionally take walks down the courtyard, examine the greenery, feeling drawn to it. In the morning she would wake to the butler coming in with a tray, bringing her delicacies she felt nothing towards. Sometimes her parents would peek in, exchange a few words with her, as though to make sure she was alive, before wandering away. Sometimes she would be the one to look for them, to meander across the ginormous mansion they lived in, all to ask them a random question about her past. Most often than not, they'd tell her they didn't know, and she would go back to her room as though nothing had ever happened.
The red head could feel the rigidity between them, even with the new opportunity they had received, one others would jump on in an attempt to rescue an old relationship, but she didn't dwell on it, because she did not care much, for what happened to them, or her. It all seemed passive, far beyond her reach, so instead, she idled in her room, pulling further away from reality.
It was one of those days where she felt uneasy, where she paced around her room, attempting to come up with something to do, inexplicable energy pumping through her veins. Only then did she sink into the many cardboard boxes that reigned over her room, maybe there she could find a point of interest, and she did.
A gift, the one that boy gifted to her.
The boy that never left her mind, he was. The look of heartbreak on his face haunted her at night, being the cause of her never ending nightmares. As much as she hated to admit it, she missed him. There was something about him, something that scared her but drew her in all the same. At times she wanted to reach out to him, but she felt as though he had a journey on his own to make, and she did not want to interfere on his way to happiness. Not when she knew that if she contacted him, he would bear the expectation that she was the girl he fell in love with.
Tossing the wrapping asside, a jewelry box rested in front of her, and in it, a necklace. It was a little rusty, worn out and no doubt gone through a lot, but there was something about it. The heart cut in half seemed appealing to her, and she couldn't help but wonder what was the story behind it. Manon pulled her hair up into a ponytail, before fastening the pendant around her neck, the metal clashing with her skin, causing her to do nothing but shiver.
And as she always did, she tumbled back into the bed, staring up into the void of her ceiling, that had become her domain. She tried to think to herself who owned the other half, figuring it was the boy. It was no secret to her they had something special before her accident, and she wondered of their story, of who she was before. It seemed as though she was very loved, with the amount of people that walked into her hospital room, greeting her as though they were long lost friends.
Manon wondered if she could ever amount to that, if starting from the ashes of the aftermath, she could achieve something worth living for, but the hope that remained evaporated, for that was so hard. Impossible, even.
She immediately sat up and burst into heavy tears, a repeating occurrence, not a day going by where tears of grief weren't spilled. Grieving herself, and things she did not know of. Without much conscious thought, she rested her palm over the necklace, as though it was calling her, and that was when, she remembered.
Never did she run so fast, no shoes on, gliding across the flawless tiles of her estrange home, catching the attention of many of the employees that looked after the grand house as if it was their child, screaming for her parents at the top of her lungs.
Their office had remained as where she had last remembered it was, and she burst in, heart heavy, breath short. As a child that sort of behavior was common, but the weeks and months that followed, it was nothing but silence, as though she didn't even exist. So when she broke through the door, her voice as adamant as it had always been, they knew.
"I remember"! Manon let out in fright, the two parents gulping at the thought of what might happen next, unsure of her movements, their daughter as unpredictable as they were "I need you to find him for me".
And so there she was, sitting comfortably in one of their famed private jets, similar to the ones she used to take to France and back each summer, taking her to the fated destination. She could get to Timothée on her own, contact Armie or his family, but her parents were the fastest option, and she did not want to waste any time, for the accident had already managed to take so much from them. Enough was enough.
Her heart beat with excitement, feeling so many things at once, a notion she was so thankful for, as opposed to feeling nothing at all. She denied any of the refreshments she was offered, focused on one thing and one thing only, seeing him again.
The clouds that enfolded her, those that reminded her of cotton candy, engulfed the plane all at once, brought serenity to her, just enough to keep her calm in her seat, as opposed to pacing around, overthinking every little possibility.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
A large hall towered over her as she ambled through the many rows of seats, feeling so minuscule under the mighty structure, years passing since she had visited a proper theater. The reserved, luxurious spot her family acquired waited for her, located in pure isolation.
Manon fell right into the seat, watched as the once quiet room filled with the sound of chattering. Excitement and boredom bounced back and fourth between the walls, signifying of the impatient crowd and the show that was about the begin.
When it finally did, her palms naturally found themselves gripping onto the handles, for a moment later, the curtains did their grandiose move, and a boy stood in the center of the stage, his dark, magnificent curls longer than she had last seen them, his smile as joyful as it was before havoc took place.
The girl watched him with adoration, overflowing with so much love, on top of tears, that did not fear to stain her cheeks with the sign of pure delight. She was overjoyed that he was within her reach again, and as she continued to watch the show, she tried her best to focus, revel in his talent, rather than ponder of what would happen later, for that, would be one for the books, she was sure.
A few minutes before the show came to an end, she stumbled over to the backstage, her pass, acquired to her by none other than her famed parents, buying her the accuses to the magic beyond the stage.
Manon stood in place, leaning on a wall, her hands kept to herself, simply watching as artists alike paced from one place to another, caught up in the show, paying no attention to the strange girl that stood there with her cheeks right below her eyes, so much joy inflaming her all at once. It had awfully reminded her of the spring spent in Italy, an event she did not believe she had forgotten, for it had taught her so much, brought her so much, and her mind let it go as if it never existed. She had missed it, having a taste for reality, wanting to achieve things, to be apart of such a project, to be within someone's arms again. She did not take feeling for granted, not after believing she was drowning for weeks without being able to shout for help.
When he came into view, her entire being came to a pause, everything but his aura calling her in, as though that, that was the moment she had stayed dorment for.
As he was illuminated by her love, she felt the tears threaten to shame her, though she did not care. All she cared about was him, yet as his eyes landed on her, it wasn't her that he noticed, but another soul that rushed towards him.
Timothée pulled another girl in for an embracing kiss, smiling into the hold as though it was all he knew and nothing else mattered.
Manon felt her heart sink, and as she watched him, merrily receiving a bouquet of flowers, what she knew were his favorites, from what would appear to be a lover, as he ran his palm across each and every petal, appreciating the gesture of treasure behind it, whilst remaining his hand entwined with the stranger, as she watched the boy she loved, love and be loved by another, she knew she was too late.
As opposed to all of who she was, begging herself to show herself to him, she could not ruin it for him. She could not stumble back into his life if he had already recovered, she could not tear things apart the way she always did.
So from the shadow in which she planned to emerge from, she never did, and instead, she turned around, never to see or be seen again. Him, forever believing she had forgotten, her, forever thinking he had moved on.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
One more chapter.
⊰ Viktoria ⊱