I've been through a fair amount in my life, enough so to be able to tell you something and the odds of me being correct would be heavily weighed in my favour. I think most people are like this, they grew up in a rough environment and had to fight wi...
"Enjoy your day," Will breathes out. "Don't think about the guys back at home, they are all happy to see you are doing better than we've found you in the hospital bed. Some of them will blame you for keeping secrets that you don't even know about."
I ask him, "Do you?"
He shakes his head. "It's easy to hate someone that needs love now more than anything else. I don't want to do that, the last thing you need is me beating you up over choices that you can't recall ever making."
Talking about me... about him as if we are two people.
Maybe we are, maybe we are not.
When that line starts to blur, "Thanks for the lift," I interrupt that thought.
"Whatever happens, (Y/N). Whatever is left will be you."
I hover in the open door, "And if it happens, then what?" I shake my head, "Wouldn't that be ideal for all of you?" I don't give him a chance to answer before I breathe out, "I'll catch you later."
"See you."
I don't know when this new fear started to set in but it is something that's been in the back of my head like a nasty itch. Maybe it will never happen but I can't ignore the chances of it happening, the chance that when my memories return that this version of myself ceasing to exist.
Would that mean I died?
Would it feel like I died?
I step through the doors to see the receptionist and someone else right beside her. Cathy Mercer's gaze is locked onto her work but right beside her is a woman from the home screen of my floor watching me with a piercing gaze.
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"Good morning," I walk up to the two of them.
"Oh, hey, good morning, (Y/N)." The woman next to her hasn't greeted me back. Cathy awkwardly glances at the woman and quickly introduces her to me, "This is Evelynn."
She chuckles, "I am glad to see that you are well," she looks at Cathy, "Hold all my calls for the rest of the day and if someone wants to talk to me they can leave a message with you and later today you can tell me what's important and not, will you do that for me?"
"Of course."
Evelynn walks around the counter and with her finger gestures for me to follow her, "You come with me."
A mature woman to say the least, out of the four of them I have a feeling she'll be by far the more serious of the lot. Though I can not speak for her emotional attachment to this face just from her composure she knows how to keep things professional, or she has already done her grieving.
Or maybe for her, there was nothing to grieve.
We climbed the stories via the elevator riding it to the top into something you'd imagine the Oval Office to look like. She treads towards the desk at the centre as she gestures for me to sit down in one of the seats.
I sit down as I ask her, "We were-"
"You don't remember anything, do you?" She interrupts me. "Sorry, but would you confirm that much for me and then I'll answer your questions. Even the ones that the others wouldn't want to answer."
I shake my head. "No... I don't."
"Is there anything else there?" She asks. I watch her expression, I can't read her at all. She has this stoic expression that feels cold... what would that face look like when looking at someone she loves? Does it look like that? Is this the face that looked at him?
A facade?
"I don't know how to answer that," I admit.
She lifts herself out of her seat and turns around a portrait, in it I can see all five of us. "How do you feel seeing yourself in this picture?" She lifts her shoulders, "Or maybe I should ask it differently? How does it feel looking at these people when they look at you the way they do?"
They all look happy in that picture.
It hits you in the gut, it tears at a part of you. "It feels... sad."
"Is that because you are unconsciously grieving your memories, that the brain is trying to salvage something but can only manage that numbing feeling of nostalgia in your gut? Or is your empathy mourning their losses for their sake?"
"I-"
"That you feel guilty. For taking his place," her words cut like knives. But is she right?
I shake my head, not able to respond with an answer that would satisfy her. Because my answer wouldn't be one... because I can't tell which is what. Not yet, anyway. I look up to see her walking out from behind the desk towards me.
She lowers herself to a crouched position, watching my face with those eyes of hers. She's searching my face for even the slightest detail.
"It hurts when I think about it, I thought it was maybe my head trying its hardest to remember but... maybe it could be just empathy."
She stretches her hand out to my face, her fingers pressing against my chin, her nails brushing against my lips. "I just want to see it... to see something that would tell me that you are still here," she says with a pained whisper.
I could see it slipping through, the grief of watching your lover look at you with dead eyes, a stranger's eyes.
She lifts herself, her hand drops back to her side. "Yes. We were bedfellows and more. The same goes for Akali, Ahri, and Kai'Sa. We were there for a great part of your recovery but neither of us could visit you while you were awake because, with all the people around you, it would have been harder to keep a secret a secret."
"Wouldn't it be pointless now?" I ask.
"It would be stupid to just let the world know that the lucky bastard sleeping with K/DA is a recovering victim from a hit-and-run." She settles back down behind the desk, "But I suppose nobody has told you that yet."
I shake my head, "Not that directly, no," I furrow my brow at the news. "Is there any substance to that claim?"
"No, but it doesn't make sense otherwise. But there's your answer nevertheless," she exhales.
I ask her, "Where do you think this has to go?" She tilts her head slightly, "All of this, the relationships with... him."
The muscles in her jaw tighten at my words. "There is little to be done about your Amnesia, we hardly know if it is due to brain damage... or if it is due to your mind purpousely blocking out something dangerous that you'd be better off not knowing, maybe (Y/N) did that to himself hoping that he'd save you the same fate, or save us from it."
"What do you want?" I ask her.
"I want him," she states firmly. "I want you. I believe that even as you sit there right now you are who have grown to be just without the memories. Amnesia has never been recorded to be permanent and it will slowly fall in place. And even if those have long faded away, then even if you retain some semblance of who you were, I'd fall in love with you all over again."
I am shocked that she chose to say it like that, so brazenly. The fact that she kept that cold straight face of hers throughout... almost like she suppressing her emotions, or maybe this is her brave face.
"And if I don't fall for any of you?" I ask.
She chuckles, "Good god," she smiles at me the sweetest smile that she can pull off, "the accident has made you demented. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt of course, but that question WILL answer itself."
