2.6 | Forget Me Not ✓

+3 || myosotis

  

A/N

Here's where things pick up! Hope you're ready for your ship to sink... I mean, did you ever for a moment think I'd let it float...?

Happy reading!

x Noelle

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+ 3

m y o s o t i s

For fidelity.

  

(now: +3)

  

THE POT OF shasta daisies on the windowsill has started to wilt. In all the chaos over the past few days, she's forgotten to water it. Dylan had bought it for her as part of his 'housewarming gifts' when they moved in together, and it's one of the things she loves most in this house.

It's one of the things she loves most in their little house. It reminds her of late spring, dew on the grass and baby blue skies. But most of all, it reminds her of them: she, the pot of daisies, always looking out for him, the sun, to bloom and grow.

But now, there's a small, vindictive part of her that wants to let it wilt away. Why should she care for it when he's forgotten all about her? She stares at the daisies for a long moment, before she gives in with a sigh and waters it anyway.

As she wanders down the empty hallway back to the living room, she finds that every little thing reminds her of him. He's in all of their photos on the mantelpiece above the fireplace; he's in the polaroids she's hung up on the wall. There's a ring of coffee stains on the table where he usually leaves his mug; the post-its he leaves her are scattered everywhere; Google home still recognizes his voice.

This house is him. It's her. It's them. He's like ivy that grows along the walls, entrenched so deeply that his mark is everywhere, and if he were to be removed, things will no longer be the same. She will never be the same.

"Emma." The voice breaks her out of her thoughts. She looks up, only to find her best friend staring at her in clear concern. Scout frowns a little and pushes the box aside. "You okay?"

Briefly, Emma considers lying, but she knows that her friend will see through her anyway. "No," she admits with a sigh, and wanders over to settle down amidst the pile of boxes. "I'm just...really sad, that's all. He remembers everyone but me, and I don't know why."

"That's not true," Scout points out gently. "It's not just you he doesn't remember. It's also everything that's happened in recent years—his job, his newer friends, even his years in college. Wasn't that what the doctors said? Something about post..."

"Post-traumatic amnesia," Emma recites—she can practically say this in her sleep now. "Or retrograde amnesia. He's suffering from a brain injury, and he just can't remember."

Doesn't want to remember, a little voice adds in her head. The look on his face when his family had told him who she was had been nothing but confused. Then frustrated. And then downright hostile, especially when Morgan kept calling him an idiot and a liar for not remembering who Emma was.