I look up kinda sharply. Just woke up? "Fate, you've been awake for well over an hour. We just got back from the cafe." Don't tell me you've somehow managed to forget about that, too. He arches an eyebrow. I give him an almost pleading look, "You don't remember?" he shakes his head. I put my head on my knees and tug at my hair a little. Sure it had seemed a little too easy for him to just wake up and remember just like that, but c'mon, can you blame me for being optimistic?
I let out a sigh, hoping it doesn't sound shaky at all.
"What?" he asks.
"Nothing... I just managed to get my hopes up, that's all."
"It's not your fault," I mutter, flopping back on the bed. I feel his eyes on me.
"I guess I should go." I don't say anything, wondering if there's a way I might get him to remember at least this morning. And then I recall him saying he recognised the picture of Lazarus and of him eating. He sighs.
"D'you think you'd recognise any of it if I drew it again?" I say quietly as he turns to leave.
"Huh?" But I'm already at my desk, finding a long enough piece of paper to make a sort of comic strip of the morning.
"You don't remember any of that?"
"Brody, I'm telling you, I woke up like half an hour ago," he says, "I woke up, had a shower, got dressed and then you bit me. That's all I remember." I just stare blankly at the pictures in front of me, beginning to doubt my own reality. I guess when you want something enough, in your head, it feels real. I notice him nodding to himself out the corner of my eye. "I'll get out of your way now." He starts to leave, and I let him. No point pushing it, right?
I let out a baby of a sniffle, thinking he's gone, and that I can try and somehow deal with the somewhat crushing disappointment that the shower and breakfast with him might as well have been just a good dream on my own. I crumple the pictures and throw them into the waste paper basket, nearly jumping as I hear him speak again.
"Mmm?" I hum out my response, not really trusting my voice not to crack.
"I'm trying to remember, I promise." I look up at him, hoping like fuck that I don't look like I'm about to start crying. I give him a tiny, slightly shaky smile.
"I know." I notice him hesitate, but I go back to cleaning up my desk, vaguely aware of him just standing there. He shuffles over to me, but I try to ignore him, deliberately focusing too hard on rearranging my stuff.
"Kiss me," he says quietly. I look up, kinda shocked.
"Wha?" He keeps his eyes down, his gaze fixed on the floor as he repeats himself. I hesitate for a moment before leaning up and pressing my lips against his. He kisses back and after a moment, I look at him, not exactly encouraged by the sort of upset expression on his face.
"Nothing," he says. I can't keep the disappointed look off my face, and he sighs. "I thought that might work."
"Doesn't matter," I mumble with a shrug, even though it's probably painfully clear to him that it really does matter quite a lot. He kisses my cheek.
"I'll keep trying." I nod. "Are you gonna be at the bar tonight?"
"I'll probably be at the one a couple of blocks away," I tell him. He nods and tells me he'll see me there with a smile. I nod dumbly, not really smiling back. I watch as he leaves and when the door closes, I can't hold it back any more. I just sit there and cry, like I'm some over emotional teenage girl.