Honestly, he was sure that if he'd ever imagined coming home, this wasn't how it had gone in his head, either. And even lying in the hospital recovering, trying without success to remember his life and his home, he'd tried to imagine how it would go. But it had never once been like this - in his fantasies, his parents would meet him at the bus station, crying and hugging him and driving him home. Of course, he didn't know what their faces looked like, he didn't know if he had any brothers or sisters, but none of that had mattered in his mind's eye.
But he'd never, ever imagined a girl like Summer waiting for him. He'd had no idea - any letters they'd exchanged had been lost in the jungle to the rain, as unreachable as his memories of her, it seemed. Now he was thinking that maybe he should have dreamed himself up a girl who threw herself into his arms, kissing and crying, because then at least he would have some idea what to do. But here and now, he didn't, so he followed Summer dumbly down the street, falling silent (which was rare for Robert Leckie, but less so now that he couldn't remember how much he tended to talk) as she did the same. But then, eventually, she started talking - telling him things he should of course had known, but it was like listening to a stranger's life - holy fuck, he had seven siblings - well, six left, but that still felt like an insurmountable number. But Summer talked more about the time they'd spent together, understandably, even if it was just stories from when they were children until she showed him a tree and told him it was where they'd first kissed. He stopped walking, looking at the tree, trying desperately to remember, to call up something because clearly it was important. But it was just a tree... even if he got this funny feeling in the pit of his stomach, like he knew it was important, somehow, like maybe he wouldn't have just walked by it. It wasn't quite recognition so much as gut instinct of some kind... but that had to be a good sign, right? And he couldn't help but smile a little, even as Summer let out a little sob, the last of her words sounding strangled. And he turned to her, this time finally reaching out for her arm, moving to take the handkerchief and gently touch it to her cheeks himself. "That must have been a rollercoaster of a night," he murmured, looking down at her, trying to recall it, but all he got was some kind of echoing sound in his mind, maybe a voice, but he couldn't make it out, couldn't make it form into a real memory. It might as well have been a dream. "I'm sorry I can't remember it. I want to," he said earnestly, looking back at the tree. "I want my life back." But it was just out of reach... and it might always be. Suddenly he felt trapped, wondered why he'd come back at all; maybe he should have just picked a city and gone, made a new life there. But then Summer here would have never known what had happened to him, and he might as well have been dead. "I don't know how to apologize enough."
<333 that would be so sweet
But he'd never, ever imagined a girl like Summer waiting for him. He'd had no idea - any letters they'd exchanged had been lost in the jungle to the rain, as unreachable as his memories of her, it seemed. Now he was thinking that maybe he should have dreamed himself up a girl who threw herself into his arms, kissing and crying, because then at least he would have some idea what to do. But here and now, he didn't, so he followed Summer dumbly down the street, falling silent (which was rare for Robert Leckie, but less so now that he couldn't remember how much he tended to talk) as she did the same. But then, eventually, she started talking - telling him things he should of course had known, but it was like listening to a stranger's life - holy fuck, he had seven siblings - well, six left, but that still felt like an insurmountable number. But Summer talked more about the time they'd spent together, understandably, even if it was just stories from when they were children until she showed him a tree and told him it was where they'd first kissed. He stopped walking, looking at the tree, trying desperately to remember, to call up something because clearly it was important. But it was just a tree... even if he got this funny feeling in the pit of his stomach, like he knew it was important, somehow, like maybe he wouldn't have just walked by it. It wasn't quite recognition so much as gut instinct of some kind... but that had to be a good sign, right? And he couldn't help but smile a little, even as Summer let out a little sob, the last of her words sounding strangled. And he turned to her, this time finally reaching out for her arm, moving to take the handkerchief and gently touch it to her cheeks himself. "That must have been a rollercoaster of a night," he murmured, looking down at her, trying to recall it, but all he got was some kind of echoing sound in his mind, maybe a voice, but he couldn't make it out, couldn't make it form into a real memory. It might as well have been a dream. "I'm sorry I can't remember it. I want to," he said earnestly, looking back at the tree. "I want my life back." But it was just out of reach... and it might always be. Suddenly he felt trapped, wondered why he'd come back at all; maybe he should have just picked a city and gone, made a new life there. But then Summer here would have never known what had happened to him, and he might as well have been dead. "I don't know how to apologize enough."