crypt | meme | #001 -- hardest words to say ( and i'd do anything to make you stay )

meme | #001 -- hardest words to say ( and i'd do anything to make you stay )

HARDEST THING TO SAY MEME

Sometimes the hardest things to say are also the most important. It doesn't matter how much it scares you to do so, it's finally time to be honest.

- post as your character.
- others go to RNG and roll numbers 1-22 then respond setting up a scenario.
- respond and have fun!

01. I DON'T LOVE YOU ANYMORE Unfortunately, you can't keep lying to your partner/friend/family anymore. You just don't feel the same for them anymore.
02. I WOULD KILL YOU The person who means so much to you has done something completely unforgivable and now it's time to make sure they know where they stand. You would kill them if you ever got the chance.
03. I LOVE YOU, BUT... A bittersweet love confession. You know you love this person more than anything, but you're not sure you can give them what they need.
04. I DON'T TRUST YOU No matter how you feel about this person, you really can't trust them anymore.
05. SACRIFICE You're going to sacrifice yourself, for the person you're talking with or for the good of all humanity. You want them to know the reasons and that there's no stopping you.
06. TROUBLE You're in trouble and you might not make it through. You need to let at least one person know how you feel before it's too late though.
07. CRIME CONFESSION You did something you weren't proud of and now it's time to admit it.
08. DEMONS We've all got our demons and we've all got our own personal nightmares we have to face, but this time? You can't hold it all back.
09. I'M PREGNANT... Now's not the best time for it maybe or maybe you're just nervous how your partner will react, but they need to hear it.
10. BETRAYAL You've betrayed this person and you have to tell them the truth, no more running from it
11. CHEATED You've been unfaithful and it's time to tell your lover.
12. BROKEN That's it. You've had it. You are entirely broken and tired of everything.
13. AFRAID Something has you deathly afraid and you need to talk about it.
14. HELP ME You need someone to help you, bad. You can't do it alone anymore, you've tried.
15. I'M SORRY You said something or did something horrible and now it's time to ask for forgiveness.
16. YOU WERE A MISTAKE Sorry, but whoever you're talking to was the biggest mistake of your life or maybe it was just something you did together.
17. NOT WHO I SAY I AM You're so far from who they think you are, you need to finally tell the truth.
18. LET'S RUN AWAY You want to just get out, leave everything behind and be with this one person for the rest of your life.
19. ASHAMED Either you're ashamed of something they have done or something you did, either way you need to bring it up.
20. CAN'T REMEMBER The person standing in front of you looks so happy to see you, so relieved, but how do you tell them you can't remember a thing about them?
21. HOW COULD YOU You don't understand how they could treat you like they have, do what they have done when you've done nothing but be good to them.
22. YOUR CHOICE Either choose an option from above, mix and match, or make up your own idea.

yep. totally stolen from memebells.
frolic with your subject lines and be free!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Six months and three days since she'd last gotten the last letter. Six months and three days since she'd last felt any sort of happiness or hope or anything. Now life is just... there. And despite her father's efforts, despite the efforts of her friends, Summer felt as though she'd been walking through a fog, a horrible dream she couldn't wake up from. Except, she had nightmares, so many of them, her mind filled nightly of images of him laying dying. There had been no word, nothing, from him or anyone else for that matter.

Was he dead? Was he injured somewhere? Why couldn't anyone tell her?

Every day, every time she had to open her eyes to face the morning she felt her heart fracture even more, felt hope slipping through her fingers. But still, she forced herself to face it, to live, to keep going because she still had hope. She wouldn't wear black until she had to, she wouldn't put that start in her window, no way, no how. Even if she knew, deep in her heart, she wasn't ever going to see him again, that the possibility that he was alive grew smaller by the minute.

And she tried her hardest not to think of it as she walked down the sidewalk on her way back from the market, a basket tucked in the crook of her arm as she stared at the cracks of the side walk, wondering just how the earth wasn't crumbling beneath her feet like it felt like it should be. Her eyes lifted when she realized she was she was on her block, brown eyes lifting to see...

"Leckie?" There he was. It had to be him because even from behind she knew him, she knew those curls, she knew that slightly bad posture that came with leaning over a typewriter or a desk for so long. He was dressed in his uniform and... She couldn't believe it. And suddenly her heart was soaring, the earth righted itself, no longer about to crumble as she dropped the basket, eggs be damned, tears brimming in her eyes as she ran towards him intent on turning him around and pulling him down for a kiss. "Robert Leckie!"

He'd found himself eventually in what appeared to be a more residential area of town, glancing at every street sign he passed, squinting and trying to make the letters form the word Carmita but they never did. He'd slowed from a walk to a shuffle, mouth drawn in a line as he started to wonder if he ought to just knock on one of the doors he was passing and ask where the correct street was when he thought he heard a voice behind him.

He stopped, and suddenly, there it was again - his name, someone knew his name, but he only had enough time to turn around before he realized that the person calling him was running, and she was very close. In fact, she was going to hit him, and so he did the only thing he could, dropping the seabag to the ground and putting out his arms, not realizing that both gestures might be construed as memory, as a joyous reunion on his part when really, he had no idea who it was screaming his name and flying towards him. Was she his sister? His girlfriend? No one had written him the entire time he was in the hospital, but then no one had ever seemed to be able to ring his house, to get through. No one was ever home, and he'd been homebound almost before he was well enough to write letters back. And so he had no idea who he was about to meet, but the meeting certainly seemed inevitable because she was gaining fast and she'd be upon him in seconds, if that.

Her smile only widened when his arms opened up to her and she felt like she couldn't breathe, she couldn't get to him fast enough. The moment their bodies collided, she sobbed, pulling him down for a kiss. Or really, several kisses, quick, frantic kisses. "Oh my God, you're here." Kiss, kiss, kiss. "You're really here." She felt like she could fly, she felt like she might burst from happiness. God, where had he been? Why hadn't he written? Was he okay?

Their bodies collided with such force, actually, that he took a step back, almost stumbling over his seabag even though he'd seen her coming and known they'd hit. She was stronger than she looked, for sure - but that was all he had time to think, because suddenly she was pulling at him and -

Oh. Well. She definitely wasn't his sister, his mind thought hazily; his lips, of course, didn't respond to hers at first, only a strangled, "Mmngph?" came out but after a kiss or two his mouth responded almost out of instinct, though poorly, confusedly, so at best she got a few halfhearted, sloppy kisses. "I guess I am," he finally got out, as she pulled back and spoke to him, though her words only echoed the disbelief in his own head at being in a place that was supposed to be home and yet wasn't familiar at all. His arms, which had somehow come around her when she'd impacted him, suddenly seemed to realize what they were doing and he paused, looking half sheepish and half uncomfortable, glancing over her head for a second before risking a look back at her face.

"Except... ah, can you tell me where here is? Or - specifically... how far I am from Carmita?" Not the best thing to ask the girl who'd just flung herself into your arms, of course, and he realized it a second too late. "I mean - I mean... " It was going to sound absurd to this girl who'd just been kissing him, wasn't it? "I don't... suppose I could get your name, again?"

Her elation is almost immediately crushed, the brightest smile in the world faded at his question. And it was replaced by a frown. "That's not funny at all." Because right now was not the time to be kidding around. After six months of nothing and he was going to pretend he doesn't know where he is? He was going to make a joke like that? It wasn't funny and it wasn't... Well, Leckie would never do anything like that....

But he continued and she looked at him blankly for a moment, her eyes searching his. And she took a step back, her face falling. "What's wrong with you? What are you talking about? You're on Carmita." A tear slips down her cheek and heat started to rise in her cheeks, frustration taking hold. "This isn't a funny joke at all. I haven't heard anything from you for six months." And three days. "And you make a joke?"

He could tell he was in trouble from the instant she first said it wasn't funny - no, it wasn't, and now that he was here, all he could feel was sick. Sick and broken, the two things he'd spent those past six months (and three days) feeling, but had tried to tell himself was pointless when he'd finally gotten into that cab and asked to be taken back to New Jersey. The best doctors in the Marine Corps had looked at his case, and said that they couldn't tell him whether or not his memory would return, that he was better off to go home and see if anything jogged his memory there, and given him his discharge. So he'd tried to look on the bright side of things - it was a fresh start, no way he could get sent back to the slowly- and brutally-advancing front and he'd just get home and remember and things would be all right again.

But that really didn't seem to be the case, and he couldn't fool himself into thinking it any longer now that he was being called on it. "I -" He glanced to the side, for the first time seeing the street sign a couple of houses down that did, indeed, confirm what she'd said. But where normally he might have felt triumph, there was no room for that now, not with this pretty girl looking at him with teary eyes and splotchy cheeks telling him he was joking and demanding to know what was wrong. And he had to tell her something. "I'm not joking," was all that came out for a second, as his hands dropped awkwardly to his sides and he tried to look her in the face. "I don't - I got hit." He gestured helplessly to his head. "I can't remember - they discharged me. Said I should go home, but all I have is this - " now he held up the crumpled copy of his enlistment form with the address on it, "and I was trying to find my way there."

I'm not joking.

It felt like her world was spinning out of control. And for a moment, she thought she might get sick. Still, it feels like someone punched her in the stomach as she looked at him blankly for a moment in disbelief. He got hit. Hit in the head. And now he doesn't remember? There had been a guy like that in the hospital she volunteered at, who didn't remember anything. Anything at all.

Her expression was one of sheer disappointment, of heartbreak, she couldn't help it. Tears started slipping down her cheeks as her voice came out shaky and small. "You don't remember me?" But he loved her. He'd said so. He'd written her a hundred beautiful letters, talking about how she made him feel, how much he wanted to be with her. How could he just forget? How did this happen? Why was this happening to them? It was like she just got him back only to have him yanked away, her heart kept on sinking. "Nothing?"

For a minute he wasn't sure if she was going to faint - he almost started towards her, but she seemed to catch herself and so he just stayed there, standing awkwardly, watching as her face morphed from joy into something quite the opposite. "I'm sorry. I don't," he said, around a lump that was forming in his throat just looking at her, at the look of utter devastation on her face, the tears coming freely when she asked him to confirm that he didn't know who she was. "There's nothing, really, before a few years ago... I remember shipping out. Not much before that."

But he couldn't just stop there, not when she was standing on the sidewalk in front of him like that. "But I must be a very lucky man, to have someone like you waiting for me. Can't you please tell me your name?" It would either help or hurt, make her cry less or more, but suddenly he desperately wanted to know her name, to know more about this girl whom he'd clearly hurt terribly just by saying he couldn't remember her face.

God, it felt like her heart was being ripped out of her chest. All she wanted him to do now was tell her he was joking, pull her into his arms and kiss her silly. She'd forgive him, she really would. But he didn't. It was clear by the look on his face, the way he looked so lost and helpless to help her that he didn't have a clue who she is. And he didn't remember much else. Clearly, he didn't even know where he lived.

She took in a shaky breath, looking away for a moment before she spoke. "I'm S-Summer. Summer Roberts. We've lived across the street from each other our... our whole lives. And we--" were in love. She took in another breath before she started to cry again, covering her face with her hands for a moment as she tried to stop or she'd faint.

God, why couldn't she awaken from this dream?

He'd been wrong, to ask - he must have been, because it made her cry harder, her body shaking with sobs and it was his fault, all his fault. "Summer..." he tried the name out on his tongue, but nothing, not even when she said they'd lived across the street from each other did anything appear, his memory a blank when he tried to access her face before just now, her name. But all he had was right now, and she was still crying, harder, and something in him made him take a step forward, reaching out tentatively to touch her shoulder, not sure at all what to do because whatever she wanted from him... he couldn't give her.

"I'm sorry - I wish I could remember you, anything, but don't - please don't cry." Given that for all he knew, he had never in his life had to comfort a crying girl, he felt more than a little lost, but he was bound and determined to try to make this better instead of worse. "It's nice to meet you, Summer Roberts, because you're clearly very kind and very beautiful, so please stop crying so I can see your pretty face." He dug into his uniform pocket for his handkerchief, ready to offer it up but that meant she'd have to look at him, move her hands, and hopefully cry less instead of more. "I should apologize right now for not writing, shouldn't I? It sure means I've been nothing but a lughead."

He touches her shoulder and she almost jumps at contact, not expecting it but at the same time craving it so much it hurts. And he tries so hard to make her stop crying, to make her feel better than it makes her cry harder for a moment before she forces herself to look up at him, though when she does, she feels her knees buckle like she might collapse. She grabs his outstretched arm, the one offering a handkerchief, for support before she straightens and immediately lets go.

She can't cry in the middle of the street. And she can't imagine the confusion he must be feeling even as he tries to comfort her. "You're not a lughead," she sucks in some hair, trying to stop her tears with no luck, though she's not sobbing anymore. "You're Robert Leckie, the sweetest, kindest, most perfect, wonderful man I've ever known. And I love you." Fresh tears slip down her cheeks and she has to look away from him, hands trembling as she takes a step back. She wants to run home, she wants to grab him and kiss him until he can remember, she wants to scream, she wants to wake up. "I can't believe this is happening... I--" She realizes that this cannot be easy for him once more and she shakes her head, sniffling as tears keep falling, her voice suddenly numb. "Let me show how to get home."

"Whoa -" Whatever he was doing, it was not the right thing - so much for being a ladies' man - as Summer only cried harder and seemed to waver on her feet. He tried to steady her, to keep hold of her arms but she pulled away almost as fast as she'd grabbed him, although he tried to keep an eye on her, ready to grab her again if she started to look unsteady.

But then she started talking again, and almost before she got to the end he knew where this was heading - even still, those last three words were like a punch to the gut of his own, making him suck in a breath. Oh - oh - this was like some cosmic trick God was playing on him, it had to be. He had a gorgeous girl like this and he couldn't remember a thing about her? Yeah, that sounded like some kind of joke to him - and one that wasn't funny, either, just like she'd accused him of being. "Oh," was all he said, quietly, for just a minute, blinking until she seemed to find some kind of resolve (though she was still crying, maybe that was why the sight of it broke his heart, he knew somewhere deep down that it was supposed to belong to her) and said she'd take him home.

He wanted to apologize - more than that, he wanted to tell her how much he'd missed her, how he loved her too, how things would be all right... but when he opened his mouth all that came out was, "Are you feeling up to it? If I'm on the right street, I can... " Find his own way, but he had a feeling that telling her she couldn't would really only make things worse, so he tried, genuinely tried, to temporize. "Okay. Thank you. That would be wonderful." He caught sight of the basket she'd dropped behind her, and reached down to grab his seabag before he moved to start picking up the scattered groceries that had spilled out across the sidewalk here and there. "Let me get this for you - look, if we live close to each other, I could walk you home first." He knew they were going to have to talk, but he wasn't sure what to say - where did you start, when someone said they loved you and you didn't even know who they were?

God, this was insane. How could this be happening? She was in a bit of shock though she could feel a gambit of emotions so unfortunately for her, it wasn't complete shock. Her heart was breaking, her mind wanted to explode, her stomach was aching. 'Oh' was all he said to those three, most important words, to the first time she'd been able to say them aloud to him since they fell for one another. And all she got was an 'oh'. Her cheeks burned with some twisted combination of embarrassment, frustration, and utter sorrow.

No, she wasn't feeling up to it, she was barely feeling up to breathing but... he was here. He was alive. Couldn't she be thankful for that at least? Maybe... Somehow, she could jog his memory. Though being tackled and kissed on the street should've been enough to knock something loose. God, she felt so lost. What was she supposed to do? What if his memory never came back?

I'll make him love me again.

She decided then and there as she stood numbly and he moved to gather up her spilled groceries that she'd show him all the letters, she'd remind him that he loved her once. And with tears still free falling, she moved to start doing the groceries herself. "Here, let me do that." His bag had to be heavy. She managed to salvage some of the groceries but at this point she didn't care. She'd have to explain to her father why she looked like she'd been crying and just why Robert Leckie was here at their door begging her father to let him take her out.

"I'll walk you home, it's okay. Maybe seeing your parents would help." She said it hopefully but she knew that while he didn't hate his parents, he loved them in his own way and not the same as he said he loved her.

The problem was, Robert had no idea if they'd told each other I love you a hundred thousand times before he'd even enlisted. He didn't know it was a big deal, a huge step, there was no way for him to know they had only gone on a date or two before he'd left and that their love had been cultivated through his absence. All he could do was feel a sort of emptiness, a sort of shock at her words, trying to combine those words, the feelings they conveyed, with a face that was beautiful, yes, but that he simply didn't know. He would have been (and probably would be, when she told him) horrified that he'd all but brushed it off, but it was simply too much to process right now, there was so much he didn't know about this life that was supposedly his that he really needed to take it one step at a time.

He paused when she started to gather the groceries - sure, his bag was heavy, but it was his fault her groceries were spilled all over the sidewalk. He moved to gather some of the tins that had rolled farther from the rest, handing them over a little awkwardly as she finished gathering up her purchases, the tears still running down her face. "Here - " he pushed the standard-issue handkerchief into her hand, feeling downright awful and not knowing how to apologize for it. "Please let me carry that." She could dry her eyes (or try) while they walked to his house, it was the absolute least he could do, and he still felt crummy for it. "I'm not in any hurry." Meaning that she could take her time pulling herself back together; though was he supposed to hold her? Touch her face, wipe those tears away himself? It was what a man should do for the woman he loved, but he felt like an impostor every time he imagined himself reaching out to touch her face. It was like she was someone else's girl, not his, she couldn't possibly be his. How the hell was he supposed to fit back into a life that he couldn't remember?

Edited 2012-05-03 21:36 (UTC)

He helped her with the groceries and she thanked him softly, her eyes avoiding his face one moment and the next staring at it because it'd been years. And for those years she'd been dreaming of his moment, the first time she'd see him after waiting for so long. This was not the way it was supposed to happen. He was supposed to pick her up and swirl her around, kiss her a hundred times, tell her he loved her, and kiss her a hundred more. And then he was supposed to ask her to marry him, right then and there. That had been her dream. And now, she was living something closer to a nightmare.

He handed her his handkerchief and this time she had to take it. But when he offered to take her basket, she shook her head. "You have your bag, it has to be heavy. I can manage but thank you." God, the words sounded so ordinary to her, like words she'd speak to a stranger. And that's what he basically was, wasn't he? He wasn't in any hurry because he couldn't remember that he was supposed to be rushing home to see her. She patted her cheeks dry, a few more fresh tears slipping down her cheeks before she managed to stop them.

What am I going to do? How can I fix this? Help him.

She felt completely helpless and more lonely than she felt the whole of the war as she stood up straight and took a deep breath. "I'm alright." She said it as much for her own benefit as his even if it wasn't true. Not one bit. And with that she started them down the sidewalk. She was quiet for a moment before she started to ramble. Telling him his parents names, the names of his siblings. Only stopping to point a spot where he'd fallen once when he was about thirteen and hurt himself and tried to steal a kiss from her but she pushed him down. And then she pointed out the tree that used to be their 'base' for hide and seek, quietly, sadly regaling him of childhood memories until they came to a tree three houses down from his house. "This is where we first kissed. We were on our third date and you told me you were leaving for the war... " Her face fell some, fresh tears welling up in her eyes as she managed to choke out the last part. "And I couldn't let you go to war without having kissed you. So I kissed you right then and there."

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."

As she spoke, she kept looking at him, hoping to see some spark of recognition on his face, some sign that he remembered even just a little bit. It hurt her that he had to go back to his family, who she knew to act more indifferent than not. How would that help him at all now? Still, she went on to speak until she did get to the story of their first kiss and he touched her, he stopped by that tree and touched her. And for a moment the flame of hope flickered only to be blown out almost immediately. Still, he wiped her cheeks and instead of feeling something like love, it felt more like a brother wiping away her tears.

"It's not your fault," she said quietly. Because truly it wasn't. And she didn't know who to blame or what to say. She felt as lost as he did except she had the benefit of knowing her family, of having a support system. She tried to remind herself as she felt herself slipping into a feeling of hopelessness. "You don't need to apologize," she replied as she started them back towards his house, her heart sinking and breaking with every step. "That's my house." She pointed to a house across the street, a star in the window hanging proudly, centered.

Honestly, he was a little worried about his family - that they hadn't ever been home to receive his calls, in that they didn't even know he was coming. But they'd be excited to see him when he showed up at the doorstep, right? How could they not be? He was both excited and terrified to see them, not knowing who he would find, what they were like, but praying that somehow they'd be able to do what the doctors, what Summer, couldn't. That they'd look at him and he'd look at them and suddenly remember, even though he knew deep down that wasn't going to happen.

He just made a little noise, noncommittal, when Summer said it wasn't his fault. If it wasn't his, then whose was it? The Japs? It was easy as hell to blame them for taking his life away with a single blast, but they'd never pay for it, so what could he do but curse the unknown name of whoever had fired at him? He'd started to think, in the hospital, that maybe he was just weak, his mind weak, but he'd tried to push that feeling down. It was hard, though, when he was faced with someone who wanted - needed - him to remember so desperately and he could give her absolutely nothing. And that felt more like failure than anything. "Yes, I do... I just don't know how to do it." He could see the look on her face, he wasn't blind. She looked more and more shattered with every step they took, and just knowing it was because of him, because of his weakness, made him want to run until this place was far behind him. But he couldn't.

"Oh - you have a brother in the service? Or your dad?" He didn't even imagine that star was for him, though when he looked at the houses across the street, none of them had stars; hadn't she said they were across from each other? Maybe she'd meant across from and then down a ways; he squinted at the houses on the side of the street, searching for one that looked familiar. But nothing looked right, nothing jumped out at him. There were flashes, all-too-fleeting glimpses in his mind's eye of a house, but the picture was fuzzy, dark, like a faded, scratched photograph. He couldn't make it line up with any of the houses he saw now.

"Leckie," she scolded before she remembered that she couldn't really do that anymore. How was she to treat him? How was she to act around him? These were questions she'd been asking before this day but in a more giddy way than now. Before it was, am I allowed to kiss him the first time I see him? Should I say I love you right off the bat? Now the questions seemed like looming mountains, more obstacles that seemed impossible to climb. They'd been through so much, how much could they bear? And if he never got his memory back, how could he love her? He'd probably find someone else, wonderful, someone who wouldn't want to bother him with the past. And Summer would be left alone, again.

Always alone.

She shook her head, "Honestly, you don't have to say sorry. We just have to help you get comfortable here." To get better but she wouldn't say that because she couldn't take any more hopes being dashed, not today. When he asked about the star, she looked at him before shaking her head. "I asked your parents if I could have theirs. It's for you. I wanted it in my window." She glanced down as they got closer to his house, heart still breaking with every step. "You're family is complicated so... if you ever need to get away or be somewhere--" Where you'll feel loved and wanted. "Else, you can come over to my house."

He was trying to take his cues from her, really; he had no idea how to treat her, how she wanted to be treated - though he did know that she wanted to be welcomed by someone who knew her, who loved her, and he wasn't - couldn't be - that person, not now. And so of course he needed to apologize, but she said he didn't, and he didn't know what else to tell her. If she didn't want to hear I'm sorry then what else would possibly do?

He blinked, mouth opening slightly when she said she'd gotten the star from his parents, smiling a little a moment later. "Oh, they must really like you, then," he said, though of course he had no idea what the real situation had been like, that his mom and dad simply hadn't ever bothered to hang up that star in their window. "Thank you," he murmured, looking at Summer earnestly for a moment, because if she had done that for him... "I hope that I told you what it meant to me, before. But if I didn't... that's a beautiful thing to do." He felt lucky and selfish and horrible all at once - here was this girl who got better by the minute, that he was sure he must have loved and felt ecstatic for being loved before... and all he could do was hear about the wonderful things she'd done for him secondhand, like she was explaining it to someone else. Of course, when she said his family was complicated, he smiled a bit and shrugged a lot more cheerfully than he would have, before. "Well, whose isn't, right? That's a very kind offer though, Summer, and thank you." Though he didn't want to impose, didn't want to make things worse for her. Maybe they both needed space, needed time. Maybe he'd start to remember, or maybe she'd be able to come to terms with it if he didn't, but either way, he wasn't sure he'd be at her door as soon as she hoped. But maybe it really would be better that way, maybe he needed the help of his family first, maybe they could tell him what he needed to know to face her again.

As they neared the houses, he glanced at the addresses, finally spotting 146 - a whitewashed, two-story house that looked unimposing enough. The lamplight he could see through the parted curtains in the front widow made his heart jump with nervousness and excitement, both of which he tried to clamp down on as he motioned to the drive and said, "This must be the one?"

Edited 2012-05-04 00:23 (UTC)

Summer didn't want space or time, she had both for the past four years. Now she wanted him to be her Leckie, she needed him to be. And how could she explain to him that his family was more than complicated, that he never felt quite loved by the them the way he wanted, the way she loved him. "Yeah, I guess they like me." She'd barely spoken to them besides delivering a note or two to them.

But the words that really crush her are how he made it sound like she meant nothing to him now. And that was when she realized that she did. That she meant absolutely nothing to him anymore, that she wasn't anyone's love, anyone's hope. And that her own was gone in the blink of an eye. She wanted to fall on her knees right there and pray to God to make it stop, to undo this.

But all she could do was nod at his question, looking more upset than she did before. "Yeah, that's it. Do they know you're coming?"

He certainly hadn't meant to sound like she didn't mean anything - no, he couldn't remember things she'd done for him, things she'd said, but this had to be hard for her and she was trying so hard to help... He just wished she could help, somehow, though he didn't know how. (He'd find out soon enough, when his parents treated him like they had before - maybe their own way of trying to help, but it sure wouldn't.)

"Ah... no, I tried to call them a few times but no one picked up. I guess they were just busy." Of course, he didn't know why, but he did at least notice that she was looking more and more upset. But the only way he could think of to resolve it was to leave her be, to give her some time and to try and get better if he could, hoping that his family really could help. "I guess we're all in for a surprise," he said, as he stopped at the foot of the drive. "Can I... is there anything else I can do for you?" It was a weak question, a weak offer... but he didn't know what else to actually offer, unless she had something in mind.

"They didn't?" That made her angry for him. How could they not be there? How could they not answer the phone and then they could tell Summer what had happened? Then she'd be more prepared for this instead of feeling like she got slapped in the face. "They'll be glad to see you," she said softly because despite their faults, the Leckies weren't mean or anything like that, they'd be relieved to see their son alive after all this time and not a word.

At his question, she paused, her eyes lifting to meet with his, her mouth twist. "Just--" she let out a breath before she moved to kiss him. Maybe it wasn't fair, maybe it was wrong, but she just needed the memory one more kiss to keep her going even if it wouldn't be the kiss she wanted.

He shrugged a little helplessly. "I guess they were just busy." Though he was, admittedly, a little relieved when she said they'd be happy to see him - that's what he wanted, needed - parents who could take him in, help him, give him someone to turn to when he had no idea how to handle this on his own. And he was growing less sure by the minute, given that clearly this didn't affect just him, but someone who was supposed to be so important to him, too. He needed to sit down and ask his parents about Summer, about what to do, about how to help her through this. The ability to take on the world, the fear of nothing that the amnesia had brought with it had fully disappeared, leaving only uncertainty in its place.

Uncertainty and surprise, as Summer moved, despite everything, to kiss him again. No, it wouldn't - couldn't - be the kiss she wanted but after the initial second of shock his lips moved to mold to hers as something in his body, at least, remembered how kissing was supposed to go. His hands reached out for her hips, touching them tentatively without his permission, as he tried to put one last apology into that kiss, and part of his desire to figure this out, to make it right, somehow. It wasn't the love she wanted, but hopefully it could somehow help, all the same.

The moment her lips pressed to his, she knew it was wrong. And selfish. But for a selfish moment, she kissed him and he kissed her and it was almost like it was real when his hands rested on her hips. Then reality slapped her in the face and she pulled away, feeling even worse than she did before, if it was possible. She mumbled an apology before she could muster-- "Welcome home, Robert Leckie."

And with one last look, she took her basket and rushed across the street to her house before she completely lost it. Once she was through the door and it was closed behind her, she'd be able to fall to the ground and cry until she couldn't cry anymore, until she had no more tears left. Because even though he was alive, he wasn't hers anymore, he wasn't Robert Leckie, he was just the boy with curly hair and a charming smile that lived across the street all over again.

<3

<3!!

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ALSO I think it would actually be Retrograde Amnesia, that's what I get for trying to sound smart >>

/hugsss you know more than I

Only what I just read on Wikipedia o/

<333

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WHY DID I NEVER GET THIS NOTIF ;;

IDK D:

Let's assume his parents aren't home? Trying to decide if they'd have changed their star >>

works for me and omg /sob

That would be extra mean though... ;; Honestly they probably just don't have a star at all

/sob But Summer's window does I could see her asking the Leckie's for theirs

<333 that would be so sweet

<333

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