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

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.

He managed to lose himself in that kiss for just a moment - for just a heartbeat, all that mattered were warm lips against his and someone who cared about him. But then the moment shattered - Summer stepped back, mumbling words that felt like a slap in the face to him, somehow, before she turned and was gone, leaving him standing in the drive of a house that was supposed to be home to face people that were supposed to be his family.

He watched her disappear into her house, and watched her door for longer than that, as though it could somehow explain things, help him through this. But of course it couldn't; by the time he shook himself out of his stupor, the sky was turning red and orange and he turned on his heel, walking with no little trepidation up to the door of the little white house and knocking.

What ensued was nothing like what he'd imagined. The elderly couple that opened the door and welcomed him into their home were supposed to be his parents, but after two days he felt more like a boarder than their son. Yes, they'd been happy to see him back - his mother had given him a stiff hug and his father had given him a stiffer handshake; they'd cleared the room that was supposed to be his of four years of accumulated junk and so he'd been sleeping on a little twin bed that he suspected, given that he couldn't remember, he'd had since he was a kid. The desk held a typewriter and the bookshelf a number of dusty, worn books, and he'd spent the next day with them because his parents had puttered around the house but seemed to not be quite sure what to do with him, how to talk to him, and he certainly wasn't sure how to talk to them. Oh, they talked, but it was about which of his siblings had said what and how thin he'd gotten and how he could help clear the leaves from the backyard now that he was home - nothing about how to remember who he was, nothing about Summer, the girl across the street who'd hung their star in her window, nothing about how to get back whatever life it was that he'd left behind.

On his second day home, his mother had asked him why didn't he go down to the news office and ask for his job back. Robert had just stared at her - how was he supposed to do that when he hadn't even remembered he was a newswriter? He'd made some excuse, saying he'd do it that afternoon, picked at the breakfast his mother had set in front of him, and gotten the hell out of that house as fast as he could. Somehow another minute there felt like it would drive him crazy, and he'd only been home for a day. He'd wandered the town until his feet hurt, garnering looks and waves in his uniform (his clothes had apparently been packed or sold and no one had found them yet) but no memories surfaced past a feeling when he passed the park or a little glimmer of something when he passed the bookstore, things like that. Nothing solid, no evidence of the life he'd clearly had, and even stopping in a soda shop for lunch and looking through the book he'd grabbed off his shelf - Homer's Iliad - did little for his memory or his mood.

He spent nearly all day simply wandering, never actually finding the news office (though he hadn't really bothered) but eventually he found his way back to Carmita - but his feet took him to the other side of the street, to the house with the blue star in the window, and almost before he knew what he was doing he'd knocked on the door, feeling at once miserable, nervous, and hopeful.

Neil Roberts had found his only daughter sobbing on the floor of the foyer when he arrived home from work and for a moment, he thought the news had finally come. Robert Leckie was dead. And his heart ached for her and even for him. But when he was able to get her to calm down, to speak to her, she told him in a numb voice of all that had happened. It was shocking but not unheard of, though he'd dealt with more men who had shell shock and were unresponsive as well as unaware of their own lives.

This was different. And this wasn't something he could fix for her. Summer spent the next day in bed and Dr. Roberts took the day off, alternating between sitting in his study and fretting and standing outside Summer's door and fretting. But he couldn't do it long, not when he'd hear her sobs and it tore at his heart. He wondered what was worse for his dear daughter, Leckie's death or his forced indifference. But the next day he left his daughter to travel after her many reassurances that she'd be alright. But he was determined, that while in the city, he'd consult the best doctors there were and find a way to help, somehow, some way.

Summer was finally driven from her room out of necessity. Her stomach would not stand neglect any longer and she was forced to go downstairs and eat something. She'd spent the better part of two days crying, sleeping, or staring out her window. Taking a stack of his letters with her, she moved sat numbly in the kitchen, chewing on a piece of toast before she angrily flung the plate at the wall, watching it shatter, like her heart seemed to be doing. Over and over.

Finally, she moved to clean up the mess, face pale as she went about the task. That was when there was a knock at the door. She was in no mood for vistors, no mood at all. But there was no way for her to send the person away, the housemaid had left already and her father was gone. So she sighed softly, smoothed out the simple skirt and blouse she had on before moving to answer the door. Of course, it wasn't just any visitor, it was-- "Leckie?"

To say Summer looked terrible was... well, a bit of an understatement. The girl who answered the door was pale and haggard-looking, her eyes red and rimmed with dark circles. For a heartbeat he thought maybe she was sick, and then he thought... but no, this couldn't all be over him, could it? That was ridiculous... wasn't it? He stood there for a second, staring at her with his mouth slightly open, before he realized he had to say something and it sure couldn't be, Wow, you don't look very well.. So instead he swallowed and tried to look her in the face and said, "Hi, Summer."

Suddenly this seemed like a very bad idea, like he should just turn around and go. But that was a horrible thing to do, and so instead he just stood on the doorstep, book hanging loosely from his fingers, glancing past her to see if her family would come rushing over to see who was here. But it was just her, no one else showed up to save him, and so finally he added, lamely, "I thought I might come by. But if you don't want to see me..." He'd understand. He just wasn't sure how to tell her that he desperately didn't want to go home - that place didn't feel like his home, and he didn't know where else to go, who else to turn to.

Somehow, she thought that seeing him would be like salt to her wounds but, in fact, it's the opposite. He is the balm to her pain, even just seeing him standing there on her porch. He doesn't look particularly happy or apologetic so that means that he still doesn't remember. But he looks almost miserable, maybe a little... lost? "Oh, no, please come in. Daddy's at work in New York City." She paused for a moment, realizing he wouldn't know what her father did. "He's a doctor."

She moved to open the door for him to come, aware that she does not look her best. "I'm sorry, I've been under the weather and I wasn't expecting guests or I would've dressed up. " Because it's not just Leckie anymore. It's Robert Leckie. She offered him a soft smile. "Would you like some coffee?"

He really hadn't expected her to invite him in - oh, he'd hoped she would, but after the disaster of meeting her on the sidewalk the other day, well, he wouldn't have held it against her if she'd slammed the door in his face. But she didn't, she asked him to come in, and he smiled gratefully, probably looking a lot more relieved than even he meant to as he stepped inside.

Of course, when she said she'd been under the weather he believed her, it made more sense to him than her looking awful because of him, because suddenly that seemed very self-centered. "I'm sorry you're not feeling well - but you look fine. I mean, you don't have to get dressed up just for me or anything, he said, standing to the side to let her close the door. And even though he didn't mean to, he couldn't help the way he perked up when she asked if he wanted coffee - lunch had been a long time ago, but he hadn't thought to stuff more than a couple of dollars into his pocket before he'd left. "That would be... really nice, actually, but if you're not feeling well I can make it. Just show me where you keep it." He smiled, though he was suddenly aware that maybe he'd made coffee here before, maybe a hundred times, he had no idea. All the same, it was like being here for the first time, this place looking as foreign as the house across the street had - though the face here was admittedly a lot prettier. "I probably should've called...."

Summer wanted to be around him in some selfish way even if it hurt to know he didn't know her. She closed the door behind him before leading the way to the kitchen, though she glanced back and shook her head. "No, you're the guest, I'm making the coffee. Are you hungry or anything?" She sounded eager to make him something because, frankly, it'd give her something to do.

"It's okay, I mean, I wasn't doing too much--" She stopped when she spotted the letters on the kitchen table, her stomach falling some but she swallowed and decided to remain strong, to not crumble like she had the first time he saw her. She was going to get him back, she was. "Take a seat, relax, okay?"

For a minute he figured he'd say he wasn't hungry, that coffee was enough - but that would be a lie, and the rumble of his stomach might have been loud enough to be audible even over their footsteps. "A little..." he admitted sheepishly, though somehow he felt like he was taking advantage of her, of her hospitality as she led him into the kitchen, where there was a small stack of worn papers on the table. "But I really don't want to be a bother," he insisted, even as she told him to take a seat and he glanced at the chairs. "I mean, I came here because..." But suddenly saying Because I didn't want to go home sounded horrible. Of course there was truth in the words, "I thought I should see you. See how you were doing." Because there was a reason he was here and not home, and it was definitely her.

He sat down like she'd asked, though on the edge of the seat, setting the book on the table. He glanced over at the papers, but he felt like he was spying and stopped, turning to her. "Are you really sure it's no trouble?'

She heard the rumble and knew the answer. She figured that meals were probably pretty meager in the hospital he was in, if they were meager in the one she volunteered in. She'd been kind enough to make extra things for the soldiers from timet to time, which earned her many proposals of marriage. "It's no bother. I need to eat something myself." She glanced around the kitchen. "How would you like some mashed potatoes and pot roast? We have some left over from dinner last night. I only have to make the potatoes." And then she'd have something to do with her hands. But first, she moved to put the coffee on. Of course, his question made her look at him for a moment. "I'm... okay. I mean, I've been better but I'm sure you can say the same."

She spied the book as he placed it on the table, giving him a smile as she nodded towards it. "Your favorite. Sometimes you'd write quotes from it. Or ask me to write a few passages from it for you."

The meals had admittedly been meager - steady, but rationed and there were no seconds. So he couldn't help the way his face lit up - probably like those other soldiers' had - when she mentioned pot roast and mashed potatoes. "Are you sure that's not too much trouble? I mean... it sounds wonderful, and I'm only going to eat it if you eat some, but..." It still seemed like some work to go through, though he did feel better when she indicated she'd eat some, too. "As long as you'll eat, too." Then he wouldn't feel too much like she'd gone out of her way.

Of course, when she said how she was doing - and that they'd both probably been better - he did nod, glancing at the table a moment - he was debating just being honest and telling her how... awkward things had been at home when she noticed the book, making him glance up. "Really? It seemed a little more well-worn than the others," he murmured, running his fingertips over it, almost lovingly. "I read a little of it this afternoon. I mean, I sort of just opened it up to the middle, but..." Actually, even though he'd been in a bad mood, now that he thought back on it, it hadn't really been a problem to start from the middle. "It felt... familiar," he realized out loud, looking at the book a little more closely, like it was the key to his memory - though after a moment he knew it couldn't be that simple. Still... "That has to be good, right?"

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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