An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
“You don’t remember me?” Romeo murmurs. Not-Carlo’s expression morphs ever so slightly from that passive gaze to something a tad more… remorseful. “I know who you are. I know who Carlo is, what he means to you.” Not-Carlo bites at his bottom lip, still refusing to meet Romeo’s gaze. “But I’m not him.” Then, almost as an afterthought: “I’m sorry.”
The storm ends, and the world persists. Romeo, brought to Hotel Krat and fixed up, vows not to rest until Carlo remembers him once again.
Unfortunately, things are rarely as cut and dried as he would like them to be.











