"what do you remember?"
"what do you remember?"
blinding lights, loud noises. shouting. the memory of the pain is fuzzy at best, but the feeling of his body pulling apart echoes across his skin.
a blinking red dot. the sound of his name being called from underwater. the number, over and over and over and over and
"nothing." adam's voice sounds outside of him. "nothing at all." he shakes the images out of his head, blinks to refresh his vision.
there are objects on the table–a pen, salt and pepper pots, a hair clip–he’s moving them about in a way that hopefully looks purposeful and necessary. everything feels frigid on his clammy hands.
"oh, that’s a shame," shu’s voice sounds far away, and a little like emptiness. the truth feels stuck in adam’s throat.
shu starts to say his lack of memory could be a positive, and inside adam’s chest, that part of him that always wishes he remembered nothing at all feels warm, comforted, vindicated. he starts to feel a little safer, and a little.. disappointed.
because the part of him that wishes he remembers nothing is familiar, it’s old, cast in iron and beginning to rust. but there's another part that wants the opposite. one that is much more surprising; unfamiliar, perhaps even older.
the craving to be known, the desperation to be rid of a terrible, terrible loneliness.
"but if something ever does resurface," blinding lights, loud noises, shouting, red dot, "let me know,"
adam suddenly finds himself looking into shu’s eyes. when he speaks shu sounds a little unnatural, but his tone is certain despite unsure words.
"i mean, you can tell me," he rushes. adam stares. his chest is tight. "you don’t have to, but, you always can." he can’t.
blinding lights, loud noises, shouting. the number, the number, his name being called from underwater.
"i want to hear."
the memories are muffled and pushed to the back.
shu doesn’t say anything more, but his eyes echo that sentiment so distinctly adam hears it on loop in his head. "i want to hear, i want to hear, i want to hear."
not for the first time, adam finds himself believing the boy entirely. dangerous. says fear. exciting. says another emotion. one he knows quite well, but hasn’t yet been brave enough to name.
"what do you remember?" shu asks.
then all of a sudden, ever so subtly, there’s something weird about his friend's face. his pupils look dark. his eyes twitch in a microscopic wince.
adam’s everpresent curious expression barely falters as he stares back; barely, but it falters still. the silence stretches a fraction of a second over the limit of plausible deniability. it’s almost like he’s waiting for the answer to shu’s question to come out of someone else’s mouth.
"nothing," adam breaks eye contact, blinks a few times in quick succession. "nothing at all." he shakes his head. with his eyebrows raised, his mouth pulls into an expression that tries to say 'welp, i’d tell you, if i had something to tell,' but shu isn’t sure if he believes it.
he pretends he does.
adam looks down, starts fiddling with something on the table, and shu feels the need to make things normal.
"oh," he says casually, "that’s a shame."
adam swallows, looking at his busy hands.
immediately that feels like it was the wrong thing to say.
"i mean, maybe it’s a good thing," shu corrects himself quickly, "maybe there are things you don’t want to remember."
adam says nothing, continues fiddling with the objects on the table. shu isn’t even paying attention to any of that, he’s watching only adam’s face. shu isn’t even sure what he’s saying exactly. yet he knows there’s something important to be said, and he needs to know adam hears him.
"but if something ever does resurface, let me know."
it still sounds wrong, that’s not what he means.
"i mean, you can tell me." he corrects again, "you don’t have to,"
he softens.
"but you always can. i want to hear."
finally landing on a sentence that doesn't feel like swallowing tacks, shu decides he's done enough damage. he doesn't say anything more, he just stands, observing, wanting with his whole chest for adam to hear what he means, to know the intention behind his clumsy words.
maybe it’s something in the kitchen light. adam looks unusually solid.
