Imagine having an amnesia ft. Caleb part 3
Imagine a week before the accident. The airport was too for a goodbye like this. Too bright. Too rushed. Too full of people who didn't understand that Caleb was currently in the middle of very real, very serious crisis. Because he did not want to let you go.
"You're going to miss your call." You said, voice muffled slightly against his chest. "Let them." Caleb muttered. He tightened his arms around you. Just a little more. Like if he held on long enough, time might stall out of pity. You snorted. "Yeah, because that's how aviation works." "It should." "You're literally part of the aviation system." "And I hate it right now."
Imagine the way you leaned back just enough to look up at him, one brow raised. "That's dramatic." "I just got married." He deadpanned. "I should be exempt from work for at least-" "A year?" You finished. "At minimum." You laughed, and it hit him again. That sound, Goddd that sound. It had been two months. Two months of you being his in a way that still didn't feel entirely real. Wife.
Imagine the word sat heavy in his chest. Not in a suffocating way. Its a grounding one, like something finally clicked into place after years of wanting, waiting, hoping- His thoughts were cut off as you reached up and flicked his forehead lightly.
"Captain's right hand, by the way." You reminded him. "Very important. Very needed. Very not allowed to throw tantrums at the airport." "First officer." He corrected automatically, though his grip on you didn't loosen. "And I'm not throwing a tantrum." "You're pouting." "I am not." "Darling, you literally tightened your arm when I mentioned your flight." "... That's because you tried to leave." "I leaned back two inches." "Exactly."
Imagine the way you look at him and then sighed like you were dealing with something deeply unfortunate. "...I married a child." "You married someone who's very attached to you." He shot back. "That's not the same thing." "It is to me." You paused, just for a second. And something in your expression softened, not dramatically, not exaggerated, just... Real.
"...I'm not going anywhere." You said quieter this time. He knew that. Of course he does. You weren't the type to say things you didn't mean. That was one of the things he loved most about you. No games, no guessing, just you. Steady, honest and certain. "I know." He said. And he did. But that didn't mean he like leaving. Eventually you pulled backk fully this time, though your hands stayed loosely on his jacket.
"Besides," You added, tone shifting back to teasing. "What if you forget about me while you're gone?" That made him blink, then scoffed. "Yeah, that's definitely going to happen." "I'm serious." You said, eyes narrowing slightly. "You just came off a two month vacation. What if work makes you realize how peaceful life is without me?" "Absolutely not." He didn't even hesitate, didn't even think. "I haven't even left yet and I already miss you."
Imagine the way that made you pause, then you laughed. Soft and warm and without thinking too much about it, you reached up and pat his head. Like he was the one being dramatic, because maybe he was. "You'll be back before you know it." You said. "I'll pick you up when you're done with your flight." "You better." "I always do, Caleb." You said softly. "You were late once." "You survived." "Barely." You rolled your eyes. "...You're unbelievable." "You love me."
Imagine you didn't deny it. Didn't even hesitate. "Yeah." You said simply. "I do love you." And God, that still got him. Every time. Because you didn't say it like it was something fragile. You said it like it was a fact, like sommething chosen, something grounded, seomthing real. Genuiene. Not the kind of love that stumbled into place.
Imagine Caleb. Caleb had been down bad for you long before he even knew what that meant. Back when loving you felt like reaching for something just out of reach. Back when you were just his best friend. Back when he thought, maybe, someday. But now, you were here. In front of him, choosing him, loving him as much as he does. "I'll call you when I land." He said. "You always do." "...And text you before takeoff." "You always do." "...And-" "Caleb." "I'm going to be fine." He exhaled. "...I know."
Imagine the way you smiled before you leaned in and kissed him. Not rushed, not fleeting. It was the kind that lingered. The kind that said come back. The kind that said I'll be here. And when you pulled away, you gave him one last look. "Go." You said, nudging him lightly. He didn't move immediately. Of course he didn't. "I hate this part." "I know." "...You better be here when I get back." You snorted. "Where else would I be?"
Imagine he didn't answer that. He didn't need to. Because for him, there had been a time where that question have a certain answer. But now, now it did. With you, it always did. "...Okay." He said finally. He let go and took a step back. Then another, and another until distance settled in. But even then, he didn't look away. He turned once more before disappearing into the immigration, and there you were. Standing where he left you, looking at him like you always did. Steady, certain, his.
Imagine Caleb let that image settle into his chest. Your face, your eyes, your quiet confidence burning it into memory like something he'd carry no matter where he went. He didn't know then. That it would be the last time you looked at him like you remembered exactly how much you loved him.
Imagine a week after, the plane had come to a full stop when Caleb turned his phone back on, earning a teasing look from his captain that he easily ignore. This was his routine. Text you, call you, tell you he landed. Tell you he missed you even if you'd just say, "Obviously, took you long enough." And so that signal came back, and so did everything else. Notifications flooded in, missed calls. Messages stacked on top of each other like something urgent had been trying to claw its way through.
Imagine the way his steps slowed, just a fraction. But his co-workers notice it anyways, asking him if everything was okay. Still, an unknown number. Then a message came. From a hospital. His stomach dropped, he opened it anyway. Emergency. That was all he needed. Because before he could even read the rest, his body was already moving, fast. Too fast.
"Sir?!- your luggage-!" "I'll get it later!" He shouted over his shoulder, already pushing past, already running. Didn't stop. Didn't think. Didn't process. The luggage, one filled with things he picked out for you, souvenirs, little items he knew you'd pretend not to like but keep anyway was left behind without second thought. None of it mattered. Not when your name was tied to a word like emergency.
Imagine Caleb didn't remember the cab ride, didn't remember getting in. Didn't remember giving directions. Just the feeling. A sharp, suffocating pressure in his chest that wouldn't settle. Wouldn't let him breathe properly. By the time he reached the hospital, he was already halfway running.
"Excuse me-!" "Sir-!" He ignored them. Followed the directions. Turned the corner. ICU. His chest tightened. He pushed forward only to be stopped. "Sir, you can't enter-" "I'm looking for (First name) Xia" He said, breath uneven. "She was brought in- told me there was an accident-" "You need authorization-" "I am her husband." His voice was sharp and immediate. Like it wasn't something he needed to think about. "I'm not a stranger. Let me in." "Sir, please-" His patience snapped. "I said I'm-" "Mr. Xia." A nurse. For a moment, he calm down. "Mr. Xia, we've been trying to reach you." She said quickly. "Mrs. Xia is still in the ICU." "What happened?" "Car accident, head trauma. It's serious." The word serious didn't sit right. "Take me to her, please."
Imagine the room was too quiet, too still, too wrong. You were there, but not. The machines breathing for you, monitors blinking. And your hand, motionless. Caleb stopped just inside the doorway. And for a second, he couldn't move. Because this, this didn't match anything in his head. Not the way you llaughed a week ago. Not the way you kissed him goodbye. Not the way you told him to come back safe.
"...Hey." He said quietly. His voice felt small, out of place. He stepped closer anyway. Slow, careful. Like the moment might break if he moved too fast. "I'm back." He murmured. Like that mattered, like you could hear him. His hand found yours. Warm, thank God. His grip tightened, just slightly. Like that alone could anchor you here.
Imagine, not too long after that. Caleb was outside the room as the doctor talked, explained, used words that blurred together. Swelling. Observation. Not stable. "She's not stable yet." The doctor said. "We're monitoring her closely." "Will she wake up?" Caleb asked. A pause. "...We don't know." Caleb's jaw tightened. "And if she does?" "...There is a possibility of memory loss." He nodded. Because there wasn't anything else to do.
Imagine right after the doctor left, he pulled out his phone. Scrolled until he found the contact. Mom. He pressed call. It rang once, twice, then- "Hello?" Her voice was light, relaxed. On vacation. "It's Caleb." A pause, then. "Caleb? Why do you-" "There was an accident." Silence. Immediate. Heavy. "What do you mean accident?" "She-" He swallowed, forcing his voice steady. "She was in a car accident. Head injury. She's in the hospital right now." The line went quiet. "Is she okay?" Her voice came out smaller now. "She's alive." Not fine, not okay. Alive.
"...Caleb." "She's in ICU." He continued, like if he kept talking he wouldn't stop. "They're monitoring her. There's swlling. They don't know when she'll wake up." A sharp inhale could be heard on the other end. "...We're coming back." Your mother said immediately. "We'll book the earliest flight-" "No." The word came out too fast. Too firm. He closed his eyes briefly. "...No" he repeated, softer this time. "You don't have to." "What do you mean we don't have to? That's our daughter-" "I know."
Imagine the way his grip on the phone tightened. "I know." He said again, quieter. "But there's nothing you can do here right now. She's still under observation. They're taking care of her?" "...And you?" A pause. "I'm here." "That's not what I asked." He exhaled slowly. "I'm fine." A lie, a clean one. The kind that didn't crack on the surface. "...Caleb." She said gently. "Tell me the truth." His throat tightened. He leaned back against the wall, eyes fixed on your sleeping figure inside the room. "... I don't know what to do." He admitted.
Imagine the words came out quieter than he expected. "I got here and she was just-" He stopped, jaw tightening. "She was just lying there." Silence. "...She's supposed to be home." He said, voice rougher now. "She said she'd pick me up." "...Oh, sweetheart." He huffed a weak breath. Not quite a laugh. "...I left her for a week." He muttered. "I was gone for a week." "That's your job." "I should've been here." "You couldn't have know." "I should've been here." The words came out sharper this time. Like something he needed to believe, because if he had been. Maybe this wouldn't have happened.
"...Caleb." She said carefully. "This is not your fault." He didn't believe that. "Listen to me." She continued. "Is she alone right now?" "No." "Good." "She won't be." He added immediately. "I'm not leaving." Another pause. Softer this time. "...I know you won't." His grip loosened just slightly. "...We'll stay here." She said. "For now. But if anything changes- anything, you call me. Immediately." "I will." "And Caleb?" "... Yeah?" "Take care of yourself too." He let out a quiet breath. "...I will." "She trusts you." Your mother added. "We do too." And that, that landed heavy. That's why he couldn't fall apart, not now.
Imagine the days blurred and he stayed. Of course he stayed. Nontheless he went back to the airport, picked up his luggage. The one filled with things meant for you. And it felt heavier now. Useless. He brought it home anyway. He fed the cat. Change clothes. Then find Rainy longered by the door longer than usual. "She'll be back." Caleb muttered. Like saying it would make it true.
Imagine he went back to you. Everyday, everynight, sitting by your side. Talking because silence felt wrong. "...You'd hate this place." He murmured one evening. "Too quiet." Nothing. "...You'd say it smells weird." Still nothing. He exhaled softly. "...You'd still stay though." Because you always did. Everyday, he read to you. The stories you liked, the books you argued about. "You said this part didn't make sense." He muttered, turning a page. "Still doesn't." Your hand didn't move, but he kept going, because stopping felt like giving up.
Imagine a week passed, seven days, seven nights of holding it together, of not breaking, of not letting himself think too far. Then your fingers twitched. His head snapped up. "...Hey." your lashes fluttered, slow, heavy. "Hey," He said again, softer now. "Take your time." You inhaked sharply and then your eyes opened. And for one brief, fragile moment, everything felt like it might be okay.
Imagine the way he stood up, stepped closer. The way relief hits him so hard it almost hurt. "You're awake." He said, voice low, steady only because he forced it to be. Then your gaze moved, slow, unfocused at first then it landed at him. And something shifted. Not relief, not recognition. It was something else, something wrong. His chest tightened. "...Hey." he said again, quieter, almost to himself. He said it carefully, like approaching something fragile. And you stare at him. Long. Like you were trying to place. Like you were trying to understand why he was there. And then, as if his whole world turned upside down, "...Why are you here?"
Imagine Caleb feels it before he understands it. The way the words land. Light. Confused. Unassuming. Like you didn't just ask something that splits his world clean in half. And he doesn't answer right away. Not because he doesn't want to but because for a moment, his mind simply... Stalls.
because Imagine, you are awake. You're looking at him. You're talking. And somehow, somehow you're asking why he's here. "...What do you mean?" He manages even though his thoat feels tight, fry. He said it so carefully, measured. Every syllable chosen like it matters, because it does. It really, really does. But you just frown at him like he's the confusing one. "...I mean...Why are you here?" You repeat. "Did something happen at school?" School. The word hits hard. But he doesn't flinch. He doesn't react. But inside, something drops. Fast and cold. Because school, not works, not flights. Not... Life. Just school.
Imagine the way Caleb swallows, slow, controlled. "Do you know where you are?" He asks instead. Redirect, stabilize, don't rush. Don't overwhelm her, Caleb. He thought to himself as you glance around, slower this time. "Hospital." You say. "And do you remember how you got here?" You try. He sees it. The way your brows pull together. The way your eyes shift like you're reaching for something that isn't there. "No." The word comes out small, uncertain. "That's... Weird." And his hand moves before he thinks and settles on your arm. And it was warm, grounding. Wether if was for you, or for him. He doesn't know.
"Okay." He says quickly. He reins it in. "That's okay. You were in an accident. You hit your head. But you're safe now." "...An accident?" "Yeah." "What kind of accident?" There it is. The first hesitation. It was tuny, barely noticable. But to Caleb, it feels massive. Because he doesn't know how much is too much. He doesn't know where the line is. He doesn't know how fragile you are right now.
"...You hit your head." He repeats instead. "The doctor said you might have some memory loss. Just temporary" "...Memory loss?" "Yeah." Thats when you let our a small laugh of disbelief. "That's not funny." "I'm not joking." He hopes. God, he hopes.
Imagine the way your eyes stay on him, longer this time. Studying, searching. And he? Caleb feels sick. Because that look... That's not how you look at him. Not like this. Not like you're trying to figure our who he is to you.
"Okay." You say slowly. "Then let me test it." His chest tightens, he answered anyway. "Okay." Then you point at him. Simple, direct. "...Who are you?" The answer should be easy. It is easy. But it doesn't feel like it. Not anymore. "Caleb." "Right." You nod immediately. "My best friend. You hate cilantro and cry when someone for-" "I do not cry-" "You absolutely cry-" The automatic banter hits him like whiplash. Familiar. So familiar it almost hurts more than anything else. Because this... This is you. The you he knows. The you he loves. But it's incomplete. Stuck frozen in a version of your life where he wasn't yours.
"Okay." He exhales, a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "That's good." You frown. "Why wouldn't it be?" His smile falters. Tiny, quick. "...What's the last thing you remember?" He asks. Careful. Always careful. You think. "Highschool senior year. Finals week, I was nearly failing and asked you to help me" You said. "You were begging." He correct. "I asked politely." "You begged." "You sniffled, baby." Fuck that slipped. "That's not-" "Why do you look like that?" His stomach drops. "Like what?" "Like you're about to throw up."
Imagine, he almost laughs. Almost. Because that's.. too accurate. Too real. "Because that was years ago." He says instead. You blink. "...No? It wasn't." "It was." "You're messing with me." "I'm not.." You stare at him. Searching. And he feels it again. That sick, twisting feeling in his gut. Because you don't believe him. Not because you think he's lying but because your world doesn't allow it to be true. "...What year is it?" You asked and he tells you. And watches as your face changes. Colors draining, confusion turning into something heavier.
"...No." You said. "That's not possible." He could only hold you close. "No. No, no, no, that doesn't make sense. I would remember. I would-" Your voice flaters. "I would remember years." "I know." God, he knows. "I don't remember anything after high school." There it is. The confirmation. The line drawn. Clean and brutal. Everything after, gone. But he nods, once. Becaus if he reacts, if he lets anything slip, you'll see it. "...Anything?" He asks quietly. You shake your head. "No."
Imagine the way his stomach turns, hard. But he swallows it down, forces it down. Because you are looking at him. Because you'll notice. Because you always notice. "...Okay." he says. "That's okay." It doesn't feel okay. It feels like the ground just disappeared beneath him. But he says it anyway. "We'll figure it out." You laugh weakly. "Figure out what? My missing life?" "If we have to." You study him again. And Caleb braces because he knows. He knows what's coming. "...What else am I missing?" You ask.
Imagine there it is. The question he's been dreading. The one he can't answer fully. Not yet. Not like this. He looks at you, like really looks at you. At the confusion. The vulnerability. The way you're trying so hard to stay grounded in something that makes sense. And he chooses. Carefully.
"...We went to college," He started. "Skyhaven Academy." "...Okay, cool." "We graduated." You hummed. "We... Move in together." Your brows knit. "...We what?" "We live together now." "...Why?" "...Because we wanted to." "That doesn't shound like me." "It is." "No, it's not. I like my space." "You still do." "Then why would I move in with you?"
Imagine the way he hesitates. He knows it and he can't help it. Because the truth sitting on his tongue, 'Because you married me-' feels too big. Too heavy. Too much. "...Caleb." "Yeah?" "Why are you hesitating?" His jaw tightens. "...I'm trying not to overwhelm you." "Just say it." His stomach twist again. Worst this time. Because now, there's no avoiding it. "...We're dating." He says.
and Imagine, the word feels wrong the second it leaves his mouth. Too small, too distant, but safer. Safer than the truth. Then there was silence.
"...No." Immediate, firm, certain. It hits him like a punch. He keeps his face neutral as best as he can. "...Yeah." "No." You repeat, shaking your head. "That's not right." "It is." "That's reficulous." "Why?" "Because you're my best friend!" "And?" "And you don't date your best friend!" "...We did." "No, you think we did." "I know we did." "You're lying." "I'm not." "Caleb." You says, exasperated. "You were literally in love with your step sister." "I was not-" "You follow her around like a lost puppy!" "I was being overprotective." "You wrote her a poem!" "It was for family." "And now you expect me to believe I chose to date you?" "Yes."
Imagine the answer comes out before he can stop it. Too honest. Too raw. Because you did, you chose him. Again and again and again. But you're looking at him ike that choice is impossible. Like it doesn't exist in your world. You stare at him, long. And then you leann back. "Absolutely not." And something in him just... Drops. Not break, not shatter. Just... Falls, quietly. Like something giving up. And he nods, once. Because what else can he do?
"Okay." It was barely above whisper. But it is all he has because he can't force this. He can't argue you into loving him. Not when you don't even remember how. His stomach churns again. Worse. Hot. Sharp. He feels it climbing up his throat. Fuck- He swallows hard. Forces it down. Not now, not here. Not in front of you. "I'm going to call the doctor." He says. Careful again. Controlled like nothing just happened. Like his chest isn't caving on itself.
Imagine you nod, trusting easy because to you, this is normal. And so he steps back. Each step heavier than the last. And for a second, just a second. He thinks you might call him back. Say something, anything. But you don't. You just watch him go. Like he's exactly who you think he is. Just Caleb. Your best friend, nothing more. And Caleb, forces himself to turn, to work, to leave before the nausea in his throat, the tightness in his chest, and the weight of being forgotten finally wins.
Imagine the way the door clicks shit behind him and for a second, just for a second, Caleb stands there. Still, breathing in, out, slow, controlled. Like id he keeps it measured, keeps it steady, everything insdie him won't spill over. And it almost works, almost. He exhales, drag a hand down his face, then forces his legs to move. One step, then another, until he was down the hallway. He doesn't let himself look back, because if he does, if sees you again with that look in your eyes. He's not sure he'll make it three steps away.
"Excuse me." His voice comes out rougher than intended. A nurse turn, recognition flickers. "You're with the patient in 312, right?" "My-" He stops then adjust, "Yeah. She's awake." Immediate shift. "Oh- okay. I'll call the doctor." "She has-" He swallows. "She doesn't remember. Not after highschool. She thinks it's... Years ago." The nurse expression softens, turning clinical. "Retrograde amnesia." She murmurs. "That can happen with head trauma." Caleb nods. He already knew that. Hated that.
"...There's something else." He adds. The nurse pauses. "Yes?" He hesitates. Of course he doesn. Because even this feels like something he's taking from you, or hiding, or both. "If she asks." He starts slowly. "About us. About our relationship.." the nurse watches him, waiting. He forces the words out. "...Just say I'm her boyfriend." A beat. "...Sir?" "Just-" He exhales sharply, trying to keep his voice even. "Don't tell her we're married. Not yet." Concern flickers across the nurse face now. "Are you sure that's-" "She didn't even believe we were dating." He cuts in, quieter now. Not harsh, just.. tired. "If you tell her she's- we're married, it's going to overwhelm her. She's already struggling to process everything."
Imagine that part is true, it just isn't the whole truth. Because the whole truth is that he doesn't think he can watch your face if you rejected that too.
"...Alright. we'll follow your lead for now. But the doctor will want to discuss this with you." The nurse says after studying him for a moment longer. "That's fine." Caleb says. "Are you okay?" The question lands softer than everything else. And somehow, that makes it worse. Because he almost says yes. Almost. But the words doesn't come out. Instead, he just nods once, short, automatic. "I'm fine." He's not. They both kniw it. But neither of them push it. "...I'll get the doctor." She says gently. He nods again. And the moment she turns away, he moves, fast, too fast.
because Imagine now, now that he said it out loud, now that it's real. His body is catching up to everything he's been forcing down. So as the restroom door slams open. He barely makes it. Hands bracing against the sink, a sharp breath and then it hits. Hard, violently, uncontrolled. He grips on the edge as everything comes up, his entire body tensing with it, shoulders shaking as he tries, fails to keep quiet. Because even now, even like this, some part of him is thinking about you. Don't hear this. Don't see this. Don't know. And when it was over, he doesn't move. He just stays there, head hanging, breahting uneven.
"...Get it together." He mutters hoarsely. His voice sounds wrecked. He sounds wrecked. Eventually, he turns on the tap. Cold water spalshes on his face once, twice, again and again until his skin stings. Until his eyes stop burning as much. Until the tightness in his throat loosen just enough that he can swallow without it hurting. But it doesn't fix it.
Imagine, nothing fixes it. Because the problem isn't physical. It's the way you looked at him. Like he didn't belong there, like loving him wasn't even a possibility. His grip tightens on the sink again. "...She said no." He whispers. Not angry, not bitter. Just... Quietly broken. Because you didn't hesitate. Didn't falter. You just... Rejected it. Rejected him. And the worst part? You didn't even realize what you were rejecting. Eventually, he exhales shakily, presses his lips together. Because if he lets himself think about it any longer... He's going to fall apart completely.
"...Not now." He murmurs. "You don't get to do this now." Because you're in here. Because you're awake. Because you need him. Even if you don't remember why. He straightens slowly. Washes his face again. Fixes his hair and adjust his expression until it looks like something he recognizes. Something steady. Something you won't question. No red eyes, no shaking hands, no cracks. Just Caleb. Your best friend.
Imagine when he steps out, the doctor was already in your room. Talking, explaining. You're listening from the looks of it, brows slightly furrowed. Confused but alive. He stops just outside the door. He doesn't go in yet. Instead, he pull out his phone, finds the contact and presses call. It rings, once, twice. "Caleb?" Your mother. "She's awake." A sharp inhale on the other end. "Oh thank goodness- how is she? Is she okay? Can we talk to her-?" "She's okay." He says quickly. "She's awake and talking." "Thank goodness..." He leans against the hall and closes his eyes for just a second. "...She lost her memories." He adds and then there was silence. "...What do you mean?" "She remembers up to highschool." He says. "Nothing after that. Not college. Not... Anything." "...Oh." the words is soft and heavy at the same time.
"...Does she remember you?" He lets out a quiet breath. "Yeah." A pause. "But not like that." Your mother doesn't respond right away. She understands. Of course she does. "She thinks... We're just friends." He continues, voice quieter now. "Best friends." Another pause. "Caleb-" "There is something i need to ask." He cuts in gently because if he waits, if he hesitates. He won't be able to say it. "...If she ask you.." He says, steadying his voice. "About us, about our relationship..." "...Yes?" "...Just tell her we're dating." Silence, longer this time.
"...Caleb." "I know." He says quickly. "I know what it sounds like. But she's already overwhelmed. She didn't even believe we were dating. If we tell her we're married-" His voice falters, just slightly. He swallows. "For now," He finishes quietly. "Just... For now." Another pause, then. "Alright." His shoulder drop just a fraction. "Thank you."
Imagine he ends the call and stares at the door for a moment. Then finally, he steps inside. The doctors is still talking, explaning things. And this time it looks like you were half listening, distracted. And then your eyes shift, catches something. He follows your gaze. The mirror, mounted on the wall. His reflection, and yours. There you see him, and just like that, your expression change. Familiar, mischievous, easy. You stick out your tongue at him, quick and playful. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like nothing changed. Like everything is the same. And for a second, it feels like it is.
because Imagine that was you. That was so you. The same teasing, the same ease. The same you. And yet, it's not. Because the way you look at him. There was no weight behind it. No history, no quiet understanding that used to sit between moments like this. Just friendship. Light. Uncomplicated. Safe. And so Caleb huffs a quiet breath and almost laughs. His lips tug upward just slightly. And he lets it stay. Because even if it's not everything, even if it's not what you had. It's still you. And right now, that has to be enough.
[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2026° ko-fi?
: ang haba ampota. Hindi ko na napansin apaka haba pala, nung nag eedit na ko chaka ko lang napansin parang tanga lang. Anyways, I'm back in the PH whahaha
