Isaac wakes up, sun shining blindingly through the windows. He was confused. He runs his fingers through the smooth, satin sheets, it feeling cool to the touch. He hears birds chirping outside, the musical twittering peaceful, and far away he hears the soft sounds of waves crashing to the shore. The ocean. He thinks. Isaac loved the ocean. That much he knew. But he couldn't recall where he was. Last thing he remembered, he was fishing… With his best friend. Karina. Where was she? Maybe she could help. He turns on his side, the blanket shifting which exposes more of his bare skin, sending chills through his spine. At first, he hardly notices it. But as he lays, suddenly he becomes aware of the soft breaths next to him. Barely audible, yet heavy enough that he recognized them as someone sleeping. He turns his head.
A girl was in his bed. His bed. Or hers. He didn't think this looked like his room. Actually, it did look like his stuff in a room, but… Things were mixed in. Objects that did not belong to him. What? What was happening? The girl's long, brunette tresses cascade over the pillow in tendrils, contrasting the white pillow case. She was on her side. Away from him.
He wasn't the type of guy to have one night stands… or any type of sex with random women he didn't know. Hell, he was just shy of seventeen. How did this happen? Slowly, he begins to sit up, his legs swinging over the side of the bed. He feels a shift. "Isaac…?" A soft voice murmurs to him, laced with sleep. He didn't know this girl's name. He didn't know how to respond. Was he drugged? He didn't have a clue. "Izzy… Where are you going?" She whispers, and he once again feels the bed shift, this time a hand tracing up his spine, along the indents. Chills run through him. Her chin rests on his shoulder now, but he still doesn't look. "Hey… I'm sorry… about last night… I—I didn't mean to get upset with you. I didn't feel well…" She softly explains, and his chest aches. He didn't even know who this girl was or what she was talking about, but he wanted to forgive her. After a moment or so of awkward silence that passes between them, she mumbles, the sadness in her voice physically hurting him. He didn't know why. "You're mad at me…" Her voice grows soft, sheepish. He decides it would be a good time to look at her.
Tears brim in her eyes as her gaze casts up to look at him. He was instantly taken aback by her beauty. She looked older than him… By a few years at least. Again, he can't help but wonder what was going on. He saw barely there little lines drawn at the sides of her mouth from years of smiling and laughing, but only subtle, adding to her beauty. Her lashes dark, completely natural, and long. They skimmed her cheeks when she closed her eyes, he noticed. She looks helpless at him. Upset, but he could tell it wasn't an emotion directed toward himself. "Izzy…" She starts again, her tears starting to fall as she wipes at her red, puffy nose with her wrist, sniffing; begging. "Talk to me… Tell me what to do. Please." He blinks, not sure what to say. What was there to say? What do you say when a stranger starts to cry in front of you? He decides to just get it off his mind. No harm, no foul. Right? "I—Um… I don't know you."
Smooth. Her lips turn up into a slight smile, though she seems wary. "That's not funny, baby…" She chuckles, and he becomes even more puzzled. Do I look like I'm joking? He wanted to say, but didn't. "No, seriously." He begins, starting to move away from her, suddenly aware of his lack of a shirt, cheeks burning. "Who are you?" Her lips curve down. "Stop teasing… It's not funny." She says again, though he detects a flash of worry behind her eyes. She truly thought he was kidding. Sighing, he asks. "Okay, then. At least tell me your name." Isaac says, seeming cautious. The girl's expression turns hurt. "Isaac!" She yells, obviously unhappy. Little lines creasing between her brows. He wanted them to go away… To see her happy. But he also did not know her. He felt like he should. "How do you know my name?" He asks, his own brows taut as he tries to figure it out, though he was clearly missing a large piece to the puzzle. That's where she realizes something's not right. Tentatively, she reaches her hands out and takes his face between her palms, searching his eyes for something. She thinks you're lying. He wasn't. Tears swell again, this time falling quickly. Her eyes are loving. She loved him. He knew that look. "Isaac… I—I'm your wife. Mia. You know that. Please stop…" Mia. He doesn't realize he spoke out loud. He must've. She looks hopeful, but it vanishes. Her name felt… right, somehow, on his tongue. But his wife? Not possible. "I don't even know you…" He sadly responds, wishing he did. He wish he knew her. Her tears are constant now. She's sobbing. Great. He tries to explain. Maybe she was crazy? Something was wrong with her? "I'm only a kid… You seem nice, really… but we aren't married. Where am I?" But the look she gave him… That look. It told him that maybe there wasn't something wrong with her. Maybe there's something wrong with him.
"Isaac, you—you're…" She breaks off to cry more, but his gaze keeps on hers. He felt bad not knowing. Something wasn't right. "You're twenty years old … We've been married for three years. This is our home…" His head swirls. She says more, but he doesn't hear. Three years. I'm missing three years of my life. Her voice rings in his head. Mixed with her soft crying in the background. He passes out.
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Isaac sits in the house of a healer. Mia brought him here. It's been three days since his memory loss, and she's been trying to help him remember. The first day was hard.
When he woke up after passing out, he once again didn't know where he was. Then he remembered. Mia was his wife. He can't remember the past three years. He's still lying on the floor, but now a soft blanket covers him and a pillow is placed below his head. Mia sits on the bed, watching him with red, puffy eyes. "Hi…" She mumbles quietly, looking away. She didn't feel comfortable with him. That stung… But it shouldn't. "Um… Hey." He replies, rubbing at his eyes. "How long have I been…" He looks around, sitting up slowly. Still looking down at her lap, she murmurs, "Only a few hours." Oh. He scratches his neck. It was midday by now. "You… You really don't remember me?" She asks, her eyes tearing up once more. Now he's the one to look away. What should he say? He couldn't exactly lie to her. "No, I don't." He responds, a twinge of sadness in his tone. He hears more sniffles. He didn't mean to hurt her.
This time, he's the one to move. He gets up from his spot on the floor and comes to sit next to her on her bed—their bed. She looks up, but barely. "Help me remember..." He whispers in a plea, and her eyes meet his, not bothering to swipe away her tears now. "I don't know how…" She responds, as if she's given up. He panics. He didn't want her to give up on him. She rests her hand on his cheek again, and he feels his face warm at the touch. "I don't know how," she repeats, "But I want to. I will." At this, he can breathe. He had someone. But didn't he have someone else before? Karina. His mind whispers into his brain, and his brows furrow. "Where's Karina?" Mia looks confused a moment, but then, her eyes deeply sadden. He worries. "Is she at her house?" He wonders, but as he scans the small room, he notices how familiar it is. The worn walls of the little beaten down shack his best friend lives in. Or lived in. Why were they there? Sleeping here? Living here?
"I never met her…" Mia sadly states, and he seems confused even more so. How could his wife never meet his best friend? "You never talk much of her, Isaac…" She says his name so casually and full of love. He wished he could be the same way. I don't talk much of her? He didn't understand. Did they have a fight? They always forgave each other… He would've forgiven her for anything. When Mia continues, though, his heart drops to the pit of his stomach. He shakes his head. "She died… before you and I…" She can't finish. He can't speak. He can't breathe, or think. Blankly, he stares at her, and she starts to worry. Her fingers curl around his ear, her touch comforting, but not enough. He felt like his heart was torn out of his chest. "I'm so sorry." Is all she can respond, but her voice is muffled as his head screams at him. Where was he that he couldn't have helped her? I should've been there. He blamed himself.
He asks to be alone after that. He could tell Mia was hurt that he didn't want her. All he wanted at the moment was his best friend. She leaves and he just sits. He sits for hours. In the room. Thinking. Reminiscing. And once he notices night fall, he wanders down the stairs to find Mia—his wife—curled up on the sofa in silence, once again crying. She calms a while after seeing him, and she explains what she knew of Karina's death, which evidently wasn't much. He really must not have talked of her much. She died in The Games. Of course. It wasn't really his fault, but he still blamed himself.
That night Isaac sleeps on the couch.
The next day, Mia keeps her word. She tries to help him remember, but to no avail. She tells him of their years together, of their love. He feels something for the stories… Like his heart remembers… But his brain can't. She seems nervous at some parts as she speaks, her cheeks painting this lovely, crimson color, and he can picture himself being in love with her. He just wished he could remember it. They both are disappointed when by the end of the day he tells her it didn't help. She says she's going to sleep. He doesn't follow. Mia didn't come back downstairs after that.
Until this morning. She decided it was time to take him to a healer. He agreed, because well, the other option was keeping his memory the way it was. He didn't like that thought. So now he sits and waits, Mia off to the side in the corner as a plump woman shines some bright lights into his eyes and makes him sniff some odd herbs that were fragranced. He didn't know what they were supposed to do. The woman sighs as she noticed he's unresponsive to whatever she was doing, helplessly looking back to Mia. He could just barely see the woman's face, her eyes seemed sympathetic. To Mia. Mia was holding her tears back, her face red, but blank with emotion. He's noticed the signs of her breakdowns over the past few days together. Anyone else wouldn't be able to tell, but now he could. It was all in her eyes. How they started to glisten and she blinked a lot, willing herself not to cry. Not in front of me. He sadly thought. Mia didn't want to cry in front of him. Her husband who was now a stranger. "Give it a few days. It should come back on its own." The woman tells her, but is uncertain. Mia nods, and they go home.
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Days pass quickly and soon enough, he's spent two weeks with Mia. Every day she tells him stories about her, about him, about them. Each time he listens intently and tries to remember. His heart lurches at each one of the memories between them, yet his mind still doesn't budge. He doesn't remember.
It was raining this particular day. A Friday. "I love the rain." Isaac murmurs, sitting with his legs criss-crossed on the carpet, Mia next to him. "I know…" She whispers in reply. Of course she knew. No matter what he said, she always knew. When he figured that out, he started feeling more comfortable around her. He believed her. He chuckles, idly picking at the fuzz that frayed from the soft material, noticing the space between them. And Mia's eyes on him.
Her eyes were always on him. He constantly felt them. He realized now she was afraid to let him out of her sight. She's protecting you. He tells himself, and he feels bad because he should be the one protecting her. Mia bashfully looks away when Isaac's eyes meet hers, and her cheeks burn visibly to him. He wanted to run his fingers over them; feel the heat under her skin. "Okay…" Mia starts and then she begins telling him one of their many adventures together. This one important. When he proposed to her. She tells him how he led her to their famous meadows (which he heard about last week for the first time) and she doesn't miss a detail. Her lips are curved into a smile as she tells the story, and that sight makes his heart race. Her eyes tear up, but this time gleefully, and the way she spoke… It was like it happened just yesterday for her.
Isaac looks down at his lap and fiddles with his fingers. Still listening to her, but not looking anymore. He couldn't. His heart sinks. He doesn't even remember proposing to her. That frustrates him greatly. Just as Mia is saying how she said yes ("immediately", she adds), he gets up from where he's sitting and goes to stand by the window, watching as the rain drops trickle down the window. He pretends they're racing each other, observing as the water touches and morphs into big, fat droplets. This was a distraction so he wouldn't get upset.
He only notices Mia stops when he feels her gentle hand on his shoulder, and his eyes close. If she could see him, his expression would be pained. It hurt him that he had spent so much time with this one person, yet he couldn't remember a thing about it. The stories were nice… But he felt like he was hearing the life of someone else. Not himself. "Isaac?" She murmurs, her voice kind. It always was. She wanted him to remember as badly as he did. She loves me. He remembers. She didn't bother trying to hide that from him. But… he feared. What if he couldn't love her back? What if she got tired of waiting and she needed to move on? Mia was all he had now. But he didn't know where they stood, because while they were married, what marriage could last like this?
"I can't remember." He mutters, not masking how upset he was. "I know." Is all she responds, her voice sad, but not like his. She understood him. Like no one else ever has. Her hand doesn't stray from his back, but instead, it trails over his shoulder and she tries to get him to look at her. He bites his lip, his brows furrowed and eyes still closed as he turns. He didn't think he could bear to look at her. To see how much she was hurting. To see how much she loves him. He feels her hand slide up the side of his neck, her touch heating his entire body as if he was suddenly engulfed by a flame. She was the only one to ever make him feel like that. He knew. Her other hand comes up to do the same, now holding his face. Her thumbs fleetingly brush beneath his eyes, tracing the dark circles under caused from the stress of the past two weeks, as well as the lack of sleep. He slept on the couch every night, but he had nightmares. And each time he woke up, he couldn't drift back off. He worked himself to exhaustion trying to remember. Not only for himself, but for her.
"Look at me…" She whispers, her voice not commanding, but the way she said it… He would've done anything for her. He couldn't though. He didn't want to face this reality. He wished everything would go back to how it was before… He seemed happy then. She seemed happy then. "Please don't…" He whispers so soft that if they weren't the only people in the room, she would still be the only one to hear him. "Look." She repeats, but he detects a frown in her voice, one of her hands beginning to slide off of his cheek. He reaches up to hold her wrist, putting her hand back in place. It belongs here. She belongs here. He thinks, and he believed it now. His eyes flutter open, the lights in the house dim from how dark it was outside. But lamps around the house bring enough light to illuminate them. Illuminate her. She was glowing. And beautiful. She stares at him in awe, and her hands trace over his every feature, like she was looking at the most beautiful thing in the world. He watches her, his thick lashes shadowing around his eyes, bringing the light color out of them. "I—I want to try something…" She falters, her voice quiet as if unsure, and then she explains. "Just to see if it works." He nods, giving her his approval, and though he's not sure what it is, he is desperate. I'll do anything. He begs for something to work.
Mia's expression softens further, and her hands hold his face firmer. She leans in. Before he can register it as a kiss, her lips are on his. Soft, and warm. Familiar. It felt right. Like that's what he was made to do. His hand reflexively tightens around her wrist. His cheeks burn and he's craving more from her. A thought flashes into his mind: Him and Mia are running. Running on the beach, into the water. She dives in, he splashes after her, catching up to her. She laughed. Musically, playfully. He thought it was the most perfect sound he's ever heard. He didn't want it to end. "I win!" She exclaims, dancing around in the water. He let her win, but he wouldn't say. Chuckling, he nods. "Alright, then. Claim your prize." She giggles, and wades her way through the glittering sea towards him, her prize being a kiss. Mia pulls away. He's breathless. She searches his face, and she must take his expression the wrong way, because her hands drop back to her sides and she stutters, "I'm sorry… I just thought… Maybe…" She was trying to apologize. He shakes his head quickly, and his hands find hers. "No." Is his response.
She looks at him confused. She clearly thought he didn't want her to kiss him, but she was wrong. He wanted it. And her. She starts to speak, but before she can get a word out, he blurts, "I remembered something…" and at that, her doe-eyes widen. Her eyes glisten slightly and he continues. "It wasn't much… I saw… You. We were at the beach. We raced, and…" He trails off, his face burning with the thought of it. But she knows what he's going to say. Her hands squeeze his, her eyes hopeful. "We kissed." She replies, but must be embarrassed as soon as she says it, for her expression gets bashful and she looks at their interlocked hands. He simply nods. They had just kissed now and that made him remember something. Albeit it wasn't much, but still… A memory. She was the key to it. He decided that. She was the one that was going to save him from this. I love her. The thought crosses his mind, and his heart races. She continues to stare at him. She was happy. So was he. I love her. He thinks again, it making his lips curve up.
This time, he's the one to kiss her. He doesn't remember anything more, but he didn't mind.
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Since the initial kiss between him and Mia, Isaac doesn't remember anything more. It was frustrating to him. Though, sometimes he asks Mia if he can kiss her, "Just to try." he'll add on. He knew it wasn't going to work, and so did she, but she always nods her head and is happy to oblige.
Isaac has yet to tell her that he loves her. It's been a few days, but he doesn't want to rush it… It was ironic, kind of. He loved his wife, but was afraid of things moving too quickly between them. He sleeps on the couch still, even when Mia invited him to their bed. "You can, uh, sleep on your side… I won't move over from my side." She assured him, bashful. He cheeks blushed again, and he loved it so much. He craved her. It scared him how hard he loved her, because he's never really loved anyone like that before… Well, he has loved her before, he just doesn't remember. "No, I'm okay on the couch." He politely responds. She's disappointed and hurt. He wanted to sleep with her. He did. But he was still afraid that something would go awry between them… It's only been three weeks, she's bound to get frustrated with the lack of memory eventually. And when that happened, what could he do? What could she do? He was afraid that she'd still give up on him… Because he wasn't what she deserved. She deserved a man that could share memories with her; love her because of everything they've been through. Not a man that couldn't remember any of it. She nods at his answer, says goodnight, and kisses him on the cheek. His skin burns where her lips touched. He wished he could feel more.
That night, when Isaac wakes up at three AM in a cold sweat, feeling a trickle of fear in the back of his mind from something that he couldn't recall… Something only sleep ever revealed to him, he notices someone else awake. At first, he can barely hear it over the pulsing of his blood, pounding in his ears. A dim light shines in the hallway, and out of curiosity, he goes to check it out.
The source of the light was the bathroom, and the noises that came from there sounded like someone gagging. He was worried. With brows furrowed, he knocks, but the door pushes open. Mia kneels curled up to the toilet, sweat plastering her hair to her flushed face, tears in her eyes. She looks at him, but only for a moment before she goes back to hacking. His heart twists painfully for her. I love her. He can't help but think that, even in this moment. Sobs rack her body, and she looks so weak. He had to help her. He goes to get a damp washcloth, crouching beside her as he pushes her curls behind her ears. He wipes her forehead with the cloth, and he can tell by how her breathing slows and her eyes shut that it's calming her. He feels better.
After a short while, she's ready to go back to bed. She tries getting up on her own, but he wouldn't let her. He scoops her into his arms, and his action makes his heart leap. They were so close. He was holding her. She makes herself at home, though, her face nestling in the crook of his neck. He doesn't stop her. Isaac liked Mia here. She was safe in his arms, he wouldn't let anything hurt her; not even some stomach bug. He liked the way her body curled comfortably against him as he carried her back to the bed, and how she looked when she was sleepy. He lays her on the bed, thinking she was too far gone with sleep to notice as he left, but she wasn't. Just as he approaches the door, he hears her hoarse voice, "Are you leaving?" He was leaving, but… the way she asked him. He wanted to stay. He nods, turning to face her. She looks at him with eyelids droopy, and she's curled beneath a blanket on her side. He walks back to the bed. "Lay with me…" She murmurs, and she reaches for him as he kneels beside her bed—their bed. His blood pumps again. He feels it in his veins. "Alright." He replies in a whisper. He crawls next to her.
He hasn't been in bed with her like this since that first day, but this time, it feels more like his. Before, he felt out of place. Now, he feels like he belongs. In her drowsy state, Mia curls up to Isaac, her face burying in its rightful place against his neck. He could feel her warm, hot breath fan over his skin. Chills course through him. He must tense, because she asks softly, "Are you sure?" but he just nods. He wanted to be with her; next to her. Gingerly, his arms snake around her small frame, and he holds her to his chest. He hears her elicit a sigh. "Is your stomach feeling better?" He asks, concern still laced in his tone. She shakes her head. His lips curve down. "Is there anything I can do?" Another shake of her head. He huffs, feeling like he could do more for her, but she wouldn't talk to him… And he hears her sniffle. What was he doing wrong? He looks down at her and she tries to hide her face more. She must feel like he's a stranger… She needed him, but not in the way he could be right now. "I—I'm sorry…" He mumbles sadly, starting to shift away. Her hands ball into his shirt to keep him close. "I'm pregnant." She cries softly. His ears ring at the news. A picture forms in his mind: They're in a house. Not this one. It's big, fancy. Beautiful. Mia walks around in his shirt, plopping behind him on the couch. He sits on the floor. Her arms loop around his neck. Her hair is wet, as is his. She kisses the dip below his ear and a soft breath emits from his lips. "So…" She starts casually. He laughs softly, finding it cute. She giggles in response. "Do you want to have… kids?" She asks, her voice shy. He tilts his head to look up at her. "What?" He asks. She shrugs idly and looks away. Isaac brings her in for a quick peck. "I've always wanted a big family…" He whispers, and she smiles. It's infectious. "I'd love to give you that." She replies, happy, both of them smiling by now. "Someday…" He blinks in the darkness. Pregnant. The word continues to play in his head. How could… Well. Mia is still crying. "I was going to…" She gasps softly between her tears, still clutching onto him. "I was going to tell you… But then this… This happened…" His heart feels like it was pierced by her words. Then you lost every memory of her,he thinks.
"I'm sorry." He doesn't know what else to say to her. How could they be having a baby? Like this? It was messed up. He holds her closer now, though, letting her get out her needed crying. He was hurting so badly. She was hurting so badly. They needed each other to mend. He doesn't tell her of his memory today. He saves it for tomorrow. Eventually, Mia's tears cease, and he keeps close. Maybe even closer now. Once he hears her soft breaths, knowing she's finally drifted off, her watches her, the sun starting to come up. "I love you." He whispers for the first time, knowing she can't hear. He wasn't only speaking to her though. Someone else was with them now. Someone else to try for.
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