Based off of the Normal End.
I like writing introspective stories, to be honest.
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There's pieces of Ludger everywhere, small fractures of different memories that aren't actually his memories replay every night when he lays his head down. From being a parent to Elle, to living a normal life with his brother where there is no Fractured Dimensions or some imminent danger to reality. Just him and his brother, living normal lives and working for a living, with not a care in the world.
He doesn't mind the more severe ones, having come to an acceptance that they had to happen-though he can't say for the others but how long has been since he's actually talked to them?-because the push and pull of the world leaves no room for kindness. Sometimes, Ludger hates those memories, where a dear friend dies or a lover or a pet. They aren't his, but they're still his in a way.
The ones that hurt the most are the ones with Elle, a gripping reality of choices that he wished had not happened. Smiling, happy Elle without a worry or care in the world who has both parents, or just him or just her. They awaken him with a sore heart, burning eyes and a permanent image of what could have been, what can be and what never will be. Some days, he silently curses Origin, other days, he curses himself.
When he had met Lara, he had been excited of the prospect of what will be, of seeing little Elle again one day that he almost overlooked the important detail of what comes with relationships. At first, it was the idea of seeing her again, but then it was the idea of being with Lara. He'd apologized for crying so suddenly, it wasn't something that normally happened and said that he didn't know why it was happening.
She thought he was strange, but brushed it off. Something happened, somewhere along the way, excuses to see each other. Excuses to have long executive meetings to get each other going, silent rendezvous and trysts to keep people from knowing.
This is the reality that Ludger likes and loathes, the guilt that sits in the middle of his chest and constricts his lungs and heart some days. The prospect of seeing Lara smile is enough to give him some sort of hope for the future (Elle and Lara have the same smile and dimples, it's uncanny), but it still hurts. It still hurts because he never feels like he's together, bits and pieces of him strewn about and he can never explain it to her.
It isn't like she doesn't know, because they talk about everything. There are no secrets between them, especially after the first night he had woken up, with a heavy sob and a survivor's guilt feeling. Lara hadn't questioned it, only held him in her arms as he recalled everything. The very feelings he had kept to himself throughout the journey, as to not worry everyone.
The way his memory seems to be fading over time, and he's grasping at the edges of fragments.
He can't focus, with bouts of depression and insomniac nights. Lara puts up with it, and sometimes stays up with him, and she distracts him from shadowy thoughts as she tells stories and talks about their future together.
He thanks Maxwell everyday for Rollo, who remains the only thing that never changes, lazy and fat. Curious, but not too motivated to actually explore. There are days where he does look around for Julius, or for Elle or for someone, and can't find them. He waits by the door sometimes, forsaking food and water a lot. Most days, he's content to sleep on Ludger's desk or on the couch or bug the workers for attention.
Paperwork is piling up, Ludger knows this. He's falling behind and Vera likes to remind him at every waking moment he has this or that to do still, and look over these papers.
There are fractures of Ludger everywhere.