Well. To make things very clear: the plot itself is not mine I will admit that. Last summer I read a fanfic by the name "Anterograde Tomorrow" - hence this story. While I am using the general plot - perhaps a few scenes from the story itself - I have made my own adjustments.
If by any chance, someone is awaiting chapter one to "All My Suffering", I'll be posting chapter one tonight(; I know I should have been updating that fic more often, but I just haven't had the inspiration.
Disclaimer: Of course, I don't own Fairy Tail. I give credits to changdictator; writer of Anterograde Tomorrow. If you wish to read the original, you can find her story on LiveJournal.
Dedication: To any readers who have followed and/or favourited either myself, or my stories.
When her eyes open, she ceases a sigh. It was inevitable, as she tries to recall the memories of what happened the day before. Nothing - not even the few hours prior to her slumber - she could remember.
She's wondering why her room is suddenly so colourful. Placed everywhere were stuffed animals of all colours - red, pink, yellow, green - with even brighter notepads stuck to them with neat handwriting scrawled onto it. From where she sits upon her bed, she cannot make out the words written on it or whose name is signed on the bottom right corner.
She's sitting on her bed, her sheets pooling around her waist. Resting between her legs in the crook of her palms is a large scrapbook. When she opens it, her fingers skim the images as her eyes briefly read over the short captions.
Her fingers stop over a certain page plastered with a bright and cheerful smile and strangely coloured hair. Her memory fails her as she is unable to pinpoint any memories with the stranger. Despite not being able to remember, she feels a strange surge of emotions flowing through her.
She bites her lip.
He was familiar, and she knew she'd spent a great amount of time with him. His name rolls off the tip of her tongue smoothly without her even glancing at the captions that mentions his name. It surprises her.
And suddenly her cheeks are damp.
She shakily reaches up, softly pressing her nimble fingers to her cheeks. And suddenly tears are streaming freely and she can't seem to recall why, but she's hugging herself, long abandoning the book.
He was familiar. So, so very familiar.
...
But she couldn't identify who he was to her.