He spent most of that day in a dream-like state. In fact, when he finally stopped playing the moment over in his head, again and again, he found himself in his apartment. It was 12 noon and yet he went to sleep.
When he opened eyes again, Bro found himself basked in setting sun. He sat up and rubbed his tired eyes...he still felt light and satisfied from this morning. Keeping a flat expression, he would make some supper and head out again.
He gave a faint laugh to himself when he realised how busy he had been lately.
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The first year was the hardest. He still had dreams of everything, of fighting and of dying, but they were never so clear as in the first year. And strangely, they weren't really nightmares to him, just a reliving of the moment. He felt neither fear nor adrenaline, just a mild curiousity over what was real - was he actually dead this whole time and living in a memory, or had he really come out of that strangeness?
Those were just dreams though, the difficulty came in the form of the normalcy. He puzzled over what to do with himself for days on end. Wake up, eat, dick around, sleep - that's how it usually went. Everyone had lives but he never felt so disconnected and purposeless.
But the cherry on top was the empty bedroom. In a one bedroom penthouse apartment, he found the bedroom occupied with nothing of his. He couldn't remember who he had lived with, who had occupied his time. Who was this person? Where did they go? The answer lay in his dreams. That vague figure so alike him, to whom he would call out, but who would never respond.
One night he froze in sudden realisation. This whole time, he was calling someone's name but he never heard himself call it.
One night, drifting between sleep and wakefulness, he dreamt of that kid. He felt a longing and an emptiness that night and he wouldn't let him go like he had previously.
"Who are you...?" Bro asked, the kid facing away.
"What are you to me?"
"...Why do I miss you?"
"Answer me!" Bro roared, grabbing the kid's shoulders and turning him around.
"It's me, Dave," Dave answered behind those Ray Bans with a stupid look of confusion. Bro regained his memory and his dreams were less recurrent. And everything made more sense after that.
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Bro found himself standing outside the school, 8 am. Nearly all of the kids had entered by now and, well, the bell had already rung, but for the hour he was there, he saw no Dave. He tapped his foot impatiently and was about to go home angry and disappointed when he noticed a trio of students walking down the street. Dave!
They entered through the Eastern gate, the sun shining bright behind them. Bro was lost, but stupidly excited. "Hey, Dave!" He called out from behind the barred fence. The students all stopped their playful chatter and Dave looked his way.
"Dave, that weird bowtie guy is calling out to you," one of his buds said below his breath.
"Do you know him?" the girl asked with a look of mild disgust.
Bro's grip on the bars tightened; I knew I shouldn't have worn a bowtie, he thought. Their comments were little to him, though, and apparently to Dave too. Dave just continued to look at Bro and, for whatever godly reason, pushed up his sunglasses.
Bro's excitement settled and instead he felt a strong yearning to reach out and hold this boy. Dave bore a look of wonder and confusion and hurt. It was the look you would see upon a lover who had thought their partner dead, and found out they were wrong.
Just when Bro thought Dave would greet him, Dave turned back to his friends. "No, I don't know him," he said and they turned and continued walking. Bro yanked off his bowtie and hurried before he could enter a stupor of disbelief.
"No, Dave, it's me, your bro," he hurried along the sidewalk to catch up to where they were. Dave just glanced at him from the side of his eyes, his mouth pressing tight ever slightly. Dave's schoolmates shot Bro amused looks but continued to talk as though he didn't exist.
"Wh..." Bro grunted and swung past the entry gate, stepping onto school property. He stood in their path. "Dave, you don't remember me?"
"You...have the wrong person," Dave blinked, otherwise looking blank. His expression so sentimental only moments ago was long gone.
"You don't?" Bro felt breathless.
"Should I...?" Dave retorted in a tone with more edge than Bro expected. It hurt, and he didn't care to hide or deny it. The second bell rang. "Gotta fly," Dave said, turning to walk around the six foot two weirdo.
"Dave, wait," Bro grabbed his shoulder and immediately, Dave's friends descended.
"Hey back off, pedophile," said the boy, grabbing Bro's wrist to remove it.
"Yeah, trespassing and harrassment are crimes," said the girl, pulling out her cell phone. Bro was starting to get angry, but it didn't come to that.
"Hey guys, c'mon, leave him alone," Bro looked back to Dave, and Dave was already walking off. His friends soon obeyed and joined him. Bro watched him leave, open the door, and hold it open.
"Dave, don't you...I used to call you little man, and you always said you hated it, but I knew you didn't," Bro took a step forward in what may have been desperation.
But...Dave only looked at him one more time when his friends had entered the school and it was just the two of them left outside. For those short seconds, Dave looked sympathetic as he gave a small wave, and then like that, was gone.
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Bro milled about town after that. He sat in a park for awhile, watching the waters, then rode the subway for a bit only to walk back in the direction he came - aimless activities. He didn't know what to think and yet, despite the coldness, that sad wave filled him with resolution.
He walked passed various food chains and establishments when he stopped to look up. He saw the big sign of Dave's favourite, and that's where an idea took root.
Dave remembered. He had to. Bro would bring those memories back.
He returned to his apartment and picked up the phone. He called Denny's and reserved a table for 3:30 that afternoon. The woman who answered didn't see the point in making a reservation, but far be it from her to question him.
Bro hung up and had a sense of hope again, a sense of excitement and purpose. He stood there, staring at particularly nothing. He placed his hand over his heart and felt his heartbeat.
For the longest time, his heart used to feel heavy and tired...but now, it didn't.
