0o0o0o0o

"Damn it!"

Swearing to himself, Vaughn attempted to pick up the unconscious woman up from the floor in front of him, cursing his inability to have moved faster and caught her before her head smashed into the ground with a sound worthy of cringing. Working on autopilot, Vaughn scanned the home quickly for a surface Chelsea could be draped across where she would be least likely to roll off and hurt herself, eventually discovering the bedroom. Cradling her as though she bear no weight at all, Vaughn gently placed Chelsea onto her bed, making sure the pillows would replace the support his arms were giving her head when he held her. Within a matter of minutes, he had managed to prepare a cold compress for the impressive goose egg that was already beginning to form across the crown of her head. Laying it across her forehead, Vaughn watched for a change in her demeanor, but she remained asleep, lost amongst the vast levels of consciousness within her mind.

With nothing left to do but inevitably wait, Vaughn faltered as the adrenaline of the situation drained from his pores. With a glance at the unconscious woman, he stepped from her room for a moment, struggling against the turmoil that was arising within his body, a physical response to the emotional tornado that was ripping through his thoughts. Feeling as though his heart was going to pound through the muscles of his chest, Vaughn sat down heavily at a rickety table in her kitchen, his hands already holding his head as he struggled to understand what he had just walked in to.

You could walk right back out right now, something in his head spoke. She would think it was nothing but a dream. You came here to start something new, did you not?

He had. He had come to start something fresh. He had come to succeed. He had come to forget.

But to leave an unconscious woman by herself…would weight upon his conscious heavily, no matter if he knew her. He could question if he ever did knew the sleeping girl in the next room any more than he knew the strangers on this island.

Vaughn still couldn't bring himself to go. Whether or not he would regret this later, he couldn't decide. But it would be wrong to leave anyone alone in this state, he argued to himself. The fact that it was her made no difference.

Or so he tried to convince himself.

Taking a long, deep breath, Vaughn shook her head once before roughly grabbing the chair he had been seated in and moving to the bedroom once more. He opened the door to see her position unchanged, and yet he was still surprised. The girl that had appeared to him in nothing but two dimensional memories, desires, or dreams lay wholesome in front of his open, aware eyes; a definite component of life's piece-by-piece puzzle, something real enough for tangible touch.

Vaughn watched her as she slept, unable to look away despite the unchanging picture in front of him. The fear that she would fade away into the particles of the air if he took his eyes off her for even a moment was absolute; he was not entirely convinced that this was not another dream, not another figment of his imagination pulling a cruel joke on him. If he looked away she would be gone, and he would be left questioning if she was ever there at all.

For all he knew, he could be looking at another woman and seeing her. It would not have been the first time it had happened to him in the last half-year.

His vision devoured her image readily, drinking in the details that had begun to fade from his memory in the time apart, details that any average person would fail to notice, but to him, spoke of endless stories, memories, and experiences.

Her hair had grown since he had seen her last, the caramel tendrils cascading wildly across her chest and the pillow. They seemed to have grown lighter in color, as though the sun had seen something in Chelsea something similar to itself and clung to the part of her closest to the sky. Her skin, always tending towards fairness, was not tan but harbored more freckles than he had ever remembered seeing on her heart-shaped face, illuminating her features in a permanent sun-kissed glow. The upturned nose, the small ears, the round cheeks, and the rose-petal lips…these were the things that had not changed. Her tangled eyelashes quivered under the movements of her eyes in sleep, and her mouth turned downward in a small frown for a few moments before her face relaxed again.

Adjusting the compress on her forehead, Vaughn felt himself grow slightly hot as his body brushed hers, and a wave of unasked for memories bombarded his senses. He fought to keep his eyes from scaling her body; while he was a man, Vaughn liked to think he had enough self-control not to come off as a creep, especially while she was knocked out and couldn't punch him for being skeevy.

He couldn't help but to have noticed the differences when he had picked her up from the ground, however; the Chelsea he remembered was…softer. Seemingly delicate, easily breakable. The Chelsea he had lifted up felt harder, strong and able. Something in her stood straighter, a testament of the life she had chosen amongst unbroken land.

Or perhaps he had had wrong all along. Perhaps that was who she was from the beginning, and Vaughn was only just seeing her for who she was.

In the face of the incredulity with which Vaughn regarded the woman who lay in front of him, the older feelings of anger were beginning to also resurface at the sight of her, feelings he had worked for a long time after she left to bury. Feelings he had hoped would fade completely in time if he left behind the city that was now tainted for him with her memory.

0o0o0o0o

Vaughn walked out of the police station that evening with a mindset proving fatal to a heart that had been softened by love.

In the five hours he had been detained in custody for what was thought to be serious intent to harm, Vaughn stared at the gray ceiling and relived his agony again and again on a broken record-player timescale. The waiting and the stillness would become his greatest enemy, as it was during those times that memories would run rampant with their double-edged swords, designed only to hurt now.

When the police had gathered enough interviews from witnesses that supported Vaughn's innocence, he was released back into the town, and although little time had passed in the grand scheme of things, Vaughn saw a changed city before him.

He began to walk along the street that would lead him to Chelsea's by instinct, and didn't realize his error until he stood across from the empty building. Without a word, he turned back in the direction that would lead him home.

If the saying is true, that home is where the heart is, than Vaughn vowed to never again allow himself to have a true home.

He began to make plans to move from the city. Everywhere he went, reminded him of her, the thing he was trying most to forget. He didn't know what else to do to cope with the agony other than run from it; it was all he knew.

By the following week, Vaughn had put his living space up for sale, packed up what little belongings meant anything to him, and boarded a ferry without even a goodbye glance at the city where his happiest moments had been.

The only feeling he opened himself to from that point on was the wanderlust. Vaughn never stayed anywhere for longer than a month before he was on his way again; he traveled where he could find work and anywhere else unfamiliar. Familiarity bred remembering. With no reason to stay in any place he visited, he always had a good reason to go.

All the while, he struggled against the desire to go home. But he didn't know what home could be any more if it couldn't be her.

The leaves of autumn began to decompose upon the streets as biting winter winds chapped the skins of people whose schedules don't adhere to the changing weather pattern; the cold seemed to freeze over Vaughn's burning agony into a hard, icy anger. The pain became coy, and took on a form that tricked the mind into thinking it had left. It no longer tore at Vaughn in sharp, unpredictable stabs; rather, it became usual that he felt a dull, aching emptiness somewhere deep in his gut. He much preferred this, he thought.

Vaughn began to frequent the women of the cities he visited with little difficulty. Alongside several men following the same work routes as himself, Vaughn learned about the right "type" of women to seek on their nights out after hours of work. The women came to him with surprisingly little difficulty; something about his taciturn, cold aloofness caught their eyes amongst the loud, boisterous crowd of a bar.

They found his coldness attractive, as most of them fancied themselves bad boys. His good looks usually sealed the deal: one small smirk and the woman of his choosing would be accompanying Vaughn back to his hotel room of the week, leaving his friends in laughter as they shook their heads at his newfound charm.

It was through these women that Vaughn attempted to forget. A different face, body, voice each time, surely would allow for him to forget the face, the body, the voice that he still yearned for somewhere deep behind the ice that had enclosed any feeling. At the beginning of each night, it worked for a while; Vaughn lost himself in the strange woman who knew nothing about him or his past, whom he also knew nothing about. There was nothing familiar about them that should trigger thoughts of her; he purposefully avoided women with hair that looked too much like hers, or eyes that reminded him of the ocean in summer.

And yet every time, his subconscious would deliberately disobey him in the heat of the moment; he would look at the woman and see her instead, flushed and beautiful and with him. He had to bite his tongue each time, for fear it would be her name that he would call out by accident.

At one point Vaughn ceased any eye contact with the women all together. It was too dangerous, he discovered; women had the uncanny ability to see the truth in his eyes if he made the mistake at looking at them too long.

It was one of the few women he remembered to that day who forced him to stop with the eye-contact. Eve, if he recalled right, simply stared at him after they had finished and he was cleaning up.

"What," he had grunted after a few moments, uncomfortable with her unusual, ruby gaze.

She smirked knowingly at him as she gathered her things, flipping her tangled blonde hair across her shoulder. "Us girls notice it, you know."

"…"

She rolled her eyes. "I've been with enough men to know when they're thinking about another woman in the sack. They get a faraway look in their eyes, like they aren't even there anymore and aren't really seeing you. It's funny; it's most noticeable with quiet guys like you."

Vaughn sat stiffly in silence as she gathered the rest of her things, a silent denial of her words, although somewhere deep down he was cracking apart at her insight.

"My advice to you would be to go after her if things aren't too far gone. It's that or stop with the eye contact, kid. You have to know it doesn't work this way…other women aren't going to make you forget."

Eve's countenance softened as she looked up from her things to see Vaughn's head in his hands. She sighed, and with the kindest gesture since she had gone, ruffled his silver hair.

"Good luck with everything, kid. Hope you find her again."

Even when the door closed after her, Vaughn remained in the same position for a long time afterwards. After that he never made eye contact with another woman again. The other option was inconceivable.

Vaughn carried on with this behavior through the winter, if only to obtain soft, warm bodies to brave the cold, lonely nights with. But as the earth began to de-thaw, Vaughn grew bored of the women he would take home. A majority of them he found to be more than acceptably attractive; and yet, he failed to recognize any true substance in their character. Vaughn struggled to look semi-attentive as the women who seduced his coworkers failed to strike a chord with him; he grew bored with their intentionally slow, affected speech, their bar stories and complaints about petty, vain things. He often found himself wanting a woman to surprise and challenge him the way she had, but upon realizing this he would quickly shut down the thought. Most of the women wanted to "change" him. They all thought they could be the one for which Vaughn would put it all out on the line for, be different for, open up for.

But none of them ever were. There was only one who ever could, and she had gone.

Come spring, Vaughn had decided to begin seriously searching for a steady job somewhere, a place he wouldn't mind living in permanence. Since the end of autumn he had put out resumes and applications, but hadn't taken it too seriously, only hearing of a few possibilities. His birthday was approaching, in the form of a reminder of him getting older. While he knew he was still young, he felt older and more tired than he should.

Through fellow coworkers, Vaughn fell into correspondence with animal traders around the country and began his search for open positions and hirings. Much to his luck, he received a call from a team of workers from a place called the Sunshine Islands who were looking to relocate to a different farming region.

"We're looking to head out by Spring 16th, so if you're interested it would be great if you'd be able to arrive on the island by then," they said.

"No problem," Vaughn replied. Not a bad birthday present.

"It's a pretty nice little island in all due respect. Great scenery, nice people, impressive farm up north. Small population though, that's why we're deciding to relocate. We're moving on to bigger and better pastures!"

The smaller the better, Vaughn thought to himself. Easier for me to start over that way. Less people to bother me.

"If you do take the position, good luck dealing with that damn farmer. Thinks she's so great because she can tame a young horse…Always giving us dirty looks and such. But don't let that deter you from the Sunshine Islands, they really are great! Plus there's a real hot chick running the animal produce shop, whooowee!"

Vaughn made a disgusted noise to himself but stoically agreed with the traders before thanking them and hanging up. He knew the woman they were talking about was his cousin Julia, who was another reason he was interested in landing that job in particular. Despite his habits with the city women, Vaughn reluctantly had to admit to himself that he was lonely in his current lifestyle. Although he would never, ever let anyone know otherwise. He had called Julia once since the job opening had become a serious possibility.

"Oh, Vaughn, you should take it!" she had squealed after he had barely gotten a sentence out. "If you're as good with animals as you always have been, I think this job would be perfect for you. Plus with Momma gone…I could really use some more help around here. Elliot's great and all but I would love to have an experienced partner again. The people are so sweet around here, Vaughn; I know you'll love them. And I know you love the ocean, and there's a great beach, and-"

"Yeah, yeah, Julia, I know. Heard it from the traders already-"

"Does that mean you're taking the job?!"

"…Most likely, yes-"

"YAY! Oh Vaughn, I'm so happy! I'm going to start preparing you a room right away, I'll even start seeing if I can buy some milk from Chelsea for porridge, and-!"

Vaughn's stomach dropped at the sound of the name he hadn't heard spoken out loud in nearly half a year.

"Julia-"

"-and I'm sure you'll have a great time with all the animals we have in stock here, and there's a great restaurant and diner, ooh, and the forest is so great for walks!-"

"Julia-"

"-What kind of porridge do you prefer Vaughn, plain or with honey or fruit? I feel like an idiot for not remembering but it's been so long. What size bed would you prefer-"

"JULIA."

"-No, nevermind, I'll just ask the woman at the furniture store in the city what size would be best for a tall guy. Sorry Vaughn, I have to go, I think Elliot just dropped a bunch of boxes of animal feed, I have to go help him, call you later, bye!"

"JULIA-"

Vaughn slammed the phone down in anger, visibly fuming at his cousin's distractibility. His stomach was still stirring from her comment…it couldn't be, couldn't be her. There's no possible way. Chelsea was a common enough name, and he had heard of female farmers recently. There was no way it was her.

Vaughn scoffed at himself as he realized his immediate reaction, and brushed off the possibility.

He was disturbed that a part of himself was still so attached to the mere thought of her…this is why he needed that job on the Sunshine Islands. He needed a place where he could focus in on his work without distractions, where he could meet new people and finally, finally move on.

With a slightly heavier heart than before, Vaughn waited out the days until he could leave for his new destination. He yearned for the day where the heaviness would be gone, where his yearning for her would be nothing but another memory to forget.

0o0o0o0o

Vaughn was wrenched from his own internal reflections as a hoarse groan sounded from the bed across from him. With a slight startle, Vaughn's eyes jumped to Chelsea immediately. Upon realizing his actions, he scowled slightly and crossed his arms.

Get a hold of yourself.

Despite his reminiscence, the moment Vaughn lapsed back into the present and saw the woman in front of him, his anger and bitterness was forced to take a back seat. She had always had that effect on him. As he looked at her, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling something come apart within his chest. Something felt lighter, warmer, and more whole when she was simply within his proximity.

He had failed. He did not forget her. His nomadic experiences had simply caused his heart to grow fonder of her in her absence, unconditionally and in spite of the pain she had caused him.

If this is what it meant to love someone, Vaughn didn't know if he liked it. But from what he had come to terms with from his experiences was that it didn't matter if he liked it or not, because there was no stopping it.

Vaughn loved her with all his heart.

Chelsea seemed to be slowly regaining her awareness; as she rose from the depths of unconscious thought, she arched her back in a quiet yawn, before sharply recoiling in pain as the movement pained her injury. Reaching a tentative hand up towards it, Chelsea patted it softly as though she were petting a newborn bunny, and winced again. A throaty chuckle slipped out of Vaughn at her curious antics before he could restore his shell.

Jumping a little, as though she had forgotten the circumstances under which her injury had been conceived, Chelsea stared wide-eyed at Vaughn as her face grew scarlet in color.

Vaughn stared back, outwardly stone-faced and straining against conflicting emotions that fought to expose themselves on his face. On the inside, he was in a form of heaven. He had missed those eyes more than he had allowed himself to admit, even to himself, and to look into them allowed him a guilty pleasure that seemed to remove exhaustion from his hunched shoulders.

They stared at each other, wordless, for a long time, neither knowing quite what to say after everything that had transgressed between them.

The wordless moment between Vaughn and Chelsea, seemingly suspended in time, spoke volumes more about their experiences together than any combination of written words, sentences, or paragraphs could begin to.

After what seemed like years, Chelsea finally spoke, unexpected tears threatening to spill over the brims of her eyes.

"Happy Birthday, Vaughn."

Vaughn did not respond for a long time. When he did, it was with a small smile, one so rare that when she saw it, Chelsea laughed, not out of humor, but rather out of wonder and hope.

"Thank you, Chelsea."

And so, it began.

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