Chapter Five

"Why don't you take them and figure it out."

A memory was sparked, the man couldn't have known what triggered the thought but it happened long ago. He remembered a couch, soft, beaten up and old. But Red… And a woman, Blonde hair? No, that couldn't of been right… Why was it that, when he tried to remember a face, it was always the same, no matter who it was. Blank, featureless, like his memory disregarded all details of the person sharing the room with him. He could remember her body close to him, her head tilted and resting on his shoulder and he could recall the small, outdated television that played… Something. A movie? A show?

All that rang any sort of bell in his mind was a romantic kiss on the screen, a declaration of love, a conclusion to petty conflict, resulting in a very unrealistic, grand gesture of some sort to win someone's heart back.

And that's when his memory started to flood all sorts of details as he remembered exactly what happened next.

"Why would she want to be back with him? Obviously the guy isn't worth it if a whole movie is made around one shitty action he made." He said, leaning against the armrest on the couch, the woman next to him adjusting to get more comfortable.

It was easy to tell she had been falling asleep against him as her words just barely tumbled out of her mouth at an audible volume "Because he did something to make up for it all. It's romantic. Someone doing something so special like that, just for you? It's like, you're the only person in the world to them and a grand gesture is a way for them to show it."

"Isn't that what weddings are for?"

She exhaled, rubbing her temple across his forearm slightly. His arms remained crossed, still and motionless. She was bad with boundaries, the times where he asked for her to stop was always met with a simple 'Why?' He would reply 'Because it makes me uncomfortable.' And again she would ask 'Why?' But it would always end there. In his mind his brain would hit a brick wall. Does he tell her the truth? That he's scared she would fall in love with him? Being so close like that all the time made sense to him, that feelings could come from it. But, how could he be so bold to assume that would happen?

"You don't understand."

"I don't, what?" Clynt's voice was sharp, he nudged her slightly to get her off of him. Immediately, her contact felt like lava, searing and painful to the touch. Her eyes shot open as he got to his feet quickly. There was a pain in his chest, instantly he felt betrayed and accused of something he couldn't help.

"No that's not what I-" She stopped, paused and thought for a moment, her eyes… Green. Green eyes.

Green. Eyes. Scanned the floor for a moment as she looked back up to him and for whatever reason, this was when she decided not to back down from what she said "No. You know what, Clynt. I'm done. I'm done playacting to you. I'm done having to watch what I say or do around you because you can't handle your defection!" She stood, her height was about a couple inches lower than his own but at that moment she seemed to be at the same level as him.

With arms crossed, nails dug into his elbow skin, Clynt lashed out against her "Fuck you!" He yelled, taking a step back "You don't think I hate the way I am? How jumpy I get around something that's supposed to be fun, positive and healthy? I thought if anyone, anyone, would know what that's like, it would have been you!"

She took a step forward, approaching him, mimicking his footsteps, he took one back, she took one forward "I do! In fact, I know it better than you ever could! You can easily hide your defection! But me? Clynt, I cannot be happy, I cannot feel joy! You don't think I'm hurting seeing the woman on that TV smile, and hug and kiss that man? I envy her so much, I envy you! So what you can't feel love! There's people out there who choose not to love, but no one chooses to never be happy!"

The more he backed up, the more she followed. Clynt know his anger could lead to hurting her and that anger surged through him like his own blood, it was like she had flipped some sort of switch. Of course he had thought about how things affected her, how it must have hurt to see everyone capable of a smile but her. He felt the same when it came to relationships, people walking in the park holding hands or families with children. Sure someone can be happy, but to Clynt, true happiness came from a place of love. Something he had in one point of his life… And she knew that.

Once his back had hit the wall, it was then he noticed how close she was. A pale, pointed finger of accusation directly in his face and Red. Hair. falling over her shoulders with those bright, green emerald eyes digging into him as she continued "You don't know how it feels to truly be the odd one out. Playing by yourself at the playground because the other kids could see how weird you are. Knowing exactly why you're alone and how no one would ever want to take a chance with you knowing that they could never ever make you happy. You don't get to play your card anymore because you truly don't understand how lucky you are!"

"How lucky I am? An--b-ll, you don't understand the first thing about me! You never have!" Clynt's voice became a low, unempathetic tone "Thank god, I'm so lucky to-" He began mocking her before being interrupted.

"Shut up!"

That pointed finger she held up was suddenly now attached to his shirt mirroring her other hand as the fabric was grabbed, held and pulled and that's when he could remember her. All of her. The look on her face, the plea in her eyes for him to understand something that he wasn't getting. Her tears flowed like a steady stream. It was now that he realized. How long had she been crying through this?

"You don't understand! Because I love you! Can you even understand how messed up that makes me? I can't be happy, but I can love you! How does that make sense at all? How can you explain that to anyone?" She bowed her head, putting it against his chest and sobbed, gripping his shirt tighter "You don't make me happy, but I'm content being around you like it's just normal in my life. But you also think that you're the only one whose suffering. Whenever you think I'm accusing you of something, you explode and that just makes me suffer more. Why do you think I'm trying to hurt you all the time? You should know better… So why?" She begged and sobbed, Clynt stood motionless and tried to process everything.

All of this had been brewing in her this whole time. He never thought about it like that, he never thought about her or how she felt. Just about him and how he saw the world and how no one else could feel like him. "I'm sorry. Would you ever forgive me…?"

Is what he would have said, if he could go back. But what he really said, was, what he later found out, the reason why he had hit rock bottom soon after this confrontation.

"You have pills. Why don't you take them and figure it out."

"Get out!" Her hands freed themselves from his shirt as she screamed with all the breath in her lungs and shoved him like he was a stranger who broke in her home. "Get out! Get out!"

Those words rang in his head, snapping him back to reality, out of his own head and into the real world. The park he stood in, the path that led down to a small pond and the reason why the memory had invaded him in the first place. Sitting on the bench, wearing a brown, light winter coat and jeans. Green eyes, long red hair in a tight ponytail, was the girl from his memory. Feeding a couple of ducks, oblivious to his presence from down the sidewalk. That girl from such a long time ago.

Annabel Hearth.