Let Them Hear My Voice.

Maybe they did remember him, on some subconscious level, because their first instinct at his expression was to want to take his hand. They brushed that thought aside, though, instead looking through messages from other contacts for a few moments before putting their phone away. “No… I don’t think so,” they answered uncertainly. How could they possibly be sure, now? In fact, how could they be sure of anything, if they couldn’t even remember someone who was apparently so important to them that his messages filled up their phone?  They lowered their head, a troubled but thoughtful expression taking up their features. They were currently thinking back through the past few days to see if there were any, ah… gaps, in their memories, and they weren’t liking what they were finding. Or not finding. Whatever.  “..I need to go home,” they muttered decisively, turning on their heel in that direction rather abruptly. However, they hesitated for a few seconds, as if trying to make sure they were definitely remembering which way to go.

He half regretted that he had asked that when he saw Bel’s reaction. It wasn’t a good thing to ask, he realized; how sure could one be of anything that they thought or remembered when it turned out their head was turned against them, somehow? At the moment, though, concern and anger overrode his anxiety, and he was watching Bel’s face -- he had taken hold of his lower arm with his other hand to stop his hands from balling into fists.

He was furious, but showing that to Bel wasn’t going to do any practical good.

iwillchasemylight:

He nodded when they repeated what he had said. He couldn’t help but feel bad about the feelings that he was causing them now; he wanted to hang onto them and make them remember, but he also knew that what they were going through couldn’t be pleasant. After all, he wouldn’t have taken it well if someone he didn’t know had come to him and proclaimed themselves as his lover.

When Bel froze in their place with their eyes on their cell, however, he couldn’t help but feel two things at once. A slight surprise and relief at there likely being his messages on their phone (why else would have Bel been so surprised?)… and a surging sense of horror and anger when he realized that this likely was his Bel and the subsequent implication that someone had messed with Bel’s memories.

Who in the fuck, seriously.

“Bel.” He said, quietly, his eyes on their face. “Are you okay?”

“I….” They let that one syllable hang in the air as they stared at their cell. It was difficult to get their thoughts sorted when they were staring at a message they didn’t remember receiving from a contact they didn’t know they had. The parasite hummed its agreement and confusion in their ear and slowly they tapped the message with their thumb and scrolled through the conversation.  “This isn’t– I don’t understand,” they finally murmured. “These messages go back for months, but I don’t remember any of that.” They lifted their head to look Easton in the eyes, brows furrowed, eyes bright, and hand extending their phone to let him see the screen. “This is you, yes? Your number, your messages?”

His eyes went to the messages, and he nodded. He knew what he would see there, and yet he couldn’t help but stare at them for a second as if it were some other person that had written those messages. His messages, the words he remembered writing, and Bel, his Bel that had gotten those messages and couldn’t remember getting them thanks to something happening. Something that was enough to make them forget him (and apparently only him) after his having spent months -- if you count the amount of time he had known them and was not with them as a boyfriend, years -- with them.

“Easton,” they repeated. Again, they felt a pang of guilt at the distress they appeared to be causing him. “You live with me and I call you a rabbit?” Admittedly, that did indeed sound like something Bel would do. This guy looked like someone they would call ‘rabbit’. They hesitantly took their eyes off of him to instead rummage in their hip pack for their personal cell. If one of them was lost, the two of them would need to figure out which of them it was– In Bel’s experience, cell phones often didn’t want to work right when they were roaming too far off their home plane. They opened their recent messages, intending to find Apollo’s number and text him, but a text at the very top of their messages made them freeze in place.  It was a text from a contact labeled ‘Lapin’. They fell into a long silence while they prodded the parasite awake to compare memories.

He nodded when they repeated what he had said. He couldn’t help but feel bad about the feelings that he was causing them now; he wanted to hang onto them and make them remember, but he also knew that what they were going through couldn’t be pleasant. After all, he wouldn’t have taken it well if someone he didn’t know had come to him and proclaimed themselves as his lover.

When Bel froze in their place with their eyes on their cell, however, he couldn’t help but feel two things at once. A slight surprise and relief at there likely being his messages on their phone (why else would have Bel been so surprised?)... and a surging sense of horror and anger when he realized that this likely was his Bel and the subsequent implication that someone had messed with Bel’s memories.

Who in the fuck, seriously.

Their hands found their way to their braid now, fussing and tugging with it ever so slightly while they listened to him talk. The fact that he didn’t outright say the notion was ridiculous was a step in the right direction– it made it easier for them to believe that at least some version of them was close to this guy. “Generally, yeah. I’ve been seeing a lot of dimension hoppers around here lately, though, and in some cases they don’t even realize they’ve traveled. There… also is the possibly that I’m the outsider here, if one of us is. Don’t forget that.”  They lapsed into a short silence after spitting all of that out, before seeming to realize they may have skipped a step here in their haste to figure out why this guy thinks they should know him. “…..What’s your name?”

He couldn’t help but notice the way Bel was fussing with their braid. He was half convinced that the Bel was talking to was, as they had implied just now, possibly the wrong one, but if they were -- well, a lot of things were just so painfully familiar. He hung his head at what they said about Bel possibly being the one in the wrong plane, then nodded. Whatever the situation was, he just hoped that he wasn’t bothering and confusing someone that had no reason to remember him. 

He also hoped that neither of them were lost without knowing it -- although that seemed terribly likely at the moment.

They watched him shrink and stutter and force his words out and felt a slight pang of guilt, despite having no idea what he was talking about. Their brows were knitted, their head tilted, and when they spoke it was in a measured tone and a hushed voice.  “You live with me? You mean, now? Right now?” That’s what he was saying, wasn’t it? Either way, they had no recollection of him whatsoever. Which in this situation could be very bad for one or both of them depending on the reason. They glanced around before speaking again. “Are you sure I’m the right person? I mean… I am Bel. Are you sure I’m the right one?” If he knew what they meant by that, great. If not, back to square one.

He couldn’t help but bite his lip when he heard their tone, trying not to seem too hopeful. At least they seemed to be taking this seriously instead of being incredulous or suspicious right off the bat. Bel was never hasty in making conclusions about situations that would have seemed like pure fantasy to others. He still half believed that his time with Bel was completely over (which seemed for him the right thing to believe), but still, he couldn’t help but hope.

He stared at them, his hands still twisted together. The right Bel? Did they mean there was more than one? Like... Bel that had never met him and got to know him?

When he thought of that notion, he felt that he could understand what they meant. His understanding brought him no comfort, however.

That’s… not what he had expected. Actually, he’s pretty sure that he has absolutely no memory of Bel giving him a look like that. And the way they had said hello back was… well… it reminded him a lot of his own response when he was answering a call from the wrong number, especially the ones where the caller had gone straight to business about which he had no idea what they were talking about.

His shoulders tense, he was neither aware nor capable of controlling the distress in his expression and voice as he spoke. “…you are Bel, right?”

How he knew them, it’s, it was... he wanted to explain, but what kind of reaction could he expect from telling Bel that the stranger in front of their eyes was someone that thought of them more intimately than he ever did with anyone else?