A retrograde amnesia Eremika au
I wrote the first chapter of this a whole two years ago, before life got busy and I didnāt have the time to really sit with it and build on what I had in mind. But Iāve started working on it again, and I didnāt want it sitting in my drafts any longer so hereās chapter one!! [2.1k words]
āA good character is the best tombstone. Those who loved you and were helped by you will remember you when forget-me-nots have withered. Carve your name on hearts, not on marble.ā Ā°ā.ą³ąæ Charles Spurgeon
Chapter 1: The illusion of continuity
A small breath split across the air that lived to disappear. A head rested on the shell of a cave, only open to her. Long strands weaved across the olive canvas.
Mikasa closed her eyes as she listened. Heās alive. Heās hers. He always will be. The numbing breeze still welcomed itself in their room as Mikasa allowed her silence to be the only sentient thing, trusting herself not to disturb the peace of the moment. Her eyes, just half lidded, lifted to only be drowned. His face, delicate and unguarded when his consciousness was resting. His shadowed lashes seeped like inked brushstrokes against the canvas of his contrasting skin. The brush continued down the straight slope of his nose, save for the gentle rise halfway, a flaw so subtle it made his beauty human, like a story written beneath the bone of his skin.
She continued following her brush until a low, delicate groan slipped into her raven strands and reached her skull, barely more than a breath. Mikasa lifted her gaze from the gentle valley carved between his nose and upper lip. Moss, after the heavy blanket of rain clouded her vision.
His soft gaze removed the blanket supporting her silence, and she felt her lips lift to a gentle sunrise, slow and warm lighting up the edges of her face.
āMorning..ā she whispered as she leaned up and brushed her lips on the soft curve of his chin.
She felt his breath ghost over her porcelain skin, and she laughed softly, the quiet sound curling like steam in the morning air.
āYour breath stinks,ā she teased and laughed again as she squirmed when he pulled her closer, trapping her in the warmth she never wanted to escape. He also laughed as he teasingly fanned her face, before concluding through nuzzling her hollow cheek with the soft bone of his nose.
āYou always complain,ā he whined playfully as he pressed soft whispers of love through the cold touch of his lips on the fresh snow at dawn of her skin. āDonāt you love me enough to stop mentioning my morning breath everyday.ā
Mikasa smiled as she basked in the flowers that dusted her cheeks, at the familiar touch of his lips gracing the garden he had grown. āYou always point out how I drool in my sleep.ā
āThatās because you do.ā
āAnd you stink. Itās even so you canāt complain.ā
He looked into the deep, onyx of her eyes and, with the tilt of his head and a sly grin, flashed the dimples that cut his cheeks. āI do not stink.ā
Mikasa rolled her eyes playfully and cast a soft kiss to his cheek before she pressed her hands into the bed and pulled herself up. In response, Eren did the same, and the cycle started.
First, she walked into the bathroom before him and every time he let her. He would reach around her with his longer arm to grab the toothpaste first. Mikasa always grumbled but never said anything; she was patient enough to know that her turn would always come.
Then, Eren would strip, and Mikasa would always look away, nagging him about how he should have more dignity. He never listened.
Eren would get in the shower and steam up the bathroom mirror so Mikasa couldnāt observe and shadow herself in the blemishes she had spotted. She couldāve sworn he did it on purpose.
After that, Mikasa would leave the bathroom and get changed, she was always one to take showers in the evening. Sheād do her mascara in the mirror of her phone because she could never build up the courage to buy herself a vanity. It was a luxury not a necessity.
Eren would walk out in a towel and make sure not to pull her in from behind and kiss her shoulders until petals bloomed across them. Last time (and also the first time) he did that, Mikasa refused to go to work because her blouse got wet and crinkled. He never understood her chase for perfection.
Lastly, Eren would get changed and dry his wet hair with a towel. He always complained about how it never behaved and he wished he could tie it back like Mikasa could. She only laughed in response.
Mikasa buttered her bread, making sure to fill the closed gaps with the silver surface that was smeared with pale yellow streaks. She added one drop of honey to the soft centre and used the same precision to round the tip in the corners.
Erenās eyes were glued to the device resting on the polished counter as he poured some coffee powder into the water that rested in his cup. He occasionally chuckled as he watched a video on his phone.
Mikasa turned to observe him and made a mental note to make her own coffee. She loved Eren, but if she was offered to change one thing about him, itād be his precision. He just didn't care. The problem was, she did.
āHey Miks, look at this.ā
Mikasa took a small bite of her toast before walking over. She was sure it was a stupid cat video, or maybe some online prank that was just mean and then theyād argue on the way about sensitivity.
She rested her head on his arm as she observed the Facebook video. It started off with a car driving along a winding path. The trees surrounding it are pretty, picturesque, peaceful. Mikasa always dreamed of a life in a quiet area, a road that led to the silence that bored others, but filled her. She hoped one da-
She wasnāt sure who was louder, the figure in the video or herself. Or maybe Erenās laugh ruptured both.
āJesus Christ! You shouldāve seen your face!ā He was still laughing as he leaned his head back. āI knew it would work, youāre so easy to scare.ā
Mikasa was still catching her breath after the horrifying video she had just seen. Jumpscares werenāt her thing. She liked to know what was coming and she did not see that coming.
Eren was still laughing, his cheeks slightly tinged as he held his coffee. Mikasa saw the small bit of coffee spill over the rim of his mug and land on the tile she had just polished last night. Her head hurt. She could feel a migraine coming on, she usually had those. Her toast was getting cold, the bread just felt stiff in her hand and- and was that an empty milk carton? Seems Eren used all the semi-skimmed milk. He usually drank skimmed milk with his coffee, why did he use her milk today? She just had to skip out on her coffee today then.
She was interrupted from the crash of thoughts that conjoined in the depths of her brain she hated. She felt the warmth of strong hands around her and a slightly wet sensation on her hair, likely from the coffee lingering on his lips.
āHey.. I lost you thereā
Mikasa exhaled a deep, heavy sigh that could easily be trampled by a breath. āSorry.. I think I didnāt sleep well last night.ā
āYa think? Those eyebags are criminal.ā She hated when he pointed out her flaws, even if it was just a joke. It made her want to look in a mirror and furiously scrub it away. āWhat was on your mind Mimi?ā
Mimi.. Mikasa closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder. āIām just stressed.. what if my article doesn't get acceptedā.
Eren sighed softly. She knew he knew how much it meant to her, they were already cutting down the prices of their groceries. If Mikasa couldnāt continue getting featured in the newspapers, she wouldnāt get a raise.
āI think youāve worked hard and if they donāt see that.. then..ā Eren scrunched his nose in thought and Mikasa wanted to laugh because she could feel it against her hair. All his subtle gestures were familiar in the weaving of her mind. She knew him so well. She knew he knew her well, but Mikasa observed every sense of Eren. She could probably guess the shape of his soul. āThen theyāre just jealous because I have a beautiful girlfriend and they donāt.ā
Mikasa snorted, an unfiltered and ugly sound. She hated her laugh, the one she couldnāt mask. Of course Eren turned it into being about himself. She knew he never did it selfishly, he only did it to remind her how grateful he was for her. Eren grinned as he heard her snort and lifted her face to look into the garden that his eyes stored.
Eren laughed and kissed both sides of her cheeks. He knew her lips were forbidden until after work because she didn't want to use more lipgloss than necessary. Mikasaās smile bloomed slowly and she allowed herself to open the safe she only let Eren into. Mikasa held her toast to him, and he raised his eyebrow, confused, before he realised the bread had been left too long, too cold. He grazed his fingers with hers and took the toast, finishing it off for her and offering his coffee. Mikasa politely declined and instead leaned in to wrap her small frame around him, and felt his larger frame reciprocate.
āEren! Get off, I have to go!ā
āOne minuteeā, Eren whined as he planted kisses all over her face. Mikasa had just gotten out of the car and leaned into his seat window to kiss his cheek bye. Eren held her hostage and doused her face in his kisses- loud, wet, obnoxious. Mikasa pretended to be annoyed but she couldnāt hide the bursts of giggles that erupted from her throat as Eren rubbed his lips into the fine china of her skin, kissed by the light and smothered by Eren.
āI love you, have a nice day at work.. and donāt forget to message me.ā he murmured into her skin.
āI wonātā¦ and I love you too.ā Mikasa leaned back to smile at him before standing up straight and watching him pull the car out of the office parking and disappearing from her line of sight.
Anxiety always followed Mikasa when Eren couldnāt. He brought her to Earth, and when his weight didn't support her, she felt her light soul drifting. She was an overthinker. Eren always grounded those thoughts. She didnāt know how he did it but he did. She envied his ease. Atleast she thought she did. She cherished his presence. She was grateful for him. For the light he poured into her broken mind. She wished she had the same effect on him, she wasnāt sure why he stayed but he did. She didn't dwell on it. She was grateful.
Heās alive. Heās hers. He always will be.
āI canāt run this one Mikasa, Iām sorry.ā
His tone was Curt. Dismissive? Blunt. Definitely that one. Was it impatient? Mikasaās head was buzzing as she plucked her flaws before he even finished.
3 minutes earlier, Mikasa got a Slack notification which paused her slender fingers on her keyboard; she was just in the middle of writing a draft for her next article. It was Graham, her editor. Mid-40ās, dry, fast-talking, and mostly tolerating unless he was behind on schedule (which was always). It aggravated Mikasa. She wanted things done on her own accord, but unfortunately, her mother always taught her to be patient, to chew her lip instead of pulling her hair. That made her close her eyes and allow the world to fall silent for a moment. Her mother.
That brought her here, as Graham critiqued her work. Tore apart the mistakes he advised her to make after the last article. He always told her the same thing. Your writing is too emotional. Mikasa never saw it. Her writing was real, it was raw. Journalism claimed neutrality but never practiced it, she saw the biased pictures that bled into every newspaper.
āYouāve always struck me as an emotionally intelligent person. Why do I never see that in your writing, when Iāve seen that to my face?ā
She blinked. Back to the moment.
āI know it sucks but if you're serious about this beat, rejectionās part of the job. You know that Mikasa. Keep going.ā Mikasa was back to her senses as he said that and the ongoing thoughts drowned out as she listened. She couldāve sworn that bit was backhanded but she decided not to say anything. Follow the routine. She didnāt challenge it. She thanked him, gave him a polite nod - not a smile, those were reserved - and left to start again.
Back at her desk, she gently lowered herself into the chair and sat upright, her spine like steel. She stared at her laptop screen for a minute before she deleted the draft with one click. Less emotional-
Her thoughts were interrupted by a phone call. Mikasa furrowed her eyebrows and looked down to see an unknown number on her screen. She reached for the phone with her pale hand and picked it up.
Within a few seconds, her gaze darkened, the onyx sheen dulling as the weight of the words sank in like stones weighing her body.
